In the effort she made to concentrate her determination her face grew pale and her lips trembled.

Kafka faced her resolutely, his eyes on fire, the rich colour mantling in his cheeks.
"Where is your power now ?" he asked suddenly.

"Where is your witchery?
You are only a woman, after all.

You are only a weak woman!" Very slowly he drew nearer to her side, his lithe figure bending a little as he looked down upon her.

Unorna leaned far back, withdrawing her face from his as far as she could, but still trying to impose her will upon him.
"You cannot," he said between his teeth, answering her thought.
Men who have tamed wild beasts alone know what such a moment is like.