"You can be angry afterwards, and, I thank heaven, so can I--and shall." "Forget," said Unorna, once more laying her hand upon the waxen brow.
"Let it be as though I had not spoken with you.

Drink, in your sleep, of the fountain of life, take new strength into your body and new blood into your heart.

Live, and when I next wake you be younger by as many months as there shall pass hours till then.

Sleep." A low sigh trembled in the hoary beard.

The eyelids drooped over the sunken eyes, there was a slight motion of the limbs, and all was still, save for the soft and regular breathing.
"The united patience of the seven archangels, coupled with that of Job and Simon Stylites, would not survive your acquaintance for a day," observed Keyork Arabian.
"Is he mine or yours ?" Unorna asked, turning to him and pointing to the sleeper.
She was quite ready to face her companion after the first shock of his unexpected appearance.