He would play it now--a little of it.

He would play it to her--to the girl who had set him free in the Sagalac woods, to the ravishing deserter from her people, to the only woman who had told him the truth in all his life, and who insulated his magnetism as a ground-wire insulates lightning.

He would summon her here by his imagination, and tell her to note how his soul had caught the music of the spheres.

He would surround himself with an atmosphere of his own.

His rage, his love, and his malignant hate, his tenderness and his lust should fill the barber's shop with a flood which would drown the Gorgio raider.