Again and again the vision of a newer happiness took shape and colour before her, so clearly and vividly that she could have clasped it and held it and believed in its reality, as she had done before Israel Kafka had entered.

But there was a doubt now, which constantly arose between her and it, the dark and shapeless shadow of a reasoning she hated and yet knew to be strong.
"I must ask him," she said unconsciously.
"You must ask him," repeated Israel Kafka from his seat.
For the third time Unorna laughed aloud as she heard the echo of her own words.
"Whom shall I ask ?" she inquired contemptuously, as she rose to her feet.
The dull, glassy eyes sought hers in painful perplexity, following her face as she moved.
"I do not know," answered the powerless man.
Unorna came close to him and laid her hand upon his head.
"Sleep, until I wake you," she said.
The eyelids drooped and closed at her command, and instantly the man's breathing became heavy and regular.

Unorna's full lips curled as she looked down at him.
"And you would be my master!" she exclaimed.
Then she turned and disappeared among the plants, leaving him alone..