David welcomed Sajipona with genuine pleasure, with an eagerness suggesting that he had been awaiting her coming impatiently. Heedless of his greeting, however, and regarding him earnestly, she asked if he remembered the visitor who had been with him a short time before.
“Yes! Yes!” he exclaimed. Then he went on, betraying a certain degree of anxiety in tone and manner, explaining how this visitor’s face had haunted him as if it belonged to one he had seen in his dreams, one upon whom he had unwittingly inflicted pain. Of course, that could not be, he said, since there was no reality in dreams. After all, a fancied wrong was nothing—and yet, this dim memory of the woman who had been with them a moment before was confusing. Where was she now? he asked. Was she offended because he failed to recognize her? He should have known better—but dreams are troublesome things! He would like to see her again—although it might be painful in a way—and then, perhaps, he would recall more distinctly what now was merely a dim sort of shadow in the back of his brain.
They talked together in the darkened chamber overlooking the portico. The couch from which he rose to greet Sajipona screened, with its regal hangings, Raoul from him. When the queen pointed out this new visitor to him, the result was similar to that following his encounter with Una.
“More dream-people,” muttered David, passing his hand slowly across his eyes. “I know this man, but I can’t exactly place him. It will come back to me in a minute.”
Raoul watched him with the intent, impersonal interest a scientist gives an experiment that is nearing the climax for which everything has been prepared beforehand.
“I think I can help you,” he assured him.
Then, turning to Sajipona; “I must warn you,” he said in a low voice. “There will be a complete change. Why not leave things as they are?”
The queen held her head up proudly.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Raoul shrugged his shoulders, regarding her, and then David, with a gleam of malice in his restless eyes.