Keyork smiled again, incredulously this time. He had already applied his pocket-thermometer and looked at his watch. Unorna had risen to her feet, disdaining to defend herself against the imputation expressed in his face. Some minutes passed in silence.
“He has no fever,” said Keyork looking at the little instrument. “I will call the Individual and we will take him away.”
“Where?”
“To his lodging, of course. Where else?” He turned and went towards the door.
In a moment, Unorna was kneeling again by Kafka’s side, her hand upon his forehead, her lips close to his ear.
“This is the last time that I will use my power on you or upon any one,” she said quickly, for the time was short. “Obey me, as you must. Do you understand me? Will you obey?”
“Yes,” came the faint answer as from very far off.
“You will wake two hours from now. You will not forget all that has happened, but you will never love me again. I forbid you ever to love me again! Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“You will only forget that I have told you this, though you will obey. You will see me again, and if you can forgive me of your own free will, forgive me then. That must be of your own free will. Wake in two hours of yourself, without pain or sickness.”