There were great blocks of stone in the desolate place, landed there before the river had frozen for a great building, whose gloomy, unfinished mass stood waiting for the warmth of spring to be completed. She led him by the hand, passive and obedient as a child, to a sheltered spot and made him sit down upon one of the stones. It was growing dark.
“Look at me,” she said, standing before him, and touching his brow. He obeyed.
“You are the image in my eyes,” she said, after a moment’s pause.
“Yes. I am the image in your eyes,” he answered in a dull voice.
“You will never resist me again, I command it. Hereafter it will be enough for me to touch your hand, or to look at you, and if I say, ‘Sleep,’ you will instantly become the image again. Do you understand that?”
“I understand it.”
“Promise!”
“I promise,” he replied, without perceptible effort.
“You have been dreaming for years. From this moment you must forget all your dreams.”
His face expressed no understanding of what she said. She hesitated a moment and then began to walk slowly up and down before him. His half-glazed look followed her as she moved. She came back and laid her hand upon his head.