“I don’t know,” she answered, “I have forgotten.”
THE DEAF-MUTE OF KILINDIR
AT Kilindir two men loved the same woman. Marania was tall and dark and gentle; he had the devotion of a dog; his instinct for self-sacrifice was as great as that of a good woman for the husband she loves. Sobraji, on the other hand, was small and fair and cunning; as a boy he tortured animals, and as a man he tortured his mother and sisters.
The name of the woman was Pabasca. She was very dainty and pretty, and her cheeks were like red poppies seen in the half-light. But she was also very evil.
It was Sobraji whom Pabasca loved, but Sobraji was poor; Marania, on the other hand, owned land and cattle.
“If I am careful,” said Pabasca to herself one evening, as she sat outside her mother’s cottage, “if I am careful, I can have both Sobraji’s love and Marania’s money. It has been done before—I have seen it.”
This thought had lain broodingly in her mind for weeks, but she had spoken of it to no one—not even to Sobraji. And yet if she were to carry her plan into effect, Sobraji was the one man in all the world who must be told.
It was time something was done, for the ardent love of the two men was wearing her down. Only this morning she had received another of Marania’s strange letters. She could remember some of its phrases.