Ellison put the next question with almost a tremble in his voice:
"Who is the man, old friend? Tell me, and let me help you with your trouble."
Murkard picked at the counterpane with quivering fingers.
"In the Hebrew he is called Abaddon, but the Greek hath it Apollyon, ribbed with chains of fire and hung about with chains of gold, silver, and ivory. I wish you could see it as I see it.
"'Her folded wings as of a mighty eagle,
But all too impotent to lift the regal
Robustness of her earth-born strength and pride.'
It's a pity that you don't understand Queen's English. I don't know exactly that I do myself, because you see my head's a little queer. When I want to think I have to pull my brains round from the back of my head, so to speak. And that's very painful,"—a pause,—"painful for you, dear love, but total extinction for me. I must go away for your honour's sake, don't you see, out into the lonely world. But it really can make no possible difference. Ich hab' Dich geliebt und liebe Dich noch.
"'I loved thee once, I love thee still,
And, fell this world asunder,
My love's eternal flame would rise
'Midst chaos, crash, and thunder.'
'Chaos, crash, and thunder!' Cuthbert, you fool, why didn't you trust me from the very beginning?"
"Trust you about what, old friend?"
Murkard lay back on the pillows again with a sigh.