“Why should one have a headache?”

“Nemesis,” said I.

“What is Nemesis?”

I found myself answering her question in the old half-jesting way. And in her old way she replied:

“I do not understand.”

How vividly familiar it was, and yet how agonisingly strange!

“Where is Polyphemus?” she asked.

“Dead,” said I.

“Oh-h! How did poor Polyphemus die?”

“He was smitten by Destiny at the end of the last act of a farcical tragedy.”