“Possible?  True?  There is neither truth nor possibility in anything else for me, in anything, in any one, but you, Unorna.  The service of my love fills the days and the nights and the years with you—­fills the world with you only; makes heaven to be on earth, since heaven is but the air that is made bright with your breath, as the temple of all temples is but the spot whereon your dear feet stand.  The light of life is where you are, the darkness of death is everywhere where you are not.  But I am condemned to die, cut off, predestined to be lost—­for you have no pity, Unorna, you cannot find it in you to be sorry for the poor old man whose last pulse will beat for you; whose last word will be your name; whose last look upon your beauty will end the dream in which he lived his life.  What can it be to you, that I love you so?  Why should it be anything to you?  When I am gone—­with the love of you in my heart, Unorna—­when they have buried the ugly old body out of your sight, you will not even remember that I was once your companion, still less that I knelt before you, that I kissed the ground on which you stood; that I loved you as men love whose hearts are breaking, that I touched the hem of your garment and was for one moment young—­that I besought you to press my hand but once, with one thought of kindness, with one last and only word of human pity—­”

He broke off suddenly, and there was a tremor in his voice which lent intense expression to the words.  He was kneeling upon one knee beside Unorna, but between her and the light, so that she saw his face indistinctly.  She could not but pity him.  She took his outstretched hand in hers.

“Poor Keyork!” she said, very kindly and gently.  “How could I have ever guessed all this?”

“It would have been exceedingly strange if you had,” answered Keyork, in a tone that made her start.

Then a magnificent peal of bass laughter rolled through the room, as the gnome sprang suddenly to his feet.

“Did I not warn you?” asked Keyork, standing back and contemplating Unorna’s surprised face with delight.  “Did I not tell you that I was going to make love to you?  That I was old and hideous and had everything against me?  That it was all a comedy for your amusement?  That there was to be nothing but deception from beginning to end?  That I was like a decrepit owl screeching at the moon, and many other things to a similar effect?”

Unorna smiled somewhat thoughtfully.

“You are the greatest of great actors, Keyork Arabian.  There is something diabolical about you.  I sometimes almost think that you are the devil himself!”

“Perhaps I am,” suggested the little man cheerfully.

“Do you know that there is a horror about all this?” Unorna rose to her feet.  Her smile had vanished and she seemed to feel cold.