The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1893-05-19
any one harm herr Has any n the

oOit 40 DclOFe, Lue evil sInll6 UlckSrcQ
again about his drawn lips as he
looked into Unorna's face. He WON
dered why she did not face him and
crush him, and force him to sleep
with her eyes as he knew, she could
do. But he himself was past fear.
lie had suffered too much, and cared
not what CHANGED to him now. But
she should know that he knew all, if
he told her so with his latest breath.
Despair had given him "a strange con-
troll of his anger and of his words.
and jealousy had taught him the art
Of wounding swiftly, surely and with
a light touch, This one chance of
wounding was given to him. and he
would use it to the utmost, with all
subtlety, with all cruelty, with all
determination to torture.
Whatsoever she eovets is hers to
take. No one escapes the spell in the
end, no one ~resists the charm. And
yet it is written in the book of her
fate that she shall one day taste of
the of fruit of ashes. and drink of the
bitter water. 1t is written that who
soever Stays with the sword shall die
by the sword also. She has killed with
love, and by love she shall perish. |
loved her once. l know what l am
saying"
Again he paused, lingering thought
fully upon the words. The Wanderen
glanced at Unorna, rs though asking
her whether she should not put a sud-
den end to the strange monologue.
She was pale and her eyes were
bright; but she shook her head.
Let him say what he will say"
she answered, taking the question as
though it had been spoken. ..Let
him say all he will. Perhaps it is the
last time"
Il will tell my story, not that any
one may judge between you and me.
There is neither judge nor justice for
those who love in vain. So | loved
you. That is the whole story. Do
you understand me, sir? l loved this
woman, but she would not love me.
That is all. And what of it, and
what then? Look at her and look at
me-the beginning and the end"
In a manner familiar to Orientals.
the unhappy nan laid one" upon
lis W breast, and vito .aa other
htau he pointed /: 'ispEsar fair
Young face. sgaS&
She laughed in a avN3sS.,. But
Israel Kafka's eyes 5rvVRdar and
the somber fire beamed tsS. - he
spoke again. The weary, tortured
smile left his wan lips and his pale
face grew stern.
Laugh, laugh, Unorna:o" he cried.
''You do not laugh alone. And vet
i love you still. And he who dies
for you, Unorna-of him you ask
nothing, save that he will crawl away
and die alone and not disturb your
delicate life with such an unseemly
siQht."
You talk of DEATH exclaimed
Unorna scornfully. You talk of
dying for me, because you are i'll to-
day. Tomorrow Keyork Arabian will
have cured you, and then, for aught 1
know. you will talk of killing me in
stead. This is child's talk-boy's
talk. If we are to listen to you, you
must be more eloquent. You must
give us such a tale of woe as shall
draw tears from our eyes and sobs
from Our breasts-tnen we will ap-
plaud you and let you go. That shall
be your reward"
The Wanderer glanced at her in
surprise. There was a bitterness in
her tone of which he had not believed
her soft voice capable.
care you mad, indeed?:" asked the
Wanderer, suddenly planting himself
in front of Kafka. They told me So
[ can almost believe it,"
''No; l am not mad yet" answered
the younger man, facing him fearless
ly. You need not come between ne
and her. She can protect herself.
You would know that if you knew
what saw her do with you when |
came here"
What did she do?:n The Wander
er turned quickly as he stood and
looked at Unorna.
do not listen to his rawlings" she
said. The words seemed weak and
poorly chosen, and there was a
strar"e look in her face, as though she
res either afraid OF desperate or
s
stsAe loves you" said Israel Kafka
7aE2iy. "And you do not know
it sao hes power over you as she
has c7ec me. but the power to make
you love her she has not. She will
destroy you, and your state will be no
better than mine to-day. We shall
have moved on Il step, for l shall be
dead and you will be the mailman, and
she will have found another to love
and to torture. The world is full of
them. Her altar will never lack sac
rifces."
The Wanderers face was grave.
You may be mad or not" he said.
II cannot tell. But you say mon
strous things, and you shall not re-
peat them"
Unorna laughed.
.'Would you be a m~artyr:g' she
asked.