natic who has escaped himself? I must
not escape.

"When I returned she was still crouching on the floor. I decided to
experiment. Perhaps there was still some lingering sense in me that
would fail to succumb to this astonishing make-believe.

"'Come here. On the couch,' I ordered her.

"She obeyed. She stretched herself out and I sat beside her. The odor of
her body was distinct. Perfumes spread a clever gloss over the woman
smell, the bitter salt odor that stirred from between her closed thighs.
I smiled, for the logic of this illusion grows entertaining. But I had
decided on experiments. My hands stroked her hair, feeling of its
strands. My fingers pressed at the skull beneath the warm skin of her
head. Then I held her breasts, that had once seemed to me like two
little blind faces raised in prayer. But imagery no longer decorates my
thought. My hallucination is no longer a weaver of magical phrases. But
stark, real--its heart beating under ribs, its skin glowing with
perspiration, its nipples standing out. As I caressed her I heard her
say:

"'Yours. Yours. I am your woman.'

"Her thighs opened and her arms that had been held toward me fell to her
sides. My hand slipped between. There was warm flesh. Yes, it was flesh
to my mind. And I sat for moments allowing the illusion to stir a
passion in me. I would throw myself on this thing, hold it in my arms,
give myself to it. Where was the wrong in that, since it was only myself
I ravished--a phantom mocking me behind my eyes?

"Goliath saved me. I saw him standing once more in the curtains of his
room. His long arms were beating against his sides, the black fingers
opening and shutting like frantic talons. He stood with his head rolling
as if he were trying to stand erect. His eyes were insane.

"I sprang away, again pulled by the unmistakable emotion of shame. He
glared at me for a moment, but as my hand caught his face he toppled
over and lay whining. I picked him up and threw him into his bed and
locked the door of his room.

"When I returned she still lay. Her eyes were closed. She looked at me
and I saw she was weeping.

"'Since you are not to be reasoned out of existence, since you seem to
resist what is left of my sanity--there is nothing to do but tolerate
you.'

"I sat in my chair and spoke to her.

"'It will end in my loathing you,' I said. 'I created you in order to
possess you beyond the realism of the senses. For a time your body was
like a r