A look of bewilderment came over his features. "I have never seen you
that I can recall," he answered.
My spirit sank within me. Could it be possible that I was really so
changed? I begged him to try and recall my former self, giving my name.
"I am that person," I added; but he, with an expression of countenance
that told as plainly as words could speak that he considered me
deranged, touched his horse, and drove on.
My companion broke the awkward silence. "Do you know that I perceived
between you two men an unconscious display of mind-language, especially
evident on your part? You wished with all the earnestness of your soul
to bring yourself as you formerly appeared, before that man, and when it
proved impossible, without a word from him, his mind exhibited itself to
your more earnest intellect, and you realized that he said to himself,
'This person is a poor lunatic.' He told you his thoughts in
mind-language, as plainly as words could have spoken, because the
intense earnestness on your part quickened your perceptive faculties,
but he could not see your mental state, and the pleading voice of the
apparent stranger before him could not convince the unconcerned
lethargic mind within him. I observed, however, in addition to what you
noticed, that he is really looking for you. That is the object of his
journey, and I learn that in every direction men are now spreading the
news that you have been kidnapped and carried from your jail. However,
we shall soon be in the village, and you will then hear more about
yourself."
We rode in silence while I meditated on my remarkable situation. I could
not resign myself without a struggle to my approaching fate, and I felt
even yet a hope, although I seemed powerless in the hands of destiny.
Could I not, by some method, convince my friends of my identity? I
determined, forgetting the fact that my guide was even then reading my
mind, that upon the next opportunity I would pursue a different course.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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