THE LURE OF KARTABO 33 



curves and dots, like characters of ancient illumi- 

 nated Persian script. And with these appalling 

 eyes Gawain looked at us, with these unreal, 

 crimson-flecked globes staring absurdly from an 

 expressionless emerald mask, he contemplated 

 roaches and small grasshoppers, and correctly es- 

 timated their distance and activity. We never 

 thought of demanding friendship, or a hint of 

 his voice, or common froggish activities from 

 Gawain. We were content to visit him now and 

 then, to arouse him, and then leave him to disin- 

 carnate his vertebral outward phase into chloro- 

 phyll or lifeless stone. To muse upon his court- 

 ship or emotions was impossible. His life had a 

 feeling of sphinx-like duration — Gawain as a 

 tadpole was unthinkable. He seemed ageless, 

 unreal, wonderfully beautiful, and wholly inex- 

 plicable. 



