Explore "The Pilgrim Kamanita" by Karl Gjellerup on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Yes, it was she. No possibility of mistaking those features -- and yet they in no way resembled hers, were indeed like nothing that I had ever seen -- in such nameless, superhuman misery did they seem to be petrified.
When I came to my senses again, the end of the procession was just passing us. My fainting so suddenly was ascribed to the heat and to the crush of people. Utterly without power of volition, I suffered myself to be taken to the next caravanserai.