From the house of David, Joseph skulked¹ down the terraces until he came to the two long buildings and entered the smaller of these. He crossed a patio², smaller than the court of David's house; but there, too, was the fountain in the center and the cool flooring of turf. Across this, and running under the dimly lighted arcade³, Joseph reached a door which he tore open, slammed behind him again, and with his great head fallen upon his chest, stared at a little withered⁴ Negro who sat on a stool opposite the door. It was rather a low bench of wood than a stool; for it stood not more than six inches above the level of the floor. His shoes off, and his bare feet tucked under his legs, he sat tailorwise and peered up at the giant. The sudden opening of the door had set his loose blouse fluttering about the old man's skeleton body. The sleeves fell back from bony forearms with puckered⁵ skin. He was less a man than a receptacle of time. His temples sank in like the temples of a very old horse; his toothless mouth was crushed together by the pressure of the long bony jaw⁶, below which the skin hung in a flap. But the fire still glimmered⁷ in the hollows of his eyes. A cheerful spirit lived in the grasshopper⁸ body. He was knitting with a pair of slender needles, never looking at his work, nor during the interview with Joseph did he once slacken his pace. The needles clicked with such swift precision that the work grew perceptibly, flowing slowly under his hands.  
Meanwhile this death's head looked at the giant so steadily⁹ that Joseph seemed to regret his unceremonious entrance. He stood back against the door, fumbling¹⁰ its knob for a moment, but then his rage mastered him once more, and he burst into the tale of Connor's coming and the ivory head. He brought his story to an end by depositing the trinket before the ancient man and then stood back, his face still working, and waited with every show of confident curiosity.
 
As for the antique, his knitting needles continued to fly, but to view the little carving¹¹ more closely he craned his skinny neck. At that moment, with his fallen features, his fleshless nose, he was a grinning mummy head. He remained gloating over the little image so long that Joseph stirred uneasily; but finally the grotesque¹² lifted his head. It at once fell far back, the neck muscles apparently¹³ unable to support its weight. He looked more at the ceiling than at Joseph. His speech was a writhing¹⁴ of the lips and the voice a hollow murmur¹⁵.
 
"This," he said, "is the face of a great suhman. It is the face of the great suhman, Haneemar. It was many years ago that I knew him. It was a time so long ago that I do not know how to tell you. It was before your birth and the birth of your father. It was when I lived in a green country where the air is thick and sweet and the sun burns. There I knew Haneemar. He is a strong suhman. You see, his eyes are green; that is because he has the strength of the great snake that ties its tail around a branch and hangs down with its head as high as the breast of a man. Those snakes kill an antelope¹⁶ and eat it at a mouthful. Their eyes are green and so are the eyes of Haneemar. And you see that Haneemar h............