"That is a matter on which you should know more than I do."
"But—where can I have walked from?"
"That also is a question to which you should be able to supply an answer. Do you live in the Mansions?"
"The Mansions?"
"These are the Imperial Mansions. Is your home here?"
"My home?" She shook her head solemnly. "I don't know where my home is."
"Not know? But you must know where your home is. Who are you? What is your name?"
"I don't know who I am or what is my name."
Was she an imbecile? She did not look it. I never saw intellect more clearly marked upon a woman's face. But the more attentively I regarded her the more distinctly I began to realise that there was something peculiar in her expression. She seemed mazed, as if she had recently been roused from sleep and had not yet had time to acquire consciousness of her surroundings. My original surmise was correct; she had been walking in her sleep, and had not yet recovered sufficient consciousness to enable her to recognise the actualities of existence, and comprehend what it was she had been doing.
