“How do you intend that, my friend?”

“I mean that a woman gives herself up more than a man does, and when she so gives herself to love or power or hate she gives all that she has, where a man may keep back something.”

“But the queen, Lavarcham, as you have spoken of her, what do you think of her?”

“How would I dare to think about the queen, master?”

“Do you like her?” he insisted.

“She is very lovely.”

“I perceive that you do not love the queen,” said he; and then, after a moment, but severely—“Do you love me, Lavarcham?”

[Pg 35]

[Pg 35]

“I do love you indeed,” she answered gravely.

“But,” he insisted, “do you love anybody else as well as me?”

“I love nobody else except my babe.”

“Ah, that fabulous babe! Is she still getting new teeth, or what is it she is getting now?”

“She is getting to be a beautiful young girl, master.”

“Ah, yes, you told me that.”

“She is thirteen years of age.”

“But tell me now, my heart, why did you draw the talk a moment ago to queens and their hate and restlessness?”

“Indeed, master, I did not draw the talk round in that way.”

“Perhaps,” he mused, “the queen has not treated you courteously.”

“You are wrong indeed,” she said happily, “for this whole week past the queen has been most kind to me.”

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