Going to the meat line, he took down a large double handful, and sat down on a pile of skins to eat at his ease. The flesh was tough and coarse, but he had never tasted anything sweeter. He could not understand the flavour, which was not surprising in a world of strange animals. The meal proceeded in silence. Corpang ate sparingly, standing up, and afterward lay down on a bundle of furs. His bold eyes watched all the movements of the other two. Haunte had not drunk as yet. At last Maskull concluded his meal. He emptied another cup, sighed pleasantly, and prepared to talk. “Now explain further about your women, Haunte.” Haunte fetched another skin of liquor and a second cup. He tore off the string with his teeth, and poured out and drank cup after cup in quick succession. Then he sat down, crossed his legs, and turned to Maskull. “Well?” “So they are objectionable?” “They are deadly.” “Deadly? In what way can they possibly be deadly?” “You will learn. I was watching you in the boat, Maskull. You had some bad feelings, eh?” “I don’t conceal it. There were times when I felt as if I were struggling with a nightmare. What caused it?” “The female atmosphere of Lichstorm. Sexual passion.” “I had no passion.” “That was passion—the first stage. Nature tickles your people into marriage, but it tortures us. Wait till you get outside. You’ll have a return of those sensations—only ten times worse. The drink you’ve had will see to that.... How do you suppose it will all end?” “If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking you questions.” Haunte laughed loudly. “Sullenbode.” “You mean it will end in my seeking Sullenbode?” “But what will come of it, Maskull? What will she give you? Sweet, fainting, white-armed, feminine voluptuousness?” Maskull coolly drank another cup. “And why should she give all that to a passerby?” “Well, as a matter of fact, she hasn’t it to give. No, what she will give you, and what you’ll accept from her, because you can’t help it, is—anguish, insanity, possibly death.” “You may be talking sense, but it sounds like raving to me. Why should I accept insanity and death?” “Because your passion will force you to.” “What about yourself?” Maskull asked, biting his nails. “Oh, I have my male stones. I am immune.” “Is that all that prevents you from being like other men?” “Yes, but don’t attempt any tricks, Maskull.” Maskull went on drinking steadily, and said nothing for a time. “So men and women here are hostile to each other, and love is unknown?” he proceeded at last. “That magic word.... Shall I tell you what love is, Maskull? Love between male and female is impossible. When Maskull loves a woman, it is Maskull’s female ancestors who are loving her. But here in this land the men are pure males. They have drawn nothing from the female side.” “Where do the male stones come from?”