"Men of Ramos, no words that I can speak can say the sorrow that I feel for all the indignities and hardships ye have suffered since entering our royal city, Edos. My soul doth grieve within me at your unjust treatment from the hands of the King, my father; but his mind hath been poisoned and biassed against ye by him who brought ye here in chains, and sought your ruin, to gratify his own feelings of revenge. Since ye were so miraculously delivered from death at the crag Remagaloth, the King hath doubted the wisdom of his judgment on ye, and ye would at least have been free to go your way unmolested, had not Perodii prevailed upon the King to be allowed to take ye captives, to bring ye here again, and then to carry out the awful sentence of the Supreme Court himself! So far hath he been favoured, but his villainy is now unmasked; wiser counsel hath prevailed with the King. In bestowing upon ye, O distinguished and learned strangers from Ramos, his royal pardon, he offers ye his hospitality and protection, so long as ye may make this our world your home. But come now with me to his royal presence, and hear words of welcome and of freedom from his own lips. He waiteth to break his morning bread with ye. "Stay thee: no thanks are asked or needed," continued Volinè, with upraised finger, as Temple began to speak, "for methinks it is I that have brought much trouble on ye. Besides, ye must be full of weariness and hunger, and it is not fitting or seemly that I should keep ye longer here." And as she spoke Volinè placed a tiny whistle, wrought in fine gold and set with gems, between her lips, and blew three times, short and shrill, thereon. In a few moments two court-marshals, dressed in quaint and costly garb, and with long white wands tipped with crescents of crystal, appeared, together with four of Volinè's female attendants, and stood in respectful silence by the doorway, bowing low as the King's fair daughter passed out, beckoning us to follow her. "We hear from this Volinè only a few fragments of the reason for this change of opinion in our favour. She has left much more untold," whispered the Doctor to Temple, as they walked along side by side behind the marshals. "True, Doctor," answered Temple in an undertone, "but I have no doubt that this royal maid has been pleading our cause with her old father, and that her strong attachment to Graham has lent eloquence to her oratory. The complete story of our pardon is reserved for his lucky ear alone." "Say unlucky--most unlucky, Temple; for that woman's toils are creeping round him, and too late he will feel them hampering his ambition and retarding his progress." "Doctor, I must really give you up as an incurable. Your ideas on women are out of all focus. Still, you must admit that a woman has rescued us from a terrible position----" "Into which she alone plunged us. No, no, Temple. We shall never agree upon it--never!" and he relapsed into silence for the rest of the way.