Despite himself, Croft thrilled at the words, such as only a true patriot might speak in such tones of fire--tones which quivered and pulsed with emotion, one might not deny. In spite of his own sorry rebellion of spirit, echoed, as he now knew, in the soul of the gentle girl before him, some feeling akin to pity for this royal father of hers, crept through his mind. Prince Lakkon was a man torn between parental love and the love of his nation--destined, as it seemed, to suffer, no matter how this thing fell out. And while he spoke, the girl, his child, flesh of his flesh, crept to his side, to kneel and gaze out at the distant walls of the city she knew as her own. Her expression changed. Some of the indefinable quality of girlhood seemed to fall from her and expose the deeper, firmer woman's nature, as though a veil had been torn aside. "And I must live for her--with--Kyphallos?" she whispered tensely as Lakkon once more paused. "If you can win him--hold him--sway him--with Jadgor on the throne at Zitra you will have made Tamarizia strong." "I--will have made--Tamarizia--strong." O girl of gold! Croft's heart cried out as he caught her scanning speech. O wonderful woman--so true to womanhood--so true now to the spirit of ultimate woman, ultimate sacrifice through which attribute of woman comes life itself! Unseen, unknown to her or the man who rode beside her, Croft approached and bent above her in that moment of struggle and decision. For, as she turned her eyes back to the interior of the coach, Croft knew she had decided, and that in deciding she had chosen the path which led against every personal impulse of her own clean spirit. "What am I against Tamarizia?" she said. "You are my daughter and I love thee," said Lakkon, Aphur's prince. "I know." Naia crept to him and laid herself in his arms. "I know," she murmured after a time of silence. Lakkon's arms tightened about her as the coach swung along. Her arm crept up and stole about his neck. Silence came down again save for the patter of the gnuppa's feet on the stone surface of the highway which had now left the plain and begun to scale the mountainside. Crouched invisible, Croft turned his gaze from the man and woman to stare out between the fluttering curtains. The road came to an end in a mountain valley, open toward the east and so unveiled a fresh scene of beauty to Jason's eyes. Here was a country palace, gleaming white above a series of terraced gardens which rose from the shores of a tiny mountain lake. Toward it Chythron guided his steeds along a private drive which branched off from the highway they had traversed thus far. As though the turning had been a signal, Naia loosened the embrace which held her and sat up, still without speaking, before Chythron brought his team to a stand. Then, as in the morning, Prince Lakkon helped her to descend and moved beside her up a low, broad flight of steps to reach the portals of their home.