As she did so her eyes leaped over the silver rim and met the eyes of Croft. For a single instant his glance burned into hers, and she faltered, her hand lowered the goblet quickly and she swayed. Yet even so, she caught herself on the instant as a storm of applause broke from the guests and sank to the divan, supported by Kyphallos's hand. * * * * * As for Croft, for him the light of the oil-lamps flickered and paled. He sat momentarily lost in a mental tumult roused by that glance in Naia's eyes. In that moment he felt he had spoken to her soul--had reached to her inmost spirit, and made himself known. He had not meant to do it. He had not realized while he leaned forward watching the betrothal rite, that all his loathing of it, all his protest of spirit against it, had kindled in his eyes. Not, indeed, until he had plumbed the purple depths of _her_ eyes over the rim of the goblet had he known--or dreamed that she could see and know--as now he felt she had known. Now, however, he stole a second glance to where she sat and found her deathly pale with set lips and a bosom heaving so strongly beneath the pure white fabric of her robe, that it seemed to actually flutter above her rounded breasts. Her hand stole out and lifted a goblet from the table and she drank. It seemed to Croft that she sought so to steady herself before she set the wine back, and forced herself to smile. Thereafter came the feast, the music, the dancers, a troupe of singers and another of acrobats--the usual gamut of a Tamarizian state entertainment, dragging out its length, before Jadgor rose at last in his place and a hush fell over the court. Croft, who throughout it all had been strangely silent, roused to the pressure of Robur's hand, and as the prince prompted, he rose. Thereafter he left his place and knelt before Jadgor while the king drew his sword and struck him upon the breast and dubbed him so a Prince of Aphur, and rising, bowed to the king, and to the guests who rose to salute him in his new-found rank. But of them all to Croft it seemed that he saw only the fair young girl beside the Cathurian prince. And now, as before, his eyes leaped swiftly to her face. Only now, instead of an expression of something like a startled knowledge, there leaped toward him a purple light of pleasure, of approval, of congratulation, and she smiled, as one may smile in recognition of an old and well-known friend. Then he found himself clasping hands with Robur, with Lakkon, with Kyphallos, since the thing could not be avoided. Gaya, too, gave him her hand and a word of congratulation, and--Naia was holding forth her rounded, bare arm and the slender fingers which that morning he had kissed. He took them now and held them in his own. He trembled, and knew it, and even so dared again to meet her eyes.