I shrugged my shoulders; the thing was inexplicable to me. “What did I say that demands death?” I demanded. “That you intend to marry Duare.” “In my world,” I told him, “men are killed for saying that they do _not_ intend marrying some girl.” I had been sitting at the desk in my cabin at the time that Kamlot had threatened me, and I had not arisen; now I stood up and faced him. “You had better kill me, Kamlot,” I said, “for I spoke the truth.” He hesitated for a moment, standing there looking at me; then he returned his sword to its scabbard. “I cannot,” he said huskily. “May my ancestors forgive me! I cannot kill my friend. “Perhaps,” he added, seeking some extenuating circumstance, “you should not be held accountable to customs of which you had no knowledge. I often forget that you are of another world than ours. But tell me, now that I have made myself a party to your crime by excusing it, what leads you to believe that you will marry Duare? I can incriminate myself no more by listening to you further.” “I intend to marry her, because I know that I love her and believe that she already half loves me.” At this Kamlot appeared shocked and horrified again. “That is impossible,” he cried. “She never saw you before; she cannot dream what is in your heart or your mad brain.” “On the contrary, she has seen me before; and she knows quite well what is in my ‘mad brain,’” I assured him. “I told her in Kooaad; I told her again today.” “And she listened?” “She was shocked,” I admitted, “but she listened; then she upbraided me and ordered me from her presence.” Kamlot breathed a sigh of relief. “At least _she_ has not gone mad. I cannot understand on what you base your belief that she may return your love.” “Her eyes betrayed her; and, what may be more convincing, she did not expose my perfidy and thus send me to my death.” He pondered that and shook his head. “It is all madness,” he said; “I can make nothing of it. You say that you talked with her in Kooaad, but that would have been impossible. But if you had ever even seen her before, why did you show so little interest in her fate when you knew that she was a prisoner aboard the _Sovong_? Why did you say that you thought that she was my sweetheart?” “I did not know until a few minutes ago,” I explained, “that the girl I saw and talked with in the garden at Kooaad was Duare, the daughter of the jong.”