"Lady Elza, if they should be successful, they would not capture me--for I would die fighting. You understand that, don't you?" She met his eyes; the gleam in them held her. Forgetful of herself, she had allowed the fur to drop from her: she sat bolt upright, the dim red light tinting the scarf that lay like gossamer around her white shoulders. His hand came out and touched her arm, slipped up to her shoulder and rested there, but she did not feel it. "I will die fighting," he repeated. "You understand that?" "Yes," she breathed. "And you would be sorry?" "Oh--" "Would you?" "Yes, I--" He did not relax. His eyes burned her: but deep in them she saw that quality of wistfulness, of pleading. "You, my Elza, they would rescue--unless I killed you." She did not move, but within her was a shudder. "You know I would kill you, my Elza, rather than give you up?" "Yes," she murmured. "I--wonder. Sometimes I think I would." Suddenly he cast aside all restraint. "Oh, my Elza--that we should have to plan such things as these! You, sitting there--you are so beautiful! Your eyes--limpid pools with terror lurking in them when I would have them misty with love! My Elza--" The woman in her responded. A wave of color flooded her throat and face. But she drew away from him. "My Elza! Can you not tell me that even in defeat I may be victorious? It is you more than all else that I desire." Without warning his arms were around her, holding her fiercely to him, his face close to hers. "Elza! With you, defeat would be victory. And with you--now--if you would but say the word--together we will surmount every obstacle.--" He was kissing her, bending back her head, and his grip upon her shoulder was bruising the flesh. No longer Tarrano, Conqueror of the universe, just Tarrano the man. Terror surged within Elza's heart. "Tarrano!" "Elza dear--my Elza--" "Tarrano!" She fought with him. "Tarrano, do you dare--I tell you--" The frightened pleading of a woman at bay. And then abruptly he cast her off. His laugh was grim. "What a fool I am! Tarrano the weakling!" He leaped from the couch and began pacing the room. "Tarrano the weakling! To what depths has Tarrano fallen!" He stopped before her. "I ask your pardon, Lady Elza. This has been madness. Forget my words--all madness." His tone was crisp. "Human weakness to which I did not realize I was so prone made me talk like a fool. Desire you above the conquest of the universe? Absurd! Lies that men whisper into women's ears! All lies!" Was he telling the real truth now? Or was this a mood of recrimination? Bitterness that his love was scorned. Again his gaze held her, but in it now she could see nothing but a cruel inflexible purpose.