"Nothing. Dwell here with us and you will be safe from our people. If the prediction is not soon fulfilled and you are not the Eric of the Legend, you may stay or go as you desire." "My brother, Garve. What about him?" "He loves the city. He will also stay, though he will be outside this building." Kroon clasped his hands. "Nolette, will you show Eric his quarters?" * * * * * Eric followed Nolette through a hallway to a well furnished room. Walking behind her the graceful sway of her walk reminded him of the touch of her waist as he held it earlier when they rode, and he felt the blood racing through his veins. He was tempted to seize her shoulder, turn her, and take her in his arms. She indicated the room with a gesture. "You will be comfortable here, and you have only to wish strongly for food or drink. If your wishes do not conflict with those of the elders they will come into being." Eric asked, "And is this true of any wish? Suppose for instance I wished for--You." She looked at him steadily, "That would depend on the nature of your wish. If you wished to take me as your wife the elders would approve." Eric looked at her. He had hardly known her two hours. Yet the madness of the moment made him rash, and he asked, "And what of your wishes, Nolette?" She said, "I am the Daughter of the City, and a virgin. If the Legend is to be fulfilled I would be wed before I die." He took a step forward and reached out to take her in his arms, but she slipped away, saying quietly, "Not now. I will go away and let you think. When you have decided call me in your mind, and the machine will let me know." She smiled briefly, and left him alone in the room. Eric was hardly aware of his actions as he seated himself in the comfortable chair. He fumbled about for his pipe. He must not be a fool. Perhaps if he thought quietly, and smoked, he could decide if this was a dream, if he had gone quietly mad in his space ship, and had been the victim of hallucinations. The chair was real to his touch, his pipe was gone, and he remembered leaving it in the navigator's section of the ship upon his earlier return. The memory seemed real enough. He wished for his pipe again, and realized that now he held it in his hand. This was no mirage. He tamped tobacco created by the machine from Red Martian dust into the bowl of the pipe, and the smoke was as fragrant as ever. He could see how such luxury would stagnate a race. As the smoke curled around him he knew that two hours or two years were not important, and he knew what he wanted. He wished for Nolette. She came into the room, watching him quietly, suddenly shy. He said, "It has come to me that I love you. Will you do me the honor to become my wife?" She said, "Yes, Eric. Oh! Yes!" and came running to him. Her kiss had all the passion of his own.