He said; “Lalette, let me implore you. I will not quarrel with you about whose making this trouble is, or how we seem to go from one difficulty to another. But if we can work together, this escape shall be better than the last. I did not leave you at the couvertine.” “Oh, I am grateful,” she said, in the tone of one who is not grateful in the least, turning aside her head. “If you had only—” (He had wit enough not to carry this line on.) “Do you know anything of this revolt?” he asked. She turned again. “Ah, I cannot bear if that I should never have a thought of my own while I am with you. Will you give me back the Blue Star?” “No! It is all our lives and fortune now, and the fate of many more important than we.” “I am not beautiful and brilliant like those girls of noble houses; but even so, would like to be wanted for myself, and not what I can bring.” Outside, the first harbor-swell caught the ship; she turned her face again, queasy at her stomach. They slept in shut-beds on opposite sides of the cabin. 23 NETZNEGON: RETURN TO GLORY The skies were filled with glory, the new day rising. The man who called himself Demadé Slair explained, leaning against the rail at the waist of the ship, in the blue-and-gold morning, a day anointed with white in the form of a circling seagull. “It’s an intricate tale,” he said, “of which the sum is that we are unlikely to see queens in Netznegon again. But I’ll begin with Cleudi’s plan for having the nobles gather taxes in their seignories. They would not have it.” “Something like that seemed to be happening when I was at the conference of court,” said Rodvard. “They say there was a scene to remember when Florestan told the old bitch there was no more money,” Slair went on with a laugh. “She beat him about the head with a slipper and for days he wore a patch over one eye.” Lalette said; “She is your queen.” (She wanted to cry out, to say something that would drive this man to fury.) Rodvard drew her hand toward him, but she pulled it away; Demadé Slair said; “I crave your pardon, demoiselle; truly. I did not know you were so royalist. . . . Then Brunivar fell. You heard of it?” Rodvard said; “I have had little news, buried in Charalkis; only that there were troubles.” “Attainted of treasons, and sent to the throat-cutter. The case was pressed by the Duke of Aggermans, very violent against him, no one altogether knows why.” “I think I could find a reason.”