She sat bolt upright in the silent gloom. The room was empty, and the dream had been too real. Forgetting all else she threw on a robe, left the building and ran toward the place where she knew he lay sleeping. She no longer cared for games, or being right. She only wanted to be with him. To hold him and..... There were sounds ahead of her in the darkness. Two voices. She slowed, and then moved off the path, taking cover behind a small tree. What she heard in its near seclusion seemed less real than the nightmare, and yet far more terrible. 'I should go now,' said Kataya, rising and slipping the silk dress across her arms and shoulders, then lowering it softly into place. 'Yes. I do not think Sylviana would understand. But we understand, don't we? You know what this night was for us?' 'Yes. Just hold me, kiss me once, and then I'll go.' 'Goodbye, my beautiful Kataya.' 'My beautiful Kalus.' And with a tear that no longer wounded her, she was gone. Sylviana slithered to the ground with her back against the tree, her sorrow as bitter and unquenchable as any she had ever known. Whatever her sins and follies may have been, she paid for them dearly in those moments. For she saw more clearly and painfully than ever, as much as if he had been killed, that she loved him beyond all others, almost beyond her own life. And she knew it as she felt him betray her, and give the precious love that had been hers alone, to another woman. Another woman! How could he? After all they had been through..... How could he think that she wouldn't come back to him, just because for a time she had been uncertain. Hadn't he driven her to it? That perhaps it was she who had driven him, that he had given Kataya something beautiful and desperately needed, that she herself might give such a precious gift to a man like Stenmark, none of these thoughts could occur. Because like Kalus or Kataya (or anyone else), she was a product, and in some measure a victim, of the world in which she had grown. For she had been taught (though not by her father) that this was the one, all-consuming act of a man's betrayal, and a thing which could never be forgiven. And like Barabbas in his rage of righteous anger, she too cast him out, out of her heart forever. On a more human level, and in a flood of final tears, like the little girl bereft of her mother she felt devastated and lost, and swore that she would never again let anyone come so close, and hurt her so badly. She stood up again, desperate and proud and defiant, ready to go on without him. But she had forgotten his wilderness senses. He had heard her crying before Kataya was out of sight, and realized with crushing finality and self-reproach how much she loved him, and how deeply he had wounded her. He stood now just a few feet away, and committed his second great mistake of human psychology.