He reached out and took the lamp from her, to feel the touch of her hand. It was soft and warm. "Will I ever see you again?" "Who knows what will happen now?" The wildness in her eyes was beginning to gentle. She moved back from the table and dropped into a chair. He realized it was the same chair she had sat in when telling him about the queen. On the table before her were piles of papers, tied into small, neat bundles. She examined him for a few moments in silence, then reached to brush the hair back from her eyes. "Did you come here just to see me?" "Not really . . ." He stopped, then laughed. "I think maybe I did. I think I somehow knew you would be here, without realizing I knew. I've been thinking about you all night." "Why?" Her voice quickened just enough for him to notice. "I'm not sure. I do know I'm very worried about what may happen to you." "No one else seems to be. No one will talk to me now, not even the servants. Suddenly I don't exist." Her eyes softened. "Thank you. Thank you for coming. It means you're not afraid. I'm glad." "Why do you care whether I came or not?" He asked almost before realizing what he was saying. She hesitated, and unconsciously ran her glance down his frame. "To see you one more time." He thought he saw something enter her eyes, rising up unbidden. "Don't you realize you've become very special for me?" "Tell me." He studied her eyes in the lamplight, watching them soften even more. "You're not like anyone I've ever known. You're part of something that's very strange to me. I sometimes find myself dreaming of you. You're . . . you're very powerful. Something about you." She caught herself, then laughed. "But maybe it's not really you I dream about at all. Maybe it's what you are." "What do you mean?" "You're a man, from the West. There's a strength about you I can't fully understand." He watched her holding herself in check. "Go on." "Maybe it's partly the way you touch and master the things around you." She looked at him directly. "Let me try to explain what I mean. For most people in India, the world that matters most is the world within. We explore the seas inside our own mind. And so we wait, we wait for the world outside to be brought to us. But for you the inner world seems secondary." She laughed again, and now her voice was controlled and even. "Perhaps I'm not explaining it well. Let me try again. Do you remember the first thing you did on your very first morning in the palace?" "I walked out here, to the observatory." "But why did you?" "Because I'm a seaman, and I thought . . ."