Suddenly Kulmervan spoke, and there was a wealth of passion in his tones. “Why did you come here, you strangers? I was happy until you came. I was contented. You have made me want—want the unknown. You have stirred my heart and filled it with longings that I cannot yet fathom. Why have you come to stir up misery among a happy and contented race?” “I don’t know what you mean,” said Alan, “I have done nothing.” “You’ve done everything. You dared to raise your eyes to the level of Chlorie, our Ipso-Rorka. You put thoughts about her into my head. Oh—” as Alan would have broken in—“I read your thoughts, it was easy, my friend. You dared to think of her as a woman—even your woman. It was an impertinence, I tell you. I love Chlorie with my whole soul, and before Mitzor the Mighty, I’ll carry her away into some far off land, before she can look with a favourable eye on a man, not only of another world, but a man of a coarser nature than our own.” Kulmervan was breathless when he finished, for his words had come thick and fast, tumbling over themselves in his great excitement. Alan was speechless, and looked as he felt, absolutely uncomfortable and ill at ease. “Why your very pose proves guilt,” continued Kulmervan. “Why should I not love Chlorie?” demanded Alan, “Why should my love for her cause strife between us?” “Because, my stranger, I am a Prince of the Rorka’s House. I am not only Kulmervan the Student; but Taz-Ak of the House of Pluthoz. Why else would Chlorie have honoured my party—why else come to the dance of a student? There are but four Keemarnians that Chlorie can marry, and I rank second.” Alan wondered at the time why the Princess should come in so natural a manner to the Student’s reception. He wondered at the time at her familiarity with Kulmervan. She had patted his hand, smiled into his eyes, and had honoured him more than once with a dance. But Alan, too, was in love. Idiotically, insanely in love with a woman who had not even troubled to raise her eyes to his, at his presentation. His pulses throbbed at the remembrance of the touch of her fingertips as he raised them to his lips. He loved her, and in that moment was born a desire to overcome all obstacles, and princess or no princess, to win her. But he knew too that in this pleasant land of Keemar an enmity had come upon him, and wondered whether the Curse of Death had brought it. He wondered whether the dead and decomposed body of their faithful Murdoch had indeed brought sorrow to this fair land. “I’ve spoken to your Ipso-Rorka only once,” said he. “The night of your party. She has called on my uncle and Mavis. Mavis has been out driving with her several times. But I, unfortunately, have missed her each time. Surely you are not jealous because I—”