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mouldings of doors and windows. The floor was of marble from Skyros, white streaked with brown and a curious green, the couches and table of citron wood and ivory, with worked silver feet. There were a few vases, light colours on a creamy ground, with palely florid borders and handles, and one or two marble groups, a swan or so, and the little winged, powerless Erotes, like mortal babies.
    She turned from her sea-gazing and smiled at him. ‘Charmantides,’ she said, ‘come and talk to me. Tell me why you did it.’
    â€˜Did—which?’
    â€˜Just now, at the Council: laughed, dear.’
    He stood beside her fingering her pen. Why had he laughed? It was gone now. Gone. He shook his head. ‘I am going to marry Erif Der,’ he said, and felt her breath and thought both check a moment before she answered.
    â€˜I see. And that was why you were laughing? I am glad you are so happy.’
    He looked down at her, standing there by the table, making ink patterns on his finger-nails with her pen, andwondered what to answer. He did not think it was happiness that made him laugh, he was not the least sure what were his feelings for Erif Der, except that he wanted to get possession of her; he knew that she was somehow dangerous.
    His aunt knew that too. She went on: ‘Have you spoken to Harn Der?’
    â€˜No,’ he said.
    â€˜To Yellow Bull, then?’ He shook his head. ‘But surely you’ve seen someone besides the child herself?’
    â€˜She’s not a child,’ said the Chief.
    â€˜All the more reason, then, that she should not answer for herself. But—Charmantides —you know I have tried to be a mother to you, since your own mother died. I think you have loved me. Why did you not tell me about this before?’
    He began to elaborate the patterns on his fingers interestedly. ‘I didn’t know.’
    â€˜Are you sure? Not at Plowing Eve?’
    He smiled: he liked thinking of Plowing Eve. Yes, she had been the best Spring Queen whom he had ever led through the needful dance—and afterwards, how the men had enjoyed themselves. … But he had not thought of marrying her then. ‘No,’ he said truthfully, ‘it was only now.’
    â€˜Then, if it was only now, surely you see that this is not natural, not right? Surely you know, Charmantides, the things she can do. This is magic and done for some purpose of hers or her father’s!’
    â€˜Very likely,’ said the Chief, ‘perhaps that was why I was laughing. But I am going to marry her all the same.’
    â€˜Why?’ said Eurydice. ‘Oh why!’
    â€˜Because I like to,’ he said, and looked out of the window. Cloud and sunshine swept over the sea; and below him on the beach was Erif Der, standing on a bollard, her fists clenched over her breasts, looking up at the Chief’s house. Abruptly Tarrik began to laugh again. ‘I am going to see Harn Der,’ he said, and went striding out, his white felt coat swinging stiffly as he went.
    As he walked along the streets of Marob, the men he passed saluted him with drawn knife at the forehead, and any girls who were armed did the same, but most of the women just lifted hand lightly to eyes, looking at him softlyfrom under long lashes, hoping he would turn their way, the truth being that they and all the younger men liked Tarrik far better than old Harn Der and the Council, who would rule them for their good, but for no one’s pleasure. Still, it depended on little, it would come and go, and Tarrik could only be young once. He certainly enjoyed himself, and had broken very few hearts for long; most of his loves were married by now, and not at all angry with him, still looking softly even. There were several possible children, but none quite proved or at all acknowledged. At any rate Erif Der knew as much about it as anyone.
    Tarrik answered the salutes and glances more or less; but he was not thinking