“I did.”

“Tell me what he said.”

“No, I can’t—­I won’t.  But whatever he said, his beauty was more tormenting than yours, Oceaxe, and that’s why I can look at you in cold blood.”

“Did Surtur forbid you to be a man?”

Maskull frowned.  “Is love such a manly sport, then?  I should have thought it effeminate.”

“It doesn’t matter.  You won’t always be so boyish.  But don’t try my patience too far.”

“Let us talk about something else—­and, above all, let us get on our road.”

She suddenly broke into a laugh, so rich, sweet, and enchanting, that he grew half inflamed, and half wished to catch her body in his arms.  “Oh, Maskull, Maskull—­what a fool you are!”

“In what way am I a fool?” he demanded, scowling not at her words, but at his own weakness.

“Isn’t the whole world the handiwork of innumerable pairs of lovers?  And yet you think yourself above all that.  You try to fly away from nature, but where will you find a hole to hide yourself in?”

“Besides beauty, I now credit you with a second quality:  persistence.”

“Read me well, and then it is natural law that you’ll think twice and three times before throwing me away....  And now, before we go, we had better eat.”

“Eat?” said Maskull thoughtfully.

“Don’t you eat?  Is food in the same category as love?”

“What food is it?”

“Fish from the river.”

Maskull recollected his promise to Joiwind.  At the same time, he felt hungry.

“Is there nothing milder?”

She pulled her mouth scornfully.  “You came through Poolingdred, didn’t you?  All the people there are the same.  They think life is to be looked at, and not lived.  Now that you are visiting Ifdawn, you will have to change your notions.”

“Go catch your fish,” he returned, pulling down his brows.

The broad, clear waters flowed past them with swelling undulations, from the direction of the mountains.  Oceaxe knelt down on the bank, and peered into the depths.  Presently her look became tense and concentrated; she dipped her hand in and pulled out some sort of little monster.  It was more like a reptile than a fish, with its scaly plates and teeth.  She threw it on the ground, and it started crawling about.  Suddenly she darted all her will into her sorb.  The creature leaped into the air, and fell down dead.

She picked up a sharp-edged slate, and with it removed the scales and entrails.  During this operation, her hands and garment became stained with the light scarlet blood.

“Find the drude, Maskull,” she said, with a lazy smile.  “You had it last night.”

He searched for it.  It was hard to locate, for its rays had grown dull and feeble in the sunlight, but at last he found it.  Oceaxe placed it in the interior of the monster, and left the body lying on the ground.