These words recalled me to the events of the previous evening.

“If you like, I will make him go away,” said Tanit-Zerga.

“No, let him alone.”

I looked at the leopard with sympathy.  Our common misfortune brought us together.

I even caressed his rounded forehead.  King Hiram showed his contentment by stretching out at full length and uncurling his great amber claws.  The mat on the floor had much to suffer.

“Gale is here, too,” said the little girl.

“Gale!  Who may he be?”

At the same time, I saw on Tanit-Zerga’s knees a strange animal, about the size of a big cat, with flat ears, and a long muzzle.  Its pale gray fur was rough.

It was watching me with queer little pink eyes.

“It is my mongoose,” explained Tanit-Zerga.

“Come now,” I said sharply, “is that all?”

I must have looked so crabbed and ridiculous that Tanit-Zerga began to laugh.  I laughed, too.

“Gale is my friend,” she said when she was serious again.  “I saved her life.  It was when she was quite little.  I will tell you about it some day.  See how good-natured she is.”

So saying, she dropped the mongoose on my knees.

“It is very nice of you, Tanit-Zerga,” I said, “to come and pay me a visit.”  I passed my hand slowly over the animal’s back.  “What time is it now?”

“A little after nine.  See, the sun is already high.  Let me draw the shade.”

The room was in darkness.  Gale’s eyes grew redder.  King Hiram’s became green.

“It is very nice of you,” I repeated, pursuing my idea.  “I see that you are free to-day.  You never came so early before.”

A shade passed over the girl’s forehead.

“Yes, I am free,” she said, almost bitterly.

I looked at Tanit-Zerga more closely.  For the first time I realized that she was beautiful.  Her hair, which she wore falling over her shoulders, was not so much curly as it was gently waving.  Her features were of remarkable fineness:  the nose very straight, a small mouth with delicate lips, a strong chin.  She was not black, but copper colored.  Her slender graceful body had nothing in common with the disgusting thick sausages which the carefully cared for bodies of the blacks become.

A large circle of copper made a heavy decoration around her forehead and hair.  She had four bracelets, still heavier, on her wrists and anklets, and, for clothing, a green silk tunic, slashed in points, braided with gold.  Green, bronze, gold.

“You are a Sonrhai, Tanit-Zerga?” I asked gently.

She replied with almost ferocious pride: 

“I am a Sonrhai.”

“Strange little thing,” I thought.

Evidently this was a subject on which Tanit-Zerga did not intend the conversation to turn.  I recalled how, almost painfully, she had pronounced that “they,” when she had told me how they had driven away King Hiram.