The young Gy made no answer to this address.  She looked down musingly, then a smile crept over her lips, and she rose, still silent, and went through the crowd till she paused by the young An who loved her.  I followed her steps, but discreetly stood at a little distance while I watched them.  Somewhat to my surprise, till I recollected the coy tactics among the Ana, the lover seemed to receive her advances with an air of indifference.  He even moved away, but she pursued his steps, and, a little time after, both spread their wings and vanished amid the luminous space above.

Just then I was accosted by the chief magistrate, who mingled with the crowd distinguished by no signs of deference or homage.  It so happened that I had not seen this great dignitary since the day I had entered his dominions, and recalling Aph-Lin’s words as to his terrible doubt whether or not I should be dissected, a shudder crept over me at the sight of his tranquil countenance.

“I hear much of you, stranger, from my son Taee,” said the Tur, laying his hand politely on my bended head.  “He is very fond of your society, and I trust you are not displeased with the customs of our people.”

I muttered some unintelligible answer, which I intended to be an assurance of my gratitude for the kindness I had received from the Tur, and my admiration of his countrymen, but the dissecting-knife gleamed before my mind’s eye and choked my utterance.  A softer voice said, “My brother’s friend must be dear to me.”  And looking up I saw a young Gy, who might be sixteen years old, standing beside the magistrate and gazing at me with a very benignant countenance.  She had not come to her full growth, and was scarcely taller than myself (viz., about feet 10 inches), and, thanks to that comparatively diminutive stature, I thought her the loveliest Gy I had hitherto seen.  I suppose something in my eyes revealed that impression, for her countenance grew yet more benignant.  “Taee tells me,” she said, “that you have not yet learned to accustom yourself to wings.  That grieves me, for I should have liked to fly with you.”

“Alas!” I replied, “I can never hope to enjoy that happiness.  I am assured by Zee that the safe use of wings is a hereditary gift, and it would take generations before one of my race could poise himself in the air like a bird.”  “Let not that thought vex you too much,” replied this amiable Princess, “for, after all, there must come a day when Zee and myself must resign our wings forever.  Perhaps when that day comes we might be glad if the An we chose was also without wings.”