The Tur had left us, and was lost amongst the crowd.  I began to feel at ease with Taee’s charming sister, and rather startled her by the boldness of my compliment in replying, “that no An she could choose would ever use his wings to fly away from her.”  It is so against custom for an An to say such civil things to a Gy till she has declared her passion for him, and been accepted as his betrothed, that the young maiden stood quite dumbfounded for a few moments.  Nevertheless she did not seem displeased.  At last recovering herself, she invited me to accompany her into one of the less crowded rooms and listen to the songs of the birds.  I followed her steps as she glided before me, and she led me into a chamber almost deserted.  A fountain of naphtha was playing in the centre of the room; round it were ranged soft divans, and the walls of the room were open on one side to an aviary in which the birds were chanting their artful chorus.  The Gy seated herself on one of the divans, and I placed myself at her side.  “Taee tells me,” she said, “that Aph-Lin has made it the law* of his house that you are not to be questioned as to the country you come from or the reason why you visit us.  Is it so?”

* Literally “has said, In this house be it requested.”  Words synonymous with law, as implying forcible obligation, are avoided by this singular people.  Even had it been decreed by the Tur that his College of Sages should dissect me, the decree would have ran blandly thus,—­“Be it requested that, for the good of the community, the carnivorous Tish be requested to submit himself to dissection.”

“It is.”

“May I, at least, without sinning against that law, ask at least if the Gy-ei in your country are of the same pale colour as yourself, and no taller?”

“I do not think, O beautiful Gy, that I infringe the law of Aph-Lin, which is more binding on myself than any one, if I answer questions so innocent.  The Gy-ei in my country are much fairer of hue than I am, and their average height is at least a head shorter than mine.”

“They cannot then be so strong as the Ana amongst you?  But I suppose their superior vril force makes up for such extraordinary disadvantage of size?”

“They do not profess the vril force as you know it.  But still they are very powerful in my country, and an An has small chance of a happy life if he be not more or less governed by his Gy.”

“You speak feelingly,” said Taee’s sister, in a tone of voice half sad, half petulant.  “You are married, of course.”

“No—­certainly not.”

“Nor betrothed?”

“Nor betrothed.”

“Is it possible that no Gy has proposed to you?”

“In my country the Gy does not propose; the An speaks first.”

“What a strange reversal of the laws of nature!” said the maiden, “and what want of modesty in your sex!  But have you never proposed, never loved one Gy more than another?”