Tarzan and the city of gold

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

"At last you have come to me of your own volition," she whispered. "Ah, Thoos! how I have hungered for this moment!"

Her soft, bare arms slipped quickly about his neck and drew him close. "Tarzan! My Tarzan!" she almost sobbed, and then that same fatal door at the far end of the apartment opened and the tapping of a metal-shod staff upon the stone floor brought them both erect to gaze into the snarling face of M'duze.

"You fool!" cried the old hag in a shrill falsetto. "Send the man away! unless you would see him killed here before your eyes. Send him away at once!"

Nemone sprang to her feet and faced the old woman who was now trembling with rage. "You have gone too far, M'duze," she said in a cold and level voice. "Go to your room, and remember that I am Queen."

"Queen! Queen!" cackled the hideous creature with a sharp, sarcastic laugh. "Send your lover away, or I'll tell him who and what you are."

Nemone glided quickly toward her, and as she passed a low stand she stooped and seized something that lay there. Suddenly the slave woman shrieked and shrank away, but before she could turn and flee Nemone was upon her and had seized her by the hair. M'duze raised her staff and struck at the Queen, but the blow only aroused the frenzied woman to still greater fury.

"Always you have ruined my life," cried Nemone, "you and your foul paramour, Tomos. You have robbed me of happiness, and for that, this!" and she drove the gleaming blade of a knife into the withered breast of the screaming woman, "and this, and this, and this!" and each time the blade sank deep to emphasize the venom in the words and the heart of Nemone, the Queen.

Presently M'duze ceased shrieking and sank to the floor. Some one was pounding upon the door to the anteroom, and the terrified voices of nobles and guardsmen could be heard demanding entrance. In his corner Belthar tugged at his chains and roared. Nemone stood looking down upon the death struggles of M'duze with blazing eyes and snarling lip. "Curses upon your black soul!" she cried, and then she turned slowly toward the door upon which the pounding of her retainers' fists resounded. "Have done!" she called imperiously. "I, Nemone, the Queen, am safe. The screams that you heard were those of an impudent slave whom Nemone was correcting."

The voices beyond the door died away as the guardsmen returned to their posts; then Nemone faced Tarzan. She looked suddenly worn and very tired. "That favor," she said, "ask it another time; Nemone is unstrung."

"I must ask it now," replied Tarzan; "tomorrow may be too late."