"If I save them will you love me?" demanded Nemone.
"That is a question that I cannot answer. The best that I may say is that I may then respect and admire you; whereas, if you kill them without reason there can be no chance that I shall ever love you."
She looked at him now out of dull, lowering eyes. "What difference does it make?" she almost growled. "No one loves me. Tomos wanted to be king, Erot wished riches and power, M'duze wished to exercise the majesty that she could never possess; if one of them felt any affection for me it was M'duze, and I have killed her." She paused, a wild light flamed in her eyes. "I hate them!" she screamed. "I hate them all! I shall kill them! I shall kill everyone! I shall kill you!" Then, as swiftly, her mood changed. "Oh, what am I saying?" she cried. She put her palms to her temples. "My head! it hurts."
"And my friends!" asked Tarzan; "you will not harm them?"
"Perhaps not," she replied indifferently, and then, as quickly changing again, "The girl dies! If you intercede for her again her sufferings shall be greater; Xarator is merciful—more merciful than Nemone."
"When will she die?" asked Tarzan.
"She will be sewn into hides tonight and carried to Xarator tomorrow. You shall accompany us; do you understand?"
The ape-man nodded. "And my other friends?" he asked, "they will be saved?"
"You shall come to me tomorrow night," replied Nemone. "We shall see then how you have decided to treat Nemone; then she will know how to treat your friends."