"He but reflects the attitude of all Cathne," replied Tarzan.
"That is not true," contradicted Nemone.
"No?"
"I like you." Nemone's voice was low and caressing. "You defied me before my people at the stadium today, but I did not have you destroyed. Do you suppose that I should have permitted you to live if I had not liked you? You do not kneel to me. No one else in the world has ever refused to do that and lived. I have never seen a man like you. I do not understand you. I am beginning to think that I do not understand myself. The leopard does not become a sheep in a few hours, yet it seems to me that I have changed as much as that since I first saw you; but that is not solely because I like you; I think that it is more because there is something mysterious about you that I cannot fathom. You have piqued my curiosity."
"And when that is satisfied you will kill me, perhaps?" asked Tarzan, a half smile curving his lip.
"Perhaps," admitted Nemone with a low laugh. "Come here and sit down beside me; I want to talk with you; I want to know more about you."
"I shall see that you do not learn too much," Tarzan assured her as he crossed to the couch and seated himself facing her, while Belthar growled and strained at his chains.
"In your own country you are no slave," said Nemone; "but I do not need to ask that; your every act has proved it. Perhaps you are a king?"
Tarzan shook his head. "I am Tarzan," he said, as though that explained everything, setting him above kings.
"Are you a lion man? You must be," insisted the Queen.