"But why should we not see one another again?" he demanded once more.
"Lodivarman may punish me for running away, and there is only one punishment that would satisfy his pride in such an event and that is death; but if he forgives me, as he doubtless will, because of my youth and my great beauty and his desire for me, then I shall be taken into the King's palace and no more then might you see me than if I were dead. So you see, either way, the result is the same."
"I shall see you again, Fou-tan," said the man.
She shook her head. "I like to hear you say it, even though I know that it cannot be."
"You shall see, Fou-tan. If we both live I shall find a way to see you; and, too, I shall find a way to take you out of the palace of the King and back to Pnom Dhek."
She looked up at him with earnest eyes, full of confidence and admiration. "When I hear you say it," she said, "the impossible seems almost possible."
"Cling to the hope, Fou-tan," he told her; "and when we are separated, know always that my every thought will be centred upon the means to reach you and take you away."
"That will help me to cling to life until the last horrible minute, beyond which there can be no hope and beyond which I will not go."
"What do you mean, Fou-tan?" There had been that in her voice which frightened him.
"I can live in the palace of the King with hope until again the King sends for me, and then—"