Von Horn took a menacing step toward the Chinaman, his face black with wrath, but Professor Maxon interposed.
“This has gone quite far enough, Doctor von Horn,” he said. “It may be that we acted hastily. I do not know, of course, what Sing means, but I intend to find out. He has been very faithful to us, and deserves every consideration.”
Von Horn stepped back, still scowling. Sing poured a little water between Bulan’s lips, and then asked Professor Maxon for his brandy flask. With the first few drops of the fiery liquid the giant’s eyelids moved, and a moment later he raised them and looked about him.
The first face he saw was Virginia’s. It was full of love and compassion.
“They have not told you yet?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “They have told me, but it makes no difference. You have given me the right to say it, Bulan, and I do say it now again, before them all—I love you, and that is all there is that makes any difference.”
A look of happiness lighted his face momentarily, only to fade as quickly as it had come.
“No, Virginia,” he said, sadly, “it would not be right. It would be wicked. I am not a human being. I am only a soulless monster. You cannot mate with such as I. You must go away with your father. Soon you will forget me.”
“Never, Bulan!” cried the girl, determinedly.
The man was about to attempt to dissuade her, when Sing interrupted.