“Have no fear, lord,” said Soa, reading his thoughts. “See, I am unarmed.”
Then he commanded the others to go, and when the door had closed behind them, he looked at her inquiringly.
“Tell me, lord, who am I?” asked Soa, throwing the wrapping from her head and turning her face to the glare of the torchlight.
“How can I know who you are, wanderer? Yet, had I met you by chance, I should have said that you were of our blood.”
“That is so, lord, I am of your blood. Cast your mind back and think if you can remember a certain daughter whom you loved many years ago, but who through the workings of your foes was chosen to be a bride to the Snake,” and she paused.
“Speak on,” said Nam in a low voice.
“Perchance you can recall, lord, that, moved to it by love and pity, on the night of the sacrifice you helped that daughter to escape the fangs of the Snake.”
“I remember something of it,” he replied cautiously; “but tidings were brought to me that this woman of whom you speak was overtaken by the vengeance of the god, and died on her journey.”
“That is not so, lord. I am your daughter, and you are none other than my father. I knew you when I first saw your face, though you did not know me.”
“Prove it, and beware how you lie,” he said. “Show me the secret sign, and whisper the hidden word into my ear.”