From time to time Quilla came to see me also in this garden, bearing gifts of flowers, and with her I talked alone. She would sit upon a low stool, considering me with her beautiful eyes, as though she would search out my soul. One day she said to me:
“Tell me, Lord, are you a god or a man?”
“What is a god?” I asked.
“A god is that which is adored and loved.”
“And is a man never adored and loved, Quilla? For instance, I understand that you are to be married, and doubtless you adore and love him who will be your husband.”
She shivered a little and answered:
“It is not so. I hate him.”
“Then why are you going to marry him? Are you forced to do so, Quilla?”
“No, Lord. I marry him for my people’s sake. He desires me for my inheritance and my beauty, and by my beauty I may lead him down that road on which my people wish that he should go.”
“An old story, Quilla, but will you be happy thus?”