I pondered the matter.
“Does the law state how soon the prisoner shall die?” was my next inquiry.
“No. That would, of course, depend upon circumstances,” he admitted.
“In that case, there is no need for us to worry over my death for the present, or over that of this friend who is with me,” said I in my easiest manner. “I begin to admire your law, your Majesty. It says very truly that every intruder upon your island shall die. But every native of Faytan, too, must die—in time.”
He saw my point, but was not impressed.
“The law says you shall be put to death, not that you will be permitted to die in time,” said he.
“Oh; very well, let it be that way,” I agreed. “But I am innocent of any intent to wrong you, or any of your people, your Majesty; so I appeal to you to postpone putting me to death as long as possible.”
He stared at me in a puzzled way.
“It is not fear,” he muttered, “that drives you to beg for your life—for a few brief hours or days. What is it, then?”
“I’ve acquired a habit of living,” said I, “and I hate to break it. Also I have a duty to perform—to instruct you in the truth concerning the great world outside of Faytan, of which I find you are very ignorant. I must show you how far behind other nations you are; how much you have yet to learn. You cannot gain this information from your own people, who are as ignorant as you are; you must gain it from me, before I am put to death. You say proudly that you rule a great country, but there is a way for you to make it a far greater country. You say your people are happy and prosperous, but I can teach you how to give them many comforts they are now without.”