If nothing comes back, where does everything go?" Torres asked thickly.
The Queen shrugged her shoulders, although he knew that she knew the secret of the waters.
"More than one man has gone that way," she said dreamily. "No one of them has ever returned. My mother went that way, after she was dead. I was a girl then." She roused. "But you, helmeted one, go now. Make report to your master your friend, I mean. Tell him what I possess for dowry. And, if he be half as mad as you about the bits of glass, swiftly will his arms surround me. I shall remain here and in dreams await his coming. The play of the water fascinates me."
Dismissed, Torres entered the sleeping chamber, crept back to steal a glimpse of the Queen, and saw her sunk down on the platform, head on hand, and gazing into the whirlpool. Swiftly he made his way to the chest, lifted the lid, and stowed a scooping handful into his trousers' pocket. Ere he could scoop a second handful, the mocking laughter of the Queen was at his back.
Fear and rage mastered him to such extent, that he sprang toward her, and pursuing her out upon the platform, was only prevented from seizing her by the dagger she threatened him with.
"Thief," she said quietly. "Without honor are you. And the way of all thieves in this valley is death. I shall summon my spearmen and have you thrown into the whirling water."
And his extremity gave Torres cunning. Glancing apprehensively at the water that threatened him, he ejaculated a cry of horror as if at what strange thing he had seen, sank down on one knee, and buried his convulsed face of simulated fear hi his hands. The Queen looked sidewise to see wfiat he had seen. Which was his moment. He rose in the air upon her like a leaping tiger, clutching her wrists and wresting the dagger from her.
He wiped the sweat from his face and trembled while he slowly recovered himself. Meanwhile she gazed upon him curiously, without fear.
"You are a woman of evil," he snarled at her, still shaking with rage, "a witch that traffics with the powers of darkness and all devilish things. Yet are you woman, born of woman, and therefore mortal. The weakness of mortality and of woman is yours, wherefore I give you now your choice of two things. Either you shall be thrown into the whirl of water and perish, or…" "Or?" she prompted.
"Or…" He paused, licked his dry lips, and burst forth. "No! By the Mother of God, I am not afraid. Or marry me this day, which is the other choice."