Francis shook his head.
The involuntary cry of joy the Queen uttered touched his heart to such tenderness of pity that almost did he put his arms around her to soothe her. She waited for him to speak.
"I am the one to marry you," he went on steadily. "You are very, beautiful. When shall we be married?"
The wild joy in her face was such that he swore to himself that never would he willingly mar that face with marks of sorrow. She might be ruler over the Lost Souls, with the wealth of Ind and with supernatural powers of mirrorgazing; but most poignantly she appealed to him as a lonely and na'ive woman, overspilling of love and totally unversed in love,
"And I shall tell you of another lie this Torres animal told to me," she burst forth exultantly. "He told me that you were rich, and that, before you married me, you desired to know what wealth was mine. He told me you had sent him to inquire into what riches I possessed. This I know was a lie. You are not marrying me for that!" with a scornful gesture at the jewel chest. Francis shook his head.
"You are marrying me for myself," she rushed on in triumph.
"For yourself," Francis could not help but lie.
And then he beheld an amazing thing. The Queen, this Queen who was the sheerest autocrat, who said come here and go there, who dismissed the death of Torres with its mere announcement, and who selected her royal spouse without so much as consulting his prenuptial wishes, this Queen began to blush. Up her neck, flooding her face to her ears and forehead, welled the pink tide of maidenly modesty and embarrassment. And such sight of faltering made Francis likewise falter. He knew not what to do, and felt a warmth of blood rising under the sun-tan of his own face. Never, he thought, had there been a inan-and-woman situation like it in all the history of men and women. The mutual embarrassment of the pair of them was appalling, and to save his life he could not have summoned a jot of initiative. Thus, the Queen was compelled to speak first.
"And now," she said, blushing still more furiously, "you must make love to me."
Francis strove to speak, but his lips were so dry that he licked them and succeeded only in stammering incoherently.