“Yes,” Quivven sadly replied, “I must lead you to the plane, while I am yet me. Come quickly.”
“But can we leave Doggo?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Not only must you leave Doggo, but you must leave me, too; for Doggo is no longer Doggo, and I shall not be Quivven in a few minutes from now, for I feel the Whoomang-soul struggling for ascendency within me. Come!”
Quickly she led him out of the room, and down several hallways to a courtyard of the palace, where stood the plane, guarded by a green dragon. This beast interposed no objection to their approach. Quivven smiled wanly.
“He will not stop you,” she said, “for already they regard me as one of them, and count on me to inveigle you. And now, Myles, good-by. I feel myself slipping. In a minute or two your Quivven will be no more. Whether my own soul will then go to the happy land, as though I had normally died, or whether it will simply be blotted out, I know not; but one thing I do know, and that is that I love you with all my heart.”
She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Then suddenly she cried, “I’ve won! I made you love me. It was all a scheme, cooked up by Doggo and myself to trap you out of your complacency and force you to admit your love. The story of the moth-grubs souls is a lie, woven out of the weird philosophizing of Boomalayla. From now on, I know that you love me. From now on, I am confident that I can compete with that Lilla of yours.”
He stood aghast. Could this be so? He was half inclined to believe. Then he remembered her words: “Refuse stonily and absolutely to listen to any denial which my mouth may give you.” Also he reflected that Doggo certainly would never have been a party to a trick to betray Lilla.
So he thrust the golden maid to one side, and strode toward the plane.
But she rushed after him and clung to him, wailing piteously, “Myles, Myles, surely you aren’t going to desert us just because of this trick which we played on you. Surely you don’t intend to leave us to the mercy of these terrible beasts.”