"My mother was like that. So you are a thief? My father would have expected it of any man of earth."
I had touched her hand, where it rested on the fur rug beside me. "You were taught to hate all earth-people, weren't you, Tara?"
"I hate thievery, and murder." Her beautiful moist red lips curved with her scorn. "Five of you—just five to represent earth's millions—and you are thieves and murderers. Everywhere on earth it is the same. Oh, I know—my father, he told me. Oh, he tried so hard for what is right—"
"I know he did, Tara. But he was doomed to fail."
"And your nations, too—thieves, murderers, just like you individuals." She suddenly seemed to realize that my hand was on hers. As though a viper had stung her she snatched her hand away. "You—Earthman! You would dare to touch me! Thief! Murderer—like all your miserable kind!"
She was abruptly sitting erect, quivering with her anger as she spat the words at me. I had drawn back. I was aware that from a nearby door-oval one of the little white Zurian guards was coming forward, but Tara imperiously waved him away. Her small white hand had gone to her furry garment, came back, clutching a small knife of polished stone. Little frozen volcano. But the tempestuous fires within her were seething now. For that breathless instant I thought that she was about to spring upon me with the knife.
"Tara—" I murmured.
Amazing little creature. Was it that subconsciously she realized the irony of her violence, and was ashamed that I should see it? Her hand opened and the knife fell to the rug at her side. Her flashing, steel-blue gaze like a little sliding sword clashed with mine. Then she called out an imperious command in the Zurian tongue. From the shadows of the door-oval three guards came leaping at me.
"Tara—wait! Listen—"
Her furious commands drowned my protests. She was lying back, panting, staring after me as the guards roughly dragged me away.