“But spare your prisoners, Sanson,” said Amaranth softly. “Spare Arnold. For my sake,” she said, pleading.
Sanson spoke curtly. “All Christians and all morons must be tomorrow’s sacrifice to the new era,” he answered.
“Do not go, Sanson,” Amaranth besought him, as he moved away from her. “Listen to me! You, who are so merciless and cruel, why do you not take all?”
“I have all that I need,” he said impatiently. “What more?”
“Why have you spared Lembken? Why do you not slay him and rule with us? We hate him. He is a tyrant, and you know the fate of his women when they have ceased to please. You who have made yourself the master of the world, for whose sight we throng the sides of the crystal walls as you cross the courts below—why have you refused the pleasures that are for the world’s masters?”
He stood still; I fancied that he was looking at her, trying to measure his problem in the balances once more. Coral cast a glance at me. The smile was still on her face, but she nodded her head thoughtfully, as if she, too, had her problem.
“Listen, Sanson,” continued Amaranth fiercely, “when Boss Rose climbed to power he built the People’s House and made it a pleasure-palace for the world’s elect. Then he died under a murderer’s dagger, and Lembken, who had long envied him, came to rule in his place. He, too, has lived his time. Now he is broken. You, the next ruler of the world—why do you not do as he did? We are tired of him. We want another lord, Sanson.”
I knew that she was clinging to him as she had clung to me. I did not look at Coral, but I knew that she was still smiling.
“You can set us free, Sanson,” continued Amaranth gently. “You can rid us of our tyrant.”
The murmuring voice went on and on, and Sanson made no answer.