He picked it up. "D, no agent shall enter into a marriage contract with
any native.... H-m-m. You're not trying to warn me, are you, Captain
Linden? Or are you warning _yourself_?"
At that moment my eyes opened a little. Swimming before my blurred
vision was the face of Vauna. I did remember her--yes, she must have
haunted my dreams, for now my eyes burned in an effort to define her
features more clearly. This was indeed Vauna, who had been one of the
party of twelve, and had walked beside her father in the face of the
attack. Deep within my subconscious the image of her beautiful face and
figure had lingered. I murmured a single word of answer to Campbell's
question. "Myself."
In the hours that followed, I came to know the soft footsteps of Vauna.
The caverns in which she and her father and all these Benzendella
people lived were pleasantly warm and fragrant. My misty impressions of
their life about me were like the first impressions of a child learning
about the world into which he has been born.
Sometimes I would hear Vauna and her attendant Omosla talking together.
Often when Campbell would stop in this part of the cavern to inquire
about me, Omosla would drop in also. She and Campbell were learning to
converse in simple words. And Vauna and I--yes. If I could only avoid
blacking out.