"Perhaps I am doing wrong," the Targa went on, "in not killing the
little one.... But she loves you. She will not talk. Now go. Day is
coming."
I tried to press the hand of this strange rescuer, but he again drew
back.
"Do not thank me. What I am doing, I do to acquire merit in the eyes
of God. You may be sure that I shall never do it again neither for you
nor for anyone else."
And, as I made a gesture to reassure him on that point, "Do not
protest," he said in a tone the mockery of which still sounds in my
ears. "Do not protest. What I am doing is of value to me, but not to
you."