"Have you no nerves?" he asked presently.
"What do you mean?" demanded the ape-man.
"I have seen the bravest warriors tremble who had been summoned before Nemone," explained his companion.
"I have never trembled," replied Tarzan. "How is it done?"
"Perhaps Nemone will teach you to tremble."
"Perhaps, but why should I tremble to go where a jackal does not tremble to go?"
"I do not understand what you mean by that," said Gemnon, puzzled.
"Erot is in there."
Gemnon grinned. "But how do you know that?" he asked.
"I know," said Tarzan. He did not think it necessary to explain that when the noble had opened the door his sensitive nostrils had caught the scent spoor of the queen's favourite.
"I hope not," said Gemnon, an expression of concern upon his countenance. "If he is there, this may be a trap from which you will never come out alive."
"One might fear the queen," replied Tarzan, "but not the jackal."
"It is the queen of whom I was thinking."
The noble returned to the anteroom. He nodded to Tarzan. "Her majesty will receive you now," he said.
"You may go, Gemnon; your attendance will not be required." Then he turned to the ape-man once more.
"When I open the door and announce you, enter the room and kneel. Remain kneeling until the queen tells you to arise, and do not speak until after her majesty addresses you. Do you hear?"
"I hear," replied Tarzan. "Open the door!"
Gemnon, just leaving the anteroom by another doorway, heard and smiled, but the noble did not smile. He frowned.
The bronzed giant had spoken to him in a tone of command, but the noble did not know what to do about it, so he opened the door. But he got some revenge, or at least he thought that he did.
"The slave, Tarzan!" he announced in a loud voice.
The Lord of the Jungle stepped into the adjoining chamber, crossed to the centre of it, and stood erect, silently regarding Nemone. He did not kneel. Erot was there standing at the foot of a couch upon which the queen reclined upon fat pillows. The queen regarded Tarzan from her deep eyes without any change of expression, but Erot scowled angrily.
"Kneel, you fool!" he commanded.
"Silence!" admonished Nemone. "It is I who give commands."
Erot flushed and fingered the golden hilt of his sword. Tarzan neither spoke nor moved nor took his eyes from the eves of Nemone. Though he had thought her beautiful before, he realized now that she was even more gorgeous than he had believed it possible for any woman to be.
"I shall not need you again tonight, Erot," said Nemone. "You may go now."
Now Erot paled and then turned fiery red. He started to speak but thought better of it; then he backed to the doorway, executed a bow that brought him to one knee, arose and departed.
As Tarzan had crossed the threshold, his observing eyes noted every detail of the room's interior almost in a single sweeping glance. The chamber was not large, but magnificent in its conception and its appointments. Columns of gold suppoted the ceiling, the walls were Tiled with ivory, the floor a mosaic of coloured stones upon Which were scattered rugs of coloured stuff and the skins of animals.
On the walls were paintings, for the most part very crude, and the usual array of heads, and at one end of the room a great lion was chained between two of the goolden Doric columns. He was a very large lion with a tuft of white hair in his mane directly in the centre of the back of his neck.
From the instant that Tarzan entered the room the lion eyed him malevolently, and Erot had scarcely passed out and closed the door behind him when the beast sprang to his feet with a terrific roar and leaped at the ape-man. The chains stopped him and he dropped down, growling.
"Belthar does not like you," said Nemone who had remained unmoved when the beast sprang. She noticed, too, that Tarzan had not started nor given any other indication that he had heard the lion or seen him, and she was pleased.
"He but reflects the attitude of all Cathne," replied Tarzan.
"That is not true," contradicted Nemone.
"No?"
"I like you." Nemone's voice was low and caressing.
"You defied me before my people at the stadium today, but I did not have you destroyed. Do you suppose that I should have permitted you to live if I had not liked you? You do not kneel to me. No one else in the world has ever refused to do that and lived. I have never seen a man like you. I do not understand you, I am beginning to think that I do not understand myself. You have piqued my curiosity, Tarzan."
"And when that is satisfied you will kill me, perhaps?" asked Tarzan, a half-smile curving his lip.
"Perhaps," admitted Nemone with a low laugh. "Come here and sit down beside me. I want to talk with you; I want to know more about you."
"I shall see that you do not learn too much," Tarzan assured her as he crossed to the couch and seated himself facing her, while Belthar growled and strained at his chains.
"In your own country you are no slave," said Nemone.
"But I do not need to ask that; your every act has proved ft. Perhaps you are a king?"
Tarzan shook his head. "I am Tarzan," he said, as though that explained everything, setting him above kings.
"Are you a lion man? You must be," insisted the queen. "It would not make me better or worse, so what difference does it make? You might make Erot a king, but he would still be Erot."
A sudden frown darkened Nemone's countenance.
"What do you mean by that?" she demanded. There was a suggestion of anger in her tone.
"I mean that a title of nobility does not make a man noble. You may call a jackal a lion, but he will still be a jackal."
"Do you not know that I am supposed to be very fond of Erot," she demanded, "or that you may drive my patience too far?"
Tarzan shrugged. "You show execrable taste."
Nemone sat up very straight. Her eyes flashed. "I should have you killed!" she cried. Tarzan said nothing. He just kept his eyes on hers. She could not tell whether or not he was laughing at her. Finally she sank back on her pillows with a gesture of resignation. "What is the use?" she demanded. "You probably would not let me get any satisfaction from killing you anyway, and by this time I should be accustomed to being affronted. Now answer my question. Are you a lion man in your own country?"
"I am a noble," replied the ape-man, "but I can tell you that means little; a ditch digger may become a noble if he controls enough votes, or a rich brewer if he subscribes a large amount of money to the political party in power."
"And which were you," demanded Nemone, "a ditch digger or a rich brewer?"
"Neither," laughed Tarzan.
"Then why are you a noble?" insisted the queen.
"For even less reason than either of those," admitted the ape-man. "I am a noble through no merit of my own but by an accident of birth; my family for many generations has been noble."
"Ah!" exclaimed Nemone. "It is just as I thought; you are a lion man!"
"And what of it?" demanded Tarzan.
"It simplifies matters," she explained, but she did not amplify the explanation nor did Tarzan either understand or inquire as to its implication. As a matter of fact he was not greatly interested in the subject.
Nemone extended a hand and laid it on his, a soft, warm hand that trembled just a little. "I am going to give you your freedom," she said, "but on one condition."
"And what is that?" asked the ape-man.
"That you remain here, that you do not try to leave Onthar-or me." Her voice was eager and just a little husky, as though she spoke under suppressed emotion.
Tarzan remained silent. He would not promise, and so he did not speak.