ion was seraphically tranquil;
but his violet upper eye was sinister and adult. His skin was of the
colour of yellow ivory. His long, curling hair matched his sorb--it was
violet. The second man was standing erect before the other, a few feet
away from him. He was short and muscular, his face was broad, bearded,
and rather commonplace, but there was something terrible about his
appearance. The features were distorted by a deep-seated look of pain,
despair, and horror.

Oceaxe, without pausing, strolled lightly and lazily up to the outermost
shadows of the tree, some distance from the couch.

"We have met with an uplift," she remarked carelessly, looking toward
the youth.

He eyed her, but said nothing.

"How is your plant man getting on?" Her tone was artificial but
extremely beautiful. While waiting for an answer, she sat down on the
ground, her legs gracefully thrust under her body, and pulled down
the skirt of her robe. Maskull remained standing just behind her, with
crossed arms.

There was silence for a minute.

"Why don't you answer your mistress, Sature?" said the boy on the couch,
in a calm, treble voice.

The man addressed did not alter his expression, but replied in a
strangled tone, "I am getting on very well, Oceaxe. There are already
buds on my feet. Tomorrow I hope to take root."

Maskull felt a rising storm inside him. He was perfectly aware that
although these words were uttered by Sature, they were being dictated by
the boy.

"What he says is quite true," remarked the latter. "Tomorrow roots will
reach the ground, and in a few days they ought to be well established.
Then I shall set to work to convert his arms into branches, and his
fingers into leaves. It will take longer to transform his head into
a crown, but still I hope--in fact I can almost promise that within a
month you and I, Oceaxe, will be plucking and enjoying fruit from this
new and remarkable tree."

"I love these natural experiments," he concluded, putting out his hand
for another plum. "They thrill me."

"This must be a joke," said Maskull, taking a step forward.

The youth looked at him serenely. He made no reply, but Maskull felt as
if he were being thrust backward by an iron hand on his throat.

"The morning's work is now concluded, Sature. Come here again after
Blodsombre. After tonight you will remain here permanently, I expect,
so you had better set to work to clear a patch of ground for your roots.
Never forget--