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Korak's face darkened as Tarkan departed. What impudence, what rudeness, to excuse himself in such an impolite way! And for the sake of meeting a foreigner. That was why he disliked Tarkan. So proud, and noble-looking, yet so cunning and rude. And yet, that was why he liked Tarkan. He could not keep back a chuckle, for he felt he had upset the Priest in some way, and it pleased him. Such people were always amusing.
The Royal Family had entered, and many were anxious to meet the Emissary. Lord Korak approached the 'Royal table' and bowed sweepingly to the King, with some humble words. And then he approached the Princess, fully aware of what a handsome sight he was that evening, and from the folds of his cloak he brought forth the gift, still wrapped, and presented it before her. "My Princess, I beg you allow me to give you some small token of my respect and affection for you," said he, and placing it into her hand, he gave another bow and departed, for he did not want to be introduced to the Emissary.
He went to his mother, and noticed with disgust and contempt that he was placed so he would sit directly opposite his Lady cousin. His mother was pleased at this arrangement, and a blush that was almost youthful was upon her cheeks, for the Lady cousin looked much like the dear sister of old. Morashk glowered when he heard of how they were to sit, and he skulked away, saying he was desirous of seeking company elsewhere. Lord Korak sat wrathfully, thinking that banquets were foolish things indeed.
"Son," said his mother, leaning towards him and speaking softly, "I beg you be at your best behaviour." He scowled defiantly, and with some tone of annoyance in her voice she added, "Perhaps the King shall see your dark face and think he should not like his daughter forever gazing upon such a face."
Lord Korak smoothed his brow, and tried to appear pleasant.
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