“Oh, is that what you call being ahead of the time,” she demanded shrilly, “getting behind science to behave like Nero?  And for my part I don’t see anything whatever about the island that is ahead of the times.  You haven’t even got silk shoe-laces.  I actually had to use a cloth-of-gold sandal strap to lace my oxfords, and when I lost a cuff-link I was obliged to make shift with two sides of one of Queen Agothonike’s ear-rings that I found in the museum at the palace.  And that isn’t all,” went on the lady, wrong kindling wrong, “what do you do for paper and envelopes?  There is not a quire to be found in Med.  They offered me wireless blanks—­an ultra form that Mr. Hastings would never have considered in good taste.  And how about visiting cards?  I tried to have a plate made, and they showed me a wireless apparatus for flashing from the doorstep the name of the visitor—­an electrical entrance which Mr. Hastings would have considered most inelegant.  Ahead of the times, with your rudderless airships!  I have always said that the electric chair is a way to be barbarous and good form at the same time, and that is what I think about Yaque!”

Mr. Frothingham’s hands worked forward convulsively on his blue velvet knees.

“My dear Madame,” he interposed earnestly, “the history of criminal jurisprudence, not to mention the remarkable essay of the Marquis Beccaria—­proves beyond doubt that the extirpation of the offender is the only possible safety for the State—­”

Olivia rose and stood before the prince, her eyes meeting his.

“You will permit this sentence?” she asked steadily.  “As head of the House of the Litany, you will execute it, Prince Tabnit?”

“Alas!” said the prince humbly, “it is customary on the day of the coronation to set adrift all offenders.  I am the servant of the State.”

“Then, Prince Tabnit, I can not marry you.”

At this Mrs. Hastings looked blindly about for support, and Mr. Frothingham and Antoinette flew to her side.  In that moment the lady had seen herself, prophetically, in black samite and her parrot bonnet, set adrift in the penitential airship with her rebellious niece.

For a moment Prince Tabnit hesitated:  he looked at Olivia, who was never more beautiful than as she defied him; then he walked slowly toward her, with sweep and fall of his garments embroidered by a thousand needles.  Antoinette and her father, ministering to Mrs. Hastings, heard only the new note that had crept into his voice, a thrill, a tremour—­

“Olivia!” he said.

Her eyes met his in amazement but no fear.

“In a land more alien to me than the sun,” said the prince, “I saw you, and in that moment I loved you.  I love you more than the life beyond life upon which I have laid hold.  I brought you to this island to make you my wife.  Do you understand what it is that I offer you?”

Olivia was silent.  She was trembling a little at the sheer enormity of the moment.  Suddenly, Prince Tabnit seemed to her like a name that she did not know.