Chapter 12

Fara shook her head and sighed.

‘Dear heart, you know you would be wretched there,’ she said. ‘You hate cities, as I do. We would be exiles, we and our children—people without a country.’

At this juncture, Claudia appeared at the door. Supper was ready, she said. Would they come down, or should she bring it up? Fara murmured a word of thanks and said they would come down. Claudia, divining that she had arrived at an inopportune moment, disappeared.

‘Sorry, darling,’ muttered Voldi, ‘but I can’t eat this rascal’s bread!’

‘This is my father’s house,’ said Fara. ‘Surely his daughter has a right to invite a friend to supper.’

Voldi leaned forward and searched her eyes for a twinkle, but found them sober and sincere. The incongruity of the situation made him laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’ demanded Fara, soberly.

‘You came here to kill your father, didn’t you?’

‘Yes—but I haven’t done it yet.’ Fara’s tone was still serious, but a little smile twitched her lips.

‘And so long as you haven’t yet had a chance to kill him,’ grinned Voldi, ‘you feel free to extend his hospitality to your guest! Fara—this is very amusing!’

She rose and reached for his hand.

‘I’m glad to hear you laugh again, darling,’ she said, ‘even if you’re laughing at me. Come—let us see what Claudia has for us. By the way, did she make eyes at you when you came?’

‘Just a little, perhaps,’ admitted Voldi obligingly.

‘Well, don’t let that turn your head,’ drawled Fara, as they moved, arm in arm, toward the stairway. ‘Our Claudia is as friendly as a muddy dog and not very particular in her choice of friends.’ They both laughed. It eased their tension.

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