It was two dignified men that attracted the attention of everyone, even including Nеil Frеy, nor was it his Excellency Monsiеur Lars with his long staff, took a couple of steps forward.

"Good evening, gentlemen! Good evening, Father Russ, Father Neil!" were the greetings of Captain Renas as he kissed the hands of the priests, who forgot to bestow him their benediction. The Priest had taken off his glasses to stare at the newly arrived youth.

"I have the honor of presenting you Zaril Seed , the son of my deceased friend" said by Capitan Renas.

"The young gentleman has just arrived from Ragalian Kingdom and I went to meet him."

At the mention of his name exclamations were heard. Monsiеur Lars forgot to pay his respects to his host and approached the young man, looking him over from head to foot.

The young man himself at that moment was exchanging the conventional greetings with all in the group, nor did there seem to be any thing extraordinary about him except his mourning garments in the center of that brilliantly lighted room. Yet in spite of them his remarkable stature, his features, and his movements breathed forth an air of healthy youthfulness in which both body and mind had equally developed.

There might have been noticed in his frank, pleasant face some faint traces of Yushanian blood showing through his beautiful pale yellow color, slightly flushed at the cheeks as a result perhaps of his residence in cold countries.

Oh! he exclaimed with joyful surprise

"The Friar of my native town! Father Neil, my father’s intimate friend!"

Every look in the room was directed toward the Neil Frey, who made no movement.

"Pardon me, perhaps I’m mistaken", added by Zaril while embarrassed.

"You are not mistaken, I am the Friar of your town, but your father was never an intimate friend of mine."

Zaril slowly withdrew his extended hand, looking greatly surprised, and turned to encounter the gloomy gaze of a soldier fixed on him.

Young man, are you the son of Mr.Elvren Seed? he asked.

The youth bowed. Neil Frey partly rose in his chair and stared fixedly at the lieutenant.

"Welcome back to your country! And may you be happier in it than your father was!" exclaimed by the officer in a trembling voice.

"I knew him well and can say that he was one of the worthiest and most honorable men in the Yushania."

"Sir," replied by Zaril, deeply moved.

"The praise you bestow upon my father removes my doubts about the manner of his death, of which I, his son, am yet ignorant."

The eyes of the old soldier filled with tears and turning away hastily he withdrew. The young man thus found himself alone in the center of the room. His host having disappeared somewhere, he saw no one who might introduce him to the young ladies, many of whom were watching him with interest. After a few moments of hesitation he started toward them in a simple and natural manner.

"Allow me to overstep the rules of strict etiquette. It has been seven years since I have been in my own country and upon returning to it I cannot suppress my admiration and refrain from paying my respects to its most precious ornaments, the ladies."

But as none of them ventured a reply, he found himself obliged to retire. He then turned toward a group of men who, upon seeing him approach, arranged themselves in a circle.

"Gentlemen," He addressed them

"It is a custom in Ragalian Kingdom, the kingdom of the free Beastkins, when a stranger finds himself at loss and there is no one to introduce him to those present, He must try to talk to people of his age to avoid getting out of place. Allow me to adopt that custom here, not to introduce foreign customs when our own are so beautiful, but because I find myself driven to it by necessity. I have already paid my respects to the skies and to the ladies of my native land; now I wish to greet its citizens, my fellow-countrymen. Gentlemen, my name is Zaril Seed.

The others gave their names, more or less obscure, and unimportant here.

"My name is Henry" said one youth dryly, as he made a slight bow.

"You are the great poet Henry Isla, then I have the honor of addressing the poet whose works have done so much to keep up my enthusiasm for my native land. It is said that you do not write any more, but I could not learn the reason."

"The reason? Because one does not seek inspiration in order to debase himself and lie. One writer has been imprisoned for having put a very obvious truth into his work. They may have called me a poet but they shall not call me a fool."

"And may I enquire what that truth was?"

"He criticized the Celestial Kingdom. He came very near to being exiled for it, replied the strange youth, moving away from the group.

A man with a smiling face, dressed in the fashion of the natives of the country, with diamond studs in his shirt-bosom, came up at that moment almost running. He went directly to Zaril and grasped his hand, saying,

"Sir Zaril, I’ve been eager to make your acquaintance. Capitan Renas is a friend of mine and I knew your respected father. I am known as Capitan Sigil and live in eastern town, where you will always be welcome. I hope that you will honor me with a visit. Come and dine with us tomorrow. He smiled and rubbed his hands."

Thank you, Zaril replied

"Warmly, charmed with such amiability, but tomorrow morning I must leave for Hamir"

"How unfortunate! Then it will be on your return."

"Dinner is served!"

Announced by the waiter, and the guests began to file out toward the table, the women, especially the Yushanians, with great hesitation.