"I do not know," she said, "but I know that it is in me, passionately, strongly, irresistibly."

"You are bold," I said.

"A free woman may be bold," she said.

"True," I granted her.

"I need this for my fulfillment, to be one with myself," she said.

"Speak clearly," I said. She was free. I saw no point in making it easy for her. "I want to be a total woman, in the order of nature," she said.

I shrugged.

"My heart cries out," she wept, "with the need to be accepted, to be acquired, to be owned, to be mastered, to be forced to submit, to be forced to will-lessly and selflessly serve and love!"

I did not respond to her.

"I beg this of you, for you are a man," she said.

"Speak with greater precision," I said.

She shook her head. "Please, no," she said.

I shrugged.

"Mine is the slave sex!" she said, angrily, defiantly.

"The slave sex?" I asked.

"Yes!" she said.

"And you are a member of that sex?" I asked.

"Yes!" she said, angrily.

"I see," I said.

"I am tired of trying to be like a man!" she said. "It is a lie which robs me of myself!"

I said nothing. "I want to be true to myself," she said. "I want to be fulfilled!" "Such a thing is not reversible by your will," I said.

"I am well aware of that," she said.

"There are many sorts of masters," I said, "and you would be at the disposal of any of them, and totally,"

"I know," she whispered.

I said nothing.

"You have still not answered my question," she said. "Do you find me pleasing?" "It is difficult to say," I said, "bundled and covered as you are." "She looked at me, frightened.

"Strip," I said. She would be assessed.

She reached to the veils about her throat and shoulders and, taking them, dropped them softly to the grass.