Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
tonight, like you!" Koroby stared defiantly at the laughing faces of her bridesmaids. She shrugged hopelessly. "I don't care," she said slowly. "It will be nice to have Yasak for a husband—yes. And perhaps I do love him. I don't seemed incapable of the slightest exertion. But Koroby's body was—compared to her friends'—voluptuous. She rested against the door-frame, watching the red of the afterglow Koroby twirled before the mirror, criticizing her appearance. "Yes, ready," she said. "Ready!" the girls cried. Then there was a little silence. whenever you can!" "Goodbye, Koroby!" "Goodbye! Goodbye!" They crowded around her, embracing, babbling farewells, shreds of advice. Trossa began to cry. Finally Koroby broke away from them, went to the door. She took a last look at the interior they rustled dryly. Too bad—it had been such a dry year— "You're comfortable?" the litter bearer asked. Koroby nodded, and the litter was lifted, was carried along the path. The procession filed into the jungle, into a tunnel of arched branches, steeply walled by cliffs of verdure. The litter jerked as it glided along, and Koroby heard one of the bearers exclaim gruffly, "Listen!" Then the litter resumed its dream-like floating on the backs of the men. "What was it?" another bearer asked. "Thought I heard something," the other replied. "Shrill and high—like something screaming—" Koroby peered out. "A gnau ?" she asked. Koroby lifted a hand. "Stop the litter," she said. The conveyance halted. Koroby leaning out, the men peering around them, All the faces were lifted up now, worriedly. The whine grew louder—Koroby's hands clenched nervously on the wreaths at her throat— They waited, but nothing further happened—there were no more stabs of green light nor detonations. The bearers stooped to lift the litter's poles to their shoulders. "Shall we go on?" one of them asked Koroby. "Take me to that light!" she persisted. They set the litter down. "We can't do that," one man said to another. Koroby stepped out to the path, straightened up, her eyes on the glow. "You'd better," she said ominously. "Otherwise, I'll make a complaint to Yasak—" "You can't do that!" a carrier cried. "Well, then, you take me," she said over her shoulder. Grumbling, they bent to the conveyance's poles, and Koroby lithely slipped to the cushions. They turned off the path, plodded through the bride had gone off on a mad journey. The bearers were powdered grey with dust, striped with blood where the dry grass-stems had cut them. They were exhausted and panting. Koroby was walking beside them, for they had abandoned the litter finally. Her blue drapery was ripped and rumpled crumpled part, and a strange bubbling and hissing filled the air. Koroby stopped short, clasping her hands and involuntarily uttering a squeal of joyful excitement, for between her and the blaze, his eyes on the destruction, stood a man..... behind his back and he was probably dejected. A man in a house from the sky— Koroby hastily grasped a corner of her gown, moistened it with saliva, and scrubbed her face. She rearranged her hair, and stepped forward. "Don't go there—it's magic—he'll cast a spell—!" one of the bearers whispered urgently, reaching after her, but Koroby pushed him away. The litter-carriers watched the girl go, unconsciously huddling together jungle's shadows, and waited there anxiously, ready at any moment to run away. But Koroby, with supreme confidence, walked toward the stranger, her lovely body graceful as a cat's, her face radiant. The man did not hear her. She halted behind him, waited silent, expectant, excited—but he those things on his belt—for instance, that notched L-shaped thing? It would not even make a decent club! The stranger did not speak, merely gazed deeply into Koroby's eyes. And she, returning the gaze, wondered if he was peering into her very soul. The words of a folk-ballad came to her: Koroby watched him, forgot her fear, and went eagerly to him, took his arm. "Who are you?" she asked. "Tell me your name!" He turned his mask of a face to her. "My name? I have none," he said. Terra—it is incredibly far away." The glare was beginning to die, the green flames' hissing fading to a whisper. They watched the melting globe sag on the sand. Then Koroby He shook his head. "No. Just better informed, for one thing. And—" Koroby cut him short. "What's your name?" "I have none." "What do you mean, you have none?" wrecked, and I'm due at the Reisezek Convention in two weeks. You"—he gripped Koroby's shoulder, and his strength made her wince—"tell me, where is the nearest city? I must communicate with my people at once." litter bearers and Koroby could barely drag themselves with him. The girl's garment was a tattered ruin. Her skin was gritty with dust, and and exclaimed in pain. Then the man took one of the strange implements from his belt, pressed a knob on it, and light appeared as if by magic! He handed the stick to Koroby, but she was afraid to touch it. This was cry almost of relief, she sank to the ground and lay semi-conscious, so weary that the very pain of it seemed on the point of pleasure. Robert dipped down, scooped her up, and carried her. glanced at Robert furtively to see if this had impressed him at all. "Fairly well. How long have I been ill?" Koroby asked, sweetly weak. "You haven't been ill. They brought you in last night." "Oh," Koroby said disappointedly, and sat upright. "I feel as if I'd been lying here for weeks. Where's Yasak? Where's the strange man in armor?" must go back to my wrecked ship now and arrange the signals there." He did not wait for her leave, but strode out of the room. Koroby huddled on a chair, sobbing. Then she dried her eyes on the backs of her hands. She went to the narrow slits that served as windows and unfastened the translucent shutter of one. Down in the City street, Robert was walking away. Her eyes hardened, and her fingers spread The City's wall was not far behind. Robert was visible in the distance, striding toward his sky-ship, a widening cloud of dust rising behind him like the spreading wake of a boat. Koroby stood on tip-toe, waving and calling after him, "Robert! Robert! Come back!" but he did not seem to hear. down to the ground and up another stem. It slipped over to another stem, and another, growing larger, hotter—Koroby stepped back from the writhing fire, her hand protectively over her face. The flames crackled at first—like the crumpling of thin paper. Then, as they widened and began climbing hand over hand up an invisible ladder, they roared. Koroby was running back toward the City now, away twisting pillar, brighter than even the dust-palled sky, lighting the buildings and the prairie. The heat was dreadful. Koroby reached the City wall, panted through the gate into a shrieking crowd. Someone grasped her roughly—she was too breathless to do more than gasp for air—and shook her violently. "You fool, you utter

<question>:
How did Yasak feel towards Robert upon their meeting?

<options>:
A Shocked by his appearance
B A friendly camaraderie
C Threatened by his presence
D Angry he had carried Koroby

<answer>:

C