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He, too, was in Cosian robes. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter 22, Sentence #445)

* * * * It was a few Ehn later when, making her way amongst the joking, roaring, laughing, colorfully garbed men, tunicked and robed, many sitting about the fires, some afoot, moving here and there, the firelight reflecting from the side of the red-figured pitcher, the side of her lit by one of the fires, her feet in the soft earth, the music about her, dancers elsewhere, in some of the circles, she stopped suddenly, startled, shaken, and nearly dropped the vessel she carried. Amongst the men about one of the fires she saw, sitting cross-legged, in sedate, deliberative, sober converse with men in Cosian robes, not soldiers, one whose presence here was incomprehensible. She was stunned, she could not move. He, too, was in Cosian robes. How magnificent he looked, seeing him now, once again, he in rich robes, at ease, rich, prosperous, secure, self-assured, splendid, more so than she had ever dreamed he might be. He was the sort of man at whose feet a trembling slave would cringe, the sort of man at whose feet belonged women, the sort of man at whose feet a queen might beg her collar. He was here! She gasped with terror, eagerness and desire. - (Prize of Gor)