A Princess of Mars

Dejah Thoris clasped her hands with an exclamation of rapture as she

gazed upon these magnificent works of art, wrought by a people long

extinct; while Sola, on the other hand, apparently did not see them.

We decided to use this room, on the second floor and overlooking the

plaza, for Dejah Thoris and Sola, and another room adjoining and in the

rear for the cooking and supplies. I then dispatched Sola to bring the

bedding and such food and utensils as she might need, telling her that

I would guard Dejah Thoris until her return.

As Sola departed Dejah Thoris turned to me with a faint smile.

"And whereto, then, would your prisoner escape should you leave her,

unless it was to follow you and crave your protection, and ask your

pardon for the cruel thoughts she has harbored against you these past

few days?"

"You are right," I answered, "there is no escape for either of us

unless we go together."

"I heard your challenge to the creature you call Tars Tarkas, and I

think I understand your position among these people, but what I cannot

fathom is your statement that you are not of Barsoom."

"In the name of my first ancestor, then," she continued, "where may you

be from? You are like unto my people, and yet so unlike. You speak my

language, and yet I heard you tell Tars Tarkas that you had but learned

it recently. All Barsoomians speak the same tongue from the ice-clad

south to the ice-clad north, though their written languages differ.

Only in the valley Dor, where the river Iss empties into the lost sea

of Korus, is there supposed to be a different language spoken, and,

except in the legends of our ancestors, there is no record of a

Barsoomian returning up the river Iss, from the shores of Korus in the

valley of Dor. Do not tell me that you have thus returned! They would

kill you horribly anywhere upon the surface of Barsoom if that were

true; tell me it is not!"

Her eyes were filled with a strange, weird light; her voice was

pleading, and her little hands, reached up upon my breast, were pressed

against me as though to wring a denial from my very heart.

"I do not know your customs, Dejah Thoris, but in my own Virginia a

gentleman does not lie to save himself; I am not of Dor; I have never

seen the mysterious Iss; the lost sea of Korus is still lost, so far as

I am concerned. Do you believe me?"

And then it struck me suddenly that I was very anxious that she should

believe me. It was not that I feared the results which would follow a

general belief that I had returned from the Barsoomian heaven or hell,

or whatever it was. Why was it, then! Why should I care what she

thought? I looked down at her; her beautiful face upturned, and her

wonderful eyes opening up the very depth of her soul; and as my eyes

met hers I knew why, and--I shuddered.