A Princess of Mars

"No," she exclaimed, "it is enough that you have said it and that I

have listened. And when you learn, John Carter, and if I be dead, as

likely I shall be ere the further moon has circled Barsoom another

twelve times, remember that I listened and that I--smiled."

It was all Greek to me, but the more I begged her to explain the more

positive became her denials of my request, and, so, in very

hopelessness, I desisted.

Day had now given away to night and as we wandered along the great

avenue lighted by the two moons of Barsoom, and with Earth looking down

upon us out of her luminous green eye, it seemed that we were alone in

the universe, and I, at least, was content that it should be so.

The chill of the Martian night was upon us, and removing my silks I

threw them across the shoulders of Dejah Thoris. As my arm rested for

an instant upon her I felt a thrill pass through every fiber of my

being such as contact with no other mortal had even produced; and it

seemed to me that she had leaned slightly toward me, but of that I was

not sure. Only I knew that as my arm rested there across her shoulders

longer than the act of adjusting the silk required she did not draw

away, nor did she speak. And so, in silence, we walked the surface of

a dying world, but in the breast of one of us at least had been born

that which is ever oldest, yet ever new.

I loved Dejah Thoris. The touch of my arm upon her naked shoulder had

spoken to me in words I would not mistake, and I knew that I had loved

her since the first moment that my eyes had met hers that first time in

the plaza of the dead city of Korad.