A Princess of Mars

Yes, I was a fool, but I was in love, and though I was suffering the

greatest misery I had ever known I would not have had it otherwise for

all the riches of Barsoom. Such is love, and such are lovers wherever

love is known.

To me, Dejah Thoris was all that was perfect; all that was virtuous and

beautiful and noble and good. I believed that from the bottom of my

heart, from the depth of my soul on that night in Korad as I sat

cross-legged upon my silks while the nearer moon of Barsoom raced

through the western sky toward the horizon, and lighted up the gold and

marble, and jeweled mosaics of my world-old chamber, and I believe it

today as I sit at my desk in the little study overlooking the Hudson.

Twenty years have intervened; for ten of them I lived and fought for

Dejah Thoris and her people, and for ten I have lived upon her memory.

The morning of our departure for Thark dawned clear and hot, as do all

Martian mornings except for the six weeks when the snow melts at the

poles.

I sought out Dejah Thoris in the throng of departing chariots, but she

turned her shoulder to me, and I could see the red blood mount to her

cheek. With the foolish inconsistency of love I held my peace when I

might have plead ignorance of the nature of my offense, or at least the

gravity of it, and so have effected, at worst, a half conciliation.

My duty dictated that I must see that she was comfortable, and so I

glanced into her chariot and rearranged her silks and furs. In doing

so I noted with horror that she was heavily chained by one ankle to the

side of the vehicle.

"What does this mean?" I cried, turning to Sola.

"Sarkoja thought it best," she answered, her face betokening her

disapproval of the procedure.

Examining the manacles I saw that they fastened with a massive spring

lock.

"Where is the key, Sola? Let me have it."

"Sarkoja wears it, John Carter," she answered.

I turned without further word and sought out Tars Tarkas, to whom I

vehemently objected to the unnecessary humiliations and cruelties, as

they seemed to my lover's eyes, that were being heaped upon Dejah

Thoris.

"John Carter," he answered, "if ever you and Dejah Thoris escape the

Tharks it will be upon this journey. We know that you will not go

without her. You have shown yourself a mighty fighter, and we do not

wish to manacle you, so we hold you both in the easiest way that will

yet ensure security. I have spoken."

I saw the strength of his reasoning at a flash, and knew that it were

futile to appeal from his decision, but I asked that the key be taken

from Sarkoja and that she be directed to leave the prisoner alone in

future.