It was one of those lovely nights that transform old Barsoom into a world of enchantment. Thuria and Cluros were racing through the heavens casting their soft light upon the garden of Tor Hatan, empurpling the vivid, scarlet sward and lending strange hues to the gorgeous blooms of pimalia and sorapus, while the winding walks, gravelled with semi-precious stones, shot back a thousand scintillant rays that, clothed in ever-changing colors, danced at the feet of the marble statuary that lent an added artistic charm to the ensemble. In one of the spacious halls that overlooked the garden of the palace, a youth and a maiden sat upon a massive bench of rich sorapus wood, such a bench as might have graced the halls of the great Jeddak himself, so intricate its rich design, so perfect the carving of the master craftsman who produced it. Upon the leathern harness of the youth were the insignia of his rank and service--a Padwar in the 91st Umak. The youth was I, Hadron of Hastor, and with me was Sanoma Tora, daughter of Tor Hatan. I had come filled with the determination boldly to plead my cause, but suddenly I had become aware of my unworthiness. What had I to offer this beautiful daughter of the rich Tor Hatan? I was only a Padwar, and a poor one at that. Of course, there was the royal blood of Gathol in my veins, and that, I knew, would have weight with Tor Hatan, but I am not given to boasting and I could not have reminded Sanoma Tora of the advantages to be derived because of it even had I known positively that it would influence her. I had, therefore, nothing to offer but my great love, which is, perhaps, after all, the greatest gift that man or woman can bring to another, and I had thought of late that Sanoma Tora might love me. Upon several occasions she had sent for me, and, although in each instance she had suggested going to the palace of Tara of Helium, I had been vain enough to hope that this was not her sole reason for wishing to be with me. "You are uninteresting tonight, Hadron of Hastor," she said after a particularly long silence, during which I had been endeavoring to formulate my proposal in some convincing and graceful phrases. "Perhaps," I replied, "it is because I am trying to find the words in which to clothe the most interesting thought I have ever entertained." "And what is that?" she asked politely, though with no great show of interest. "I love you, Sanoma Tora," I blurted awkwardly. She laughed. It was like the tinkling of silver upon crystal--beautiful but cold. "That has been apparent for a long while," she said, "but why speak of it?" "And why not?" I asked. "Because even if I returned your love, I am not for you, Hadron of Hastor," she replied coldly. "You cannot love me then, Sanoma Tora?" I asked. "I did not say that," she replied. "You could love me?" "I could love you if I permitted myself the weakness," she said, "but what is love?" "Love is everything," I told her.