Meanwhile my scientific attainments were attracting considerable attention, until finally Lilla informed me that her father had reached the conclusion that these attainments would furnish an excuse for elevating me to the lesser nobility. The _real_ basis for my elevation was of course my rescue of the princess, but the king had not dared to give this reason, for fear of offending the sensibilities of Queen Formis. In due course of time my promotion occurred, and I became a barsarkar, entitled to wear a red circle over where my heart ought to be, _i.e._, on the right side of my toga. Lilla gave a special dinner to celebrate this, and invited Bthuh and Poblath. In fact, she was always getting up special occasions on one pretext or another, for she was very fond of devising new ways of cooking alta and mathlab and the red lobsterlike aphid-parasite, and of trying these dishes on her friends. We played at a four-handed game resembling checkers, and a pleasant time was had by all. After the game we sat on a little veranda in the warm soft evening air, two pairs of lovers blissfully happy. Doggo had not been invited. He would not have fitted in. Being a sexless female, what could he know of love? And then, too, I had begun to learn that, except in educational circles, where “science knows no national boundaries,” there was very little fraternizing between the Cupians and their conquerors. The social barrier between Doggo and me, which resembled the pale between our two countries, was the only drawback to an otherwise idyllic life. But as Poblath would say: “The cloudiest day may have its sunshine,” meaning just the opposite to our “every cloud has its silver lining.” For one day I received a letter from King Kew announcing, as a special mark of his favor, my betrothal to—the Duchess Bthuh! Horrified, I rushed to the apartments of my Princess, and obtained entrance. She, too, had heard the news, and was in tears. “My rank or not, Bthuh or no Bthuh, you are mine, mine!” she sobbed as she clung to me, while I covered her with kisses. “If it were not for Yuri and your criminal record, we could flee into Formia; but here in Cupia my father is supreme. If you were still a commoner, you could marry or not as you chose, within your own class; but as a barsarkar you must marry as the king directs.” “Isn’t there anything we can do about it?” I demanded. “Nothing,” she replied. “A princess cannot marry lower than a full sarkar, which is a rank that you can attain only by performing some distinguished service for your country. Our only hope lies in accepting fate for the present, and in striving to get you a sarkarship before the wedding. And think of poor Bthuh! This will be as much of a blow to her and to Poblath as it is to us.” But, to our surprise and consternation, Bthuh took the news very philosophically.