Mars (Planet) -- Fiction; Martians -- Fiction; Science fiction
Still engrossed the next morning by these thoughts, I decided I would
go to Hath. Hath was a man--at least they said so--he might sympathise
even though he could not help, and so, dressing finished, I went down
towards the innermost palace whence for an hour or two had come sounds
of unwonted bustle. Asking for the way occasionally from sleepy folk
lolling about the corridors, waiting as it seemed for their breakfasts
to come to them, and embarrassed by the new daylight, I wandered to and
fro in the labyrinths of that stony ant-heap until I chanced upon a
curtained doorway which admitted to a long chamber, high-roofed, ample
in proportions, with colonnades on either side separated from the main
aisle by rows of flowery figures and emblematic scroll-work, meaning I
knew not what. Above those pillars ran a gallery with many windows
looking out over the ruined city. While at the further end of the
chamber stood three broad steps leading to a dais. As I entered, the
whole place was full of bustling girls, their yellow garments like a
bed of flowers in the sunlight trickling through the casements, and all
intent on the spreading of a feast on long tables ranged up and down
the hall. The morning light streamed in on the white cloths. It
glittered on the glass and the gold they were putting on the trestles,
and gave resplendent depths of colour to the ribbon bands round the
pillars. All were so busy no one noticed me standing in the twilight
by the door, but presently, laying a hand on a worker's shoulder, I
asked who they banqueted for, and why such unwonted preparation?
"It is the marriage-feast tonight, stranger, and a marvel you did not
know it. You, too, are to be wed."
"I had not heard of it, damsel; a paternal forethought of your
Government, I suppose? Have you any idea who the lady is?"
"How should I know?" she answered laughingly. "That is the secret of
the urn. Meanwhile, we have set you a place at the table-head near
Princess Heru, and tonight you dip and have your chance like all of
them; may luck send you a rosy bride, and save her from Ar-hap."
"Ay, now I remember; An told me of this before; Ar-hap is the sovereign
with whom your people have a little difference, and shares unbidden in
the free distribution of brides to-night. This promises to be
interesting; depend on it I will come; if you will keep me a place
where I can hear the speeches, and not forget me when the turtle soup
goes round, I shall be more than grateful. Now to another matter. I
want to get a few minutes with your President, Prince Hath. He
concentrates the fluid intelligence of this sphere, I am told. Where
can I find him?"
"He is drunk, in the library, sir!"
"My word! It is early in the day for that, and a singular conjunction
of place and circumstance."
"Where," said the girl, "could he safer be? We can always fetch him if
we want him, and sunk in blue oblivion he will not come to harm."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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