In candidly expressing herself about the dark complexions, my companion had no intention or thought of wounding my feelings. So rigidly do they adhere to the truth in Mizora that it is of all other things pre-eminent, and is never supposed to give offense. The Preceptress but gave expression to the belief inculcated by centuries of the teachings and practices of her ancestors. I was not offended. It was her conviction. Besides, I had the consolation of secretly disagreeing with her. I am still of the opinion that their admirable system of government, social and political, and their encouragement and provision for universal culture of so high an order, had more to do with the formation of superlative character than the elimination of the dark complexion. The Preceptress remained silent a long time, apparently absorbed in the beauty of the landscape that stretched before us. The falling waters of a fountain was all the sound we heard. The hour was auspicious. I was so eager to develop a revelation of the mystery about these people that I became nervous over my companion's protracted silence. I felt a delicacy in pressing inquiries concerning information that I thought ought to be voluntarily given. Inquisitiveness was regarded as a gross rudeness by them, and I could frame no question that I did not fear would sound impertinent. But at last patience gave way and, at the risk of increasing her commiseration for my barbarous mental condition, I asked: "Are you conversant with the history of the times occupied by the originals of the portraits we have just seen?" "I am," she replied. "And would you object to giving me a condensed recital of it?" "Not if it can do you any good?" "What has become of their descendants--of those portraits?" "They became extinct thousands of years ago." She became silent again, lost in reverie. The agitation of my mind was not longer endurable. I was too near the acme of curiosity to longer delay. I threw reserve aside and not without fear and trembling faltered out: "Where are the men of this country? Where do they stay?" _"There are none_," was the startling reply. "_The race became extinct three thousand years ago._" CHAPTER II. I trembled at the suggestion of my own thoughts. Was this an enchanted country? Where the lovely blonde women fairies--or some weird beings of different specie, human only in form? Or was I dreaming? "I do not believe I understand you," I said. "I never heard of a country where there were no men. In my land they are so very, very important." "Possibly," was the placid answer. "And you are really a nation of women?" "Yes," she said. "And have been for the last three thousand years." "Will you tell me how this wonderful change came about?"