That night--our first night on Venus--midway between the darkness of sunset and the dawn--we buried Wolfgar. The air was soft and warm, with a gentle breeze that riffled the placid waters of the lake. Overhead, the sky gleamed with a myriad stars--reddish stars, all of them like Red Mars himself as seen through the heavy Venus atmosphere. Largest of them, the Earth. My birthplace! Save Elza here with me on Venus, that tiny red spot in the heavens, red like the tip of a lighted arrant-cylinder, held all that was dear to me! The funeral cortege--a solemn line of panoplied boats, started from the palace. Boats hung with purple fabric. In single file they wended their way through the city streets. From every landing, balcony, window and roof-top, the people stared down at us. The street corners were hung with shaded tubes of light, shining down with spots of color to the water. As we passed, the people bowed their heads, hands to their foreheads, palms outward. The gesture of grief. From one building came a low musical chant. "Honor to Wolfgar! The man who gave his life for our Princess. Honor to Wolfgar!" We came to the edge of the city. The lake here narrowed to a river--a length of winding river opening to the pond which was the burial place of Eternal Peace. On Tarrano's barge, with Elza and Georg, we led the way. Maida was not with us. I asked Tarrano where she was, but solemnly he denied me. At the burial waters--on the sloping banks of which a silent throng had gathered--we landed. And following us, the other vessels of the cortege came along and stopped beside us. The pond was dotted with white markers for the graves. The whole scene unlighted, save for the stars, and the red and purple aural lights of the Venus heavens, which mounted the sky at this midnight hour. A great, glowing arc--the reflected glow from a myriad cluster of tiny moons and moon-dust, encircling Venus. The soft light from it flooded the water and the tombs with a flush of red and purple. As we lay there against the bank, with that silent throng breathlessly watching, from down the river came the last vessel of our cortege. It made a scene I shall never forget. The bier. Draped in purple. A single, half-naked _slaan_ propelling it with a sweep from its stern. The body of Wolfgar lying on its raised prow--his dead, white face, with peace upon it. Beside the body, the lone figure of Maida, kneeling at Wolfgar's head, with her white, braided hair falling down over her shoulders. Kneeling and staring, almost expressionless; but I knew that with her whole heart she was speeding the soul of Wolfgar to its eternal peace. CHAPTER XX _Unseen Menace_ That day following the burial of Wolfgar, there was nothing of importance occurred. No news from the Earth could get in. I felt that the Earth might be planning an attack. Probably was, since war had been declared. Yet that of course was months away.