The heat was intense. It was impossible to remain in my rooms, and my nerves were at such tension that I decided to hunt up Saxe, for relaxation. I knew I would find him awake and busy; he always worked at night, declaring the brain was clearer, more vigorous during the dark hours, and that all great ideas have been figured out by candle light. I softly stepped into the hall, the dim lights flickered in a slight draught, all seemed silent, yet distinctly a low murmur of voices reached me. I hurried down the broad vista of shining stairs, the bronze entrance stood wide as always, there were no sentinels in this wondrous land of harmony. As I neared the grand vestibule, the voices raised loud, discordant in angry dispute, and I paused in astonishment. A brilliant light suddenly flared from the Audience, or Throne Room, where royal magnificence defied comparison. A sultry silence, followed by the rustling of silks, warned me I had barely time to conceal myself behind the huge fluted column which supported the dome, when a door swung wide and Alpha Centauri stepped out, her bearing that of a Queen, a disdainful, arrogant Queen. By her side was the Vespa King, wild with rage; in the rear Centauri stood, arms uplifted in dismay and bewilderment. “At least meet Prince Benlial,” snorted the angry King, trying to detain her. Alpha gazed scornfully upon him. “I do not refuse to meet the Prince,” she answered, “but shall be absent from Centur indefinitely. However, when I return will give him an audience.” “Bah!” scoffed the King, unable to control his fury. “Leave the veneer for publicity; we are alone, be natural. You must meet my son, and cold, superior, as you think you are, you will——.” Quickly she raised her hand, commanding silence. “Useless!” she told him. “You have my decision. I am the Priestess of the Sun, and shall never wed.” She walked slowly away, the King watched her with bulging eyes, too furious for speech. Suddenly she turned and flashed him a brilliant smile. “My greetings to Prince Benlial. Should he ever visit Centur, a royal welcome awaits him.” She courtesied deeply in mockery; the interview was at an end. The King stamped with rage and would have followed her, but Centauri remonstrated and drew him into the room, gently closing the door. Alpha paused, shrugged her shoulders, and glanced disdainfully at the closed door. “The Prince of the Vespa Belt—ouff!” she muttered. Then she flung her arms high and whispered in adoration: “I am true, faithful; yours entirely.” Her eyes closed in passionate ecstasy, a smile of exquisite joy stole over the lovely features, as in a dream she proceeded on her way. I watched till she passed from view. She had learned the lesson well—an apt pupil who had not been taught, who had never forgotten. Remembrance had tarnished, a slight pressure upon the fabulous spring and the sensitive wires vibrated with rejuvenated vigor. Hurray! return to your Belt, oh Vespa King—sic!