“Ah, Virgillius,” she replied. “No plans could be perfected till the departure of wrathy King Benlial. I am not divine, and love begets selfishness. I will not sacrifice myself for the people.” The Vespa Prince—finis! We spent the entire day together. Over and over again she told of her deep infatuation for—nothing. Poetically, impassionately, she described the image of her dreams, and no man on earth could ever reach the perfections of the idol this girl had erected to worship. Then I learned of her plans. Alpha Centauri, for the first time in her life, was to leave Centur and tour the world. A large party of friends had been invited to travel with her and the government ship _Centur_ was placed at her disposal. “I have frequently been urged to do this,” she told me; “advised that I should become familiar with the world I would some day rule; but I demurred; science was more interesting. I lived a painfully narrow life—what a wonderfully different view you have created! Virgillius, I go in search of the god of my dreams.” And the secret was out. Alpha Centauri would search for and, if possible, possess this man of her imagination, and forever bring damnation upon her soul. What woman is happy with the individual she thinks her affinity? “Suppose your search should prove futile,” I maliciously suggested. “That is impossible,” she replied confidently; “my love exists.” I inquired if she would visit the Vespa Belt. “No,” she answered quickly. “My ideal could not be found among the Vespa people; but we shall sail low and slowly over the Belt that you may see it. It will take about two days to sail from one point of the crescent to the other and five days of stormy weather over the vast waters that separates the Belt from this land. Altogether we shall be absent many months. Centauri does not accompany us; he is much interested in the daring exploits of your great friend, Sheldon, and will pass most of the time in the Ocstas—and, Virgillius, we sail to-morrow evening at sun-down.” CHAPTER XVIII. The following day was one of excitement and petty anxieties. I constantly feared the wonderful young woman would, at the last moment, change her mind and electing to remain faithful to her “Fancy,” declare the tour off. But I was far from understanding Alpha Centauri. She directed preparations with a cool energy that was beyond alteration, and impatient to depart, would have sailed from Centur before noon but superstition prevailed—a lucky voyage must always be started at sun-down.