“You are viewing the ancient battlefield of the Vespas and Centauris,” the literary man informed me. “The last war they had lasted forty years, closed with carnage, and should be eliminated from history. The reading is not elevating and neither have anything to be proud of. It occurred during the early ages when civilization ignored the earth which was inhabited by savages and beasts, the beasts being superior and more humane. What the war was over I’ve never discovered, nor has any one else; but it was conducted upon the most hellish plans. During one engagement the Vespas invaded too deeply the Centauri desert, their idea to surprise the enemy, who were ambushed in the hills. They were permitted to advance well inland, then suddenly the Centauris appeared and surrounded them. Not one Vespa returned to the Belt, but scouts informed the crescent people what had happened. The ancient King Benlial was a demon, the Vespas were enraged, and early the following day the Centauris were astounded to see another Vespa army marching across the neck. The Centaurians yelled their scorn of the advancing army and rushed to meet it. The battle was fought upon the peninsula, the Vespas gradually retreating; then suddenly, as though panic-stricken, turned tail and fled. The Centaurians, wild, drunk with victory, pursued them closely and at first did not see the tremendous wall of water rising, cutting off all escape. They realized when the land sank and mountainous waves engulfed them. It was a fiendish revenge; the Vespas are rightly named.” The literary man gave a shrug of disgust. I had passed from his vision long ago. He was conversing with himself, a habit most literary people effect, and he walked away as unconcernedly as though I’d never existed. I wondered if he had really repeated history or simply reviewed a scene from his new romance. We were crossing this historical neck of land now and all were on deck, gazing curiously at the dim outlines of the Vespa Belt. Alpha Centauri joined us, pale, listless, heavy-eyed, and gave orders for low sailing that we could more distinctly view the possessions of King Benlial. She confidentially told me she would remain in seclusion during the journey over the Vespa Belt, and mournfully shook her head when I begged permission to visit her. “The Vespa Belt has no charms for me,” she murmured. “Ah, Virgillius, do not be downhearted, you have taught me the value of unhappiness, life is incomplete without it. I am not despondent, but tortured with doubts; he whom I seek waits at Centur, but I have suffered disappointment so often I dread another. Do not think of me, join the others. I shall not see you again till we are crossing the Great Ocean.”