The ship gradually lowered as we floated over the city. The news flashed over Centur that the Priestess of the Sun had returned and excited crowds blackened the streets shouting a welcome. Alpha leaned far over the ship’s side, waving the flag of Centauri in response. Centur was in gay attire, gaudy flags and pennants floated from the domes of all buildings. Gorgeous silken banners coiled around the arms of Centauri and gently fluttered against huge arches and towers of rare blossoms whose rich fragrance absorbed the air. Something wonderful was certainly going on. Alpha turned to us bewildered. “What is it?” she queried. “Our return was unheralded—it is not a fête day. How beautiful Centur looks!” She shrugged her shoulders and again smiled down upon the welcoming people. The ship finally reached the palace park, then fluttered and circled downward and gently settled in its steel shed. The crowd surged against the walls with deafening shouts of greeting. Alpha waved her arms, and her clarion voice rose high in the worshipful cry of Sol. Like an avalanche the response fell upon her, betraying the joy these people felt at seeing her again. How they loved this beautiful woman! And now, as I think of it, I believe it was she, glorious Alpha, whom they worshipped—not the Sun. With sweet dignity she received the officials who hurried to meet her. Besangno, the great statesman who acted as chief executive during Centauri’s absence, saluted deeply and welcomed her in eloquent phrases. She was told that official notice had been received that her travels were about terminating, but that her sudden return was a joyous surprise to the people of Centur. “If my return is so unexpected what fête day is Centur celebrating?” she inquired. “Centur wears gala attire in honor of our distinguished guest who has delighted the populace with his presence nearly a fortnight,” Besangno informed her. “Benlial, of the Vespa Belt, waits the superb Alpha Centauri.” I was standing beside her, but instinctively drew away, repelled by her sudden icy demeanor. Once more I beheld the strange, enigmatical goddess, who had welcomed me upon my arrival to the city: Alpha Centauri, Priestess of the Sun, always. Erect, to her full height, with cold, calm, haughty eyes, she regarded the gentleman before her. She raised her arm and placed it across her breast, and with stiff formality bowed. “Greetings to the Vespa Prince,” she said; “his return to his people shall not be delayed. I will receive Prince Benlial at once.” Besangno was not at all dismayed by her manner, she had always been gracious to him, but this was Alpha of the Centauris, Priestess of their deity; a perfect woman, passionless—a saint. The glowing, palpitating creature I created was not for public adoration—she was mine, mine always! Besangno explained that the Prince was absent, gone to view the magnificent Otega, “but will speed back to Centur when informed that the Priestess of the Sun has returned.”