As they disappeared within the structure Astok shrugged his shoulders, and with a murmured oath crossed the gardens toward another wing of the building where he and his retinue were housed. That night he took formal leave of Thuvan Dihn, and though no mention was made of the happening within the garden, it was plain to see through the cold mask of the jeddak’s courtesy that only the customs of royal hospitality restrained him from voicing the contempt he felt for the Prince of Dusar. Carthoris was not present at the leave-taking, nor was Thuvia. The ceremony was as stiff and formal as court etiquette could make it, and when the last of the Dusarians clambered over the rail of the battleship that had brought them upon this fateful visit to the court of Ptarth, and the mighty engine of destruction had risen slowly from the ways of the landing stage, a note of relief was apparent in the voice of Thuvan Dihn as he turned to one of his officers with a word of comment upon a subject foreign to that which had been uppermost in the minds of all for hours. But, after all, was it so foreign? “Inform Prince Sovan,” he directed, “that it is our wish that the fleet which departed for Kaol this morning be recalled to cruise to the west of Ptarth.” As the warship, bearing Astok back to the court of his father, turned toward the west, Thuvia of Ptarth, sitting upon the same bench where the Prince of Dusar had affronted her, watched the twinkling lights of the craft growing smaller in the distance. Beside her, in the brilliant light of the nearer moon, sat Carthoris. His eyes were not upon the dim bulk of the battleship, but on the profile of the girl’s upturned face. “Thuvia,” he whispered. The girl turned her eyes toward his. His hand stole out to find hers, but she drew her own gently away. “Thuvia of Ptarth, I love you!” cried the young warrior. “Tell me that it does not offend.” She shook her head sadly. “The love of Carthoris of Helium,” she said simply, “could be naught but an honour to any woman; but you must not speak, my friend, of bestowing upon me that which I may not reciprocate.” The young man got slowly to his feet. His eyes were wide in astonishment. It never had occurred to the Prince of Helium that Thuvia of Ptarth might love another. “But at Kadabra!” he exclaimed. “And later here at your father’s court, what did you do, Thuvia of Ptarth, that might have warned me that you could not return my love?” “And what did I do, Carthoris of Helium,” she returned, “that might lead you to believe that I _did_ return it?” He paused in thought, and then shook his head. “Nothing, Thuvia, that is true; yet I could have sworn you loved me. Indeed, you well knew how near to worship has been my love for you.” “And how might I know it, Carthoris?” she asked innocently. “Did you ever tell me as much? Ever before have words of love for me fallen from your lips?”