TARA of Helium rose from the pile of silks and soft furs uponwhich she had been reclining, stretched her lithe body languidly,and crossed toward the center of the room, where, above a largetable, a bronze disc depended from the low ceiling. Her carriagewas that of health and physical perfection--the effortlessharmony of faultless coordination. A scarf of silken gossamercrossing over one shoulder was wrapped about her body; her blackhair was piled high upon her head. With a wooden stick she tappedupon the bronze disc, lightly, and presently the summons wasanswered by a slave girl, who entered, smiling, to be greetedsimilarly by her mistress.

"Are my father's guests arriving?" asked the princess.

"Yes, Tara of Helium, they come," replied the slave. "I have seenKantos Kan, Overlord of the Navy, and Prince Soran of Ptarth, andDjor Kantos, son of Kantos Kan," she shot a roguish glance at hermistress as she mentioned Djor Kantos' name, "and--oh, there wereothers, many have come."

"The bath, then, Uthia," said her mistress. "And why, Uthia," sheadded, "do you look thus and smile when you mention the name ofDjor Kantos?"

The slave girl laughed gaily. "It is so plain to all that he

worships you," she replied.

"It is not plain to me," said Tara of Helium. "He is the friendof my brother, Carthoris, and so he is here much; but not to seeme. It is his friendship for Carthoris that brings him thus oftento the palace of my father."

"But Carthoris is hunting in the north with Talu, Jeddak ofOkar," Uthia reminded her.

"My bath, Uthia!" cried Tara of Helium. "That tongue of yourswill bring you to some misadventure yet."

"The bath is ready, Tara of Helium," the girl responded, her eyesstill twinkling with merriment, for she well knew that in theheart of her mistress was no anger that could displace the loveof the princess for her slave. Preceding the daughter of TheWarlord she opened the door of an adjoining room where lay thebath--a gleaming pool of scented water in a marble basin. Goldenstanchions supported a chain of gold encircling it and leadingdown into the water on either side of marble steps. A glass domelet in the sun-light, which flooded the interior, glancing fromthe polished white of the marble walls and the procession ofbathers and fishes, which, in conventional design, were inlaidwith gold in a broad band that circled the room.

Tara of Helium removed the scarf from about her and handed it tothe slave. Slowly she descended the steps to the water, thetemperature of which she tested with a symmetrical foot,undeformed by tight shoes and high heels--a lovely foot, as Godintended that feet should be and seldom are. Finding the water toher liking, the girl swam leisurely to and fro about the pool.With the silken ease of the seal she swam, now at the surface,now below, her smooth muscles rolling softly beneath her clearskin--a wordless song of health and happiness and grace.Presently she emerged and gave herself into the hands of theslave girl, who rubbed the body of her mistress with a sweetsmelling semi-liquid substance contained in a golden urn, untilthe glowing skin was covered with a foamy lather, then a quickplunge into the pool, a drying with soft towels, and the bath wasover. Typical of the life of the princess was the simple eleganceof her bath--no retinue of useless slaves, no pomp, no idle wasteof precious moments. In another half hour her hair was dried andbuilt into the strange, but becoming, coiffure of her station;her leathern trappings, encrusted with gold and jewels, had beenadjusted to her figure and she was ready to mingle with theguests that had been bidden to the midday function at the palaceof The Warlord.

As she left her apartments to make her way to the gardens wherethe guests were congregating, two warriors, the insignia of theHouse of the Prince of Helium upon their harness, followed a fewpaces behind her, grim reminders that the assassin's blade maynever be ignored upon Barsoom, where, in a measure, itcounterbalances the great natural span of human life, which isestimated at not less than a thousand years.

As they neared the entrance to the garden another woman,similarly guarded, approached them from another quarter of thegreat palace. As she neared them Tara of Helium turned toward herwith a smile and a happy greeting, while her guards knelt withbowed heads in willing and voluntary adoration of the beloved ofHelium. Thus always, solely at the command of their own hearts,did the warriors of Helium greet Dejah Thoris, whose deathlessbeauty had more than once brought them to bloody warfare withother nations of Barsoom. So great was the love of the people ofHelium for the mate of John Carter it amounted practically toworship, as though she were indeed the goddess that she looked.

The mother and daughter exhanged the gentle, Barsoomian, "kaor"of greeting and kissed. Then together they entered the gardenswhere the guests were. A huge warrior drew his short-sword andstruck his metal shield with the flat of it, the brazen soundringing out above the laughter and the speech.

"The Princess comes!" he cried. "Dejah Thoris! The Princesscomes! Tara of Helium!" Thus always is royalty announced. Theguests arose; the two women inclined their heads; the guards fellback upon either side of the entrance-way; a number of noblesadvanced to pay their respects; the laughing and the talking wereresumed and Dejah Thoris and her daughter moved simply andnaturally among their guests, no suggestion of differing rankapparent in the bearing of any who were there, though there wasmore than a single Jeddak and many common warriors whose onlytitle lay in brave deeds, or noble patriotism. Thus it is uponMars where men are judged upon their own merits rather than uponthose of their grandsires, even though pride of lineage be great.

Tara of Helium let her slow gaze wander among the throng ofguests until presently it halted upon one she sought. Was thefaint shadow of a frown that crossed her brow an indication ofdispleasure at the sight that met her eyes, or did the brilliantrays of the noonday sun distress her? Who may say! She had beenreared to believe that one day she should wed Djor Kantos, son ofher father's best friend. It had been the dearest wish of KantosKan and The Warlord that this should be, and Tara of Helium hadaccepted it as a matter of all but accomplished fact. Djor Kantoshad seemed to accept the matter in the same way. They had spokenof it casually as something that would, as a matter of course,take place in the indefinite future, as, for instance, hispromotion in the navy, in which he was now a padwar; or the setfunctions of the court of her grandfather, Tardos Mors, Jeddak ofHelium; or Death. They had never spoken of love and that hadpuzzled Tara of Helium upon the rare occasions she gave itthought, for she knew that people who were to wed were usuallymuch occupied with the matter of love and she had all of awoman's curiosity--she wondered what love was like. She was veryfond of Djor Kantos and she knew that he was very fond of her.They liked to be together, for they liked the same things and thesame people and the same books and their dancing was a joy, notonly to themselves but to those who watched them. She could notimagine wanting to marry anyone other than Djor Kantos.

So perhaps it was only the sun that made her brows contract justthe tiniest bit at the same instant that she discovered DjorKantos sitting in earnest conversation with Olvia Marthis,daughter of the Jed of Hastor. It was Djor Kantos' dutyimmediately to pay his respects to Dejah Thoris and Tara ofHelium; but he did not do so and presently the daughter of TheWarlord frowned indeed. She looked long at Olvia Marthis, andthough she had seen her many times before and knew her well, shelooked at her today through new eyes that saw, apparently for thefirst time, that the girl from Hastor was noticeably beautifuleven among those other beautiful women of Helium. Tara of Heliumwas disturbed. She attempted to analyze her emotions; but foundit difficult. Olvia Marthis was her friend--she was very fond ofher and she felt no anger toward her. Was she angry with DjorKantos? No, she finally decided that she was not. It was merelysurprise, then, that she felt--surprise that Djor Kantos could bemore interested in another than in herself. She was about tocross the garden and join them when she heard her father's voicedirectly behind her.

"Tara of Helium!" he called, and she turned to see himapproaching with a strange warrior whose harness and metal boredevices with which she was unfamiliar. Even among the gorgeoustrappings of the men of Helium and the visitors from distantempires those of the stranger were remarkable for their barbaricsplendor. The leather of his harness was completely hiddenbeneath ornaments of platinum thickly set with brilliantdiamonds, as were the scabbards of his swords and the ornateholster that held his long, Martian pistol. Moving through thesunlit garden at the side of the great Warlord, the scintillantrays of his countless gems enveloping him as in an aureole oflight imparted to his noble figure a suggestion of godliness.

"Tara of Helium, I bring you Gahan, Jed of Gathol," said JohnCarter, after the simple Barsoomian custom of presentation.

"Kaor! Gahan, Jed of Gathol," returned Tara of Helium.

"My sword is at your feet, Tara of Helium," said the youngchieftain.

The Warlord left them and the two seated themselves upon anersite bench beneath a spreading sorapus tree.

"Far Gathol," mused the girl. "Ever in my mind has it beenconnected with mystery and romance and the half-forgotten lore ofthe ancients. I cannot think of Gathol as existing today,possibly because I have never before seen a Gatholian."

"And perhaps too because of the great distance that separatesHelium and Gathol, as well as the comparative insignificance ofmy little free city, which might easily be lost in one corner ofmighty Helium," added Gahan. "But what we lack in power we makeup in pride," he continued, laughing. "We believe ours the oldestinhabited city upon Barsoom. It is one of the few that hasretained its freedom, and this despite the fact that its ancientdiamond mines are the richest known and, unlike practically allthe other fields, are today apparently as inexhaustible as ever."

"Tell me of Gathol," urged the girl. "The very thought fills mewith interest," nor was it likely that the handsome face of theyoung jed detracted anything from the glamour of far Gathol.

Nor did Gahan seem displeased with the excuse for furthermonopolizing the society of his fair companion. His eyes seemedchained to her exquisite features, from which they moved nofurther than to a rounded breast, part hid beneath its jeweledcovering, a naked shoulder or the symmetry of a perfect arm,resplendent in bracelets of barbaric magnificence.

"Your ancient history has doubtless told you that Gathol wasbuilt upon an island in Throxeus, mightiest of the five oceans ofold Barsoom. As the ocean receded Gathol crept down the sides ofthe mountain, the summit of which was the island upon which shehad been built, until today she covers the slopes from summit tobase, while the bowels of the great hill are honeycombed with thegalleries of her mines. Entirely surrounding us is a great saltmarsh, which protects us from invasion by land, while the ruggedand ofttimes vertical topography of our mountain renders thelanding of hostile airships a precarious undertaking."

"That, and your brave warriors?" suggested the girl.

Gahan smiled. "We do not speak of that except to enemies," hesaid, "and then with tongues of steel rather than of flesh."

"But what practice in the art of war has a people which naturehas thus protected from attack?" asked Tara of Helium, who hadliked the young jed's answer to her previous question, but yet inwhose mind persisted a vague conviction of the possibleeffeminacy of her companion, induced, doubtless, by themagnificence of his trappings and weapons which carried asuggestion of splendid show rather than grim utility.

"Our natural barriers, while they have doubtless saved us fromdefeat on countless occasions, have not by any means rendered usimmune from attack," he explained, "for so great is the wealth ofGathol's diamond treasury that there yet may be found those whowill risk almost certain defeat in an effort to loot ourunconquered city; so thus we find occasional practice in theexercise of arms; but there is more to Gathol than the mountaincity. My country extends from Polodona (Equator) north ten karadsand from the tenth karad west of Horz to the twentieth west,including thus a million square haads, the greater proportion ofwhich is fine grazing land where run our great herds of thoatsand zitidars.

"Surrounded as we are by predatory enemies our herdsmen mustindeed be warriors or we should have no herds, and you may beassured they get plenty of fighting. Then there is our constantneed of workers in the mines. The Gatholians consider themselvesa race of warriors and as such prefer not to labor in the mines.The law is, however, that each male Gatholian shall give an houra day in labor to the government. That is practically the onlytax that is levied upon them. They prefer however, to furnish asubstitute to perform this labor, and as our own people will nothire out for labor in the mines it has been necessary to obtainslaves, and I do not need to tell you that slaves are not wonwithout fighting. We sell these slaves in the public market, theproceeds going, half and half, to the government and the warriorswho bring them in. The purchasers are credited with the amount oflabor performed by their particular slaves. At the end of a yeara good slave will have performed the labor tax of his master forsix years, and if slaves are plentiful he is freed and permittedto return to his own people."

"You fight in platinum and diamonds?" asked Tara, indicating hisgorgeous trappings with a quizzical smile.

Gahan laughed. "We are a vain people," he admitted,good-naturedly, "and it is possible that we place too much valueon personal appearances. We vie with one another in the splendorof our accoutrements when trapped for the observance of thelighter duties of life, though when we take the field our leatheris the plainest I ever have seen worn by fighting men of Barsoom.We pride ourselves, too, upon our physical beauty, and especiallyupon the beauty of our women. May I dare to say, Tara of Helium,that I am hoping for the day when you will visit Gathol that mypeople may see one who is really beautiful?"

"The women of Helium are taught to frown with displeasure uponthe tongue of the flatterer," rejoined the girl, but Gahan, Jedof Gathol, observed that she smiled as she said it.

A bugle sounded, clear and sweet, above the laughter and thetalk. "The Dance of Barsoom!" exclaimed the young warrior. "Iclaim you for it, Tara of Helium."

The girl glanced in the direction of the bench where she had lastseen Djor Kantos. He was not in sight. She inclined her head inassent to the claim of the Gatholian. Slaves were passing amongthe guests, distributing small musical instruments of a singlestring. Upon each instrument were characters which indicated thepitch and length of its tone. The instruments were of skeel, thestring of gut, and were shaped to fit the left forearm of thedancer, to which it was strapped. There was also a ring woundwith gut which was worn between the first and second joints ofthe index finger of the right hand and which, when passed overthe string of the instrument, elicited the single note requiredof the dancer.

The guests had risen and were slowly making their way toward theexpanse of scarlet sward at the south end of the gardens wherethe dance was to be held, when Djor Kantos came hurriedly towardTara of Helium. "I claim--" he exclaimed as he neared her; butshe interrupted him with a gesture.

"You are too late, Djor Kantos," she cried in mock anger. "Nolaggard may claim Tara of Helium; but haste now lest thou losealso Olvia Marthis, whom I have never seen wait long to beclaimed for this or any other dance."

"I have already lost her," admitted Djor Kantos ruefully.

"And you mean to say that you came for Tara of Helium only afterhaving lost Olvia Marthis?" demanded the girl, still simulatingdispleasure.

"Oh, Tara of Helium, you know better than that," insisted theyoung man. "Was it not natural that I should assume that youwould expect me, who alone has claimed you for the Dance ofBarsoom for at least twelve times past?"

"And sit and play with my thumbs until you saw fit to come forme?" she questioned. "Ah, no, Djor Kantos; Tara of Helium is forno laggard," and she threw him a sweet smile and passed on towardthe assembling dancers with Gahan, Jed of far Gathol.

The Dance of Barsoom bears a relation similar to the more formaldancing functions of Mars that The Grand March does to ours,though it is infinitely more intricate and more beautiful. Beforea Martian youth of either sex may attend an important socialfunction where there is dancing, he must have become proficientin at least three dances--The Dance of Barsoom, his nationaldance, and the dance of his city. In these three dances thedancers furnish their own music, which never varies; nor do thesteps or figures vary, having been handed down from timeimmemorial. All Barsoomian dances are stately and beautiful, butThe Dance of Barsoom is a wondrous epic of motion andharmony--there is no grotesque posturing, no vulgar or suggestivemovements. It has been described as the interpretation of thehighest ideals of a world that aspired to grace and beauty andchastity in woman, and strength and dignity and loyalty in man.

Today, John Carter, Warlord of Mars, with Dejah Thoris, his mate,led in the dancing, and if there was another couple that viedwith them in possession of the silent admiration of the guests itwas the resplendent Jed of Gathol and his beautiful partner. Inthe ever-changing figures of the dance the man found himself nowwith the girl's hand in his and again with an arm about the lithebody that the jeweled harness but inadequately covered, and thegirl, though she had danced a thousand dances in the past,realized for the first time the personal contact of a man's armagainst her naked flesh. It troubled her that she should noticeit, and she looked up questioningly and almost with displeasureat the man as though it was his fault. Their eyes met and she sawin his that which she had never seen in the eyes of Djor Kantos.It was at the very end of the dance and they both stoppedsuddenly with the music and stood there looking straight intoeach other's eyes. It was Gahan of Gathol who spoke first.

"Tara of Helium, I love you!" he said.

The girl drew herself to her full height. "The Jed of Gatholforgets himself," she exclaimed haughtily.

"The Jed of Gathol would forget everything but you, Tara ofHelium," he replied. Fiercely he pressed the soft hand that hestill retained from the last position of the dance. "I love you,Tara of Helium," he repeated. "Why should your ears refuse tohear what your eyes but just now did not refuse to see--andanswer?"

"What meanest thou?" she cried. "Are the men of Gathol suchboors, then?"

"They are neither boors nor fools," he replied, quietly. "Theyknow when they love a woman--and when she loves them."

Tara of Helium stamped her little foot in anger. "Go!" she said,"before it is necessary to acquaint my father with the dishonorof his guest."

She turned and walked away. "Wait!" cried the man. "Just anotherword."

"Of apology?" she asked.

"Of prophecy," he said.

"I do not care to hear it," replied Tara of Helium, and left

him standing there. She was strangely unstrung and shortlythereafter returned to her own quarter of the palace, where shestood for a long time by a window looking out beyond the scarlettower of Greater Helium toward the northwest.

Presently she turned angrily away. "I hate him!" she exclaimedaloud.

"Whom?" inquired the privileged Uthia.

Tara of Helium stamped her foot. "That ill-mannered boor, the Jedof Gathol," she replied.

Uthia raised her slim brows.

At the stamping of the little foot, a great beast rose from thecorner of the room and crossed to Tara of Helium where it stoodlooking up into her face. She placed her hand upon the ugly head."Dear old Woola," she said; "no love could be deeper than yours,yet it never offends. Would that men might pattern themselvesafter you!"