A Princess of Mars
It was all Greek to me, but the more I begged her to explain the more positive became her
denials of my request, and, so, in very hopelessness, I desisted.
Day had now given away to night and as we wandered along the great avenue lighted by
the two moons of Barsoom, and with Earth looking down upon us out of her luminous
green eye, it seemed that we were alone in the universe, and I, at least, was content that it
should be so.
The chill of the Martian night was upon us, and removing my silks I threw them across
the shoulders of Dejah Thoris. As my arm rested for an instant upon her I felt a thrill pass
through every fiber of my being such as contact with no other mortal had even produced;
and it seemed to me that she had leaned slightly toward me, but of that I was not sure.
Only I knew that as my arm rested there across her shoulders longer than the act of
adjusting the silk required she did not draw away, nor did she speak. And so, in silence,
we walked the surface of a dying world, but in the breast of one of us at least had been
born that which is ever oldest, yet ever new.
I loved Dejah Thoris. The touch of my arm upon her naked shoulder had spoken to me in
words I would not mistake, and I knew that I had loved her since the first moment that
my eyes had met hers that first time in the plaza of the dead city of Korad.