e outer world. We might have lived together for ever in love and
happiness. We have both looked upon Issus and in a year we die. Let
us live that year at least together in what measure of joy remains for
the doomed."

"If it was difficult for me to understand you, Phaidor," I replied,
"can you not understand that possibly it is equally difficult for you
to understand the motives, the customs and the social laws that guide
me? I do not wish to hurt you, nor to seem to undervalue the honour
which you have done me, but the thing you desire may not be.
Regardless of the foolish belief of the peoples of the outer world, or
of Holy Thern, or ebon First Born, I am not dead. While I live my
heart beats for but one woman--the incomparable Dejah Thoris, Princess
of Helium. When death overtakes me my heart shall have ceased to beat;
but what comes after that I know not. And in that I am as wise as
Matai Shang, Master of Life and Death upon Barsoom; or Issus, Goddess
of Life Eternal."

Phaidor stood looking at me intently for a moment. No anger showed in
her eyes this time, only a pathetic expression of hopeless sorrow.

"I do not understand," she said, and turning walked slowly in the
direction of the door through which Issus and her retinue had passed.
A moment later she had passed from my sight.

CHAPTER X

THE PRISON ISLE OF SHADOR

In the outer gardens to which the guard now escorted me, I found Xodar
surrounded by a crowd of noble blacks. They were reviling and cursing
him. The men slapped his face. The woman spat upon him.

When I appeared they turned their attentions toward me.

"Ah," cried one, "so this is the creature who overcame the great Xodar
bare-handed. Let us see how it was done."

"Let him bind Thurid," suggested a beautiful woman, laughing. "Thurid
is a noble Dator. Let Thurid show the dog what it means to face a real
man."

"Yes, Thurid! Thurid!" cried a dozen voices.

"Here he is now," exclaimed another, and turning in the direction
indicated I saw a huge black weighed down with resplendent ornaments
and arms advancing with noble and gallant bearing toward us.

"What now?" he cried. "What would you of Thurid?"

Quickly a dozen voices explained.

Thurid turned toward Xodar, his eyes narrowing to two nasty slits.

"Calot!" he hissed. "Ever did I think you carried the heart of a sorak
in your putrid breast. Often have you bested me in the secret councils
of Issus, but n