yet understand.

"_Slaans_," Wolfgar called them. A term half of derision, half contempt.
And Wolfgar pointed one out to me. A huge grey, surly-looking fellow
passing in a one-man shell or boat of tree-fibre. He gazed up at us as
he went by--a furtive glance of cold, sullen fury. Unmistakable. And I
saw it again on others of his kind--men, women, even children who gazed
at us with big, round eyes. A dumb, sullen resentment, with a
smouldering fury beneath it.

During the trip, which may have taken an hour, I remarked something
also, which did not at the time seem significant but very soon I was to
recall it and understand its import. Argo, of course, was still with us.
As we embarked upon the barge, a man evidently an official of the Great
City had paid his humble respects to Tarrano and then withdrawn to a
further part of the vessel, drawing Argo with him. I saw the two in
close conversation. The official evidently was telling Argo something of
importance. I could see Argo growing indignant and then his eyes
gleaming, a leer upon his cruel lips.

During the trip Tarrano sat calm, half reclining on his couch--sat
watching with his keen expressionless eyes the applause of the
multitude. It was, I think, and I believe he felt it also, the height of
his career up to that time--this triumphant entry into the greatest city
of Venus. He did not speak, just sat watching and listening, with a half
smile of triumph pulling at his mouth. Yet I know too, that those keen
eyes of his did not miss the sullen glances of the _slaans_.

The weather, as always in the Venus Central State, was warm--a luxurious
tropic warmth. And now I felt--as I had seen from above--the languorous,
sensuous quality of it all. Music, mingled with the ripple of girlish
laughter and cheers, came from the houses as we passed. Soft, fragrant
flower-petals deluged us. The very air was laden heavy with exotic
perfumes from the flowers which were everywhere.

We arrived at last at what appeared to be a palace--a broad, low
building of polished stone, on an island of its own. It was the building
I had noticed when first we saw the Great City from above. Gardens were
about the building, and on its roof. Flowers lined its many balconies.

We drew up to a stone landing-place.

"The palace of the Princess Maida," Wolfgar whispered.

But I had no time to question him. Attendants appeared. A queer mixture.
Incongruous men of science, armed with belts of instrume