“It’s a wonderful invention,” said Sir John, “and I can imagine would have been of immense value to our airmen on earth.”
Kulmervan then presented them to Waiko, and Mavis was led to a seat of honour on the dais.
They spent a most enjoyable time, and the whole entertainment was very like what they were accustomed to on earth. Games were played,—games with balls and racquets, and balls and hoops, and between the games there was singing and dancing.
Refreshments were served in a hall adjoining, and consisted mainly of luscious fruits and dainty cakes and pastries. The many Keemarnians they met, invited them in turn to parties and entertainments, and they felt they had more invitations than they could safely accept. “Never accept,” whispered Waz-Y-Kjesta to them all, “unless you mean to honour your host with your presence. A refusal never offends, but to accept and then to disappoint, is unforgivable.” Suddenly in the middle of the dancing a trumpet blew loud and clear. The band ceased and the couples stood still. Then rang out a fanfare of royal welcome, and the guests rushed to the entrance hall in great excitement, waving and cheering. “It must be some one of importance who is coming,” said Desmond. “Perhaps it is the Rorka,” suggested Mavis. There was a roll of drums, and then, on a litter carried by six stalwart men, entered a girl of perhaps eighteen years. The cortége stopped and Kulmervan bent low before her, and kissed her proffered hand. She bowed ever so slightly, and he assisted her from her cushioned throne. She stood beside him, and proved to be quite small, not more than five feet in height, but of a beauty almost indescribable. She was very fair and fragile. Her eyes were purple-blue fringed with long, black lashes. Her fillet was of gold, and was enriched with gems the colour of her eyes, while her robe of blue hung in folds about her. Perhaps it was her lips that impressed the watchers most. A perfect bow—they were of a vivid scarlet that contrasted strangely with the delicate pink flush of her cheeks. Self possessed, calm and regal she looked as she graciously acknowledged the plaudits of the guests.
“Who is she, Alan?” asked Mavis. But he was unconscious of her question, he could only gaze and gaze at the beautiful apparition who had come so unexpectedly upon the scene.
Waiko bent in turn before the stranger who whispered something to him. Immediately he came toward Mavis. “We are honoured to-night,” said he. “The Ipso-Rorka Chlorie has journeyed from Pyrmo to welcome you. She heard of your presence and came at once.”
“Who is she?” asked Mavis.
“Why the highest lady in the land—the only child of our Rorka.”
Mavis went toward where the girl stood, and the Ipso-Rorka held out both her hands to the English girl. “Welcome,” said she, in a voice musical and low. “I hear you start soon to honour the Rorka, my father, with a visit. May I welcome you first?” In turn the others were presented to her, but her attention was all for Mavis—it was Mavis the woman she wanted to know.
And Alan? He had seen his ideal! Years before, he wondered whether he would ever meet her—and now he had. And a King’s daughter! And he a stranger in a strange world! How dare he even lift his eyes toward her. Yet he dared—and his pulses leapt madly as his eyes feasted on her beauty. Not once did she address him—not once did she even seem to notice him. Chlorie put her hand lightly on Desmond’s arm. “I will dance with you,” said she smiling, and Alan watched them lead the merry throng of dancing couples. The demon of jealousy, earth jealousy, was in his heart.