Presently Alice heard him disconnecting the two machines, and a moment later she knew that Llysanorh's flyer was moving. A half hour passed and still she was left alone. Beyond the vibration of the machinery there was no sound to indicate that she was not absolutely alone on the flyer.
Feeling a little panicky she finally left the room and made her way through a corridor. Several doors that she opened led into rooms even more luxurious and splendid than the one she had left.
So this was the space flyer owned by the Martian of which there had been so much gossip. Stories she had heard before of its spaciousness and magnificence came back to her.
It was like the palace of the Beast in the ancient fairy story, where Beauty had wandered for hours through room after room filled with new marvels. Alice smiled whimsically at the thought. She was "Beauty," she reflected, and Llysanorh'—yes, he made a very good "Beast." Her buoyant spirits were rapidly recovering from the strain of her imprisonment.
Finally, she tried one more door, and entered a wonderful laboratory fully equipped.
And at the farther end, seated before a low table sat the Martian, his head resting on his folded arms. His whole attitude suggested hopeless desolation. He looked very lonely and remote, and somehow, to her, very pathetic.
She stood, hesitating, uncertain of whether to advance or retreat. Finally she spoke his name softly. At her voice he raised his head and stared at her. And she saw that his face was lined and furrowed as if with some terrible strain, but his eyes were steady with resolve.
"How serious you look," she said, coming into the middle of the room. "You seem so worried and anxious, Llysanorh'. Has something gone wrong with the flyer? And what did you do with Fernand and his machine?"
"I left him recovering from the effects of the drug," he said, in a forced and unnatural voice which betrayed, even more than his expression, the disturbed state of his mind. "And nothing is wrong with the flyer. It is I—I with whom everything is wrong."
"Oh, surely it can't be as bad as you think," said the girl, her quick sympathies aroused by his obvious misery. "Would it make you feel any better to tell me? We have always been such good friends, Llysanorh', and I might be able to help you."