"But this, my Elza, is very different. I did not wish to do what I am doing now. I had planned—I had thought, had actually hoped, that I might maintain myself in the Great City. You see, I tell you this, little girl, because—well I am a lonely man. I walk alone—and because I am human—it does me good to have someone to talk to. I had hoped I might maintain myself in the Great City. Last night—at the start of the Water Festival—I began to realize it was impossible. I should have enlisted the Rhaals—the men of science, Elza. But I had no time, and they are very aloof. I could have won them to me had I tried." He shrugged. "I must confess I was over-confident of my strength—the strength of my position. The Rhaals stayed out of the affair—stayed in their own city, which has always been their policy. That was what I expected, but now I see I should have had their aid. I did—well what I did to guard against the unhappy outcome you witnessed—what I did was wrongly planned. You see, I take all the blame. I alone am responsible for my destiny. There are some who in defeat cry bitterly, 'Luck! That cursed luck was against me!' Not so! Leadership is not a matter of luck. Destiny is what you make it. You see?
"And so now I am making my first retreat. A set-back, nothing more. I shall launch my forces from the City of Ice, instead of marshalling them from the Central State as I had planned. And Mars is still mine. I still control Mars, little Elza.... A set-back just now—and it bothers me. It hurts my pride—and as you know, my Elza, Tarrano is very proud."
She had been listening to him, her fingers plucking idly at her robe. He bent closer to her; his voice turned tender. "I was thinking that perhaps—just perhaps you would scorn Tarrano in his triumphs, you might feel differently toward him now—in his first retreat. Do you?"
She forced her eyes up to his again. "I'm—sorry—from your viewpoint, I mean—that things are going wrong."
He smiled gently. "You are very conservative, Lady Elza. You want very much to avoid hypocrisy, don't you?"
"Yes," she said frankly. "You could hardly expect me to be sorry at your defeat."
"Defeat?" He rasped out the word, and his laugh was harsh. "You are too optimistic. Defeat? Things going wrong? That is not so. A slight set-back. A strategic retreat—and in a week I will have regained more than I have lost.... Oh, Lady Elza! I who would now—and always—be so gentle with you—why we are almost quarreling! That is not right. For the lives of a thousand of my servants, I would not have used that tone to you just now. Forgive me....
"I was saying, my Elza—could not you feel more kindly to me now. A little hope from those gentle eyes of yours—a little word from those red lips—a word of hope for what some day might be for us—you and me—"
She dared to try and turn the subject. "You mentioned the Brende model—where is it? Have you it in the Cold Country?"
He frowned. "Yes. And I will use it—for you and me alone. You've always known that, haven't you? Just for you and me, my Elza." He took her hand. "Won't you try and love me—just a trifle?"