by Ray Cummings
VII
"But, Miss Prince, why are you and your brother going to Ferrok-Shahn?His business--"
Even as I voiced it, I hated myself for such a question. So nimble inthe humble mind that mingled with my rhapsodies of love, was my needfor information of George Prince.
"Oh," she said. "This is pleasure, not business, for George." Itseemed to me that a shadow crossed her face. But it was gone in aninstant, and she smiled. "We have always wanted to travel. We arealone in the world, you know--our parents died when we were children."
I filled in her pause. "You will like Mars. So many interesting thingsto see."
She nodded. "Yes, I understand so. Our Earth is so much the same allover, cast all in one mould."
"But a hundred or more years ago, it was not, Miss Prince. I have readhow the picturesque Orient, differing from ... well, Greater New Yorkor London, for instance--"
"Transportation did that," she interrupted eagerly. "Made everythingthe same--the people all look alike ... dress alike."
We discussed it. She had an alert, eager mind, childlike with itscuriosity, yet strangely matured. And her manner was naively earnest.Yet this was no clinging vine, this Anita Prince. There was afirmness, a hint of masculine strength in her chin and in her manner.
"If I were a man, what wonders I could achieve in this marvelous age!"Her sense of humor made her laugh at herself. "Easy for a girl to saythat," she added.
"You have greater wonders to achieve, Miss Prince," I saidimpulsively.
"Yes? What are they?" She had a very frank and level gaze, devoid ofcoquetry.
My heart was pounding. "The wonders of the next generation. A littleson, cast in your own gentle image--"
What madness, this clumsy, brash talk! I choked it off.
But she took no offense. The dark rose-petals of her cheeks weremantled deeper red, but she laughed.
"That is true." She turned abruptly serious. "I should not laugh. Thewonders of the next generation--conquering humans marching on...." Hervoice trailed away. My hand went to her arm. Strange tinglingsomething which poets call love! It burned and surged through mytrembling fingers into the flesh of her forearm.
The starlight glowed in her eyes. She seemed to be gazing, not at thesilver-lit deck, but away into distant reaches of the future.
Our moment. Just a breathless moment given us as we sat there with myhand burning her arm, as though we both might be seeing ourselvesjoined in a new individual--a little son, cast in his mother's gentleimage and with the strength of his father. Our moment, and then it wasover. A step sounded. I sat back. The giant gray figure of Miko camepast, his great cloak swaying, with his clanking sword ornamentbeneath it. His bullet head, with its close-clipped hair, was hatless.He gazed at us, swaggering past, and turned the deck corner.
Our moment was gone. Anita said conventionally, "It has been pleasantto talk with you, Mr. Haljan."
"But we'll have many more," I said. "Ten days--"
"You think we'll reach Ferrok-Shahn on schedule?"
"Yes. I think so.... As I was saying, Miss Prince, you'll enjoy Mars.A strange, aggressively forward-looking people."
An oppression seemed on her. She stirred in her chair.
"Yes they are," she said vaguely. "My brother and I know many Martiansin Greater New York." She checked herself abruptly. Was she sorry shehad said that? It seemed so.
Miko was coming back. He stopped this time. "Your brother would seeyou, Anita. He sent me to bring you to his room."
The glance he shot me had a touch of insolence. I stood up and hetowered a head over me.
Anita said, "Oh yes. I'll come."
I bowed. "I will see you again, Miss Prince. I thank you for apleasant half-hour."
The Martian led her away. Her little figure was like a child with agiant. It seemed, as they passed the length of the deck, with mestaring after them, that he took her arm roughly. And that she shrankfrom him in fear.
And they did not go inside. As though to show me that he had merelytaken her from me, he stopped at a distant deck window and stoodtalking to her. Once he picked her up as one would pick up a child toshow it some distant object through the window.
Was Anita afraid of this Martian's wooing? Yet was held to him by somepower he might have over her brother? The vagrant thought struck me.