toga encased him; sandals were on his feet. At our entrance he raised one of his bare ornamented arms with a gesture.

The costume was queerly incongruous to a modern Earthman; but upon Curtmann there was an immense dignity, a sense of the consciousness of his own greatness. More than mere conceit, it seemed to radiate from him. On his heavy, square-jawed face there was a look of amused contempt as he regarded me.

"My little Venta has asked me not to kill you," he added. His voice was soft and suave. English was his native language, taught him exclusively by Government decree. But the inherited timbre was guttural. "That is fortunate, is it not?"

"Yes," I agreed. "Very. I thank her."

His eyes twinkled; his immaculate hands with jeweled fingers, brushed his crisp blond hair. "You can also thank me. I am permitting you to join our life. You know now, of course, that I am Master of Venus? It is their good fortune. Always I shall protect them from any harm, and teach them the life that is good for them."

He was utterly sincere. His eyes were gleaming with his fervour. Man of Destiny. He believed it with the faith of a child. And now his gaze went to Venta.

"Her people—" He was still talking to me, though he stared at her. "Some of them still are misguided. Old Prytan, her grandfather, is a very wicked old man, Frane. He has fled to the Forest City. He defies my rule. I shall have to punish that Forest City."

Suddenly his face contorted; his arm shook as he pounded his fist on his chair. "I shall not tolerate it. They are all to die. Nor in the city of Shan itself will I have rebellion. I am a man of peace—there shall be no strife. And each year, from Earth, more of my men will come to mate with the Venus women. The new race. The new Empire of Curtmann. Is it not a wonderful future, Venta? I shall make you Empress."

"Yes," she murmured.

"Race of the Gods," he said. "And I—Karl Curtmann—"

He checked himself. There was a little sound of beating wings here in the dim starlit room. I turned as through the door a tiny shape came like a fluttering bird through the air. A footlong bronze man-shape. One of the Midge! Again my mind leaped back to that little figure in the Adirondac forest. It had had wings, though then I had not noticed them.

 Prev. P 8/25 next