The Chessmen of Mars | Page 8

ring wound with gut which was
worn between the first and second joints of the index finger of the right hand and which,
when passed over the string of the instrument, elicited the single note required of the
dancer.
The guests had risen and were slowly making their way toward the expanse of scarlet
sward at the south end of the gardens where the dance was to be held, when Djor Kantos
came hurriedly toward Tara of Helium. "I claim--" he exclaimed as he neared her; but she
interrupted him with a gesture.
"You are too late, Djor Kantos," she cried in mock anger. "No laggard may claim Tara of

Helium; but haste now lest thou lose also Olvia Marthis, whom I have never seen wait
long to be claimed for this or any other dance."
"I have already lost her," admitted Djor Kantos ruefully.
"And you mean to say that you came for Tara of Helium only after having lost Olvia
Marthis?" demanded the girl, still simulating displeasure.
"Oh, Tara of Helium, you know better than that," insisted the young man. "Was it not
natural that I should assume that you would expect me, who alone has claimed you for
the Dance of Barsoom for at least twelve times past?"
"And sit and play with my thumbs until you saw fit to come for me?" she questioned. "Ah,
no, Djor Kantos; Tara of Helium is for no laggard," and she threw him a sweet smile and
passed on toward the assembling dancers with Gahan, Jed of far Gathol.
The Dance of Barsoom bears a relation similar to the more formal dancing functions of
Mars that The Grand March does to ours, though it is infinitely more intricate and more
beautiful. Before a Martian youth of either sex may attend an important social function
where there is dancing, he must have become proficient in at least three dances--The
Dance of Barsoom, his national dance, and the dance of his city. In these three dances the
dancers furnish their own music, which never varies; nor do the steps or figures vary,
having been handed down from time immemorial. All Barsoomian dances are stately and
beautiful, but The Dance of Barsoom is a wondrous epic of motion and harmony--there is
no grotesque posturing, no vulgar or suggestive movements. It has been described as the
interpretation of the highest ideals of a world that aspired to grace and beauty and
chastity in woman, and strength and dignity and loyalty in man.
Today, John Carter, Warlord of Mars, with Dejah Thoris, his mate, led in the dancing,
and if there was another couple that vied with them in possession of the silent admiration
of the guests it was the resplendent Jed of Gathol and his beautiful partner. In the
ever-changing figures of the dance the man found himself now with the girl's hand in his
and again with an arm about the lithe body that the jeweled harness but inadequately
covered, and the girl, though she had danced a thousand dances in the past, realized for
the first time the personal contact of a man's arm against her naked flesh. It troubled her
that she should notice it, and she looked up questioningly and almost with displeasure at
the man as though it was his fault. Their eyes met and she saw in his that which she had
never seen in the eyes of Djor Kantos. It was at the very end of the dance and they both
stopped suddenly with the music and stood there looking straight into each other's eyes. It
was Gahan of Gathol who spoke first.
"Tara of Helium, I love you!" he said.
The girl drew herself to her full height. "The Jed of Gathol forgets himself," she
exclaimed haughtily.
"The Jed of Gathol would forget everything but you, Tara of Helium," he replied.
Fiercely he pressed the soft hand that he still retained from the last position of the dance.

"I love you, Tara of Helium," he repeated. "Why should your ears refuse to hear what
your eyes but just now did not refuse to see--and answer?"
"What meanest thou?" she cried. "Are the men of Gathol such boors, then?"
"They are neither boors nor fools," he replied, quietly. "They know when they love a
woman--and when she loves them."
Tara of Helium stamped her little foot in anger. "Go!" she said, "before it is necessary to
acquaint my father with the dishonor of his guest."
She turned and walked away. "Wait!" cried the man. "Just another word."
"Of apology?" she asked.
"Of prophecy," he said.
"I do not care to hear it," replied Tara of Helium, and left him standing there. She was
strangely unstrung and shortly thereafter returned to her own quarter of the palace, where
she stood