Thuvia, Maid of Mars, by Edgar Rice Burroughs 2/254 | Previous page | Next page |

Thuvia, Maid of Mars, by Edgar Rice Burroughs

CHAPTER I

CARTHORIS AND THUVIA

Upon a massive bench of polished ersite beneath the gorgeous blooms

of a giant pimalia a woman sat. Her shapely, sandalled foot tapped

impatiently upon the jewel-strewn walk that wound beneath the

stately sorapus trees across the scarlet sward of the royal gardens

of Thuvan Dihn, Jeddak of Ptarth, as a dark-haired, red-skinned

warrior bent low toward her, whispering heated words close to her

ear.

“Ah, Thuvia of Ptarth,” he cried, “you are cold even before the

fiery blasts of my consuming love! No harder than your heart, nor

colder is the hard, cold ersite of this thrice happy bench which

supports your divine and fadeless form! Tell me, O Thuvia of

Ptarth, that I may still hope–that though you do not love me now,

yet some day, some day, my princess, I–”

Thuvia, Maid of Mars, by Edgar Rice Burroughs 2/254 | Previous page | Next page |

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