attendants about the throne, the courtiers, the beautiful women, all seemed to change in appearance; on the view through the wide doors leading to the conservatory, and the great swarming court beyond, the soft blue light fell like a filmy veil of enchantment.
“Wonderful!” exclaimed the American.
“It is ahead of our clocks, anyway,” jested Thorndyke. “Any child that can count on its fingers could tell that this is the fifth hour of the day.”
The music grew louder; there was a harmonious blare of mighty trumpets, the clang of gongs and cymbals, and then the music softened till it could scarcely be heard. There was commotion about the throne.
The king was coming. Every person on the dais stood motionless, expectant. A page drew aside the rich curtain from a door on the right, and an old man, wearing a robe of scarlet ornamented with jewels and a crown set with sparkling gems, entered and seated himself on the throne. The music sank lower; so soft did it become that the tinkling bells of the great fountain outside could be heard throughout the room.
The king bowed to the throng on the dais and spoke a few words to a courtier who advanced as he sat down. The courtier must have spoken of them, for the king at once looked down at Johnston and Thorn-dyke and nodded his head. The courtier spoke to a page, and the youth left the dais and came toward the captives.
“We are in for it,” cautioned Thorndyke, “now don't be afraid of your shadow; we'll come out all right.”
“The king has sent for you,” said the page, the next instant. “Go to the throne.”
They were the cynosure of the entire room as they went up the carpeted steps of the dais and knelt before the king.
VI
“Rise!” commanded the king, in a deep, well-modulated voice, and when they had arisen he inspected them critically, his eyes lingering on Thorndyke.
“You look as if you take life easily; you have a jovial countenance,” he said cordially.
Thorndyke returned his smile and at once felt at ease.
“There is no use in taking it any other way,” he said; “it doesn't amount to much at best.”
“You are wrong,” returned the king, playing with the jewels on his robe, “that is because you have been reared as you have—in your unsystematic world. Here we make life a serious study. It is our object to assist nature in all things. The efforts of your people amount to nothing because they are not carried far enough. Your scientists are dreaming idiots. They are continually groping after the ideal and doing nothing with the positive. It was for us to carry out everything to perfection. Show me where we can make a single improvement and you shall become a prince.”
“If my life depended on that, my head would be off this instant,” was the quick-witted reply of the Englishman.
This so pleased the king that he laughed till he shook. “Well said,” he smiled; “so you like our country?”
“Absolutely charmed; my friend (Thorndyke was determined to bring his companion into favor, if possible) and I have been in raptures ever since we rose this morning.”
A flush of pleasure crossed the face of the king. “You have not seen half of our wonders yet. I confess that I am pleased with you, sir. The majority of people who are brought here are so frightened that they grow morbid and desirous to return to their own countries as soon as they learn that such a thing is out of the question.”
Thorndyke's stout heart suffered a sudden pang at the words, but he did not change countenance in the slightest, for the king was closely watching the effect of his announcement.
“Of course,” went on the ruler, gratified by the indifference of the Englishman, “of course, it could not be done. No one, outside of a few of the royal family and our trusted agents, has ever left us.”
“I can't see how any one could be so unappreciative as to want to go,” answered Thorndyke, with a coolness that surprised even Johnston. “I have travelled in all countries under the sun—the sun I was born under—and got so bored with them that my friend and myself took to ballooning for diversion; but here, there is a delightful surprise at every turn.”
“I was told you were aeronauts,” returned the ruler, deigning to cast a glance at the silent Johnston, who stood with eyes downcast, “and I confess that it interested me in you.”
At that juncture a most beautiful girl glided through the curtains at the back of the throne and came impulsively toward the king. Her brown hair fell in rich masses on her bare shoulders; her eyes were large, deep and brown, and her skin was exquisitely fine in texture and color; her dress was artistic and well suited to her lithe figure. She held an instrument resembling a lute in her hands, and stopped suddenly when she noticed that the king was engaged.
“It is my daughter, the Princess Bernardino,” explained the king, as he heard her light step and turned toward her; “she shall sing for you, and, yes (nodding to her) you shall dance also.”
As she took her position on a great rug in front of the throne, she kept her eyes on the handsome Englishman as if fascinated by his appearance. Thorndyke's heart beat quickly; the blood mantled his face and he stood entranced as she touched the resonant strings with her white fingers and began to play and sing. An innocent, artless smile parted her lips from her matchless teeth, and her face glowed with inspiration. Far above in the nooks and crannies of the vast dome, with its divergent corridors and arcades, the faint echoes of her voice seemed to reply to her during the pauses in her song. Then she ceased singing and to the far-away and yet distinct accompaniment of some stringed instrument in the orchestra, she began to dance. Holding her instrument in a graceful fashion against her shoulder as one holds a violin, and with her flowing white gown caught in the other hand, she bowed and smiled and instantly seemed transformed. From the statuesque and dreamy singer she became a marvel of graceful motion. To and fro she swept from end to end of the great rug, her tiny feet and slim ankles tripping so lightly that she seemed to move without support through the air.
Thorndyke stood as if spell-bound, for, at every turn, as if seeking his approval, she glanced at him inquiringly. When she finished she stood for a moment in the centre of the rug panting, her beautiful bosom, beneath its filmy covering of lace, gently rising and falling. Then, asking her father's consent with a mute glance, she ran forward impulsively, and, kneeling at Thorndyke's feet, she took his hand and pressed it to her lips. And rising, suffused with blushes, she tripped from the dais and disappeared behind the curtain.
The king frowned as he looked after her. “It is a mark of preference,” he said coldly. “It is one of our customs for a dancer or singer to favor some one of her spectators in that way. My daughter evidently mistook you for an ambassador from one of my provinces, but it does not matter.”
“She is wonderfully beautiful,” replied the tactful Englishman, pretending not to be flattered by the notice of the princess.
“Do you think our people fine looking as a rule?” asked the king, to change the subject.
“Decidedly; I never imagined such a race existed.”
Again the king was pleased. “That is one of the objects of our system. Generation after generation we improve mentally and physically. We are the only people who have ever attempted to thoroughly study the science of living. Your medical men may be numbered by the million; your remedies for your ills change daily; what you say is good for the health to-day is to-morrow believed to be poison; to-day you try to make blood to give strength, and half a century ago you believed in taking it from the weakest of your patients. With all this fuss over health, you will think nothing of allowing the son of a man who died with a loathsome hereditary disease to marry a woman whose family has never had a taint of blood. Here no such thing is thought of. To begin with, no person who is not thoroughly sound can remain with us. Every heart-beat is heard by our medical men and every vein is transparent. You see evidences of the benefit of our