still at my hip, and regaining my temper at the sight of hers, "why,
I have a sting also--and twice as long as yours! But in truth, An,
let us not talk of these things; if something in what I have said has
offended nice Martian scruples I am sorry, and will question no more,
leaving my wonder for time to settle."

"No," said the other, "it was my fault to be hasty of offence; I am not
so angered once a year. But in truth your question moves us yellow
robes deeply. Did you not really know that we who wear this saffron
tunic are slaves,--a race apart, despised by all."

"'Slaves,' no; how should I know it?"

"I thought you must understand a thing so fundamental, and it was that
thought which made your questions seem unkind. But if indeed you have
come so far as not to understand even this, then let me tell you once
we of this garb were women--priestesses of the immaculate conceptions of
humanity; guardians of those great hopes and longings which die so easily.
And because we forgot our high station and took to aping another sex
the gods deserted and men despised us, giving us, in the fierceness of
their contempt, what we asked for. We are the slave ants of the nest,
the work-bees of the hive, come, in truth, of those here who still be
men and women of a sort, but toilers only; unknown in love, unregretted
in death--those who dangle all children but their own--slaves cursed
with the accomplishment of their own ambition."

There was no doubt poor An believed what she said, for her attitude was
one of extreme dejection while she spoke, and to cheer her I laughed.

"Oh! come, it can't be as bad as that. Surely sometimes some of you