Phaidor's slim hand shot out to close upon the black's dagger wrist.
Her right hand went high with its gleaming blade.
"That for Matai Shang!" she cried, and she buried her blade deep
in the dator's breast. "That for the wrong you would have done
Dejah Thoris!" and again the sharp steel sank into the bloody flesh.
"And that, and that, and that!" she shrieked, "for John Carter,
Prince of Helium," and with each word her sharp point pierced the
vile heart of the great villain. Then, with a vindictive shove she
cast the carcass of the First Born from the deck to fall in awful
silence after the body of his victim.
I had been so paralyzed by surprise that I had made no move to reach
the deck during the awe-inspiring scene which I had just witnessed,
and now I was to be still further amazed by her next act, for
Phaidor extended her hand to me and assisted me to the deck, where
I stood gazing at her in unconcealed and stupefied wonderment.
A wan smile touched her lips--it was not the cruel and haughty
smile of the goddess with which I was familiar. "You wonder, John
Carter," she said, "what strange thing has wrought this change in
me? I will tell you. It is love--love of you," and when I darkened
my brows in disapproval of her words she raised an appealing hand.
"Wait," she said. "It is a different love from mine--it is the
love of your princess, Dejah Thoris, for you that has taught me
what true love may be--what it should be, and how far from real
love was my selfish and jealous passion for you.
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