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Save Elza here with me on Venus, that tiny red spot in the heavens, red like the tip of a lighted arrant-cylinder, held all that was dear to me! The funeral cortege a solemn line of panoplied boats, started from the palace. Boats hung with purple fabric. In single file they wended their way through the city streets. From every landing, balcony, window and roof-top, the people stared down at us.
Both visible from direct helios at that moment Red Mars, from this mountain top, glowing like the tip of an arrant-cylinder up there. In the brief time since the party had left Washington, the worlds had been notified. The eyes and ears of the millions of three planets were waiting to see and hear this Georg Brende and this Princess Maida.
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