<SPAN name="chap02"></SPAN>
<h3> CHAPTER II </h3>
<p>How long that wild rush lasted I have no means of judging. It may have
been an hour, a day, or many days, for I was throughout in a state of
suspended animation, but presently my senses began to return and with
them a sensation of lessening speed, a grateful relief to a heavy
pressure which had held my life crushed in its grasp, without
destroying it completely. It was just that sort of sensation though
more keen which, drowsy in his bunk, a traveller feels when he is
aware, without special perception, harbour is reached and a voyage
comes to an end. But in my case the slowing down was for a long time
comparative. Yet the sensation served to revive my scattered senses,
and just as I was awakening to a lively sense of amazement, an
incredible doubt of my own emotions, and an eager desire to know what
had happened, my strange conveyance oscillated once or twice, undulated
lightly up and down, like a woodpecker flying from tree to tree, and
then grounded, bows first, rolled over several times, then steadied
again, and, coming at last to rest, the next minute the infernal rug
opened, quivering along all its borders in its peculiar way, and
humping up in the middle shot me five feet into the air like a cat
tossed from a schoolboy's blanket.</p>
<p>As I turned over I had a dim vision of a clear light like the shine of
dawn, and solid ground sloping away below me. Upon that slope was
ranged a crowd of squatting people, and a staid-looking individual with
his back turned stood nearer by. Afterwards I found he was lecturing
all those sitters on the ethics of gravity and the inherent properties
of falling bodies; at the moment I only knew he was directly in my line
as I descended, and him round the waist I seized, giddy with the light
and fresh air, waltzed him down the slope with the force of my impetus,
and, tripping at the bottom, rolled over and over recklessly with him
sheer into the arms of the gaping crowd below. Over and over we went
into the thickest mass of bodies, making a way through the people,
until at last we came to a stop in a perfect mound of writhing forms
and waving legs and arms. When we had done the mass disentangled
itself and I was able to raise my head from the shoulder of someone on
whom I had fallen, lifting him, or her—which was it?—into a sitting
posture alongside of me at the same time, while the others rose about
us like wheat-stalks after a storm, and edged shyly off, as well as
they might.</p>
<p>Such a sleek, slim youth it was who sat up facing me, with a flush of
gentle surprise on his face, and dapper hands that felt cautiously
about his anatomy for injured places. He looked so quaintly rueful yet
withal so good-tempered that I could not help bursting into laughter in
spite of my own amazement. Then he laughed too, a sedate, musical
chuckle, and said something incomprehensible, pointing at the same time
to a cut upon my finger that was bleeding a little. I shook my head,
meaning thereby that it was nothing, but the stranger with graceful
solicitude took my hand, and, after examining the hurt, deliberately
tore a strip of cloth from a bright yellow toga-like garment he was
wearing and bound the place up with a woman's tenderness.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, as he ministered, there was time to look about me. Where
was I? It was not the Broadway; it was not Staten Island on a Saturday
afternoon. The night was just over, and the sun on the point of
rising. Yet it was still shadowy all about, the air being marvellously
tepid and pleasant to the senses. Quaint, soft aromas like the breath
of a new world—the fragrance of unknown flowers, and the dewy scent of
never-trodden fields drifted to my nostrils; and to my ears came a
sound of laughter scarcely more human than the murmur of the wind in
the trees, and a pretty undulating whisper as though a great concourse
of people were talking softly in their sleep. I gazed about scarcely
knowing how much of my senses or surroundings were real and how much
fanciful, until I presently became aware the rosy twilight was
broadening into day, and under the increasing shine a strange scene was
fashioning itself.</p>
<p>At first it was an opal sea I looked on of mist, shot along its upper
surface with the rosy gold and pinks of dawn. Then, as that soft,
translucent lake ebbed, jutting hills came through it, black and
crimson, and as they seemed to mount into the air other lower hills
showed through the veil with rounded forest knobs till at last the
brightening day dispelled the mist, and as the rosy-coloured gauzy
fragments went slowly floating away a wonderfully fair country lay at
my feet, with a broad sea glimmering in many arms and bays in the
distance beyond. It was all dim and unreal at first, the mountains
shadowy, the ocean unreal, the flowery fields between it and me vacant
and shadowy.</p>
<p>Yet were they vacant? As my eyes cleared and day brightened still
more, and I turned my head this way and that, it presently dawned upon
me all the meadow coppices and terraces northwards of where I lay, all
that blue and spacious ground I had thought to be bare and vacant, were
alive with a teeming city of booths and tents; now I came to look more
closely there was a whole town upon the slope, built as might be in a
night of boughs and branches still unwithered, the streets and ways of
that city in the shadows thronged with expectant people moving in
groups and shifting to and fro in lively streams—chatting at the
stalls and clustering round the tent doors in soft, gauzy,
parti-coloured crowds in a way both fascinating and perplexing.</p>
<p>I stared about me like a child at its first pantomime, dimly
understanding all I saw was novel, but more allured to the colour and
life of the picture than concerned with its exact meaning; and while I
stared and turned my finger was bandaged, and my new friend had been
lisping away to me without getting anything in turn but a shake of the
head. This made him thoughtful, and thereon followed a curious incident
which I cannot explain. I doubt even whether you will believe it; but
what am I to do in that case? You have already accepted the episode of
my coming, or you would have shut the covers before arriving at this
page of my modest narrative, and this emboldens me. I may strengthen
my claim on your credulity by pointing out the extraordinary marvels
which science is teaching you even on our own little world. To quote a
single instance: If any one had declared ten years ago that it would
shortly be practicable and easy for two persons to converse from shore
to shore across the Atlantic without any intervening medium, he would
have been laughed at as a possibly amusing but certainly extravagant
romancer. Yet that picturesque lie of yesterday is amongst the
accomplished facts of today! Therefore I am encouraged to ask your
indulgence, in the name of your previous errors, for the following and
any other instances in which I may appear to trifle with strict
veracity. There is no such thing as the impossible in our universe!</p>
<p>When my friendly companion found I could not understand him, he looked
serious for a minute or two, then shortened his brilliant yellow toga,
as though he had arrived at some resolve, and knelt down directly in
front of me. He next took my face between his hands, and putting his
nose within an inch of mine, stared into my eyes with all his might.
At first I was inclined to laugh, but before long the most curious
sensations took hold of me. They commenced with a thrill which passed
all up my body, and next all feeling save the consciousness of the loud
beating of my heart ceased. Then it seemed that boy's eyes were inside
my head and not outside, while along with them an intangible something
pervaded my brain. The sensation at first was like the application of
ether to the skin—a cool, numbing emotion. It was followed by a
curious tingling feeling, as some dormant cells in my mind answered to
the thought-transfer, and were filled and fertilised! My other
brain-cells most distinctly felt the vitalising of their companions,
and for about a minute I experienced extreme nausea and a headache such
as comes from over-study, though both passed swiftly off. I presume
that in the future we shall all obtain knowledge in this way. The
Professors of a later day will perhaps keep shops for the sale of
miscellaneous information, and we shall drop in and be inflated with
learning just as the bicyclist gets his tire pumped up, or the motorist
is recharged with electricity at so much per unit. Examinations will
then become matters of capacity in the real meaning of that word, and
we shall be tempted to invest our pocket-money by advertisements of "A
cheap line in Astrology," "Try our double-strength, two-minute course
of Classics," "This is remnant day for Trigonometry and Metaphysics,"
and so on.</p>
<p>My friend did not get as far as that. With him the process did not
take more than a minute, but it was startling in its results, and
reduced me to an extraordinary state of hypnotic receptibility. When
it was over my instructor tapped with a finger on my lips, uttering
aloud as he did so the words—</p>
<p>"Know none; know some; know little; know morel" again and again; and
the strangest part of it is that as he spoke I did know at first a
little, then more, and still more, by swift accumulation, of his speech
and meaning. In fact, when presently he suddenly laid a hand over my
eyes and then let go of my head with a pleasantly put question as to
how I felt, I had no difficulty whatever in answering him in his own
tongue, and rose from the ground as one gets from a hair-dresser's
chair, with a vague idea of looking round for my hat and offering him
his fee.</p>
<p>"My word, sir!" I said, in lisping Martian, as I pulled down my cuffs
and put my cravat straight, "that was a quick process. I once heard of
a man who learnt a language in the moments he gave each day to having
his boots blacked; but this beats all. I trust I was a docile pupil?"</p>
<p>"Oh, fairly, sir," answered the soft, musical voice of the strange
being by me; "but your head is thick and your brain tough. I could
have taught another in half the time."</p>
<p>"Curiously enough," was my response, "those are almost the very words
with which my dear old tutor dismissed me the morning I left college.
Never mind, the thing is done. Shall I pay you anything?"</p>
<p>"I do not understand."</p>
<p>"Any honorarium, then? Some people understand one word and not the
other." But the boy only shook his head in answer.</p>
<p>Strangely enough, I was not greatly surprised all this time either at
the novelty of my whereabouts or at the hypnotic instruction in a new
language just received. Perhaps it was because my head still spun too
giddily with that flight in the old rug for much thought; perhaps
because I did not yet fully realise the thing that had happened. But,
anyhow, there is the fact, which, like so many others in my narrative,
must, alas! remain unexplained for the moment. The rug, by the way,
had completely disappeared, my friend comforting me on this score,
however, by saying he had seen it rolled up and taken away by one whom
he knew.</p>
<p>"We are very tidy people here, stranger," he said, "and everything
found Lying about goes back to the Palace store-rooms. You will laugh
to see the lumber there, for few of us ever take the trouble to reclaim
our property."</p>
<p>Heaven knows I was in no laughing mood when I saw that enchanted web
again!</p>
<p>When I had lain and watched the brightening scene for a time, I got up,
and having stretched and shaken my clothes into some sort of order, we
strolled down the hill and joined the light-hearted crowds that twined
across the plain and through the streets of their city of booths. They
were the prettiest, daintiest folk ever eyes looked upon, well-formed
and like to us as could be in the main, but slender and willowy, so
dainty and light, both the men and the women, so pretty of cheek and
hair, so mild of aspect, I felt, as I strode amongst them, I could have
plucked them like flowers and bound them up in bunches with my belt.
And yet somehow I liked them from the first minute; such a happy,
careless, light-hearted race, again I say, never was seen before. There
was not a stain of thought or care on a single one of those white
foreheads that eddied round me under their peaked, blossom-like caps,
the perpetual smile their faces wore never suffered rebuke anywhere;
their very movements were graceful and slow, their laughter was low and
musical, there was an odour of friendly, slothful happiness about them
that made me admire whether I would or no.</p>
<p>Unfortunately I was not able to live on laughter, as they appeared to
be, so presently turning to my acquaintance, who had told me his name
was the plain monosyllabic An, and clapping my hand on his shoulder as
he stood lost in sleepy reflection, said, in a good, hearty way,
"Hullo, friend Yellow-jerkin! If a stranger might set himself athwart
the cheerful current of your meditations, may such a one ask how far
'tis to the nearest wine-shop or a booth where a thirsty man may get a
mug of ale at a moderate reckoning?"</p>
<p>That gilded youth staggered under my friendly blow as though the hammer
of Thor himself had suddenly lit upon his shoulder, and ruefully
rubbing his tender skin, he turned on me mild, handsome eyes, answering
after a moment, during which his native mildness struggled with the
pain I had unwittingly given him—</p>
<p>"If your thirst be as emphatic as your greeting, friend Heavy-fist, it
will certainly be a kindly deed to lead you to the drinking-place. My
shoulder tingles with your good-fellowship," he added, keeping two
arms'-lengths clear of me. "Do you wish," he said, "merely to cleanse
a dusty throat, or for blue or pink oblivion?"</p>
<p>"Why," I answered laughingly, "I have come a longish journey since
yesterday night—a journey out of count of all reasonable mileage—and
I might fairly plead a dusty throat as excuse for a beginning; but as
to the other things mentioned, those tinted forgetfulnesses, I do not
even know what you mean."</p>
<p>"Undoubtedly you are a stranger," said the friendly youth, eyeing me
from top to toe with renewed wonder, "and by your unknown garb one from
afar."</p>
<p>"From how far no man can say—not even I—but from very far, in truth.
Let that stay your curiosity for the time. And now to bench and
ale-mug, on good fellow!—the shortest way. I was never so thirsty as
this since our water-butts went overboard when I sailed the southern
seas as a tramp apprentice, and for three days we had to damp our black
tongues with the puddles the night-dews left in the lift of our
mainsail."</p>
<p>Without more words, being a little awed of me, I thought, the boy led
me through the good-humoured crowd to where, facing the main road to
the town, but a little sheltered by a thicket of trees covered with
gigantic pink blossoms, stood a drinking-place—a cluster of tables set
round an open grass-plot. Here he brought me a platter of some light
inefficient cakes which merely served to make hunger more
self-conscious, and some fine aromatic wine contained in a
triple-bodied flask, each division containing vintage of a separate
hue. We broke our biscuits, sipped that mysterious wine, and talked of
many things until at last something set us on the subject of astronomy,
a study I found my dapper gallant had some knowledge of—which was not
to be wondered at seeing he dwelt under skies each night set thick
above his curly head with tawny planets, and glittering constellations
sprinkled through space like flowers in May meadows. He knew what
worlds went round the sun, larger or lesser, and seeing this I began to
question him, for I was uneasy in my innermost mind and, you will
remember, so far had no certain knowledge of where I was, only a dim,
restless suspicion that I had come beyond the ken of all men's
knowledge.</p>
<p>Therefore, sweeping clear the board with my sleeve, and breaking the
wafer cake I was eating, I set down one central piece for the sun, and,
"See here!" I said, "good fellow! This morsel shall stand for that sun
you have just been welcoming back with quaint ritual. Now stretch your
starry knowledge to the utmost, and put down that tankard for a moment.
If this be yonder sun and this lesser crumb be the outermost one of our
revolving system, and this the next within, and this the next, and so
on; now if this be so tell me which of these fragmentary orbs is
ours—which of all these crumbs from the hand of the primordial would
be that we stand upon?" And I waited with an anxiety a light manner
thinly hid, to hear his answer.</p>
<p>It came at once. Laughing as though the question were too trivial, and
more to humour my wayward fancy than aught else, that boy circled his
rosy thumb about a minute and brought it down on the planet Mars!</p>
<p>I started and stared at him; then all of a tremble cried, "You trifle
with me! Choose again—there, see, I will set the symbols and name
them to you anew. There now, on your soul tell me truly which this
planet is, the one here at our feet?" And again the boy shook his
head, wondering at my eagerness, and pointed to Mars, saying gently as
he did so the fact was certain as the day above us, nothing was
marvellous but my questioning.</p>
<p>Mars! oh, dreadful, tremendous, unexpected! With a cry of affright,
and bringing my fist down on the table till all the cups upon it leapt,
I told him he lied—lied like a simpleton whose astronomy was as rotten
as his wit—smote the table and scowled at him for a spell, then turned
away and let my chin fall upon my breast and my hands upon my lap.</p>
<p>And yet, and yet, it might be so! Everything about me was new and
strange, the crisp, thin air I breathed was new; the lukewarm sunshine
new; the sleek, long, ivory faces of the people new! Yesterday—was it
yesterday?—I was back there—away in a world that pines to know of
other worlds, and one fantastic wish of mine, backed by a hideous,
infernal chance, had swung back the doors of space and shot me—if that
boy spoke true—into the outer void where never living man had been
before: all my wits about me, all the horrible bathos of my earthly
clothing on me, all my terrestrial hungers in my veins!</p>
<p>I sprang to my feet and swept my hands across my eyes. Was that a
dream, or this? No, no, both were too real. The hum of my faraway
city still rang in my ears: a swift vision of the girl I had loved; of
the men I had hated; of the things I had hoped for rose before me,
still dazing my inner eye. And these about me were real people, too;
it was real earth; real skies, trees, and rocks—had the infernal gods
indeed heard, I asked myself, the foolish wish that started from my
lips in a moment of fierce discontent, and swept me into another
sphere, another existence? I looked at the boy as though he could
answer that question, but there was nothing in his face but vacuous
wonder; I clapped my hands together and beat my breast; it was true; my
soul within me said it was true; the boy had not lied; the djins had
heard; I was just in the flesh I had; my common human hungers still
unsatisfied where never mortal man had hungered before; and scarcely
knowing whether I feared or not, whether to laugh or cry, but with all
the wonder and terror of that great remove sweeping suddenly upon me I
staggered back to my seat, and dropping my arms upon the table, leant
my head heavily upon them and strove to choke back the passion which
beset me.</p>
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