Across the Zodiac: The Story of a Wrecked RecordGreg, Percy
Science
Across the Zodiac: The Story of a Wrecked Record
Greg, Percy
Science fiction
This did not seem to me consistent with the confession that disorders
of one kind or another still not infrequently decimate their
highly-bred domestic animals, however the human race itself may have
been secured against contagion. I did not, however, feel competent to
argue the question with one who had evidently studied physiology much
more deeply than myself; and had mastered the records of an experience
infinitely longer, guided by knowledge far more accurate, than is
possessed by the most accomplished of Terrestrial physiologists.
The examination of these works of course occupied us for a long time,
and obliged us to traverse several miles of ground. More than once I
had suggested to Eveena that we should leave our work unfinished, and
on every opportunity had insisted that she should rest. I had been too
keenly interested in the latter part of the explanation given me, to
detect the fatigue she anxiously sought to conceal; but when we left
the works, I was more annoyed than surprised to find that the walk
down-hill to our carriage was too much for her. The vexation I felt
with myself gave, after the manner of men, some sharpness to the tone
of my remonstrance with her.
"I bade you, and you promised, to tell me as soon as you felt tired;
and you have let me almost tire you to death! Your obedience, however
strict in theory, reminds me in practice of that promised by women on
Earth in their marriage-vow—and never paid or remembered afterwards."
She did not answer; and finding that her strength was utterly
exhausted, I carried her down the remainder of the hill and placed her
in the carriage. During our return neither of us spoke. Ascribing her
silence to habit or fatigue, perhaps to displeasure, and busied in
recalling what I had seen and heard, I did not care to "make
conversation," as I certainly should have done had I guessed what
impression my taciturnity made on my companion's mind. I was heartily
glad for her sake when we regained the gate of her father's garden.
Committing the carriage to the charge of an ambâ, I half led, half
carried Eveena along the avenue, overhung with the grand conical
bells—gold, crimson, scarlet, green, white, or striped or variegated
with some or all these colours—of the glorious _leveloo_, the Martial
convolvulus. Its light clinging stems and foliage hid the _astyra's_
arched branches overhead, and formed a screen on either side. From its
bells flew at our approach a whole flock of the tiny and beautiful
caree, which take the chief part in rendering to the flora of Mars
such services as the flowers of Earth receive from bees and
butterflies. They feed on the nectar, farina, syrup, and other
secretions, sweet or bitter, in which the artificial flowers of Mars
are peculiarly abundant, and make their nests in the calyx or among
the petals. These lovely little birds—about the size of a hornet, but
perfect birds in miniature, with wings as large as those of the
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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