"Nothing, silly! No one grows old unless he wants to, like Leucon. A person grows to the age he likes best and then stops. It's a law!" Dan gathered his chaotic thoughts. He stared into Galatea's dark, lovely eyes. "Have you stopped yet?" The dark eyes dropped; he was amazed to see a deep, embarrassed flush spread over her cheeks. She looked at Leucon nodding reflectively on his bench, then back to Dan, meeting his gaze. "Not yet," he said. "And when will you, Galatea?" "When I have had the one child permitted me. You see"--she stared down at her dainty toes--"one cannot--bear children--afterwards." "Permitted? Permitted by whom?" "By a law." "Laws! Is everything here governed by laws? What of chance and accidents?" "What are those--chance and accidents?" "Things unexpected--things unforeseen." "Nothing is unforeseen," said Galatea, still soberly. She repeated slowly, "Nothing is unforeseen." He fancied her voice was wistful. Leucon looked up. "Enough of this," he said abruptly. He turned to Dan, "I know these words of yours--chance, disease, death. They are not for Paracosma. Keep them in your unreal country." "Where did you hear them, then?" "From Galatea's mother," said the Grey Weaver, "who had them from your predecessor--a phantom who visited here before Galatea was born." Dan had a vision of Ludwig's face. "What was he like?" "Much like you." "But his name?" The old man's mouth was suddenly grim. "We do not speak of him," he said and rose, entering the dwelling in cold silence. "He goes to weave," said Galatea after a moment. Her lovely, piquant face was still troubled. "What does he weave?" "This," She fingered the silver cloth of her gown. "He weaves it out of metal bars on a very clever machine. I do not know the method." "Who made the machine?" "It was here." "But--Galatea! Who built the house? Who planted these fruit trees?" "They were here. The house and trees were always here." She lifted her eyes. "I told you everything had been foreseen, from the beginning until eternity--everything. The house and trees and machine were ready for Leucon and my parents and me. There is a place for my child, who will be a girl, and a place for her child--and so on forever." Dan thought a moment. "Were you born here?" "I don't know." He noted in sudden concern that her eyes were glistening with tears. "Galatea, dear! Why are you unhappy? What's wrong?" "Why, nothing!" She shook her black curls, smiled suddenly at him. "What could be wrong? How can one be unhappy in Paracosma?" She sprang erect and seized his hand. "Come! Let's gather fruit for tomorrow."