My three friends were hugely enjoying themselves. Each in their element,
the center of a crowd, were lecturing with gusto upon the merits of
their respective hobbies. Saxe. was exhibiting the interior of his car,
and his face glowed with pride at the extraordinary interest the
Centaurians took in the engraving of the lost _Propellier_.
Saunders was displaying the mutilated portions of his various
astronomical instruments; his one uninjured instrument created a
sensation. The Centaurians had never seen anything like it. Nothing in
that line could compete with it in the museum at Centur, and they warned
Saunders his little, old telescope would be seized by the government to
be exhibited as a rare curio. He would be compensated, of course, of
course—any one could see Saunders grow.
Sheldon was very important—irritatingly so—and had assumed an attitude
of condescension little short of cuss words. He had quite the largest
group of listeners, and was explaining with authoritative distinctness
the many points of interest upon his map of the world.
But I culled the attention of all by distributing a few gold and silver
coins, and this little generosity begot a tremendously new sensation.
For the first time in my life I was the recipient of _thanks_, the value
exceeding by far the gift; and under the unusual experience I became
awkward, blushed and stammered.
What a startling, barbaric custom! Thanks! thanks! thanks! Prevailing
etiquette of our world voted acceptance in any form, but a blasé,
indifferent manner, the acme of vulgarity. Favor conferred in
acceptance—the recipient’s due, etc. Scientists delved into chaos,
feverishly pursuing a wraith-like, fascinating substance, they labeled
Gratitude, but the experts failed to discover the slightest streak of
this rare ore of their brains. Universal is the belief in Gratitude, but
no one—no one—has ever witnessed it.
Tolna escorted us to the cabin, which was richly furnished. Pale, cloudy
material draped the walls; soft damask skins carpeted the floors; there
were many couches and roomy seats in odd, fantastic forms, marvelous
with intricate carving, massive, weighty, as though hewed from stone,
yet lighter than wood.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account