There was nothing for me to do but go to my apartments and look for other treasures to show her. My thoughts were exceedingly bitter as I gathered the coveted articles one by one in my arms. "Here." I displayed it to her when I had arrived back at her father's abode. "It is the steering wheel from the lifeboat. Feel its smooth texture, see its ebony luster. It is the only lifeboat steering wheel aboard ship. I had a terrible struggle with it until I broke off the shaft." She seemed interested. I passed hurriedly on to another object. "Here is the handle of the atomic-pile damping rod. It was threaded inside. However, I have managed to grind the interior smooth." She seemed definitely interested, but I did not linger. I unrolled the last treasure I had brought with me. At the sight of it her father burst into merry chuckles. "Yes," I said, smiling with a hint of sadness. "It is the inscrutable message we found protruding from the mouth of a machine some years ago. The machine has the name Teletype engraved upon it. We cannot imagine who put the message inside the machine--if indeed it is a message. But listen to the poetry of its words! I shall read it to you as though it were properly set out on paper instead of being cramped into continuous, senseless lines: "Colony ship, colony ship, Turn around before it is too late. You have left the Galaxy. We are the last planetary system You will encounter, For ten thousand years." Then, seeing her puzzlement, I said hastily, "But, of course, it is too adult for you, Lisa. Its mystery is for the scholar, its abstract beauty for the man of mature years. Come, let us turn back to these other treasures...." It was not easy for her to choose, seemingly, with so much wealth about her. The control knob, the painting, the lifeboat steering wheel, the atomic-pile damping-rod handle, the inscrutable poetry--all claimed her interest. But in the end she chose as I wanted her to, and the bargain was struck. Lisa went to live in the compartment of my concubines that day, and at maturity became a concubine of exotic beauty. She bore her dark-haired children well. * * * * * By the excellence of her father, he and I continued to be good friends. At least once a year I invite him to view the master's painting of _Planet_. We spend many contented hours together. Often through a porthole we watch the rapid movement of distant ships which our Navigator called _stars_, revolving in tiny circles at the side of the ship, making a complete circle in about two minutes. What prompts the behavior of these ships? It is all very curious, and I account myself fortunate that I have in my friend an intense capacity for speculation. Like myself, he is a scholar of honor, capable of long sustained discourse on lofty subjects which round out and deepen the mind. I forgive him his greed.