“Will it disturb her if we talk?”

“No.”

“But how do you feel?”

“I require little sleep.  In any case, it’s more important that you should hear something about your new life.  It’s not all as innocent and idyllic as this.  If you intend to go through, you ought to be instructed about the dangers.”

“Oh, I guessed as much.  But how shall we arrange—­shall I put questions, or will you tell me what you think is most essential?”

Panawe motioned to Maskull to sit down on a pile of ferns, and at the same time reclined himself, leaning on one arm, with outstretched legs.

“I will tell some incidents of my life.  You will begin to learn from them what sort of place you have come to.”

“I shall be grateful,” said Maskull, preparing himself to listen.

Panawe paused for a moment or two, and then started his narrative in tranquil, measured, yet sympathetic tones.

PANAWE’S STORY

“My earliest recollection is of being taken, when three years old (that’s equivalent to fifteen of your years, but we develop more slowly here), by my father and mother, to see Broodviol, the wisest man in Tormance.  He dwelt in the great Wombflash Forest.  We walked through trees for three days, sleeping at night.  The trees grew taller as we went along, until the tops were out of sight.  The trunks were of a dark red colour and the leaves were of pale ulfire.  My father kept stopping to think.  If left uninterrupted, he would remain for half a day in deep abstraction.  My mother came out of Poolingdred, and was of a different stamp.  She was beautiful, generous, and charming—­but also active.  She kept urging him on.  This led to many disputes between them, which made me miserable.  On the fourth day we passed through a part of the forest which bordered on the Sinking Sea.  This sea is full of pouches of water that will not bear a man’s weight, and as these light parts don’t differ in appearance from the rest, it is dangerous to cross.  My father pointed out a dim outline on the horizon, and told me it was Swaylone’s Island.  Men sometimes go there, but none ever return.  In the evening of the same day we found Broodviol standing in a deep, miry pit in the forest, surrounded on all sides by trees three hundred feet high.  He was a big gnarled, rugged, wrinkled, sturdy old man.  His age at that time was a hundred and twenty of our years, or nearly six hundred of yours.  His body was trilateral:  he had three legs, three arms, and six eyes, placed at equal distances all around his head.  This gave him an aspect of great watchfulness and sagacity.  He was standing in a sort of trance.  I afterward heard this saying of his:  ’To lie is to sleep, to sit is to dream, to stand is to think.’  My father caught the infection, and fell into meditation, but my mother roused them both thoroughly.  Broodviol scowled at her savagely, and demanded what she required.  Then I too learned for the first time the object of our journey.  I was a prodigy—­that is to say, I was without sex.  My parents were troubled over this, and wished to consult the wisest of men.