“Are you sure,” I suggested humbly, “that there is not also an error in those star-maps you hold?”

“I am sure, Humphrey.  Some day, who knows?  You may return to your world of modern men who, I gather, have knowledge of the great science of astronomy.  Take now these maps with which I have done, and submit them to the most learned of those men, and let them tell you whether I was right or wrong in what I wrote upon this metal two hundred and fifty thousand years ago.  Whatever else is false, at least the stars in their motions can never die.”

Then he handed me the maps and was gone.  I have them today, and if ever this book is published, they will appear with it, that those who are qualified may judge of them and of the truth or otherwise of Oro’s words.

From that night forward for quite a long time I saw Oro no more.  Nor indeed did any of us, since for some reason of his own he forbade us to visit the under ground city of Nyo.  Oddly enough, however, he commanded Yva to bring down the spaniel, Tommy, to be with him from time to time.  When I asked her why, she said it was because he was lonely and desired the dog’s companionship.  It seemed to us very strange that this super-man, who had the wisdom of ten Solomons gathered in one within his breast, should yet desire the company of a little dog.  What then was the worth of learning and long life, or, indeed, of anything?  Well, Solomon himself asked the question ages since, and could give no answer save that all is vanity.

I noted about this time that Yva began to grow very sad and troubled; indeed, looking at her suddenly on two or three occasions, I saw that her beautiful eyes were aswim with tears.  Also, I noted that always as she grew sadder she became, in a sense, more human.  In the beginning she was, as it were, far away.  One could never forget that she was the child of some alien race whose eyes had looked upon the world when, by comparison, humanity was young; at times, indeed, she might have been the denizen of another planet, strayed to earth.  Although she never flaunted it, one felt that her simplest word hid secret wisdom; that to her books were open in which we could not read.  Moreover, as I have said, occasionally power flamed out of her, power that was beyond our ken and understanding.

Yet with all this there was nothing elfish about her, nothing uncanny.  She was always kind, and, as we could feel, innately good and gentle-hearted, just a woman made half-divine by gifts and experience that others lack.  She did not even make use of her wondrous beauty to madden men, as she might well have done had she been so minded.  It is true that both Bastin and Bickley fell in love with her, but that was only because all with whom she had to do must love her, and then, when she told them that it might not be, it was in such a fashion that no soreness was left behind.  They went on loving her, that was all, but as men love their sisters or their daughters; as we conceive that they may love in that land where there is no marrying or giving in marriage.