The deep round window glowed with serene blue glory.  It seemed a foolish thing to weep by that beautiful glass.  Morano tried to comfort him.  That calm, deep blue, he felt, and those little lights, surely, could hurt no one.

What had Rodriguez seen?  Morano asked.  But that Rodriguez would not answer, and told no man ever after what he had seen through that window.

The Professor stood silent still:  he had no comfort to offer; indeed his magical wisdom had found none for the world.

You wonder perhaps why the Professor did not give long ago to the world some of these marvels that are the pride of our age.  Reader, let us put aside my tale for a moment to answer this.  For all the darkness of his sinister art there may well have been some good in the Slave of Orion; and any good there was, and mere particle even, would surely have spared the world many of those inventions that our age has not spared it.  Blame not the age, it is now too late to stop; it is in the grip of inventions now, and has to go on; we cannot stop content with mustard-gas; it is the age of Progress, and our motto is Onwards.  And if there was no good in this magical man, then may it not have been he who in due course, long after he himself was safe from life, caused our inventions to be so deadly divulged?  Some evil spirit has done it, then why not he?

He stood there silent:  let us return to our story.

Perhaps the efforts of poor clumsy Morano to comfort him cheered Rodriguez and sent him back to the window, perhaps he turned from them to find comfort of his own; but, however he came by it, he had a hope that this was a passing curse that had come on the world, whose welfare he cared for whether he lived or died, and that looking a little farther into the future he would see Mother Earth smiling and her children happy again.  So he looked through the deep-blue luminous window once more, beyond the battles we know.  From this he turned back shuddering.

Again he saw the Professor smile with his lips, though whether at his own weakness, or whether with cynical mirth at the fate of the world, Rodriguez could not say.

THE FOURTH CHRONICLE

HOW HE CAME TO THE MOUNTAINS OF THE SUN

The Professor said that in curiosity alone had been found the seeds of all that is needful for our damnation.  Nevertheless, he said, if Rodriguez cared to see more of his mighty art the mysteries of Saragossa were all at his guest’s disposal.

Rodriguez, sad and horrified though he was, forgot none of his courtesy.  He thanked the Professor and praised the art of Saragossa, but his faith in man and his hope for the world having been newly disappointed, he cared little enough for the things we should care to see or for any of the amusements that are usually dear to youth.

“I shall be happy to see anything, senor,” he said to the Slave of Orion, “that is further from our poor Earth, and to study therein and admire your famous art.”