How the Stranger vainly endeavoured to reveal to me
in words the mysteries of Spaceland
As soon as the sound of the Peace-cry of my departing Wife
had died away, I began to approach the Stranger with the intention
of taking a nearer view and of bidding him be seated:
but his appearance struck me dumb and motionless with astonishment.
Without the slightest symptoms of angularity he nevertheless varied
every instant with gradations of size and brightness scarcely possible
for any Figure within the scope of my experience. The thought
flashed across me that I might have before me a burglar or cut-throat,
some monstrous Irregular Isosceles, who, by feigning the voice
of a Circle, had obtained admission somehow into the house,
and was now preparing to stab me with his acute angle.
In a sitting-room, the absence of Fog (and the season happened
to be remarkably dry), made it difficult for me to trust to
Sight Recognition, especially at the short distance at which
I was standing. Desperate with fear, I rushed forward
with an unceremonious, "You must permit me, Sir --" and felt him.
My Wife was right.
Pages:
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125