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Authors: Julian May
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have it dismantled so that the more valuable components can be sold."
"You must not! You must not!" cried Richter, taking hold of the top of the gate.
Madame took a step backward and stared at him in astonishment. He was moon-faced, with pale protuberant eyes and thick reddish brows, now hoisted in dismay. Expensively dressed as for a strenuous walking tour, he wore a large rucksack. To it were lashed a violin case, a lethal-looking dural catapult, and a golfer's umbrella. The stolid dachshund guarded a large parcel of paged books, carefully wrapped in plass and equipped with straps and a carrying handle.
Gaining control of his emotions, Richter said, "Forgive me, Madame. But you must not destroy this so-wonderful achievement of your late husband! It would be a sacrilege."
"Nevertheless, there are the death duties," said Madame. "You spoke of business, Monsieur. But you should know that many journalists have already written about my husband's work..."
"I," said Richter with a faint moue of distaste, "am not a journalist. I am a poet! And I hope you will consider my proposal most seriously." He unzipped a side compartment of the pack and removed a leather card-case, from which he extracted a small blue rectangle. He held this out to Madame. "Evidence of my bona fides."
The blue card was a sight draft on the Bank of Lyon entitling the bearer to collect an extraordinary amount of money.
Madame Guderian unlatched the gate. "Please enter, M. Richter. One trusts the little dog is well mannered."
Richter picked up his package of books and smiled thinly. "Schatzi is more civilized than most humans."
They sat on a stone bench below a bee-loud arch of Soleil d'Or and Richter explained to the widow why he had come. He had learned of Guderian's time-gate at a publisher's cocktail party in Frankfurt and decided that very evening to sell everything that he owned and hasten to Lyon.
"It is very simple, Madame. I wish to pass through this time-portal and live permanently amid the prehistoric simplicity of the Pliocene Epoch. The peaceable kingdom! Locus amoenusf. The Forest of Ardent. The sanctuary of innocence! The halcyon land unwatered by human tears!" He paused and tapped the blue card still in her hand. "And I am willing to pay handsomely for my passage."
A madman! Madame fingered the secateurs deep in her pocket. "The time-gate," she said carefully, "opens in but a single direction. There is no return. And we have no detailed knowledge of what lies on the other side in the Pliocene land. It was never possible to circumtranslate Tri-D cameras or other types of recording equipment"
"The fauna of the epoch is well known, Madame, as is the climate. A prudent person need have nothing to fear. And you, gnadige Frau, must suffer no qualms of conscience in permitting me to use the portal. I am self-sufficient and well able to look after myself in a wilderness. I have selected my equipment with care, and for companionship there is my faithful Schatzi. Don't hesitate, I beg of you! Let me pass through tonight. Now!"
A madman indeed, but perhaps one that Providence had sent!
She remonstrated with him for some time while the sky darkened to indigo and the nightingales began to sing. Richter parried all of her objections. He had no family to miss him. He had told no one of his intentions, so there would be no inquiries made of her. No one had observed him walking on the lonely road from the village. She would be rendering him a blessing, fulfilling for him what had once been an impossible dream of Arcady. He was not committing suicide, he was merely entering a new, more tranquil life. But if she refused him, his Seelenqual would leave him only the grimmest alternative. And there was the money . . .
"Cest entendu," Madame said at last "Please accompany me."
She led him down into the cellar and threw on the lights. There stood the gazebo with its cables, just as poor Theo had left it. The poet gave a joyous cry and rushed to the
"You must not! You must not!" cried Richter, taking hold of the top of the gate.
Madame took a step backward and stared at him in astonishment. He was moon-faced, with pale protuberant eyes and thick reddish brows, now hoisted in dismay. Expensively dressed as for a strenuous walking tour, he wore a large rucksack. To it were lashed a violin case, a lethal-looking dural catapult, and a golfer's umbrella. The stolid dachshund guarded a large parcel of paged books, carefully wrapped in plass and equipped with straps and a carrying handle.
Gaining control of his emotions, Richter said, "Forgive me, Madame. But you must not destroy this so-wonderful achievement of your late husband! It would be a sacrilege."
"Nevertheless, there are the death duties," said Madame. "You spoke of business, Monsieur. But you should know that many journalists have already written about my husband's work..."
"I," said Richter with a faint moue of distaste, "am not a journalist. I am a poet! And I hope you will consider my proposal most seriously." He unzipped a side compartment of the pack and removed a leather card-case, from which he extracted a small blue rectangle. He held this out to Madame. "Evidence of my bona fides."
The blue card was a sight draft on the Bank of Lyon entitling the bearer to collect an extraordinary amount of money.
Madame Guderian unlatched the gate. "Please enter, M. Richter. One trusts the little dog is well mannered."
Richter picked up his package of books and smiled thinly. "Schatzi is more civilized than most humans."
They sat on a stone bench below a bee-loud arch of Soleil d'Or and Richter explained to the widow why he had come. He had learned of Guderian's time-gate at a publisher's cocktail party in Frankfurt and decided that very evening to sell everything that he owned and hasten to Lyon.
"It is very simple, Madame. I wish to pass through this time-portal and live permanently amid the prehistoric simplicity of the Pliocene Epoch. The peaceable kingdom! Locus amoenusf. The Forest of Ardent. The sanctuary of innocence! The halcyon land unwatered by human tears!" He paused and tapped the blue card still in her hand. "And I am willing to pay handsomely for my passage."
A madman! Madame fingered the secateurs deep in her pocket. "The time-gate," she said carefully, "opens in but a single direction. There is no return. And we have no detailed knowledge of what lies on the other side in the Pliocene land. It was never possible to circumtranslate Tri-D cameras or other types of recording equipment"
"The fauna of the epoch is well known, Madame, as is the climate. A prudent person need have nothing to fear. And you, gnadige Frau, must suffer no qualms of conscience in permitting me to use the portal. I am self-sufficient and well able to look after myself in a wilderness. I have selected my equipment with care, and for companionship there is my faithful Schatzi. Don't hesitate, I beg of you! Let me pass through tonight. Now!"
A madman indeed, but perhaps one that Providence had sent!
She remonstrated with him for some time while the sky darkened to indigo and the nightingales began to sing. Richter parried all of her objections. He had no family to miss him. He had told no one of his intentions, so there would be no inquiries made of her. No one had observed him walking on the lonely road from the village. She would be rendering him a blessing, fulfilling for him what had once been an impossible dream of Arcady. He was not committing suicide, he was merely entering a new, more tranquil life. But if she refused him, his Seelenqual would leave him only the grimmest alternative. And there was the money . . .
"Cest entendu," Madame said at last "Please accompany me."
She led him down into the cellar and threw on the lights. There stood the gazebo with its cables, just as poor Theo had left it. The poet gave a joyous cry and rushed to the
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