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Authors: Murray Leinster
Tags: Science-Fiction
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sharing his childhood and the two of them being here at this moment on the grassy sward of Bonmaison—it would be improbable past imagining!
Valerie talked, and he listened yearningly. Presently there was a movement nearby and someone grunted in satisfaction. Harrison looked up. There was Pepe, impeccably dressed, and beside him there was the much larger figure of Carroll.
“He was right,” said Carroll largely, with a nod of his head at Pepe. “He said he knew where to find you. I didn’t know where you lived, but he’d mentioned his hotel, so I hunted him up to locate you.” He switched to French. “Ah, Valerie! I trust to your kindness not to remember having seen me. There would be a great squabble to no purpose. My intentions in Paris are most innocent!”
Valerie said tranquilly:
“But of course! Did you know that M. Dubois makes another journey immediately? Someone came to the shop, a most eminent dealer in art-objects, and most of the shop’s stock departed with him. It is necessary to get more.”
Carroll shrugged.
“No harm in that that I can see. Harrison—”
“What?”
“This de Bassompierre, I have to talk to him! That’s why I came to Paris.”
Harrison started slightly. De Bassompierre had been born in 1767 and died in 1858 at the age of ninety-one. But “I’m ordering clothes and equipment for the purpose,” said Carroll crisply. “But I need someone to go with me. This whole thing is your baby. I hope you’ll go with me. Will you?”
Harrison swallowed. Then he looked at Valerie. She looked as if she did not understand. He looked back.
“It is really possible to do anything?”
“Naturally!” said Carroll. “You and Ybarra had an odd experience, remember? About the history of Mexico? It’s proof of two things, no, three. One is that history can be changed. The second is that somebody’s trying to change it. The third is that even when it’s changed it has a tendency to change back. There’s a sort of elasticity to events. Your theory that things which at one time are facts can cease to be facts has a certain amount of cockeyed sense to it. If something happens, and in consequence a given fact becomes inconsistent with the rest of the cosmos, it stops being a fact. It vanishes. History closes over it as water closes over a dropped stone. There are ripples, but they die away. People sometimes remember and even write it in their memoirs, but it isn’t true any longer.”
Harrison listened. He looked at Valerie. She looked patient, as a girl does when talk is about something unrelated to her own personal interests.
“You were looking for items of that sort,” Carroll went on, “and you found something much more serious—someone deliberately setting out to change the course of history. If he isn’t stopped, he’ll stress the grand design of things beyond its elastic limit and things will stay changed! So something has to be done!”
Harrison was suddenly anxious about Valerie’s opinion of this talk. If she thought Carroll was out of his mind, she’d think him—Harrison—no less demented. But her expression remained placidly unconcerned.
“So, I’m going to argue with him,” said Carroll. “I’ve got to find his tunnel, too, and see that it’s collapsed. We can’t have this sort of thing going on! Dubois would be of no possible use to me in an enterprise like this! I could never make him see what it was all about. I want you to come along. The number of people I could ask—as a gifted under-statement—is strictly limited. Ybarra would be handy, but be says no. He had a great-great-grandfather—”
“In all,” said Pepe apologetically, “I had eight great-great-grandfathers. The one I’ve mentioned was one Ignacio Ybarra who spent some months in Paris in 1804. He made. acquaintances there which later, when he returned as the Ambassador from newly independent Mexico—”
“He doesn’t want anything to happen to him,” finished Carroll,
Valerie talked, and he listened yearningly. Presently there was a movement nearby and someone grunted in satisfaction. Harrison looked up. There was Pepe, impeccably dressed, and beside him there was the much larger figure of Carroll.
“He was right,” said Carroll largely, with a nod of his head at Pepe. “He said he knew where to find you. I didn’t know where you lived, but he’d mentioned his hotel, so I hunted him up to locate you.” He switched to French. “Ah, Valerie! I trust to your kindness not to remember having seen me. There would be a great squabble to no purpose. My intentions in Paris are most innocent!”
Valerie said tranquilly:
“But of course! Did you know that M. Dubois makes another journey immediately? Someone came to the shop, a most eminent dealer in art-objects, and most of the shop’s stock departed with him. It is necessary to get more.”
Carroll shrugged.
“No harm in that that I can see. Harrison—”
“What?”
“This de Bassompierre, I have to talk to him! That’s why I came to Paris.”
Harrison started slightly. De Bassompierre had been born in 1767 and died in 1858 at the age of ninety-one. But “I’m ordering clothes and equipment for the purpose,” said Carroll crisply. “But I need someone to go with me. This whole thing is your baby. I hope you’ll go with me. Will you?”
Harrison swallowed. Then he looked at Valerie. She looked as if she did not understand. He looked back.
“It is really possible to do anything?”
“Naturally!” said Carroll. “You and Ybarra had an odd experience, remember? About the history of Mexico? It’s proof of two things, no, three. One is that history can be changed. The second is that somebody’s trying to change it. The third is that even when it’s changed it has a tendency to change back. There’s a sort of elasticity to events. Your theory that things which at one time are facts can cease to be facts has a certain amount of cockeyed sense to it. If something happens, and in consequence a given fact becomes inconsistent with the rest of the cosmos, it stops being a fact. It vanishes. History closes over it as water closes over a dropped stone. There are ripples, but they die away. People sometimes remember and even write it in their memoirs, but it isn’t true any longer.”
Harrison listened. He looked at Valerie. She looked patient, as a girl does when talk is about something unrelated to her own personal interests.
“You were looking for items of that sort,” Carroll went on, “and you found something much more serious—someone deliberately setting out to change the course of history. If he isn’t stopped, he’ll stress the grand design of things beyond its elastic limit and things will stay changed! So something has to be done!”
Harrison was suddenly anxious about Valerie’s opinion of this talk. If she thought Carroll was out of his mind, she’d think him—Harrison—no less demented. But her expression remained placidly unconcerned.
“So, I’m going to argue with him,” said Carroll. “I’ve got to find his tunnel, too, and see that it’s collapsed. We can’t have this sort of thing going on! Dubois would be of no possible use to me in an enterprise like this! I could never make him see what it was all about. I want you to come along. The number of people I could ask—as a gifted under-statement—is strictly limited. Ybarra would be handy, but be says no. He had a great-great-grandfather—”
“In all,” said Pepe apologetically, “I had eight great-great-grandfathers. The one I’ve mentioned was one Ignacio Ybarra who spent some months in Paris in 1804. He made. acquaintances there which later, when he returned as the Ambassador from newly independent Mexico—”
“He doesn’t want anything to happen to him,” finished Carroll,
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