There was pain and contrition in the Beachcomber's eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. He helped Maxwell up. "I don't often forget myself that way. Will you forgive me?"
Maxwell's chest was still numb; it was hard to breathe. "Don't know," he said with difficulty. "What did you do it for?"
Sunlight gleamed dazzlingly on the Beachcomber's bare head. His eyes were in deep shadow, and shadows sketched the bold outline of his nose, marked the firm, bitter lines of his mouth. He said, "I've offended you." He paused. "I'll explain, Vernon, but there's one condition—you must never tell anybody else, ever."
He put his big hand on Maxwell's wrist, and Maxwell felt the power that flowed from him. Almost hypnotically he knew he never would be able to. He was aware his mind was being schooled in what to remember.
"All right," said Maxwell. A curious complexity of emotions boiled inside him—anger and petulance, curiosity and something else, deeper down: a vague, objectless fear. "Go ahead."
The Beachcomber talked. After a few minutes he seemed almost to forget Maxwell; he stared out across the silver sea, and Maxwell, half hypnotized by the deep, resonant voice, watched his hawklike profile in silence.
Dimly, he saw the universe the Beachcomber spoke of: a universe of Men set free. Over that inconceivable gap of time that stretched between Maxwell's time and theirs, they had purged themselves of all their frailties. Maxwell saw them striding among the stars, as much at home in the pitiless void as on the verdant planets they loved. He saw them tall and faultless and strong, handsome men and beautiful women, all with the power that glowed in the Beachcomber, but without a hint of his sadness.
He tried to imagine what the daily life of those people must be like, and couldn't; it was three million years beyond his comprehension. But when he looked at the Beachcomber's face, he knew that the last men were human beings like himself, capable of love, hate, and despair.
"We had mating customs that would seem peculiar to you," said the Beachcomber after a while. "Like elephants—because we were so long-lived, you know. We—married—late, and it was for life. My marriage was about to take place when we found the enemy."