“Yes,” she answered; “but not for a long time. Generations of men—I know not how many—must pass away before we are men and women.”
“Heavens!” exclaimed Bentley, clasping his hands and raising his eyes to the sky, “I shall be a spirit before you are a woman.”
“Perhaps,” she said again, with a sweet smile upon her face, “you may live to be very, very old.”
But Bentley shook his head. This did not console him. For some minutes I stood in contemplation, gazing upon the stone pavement beneath my feet. “And this,” I ejaculated, “is a city inhabited by the ghosts of the future, who believe men and women to be phantoms and spectres?”
She bowed her head.
“But how is it,” I asked, “that you discovered that you are spirits and we mortal men?”
“There are so few of us who think of such things,” she answered, “so few who study, ponder, and reflect. I am fond of study, and I love philosophy; and from the reading of many books I have learned much. From the book which I have here I have learned most; and from its teachings I have gradually come to the belief, which you tell me is the true one, that we are spirits and you men.”
“And what book is that?” I asked.
“It is ‘The Philosophy of Relative Existences,’ by Rupert Vance.”
“Ye gods!” I exclaimed, springing upon the balcony, “that is my book, and I am Rupert Vance.” I stepped toward the volume to seize it, but she raised her hand.