A few minutes before noon Argon entered the theater at the stage end, accompanied by Jack. The young Saturnian led his friend to the chairs on the right, and they sat down. Jack cast a marveling look over the enormous interior, silent and tenantless; above bent the heavens, crossed by the arch of the ring, and with the moons set like gleaming jewels in the expanse. To the left, through the wide aperture of the entrance, lay the sea. The sun was near the zenith.
“Won’t it take a long time to fill this space?” asked Jack. “We are the first here, and I saw no one in the neighborhood as we were on our way.”
Argon, who was wearing a very grave look, roused himself and smiled.
“Our people are usually punctual, especially on such an occasion as this,” he said. “You will see that we won’t be kept waiting. I never thought,” he added with a sigh, “to have come here on this errand! I’ve seen only joyful spectacles until now.”
“You haven’t told me what is to be done here,” Jack observed. “Is it a criminal case? What penalties does your law inflict?”
“No Saturnian can inflict punishment on another!” answered Argon in surprise. “Our high courts do not convene for that purpose.”
Jack was equally astonished. “What is their purpose, then?”
“To hear the charge and the answer of the accused.”
“And is nothing done to the accused if found guilty?”
“Isn’t it enough that the guilt should be fixed?”