That dark-skinned boy climbs that rope with the agility of a monkey, and yonder handsome blonde youth, hand over hand, climbs another rope depending from the very apex of the roof and now he comes down head foremost, and—oh—I thought he was about to fall, but he has turned a somersault and landed on his feet on a—ah, I see. That part of the floor is covered with spiral springs over which is a padding of some elastic material similar to curled hair; no, it is some sort of fibrous stuff and over it, stretched tightly, is a covering resembling rubber sheeting, which is so elastic that the gymnasts bound from it like so many rubber balls. Many of the appliances I have no knowledge of, but there are horizontal bars on which some of the youths are exercising with what appears to me utter recklessness. See that young giant swinging, swinging from that suspended bar, and there he goes through the air, catching another bar, and, oh my, I do not like to see that. I suppose that if he should fall that net would catch him, but it looks dangerous. Now he sits on the bar swinging to and fro, and now he drops and catches the bar, and now, with a great leap, he has caught a rope and is descending head foremost. I do not understand why any one takes pleasure in such risky performances.
If I say that those young men are practising with Indian clubs will I be greatly mistaken? How gracefully they handle the clubs and they, like their classmates, may be called handsome; but, somehow, I do not grow accustomed to the extraordinary size of the Entoans. Why those dark-skinned youths, including Dano, appear gigantic and the lighter hued youths, compared with you gentlemen also are giants.
The doctor and professors are looking on with apparent enjoyment and interest, especially commending Dano's energetic movements, but—ah, see, an attendant is presenting to the white-bearded Professor a letter. As he glances over its contents he pales visibly, and is greatly disturbed. In a low tone he says, "Friends, I have received a letter from Basto Andûlēsa̤." Now he calls to Dano.
Professor—Dano, Dano, I would speak with you. This moment a message from your honored father has arrived. You will listen while I shall read what concerns all here.
"To the renowned Professor Byra̤don Ova̤dos and his honored co-workers of the Galarēsa̤ of Camarissa̤, in the Province of Ondû I, Basto Andûlēsa̤, send loving greeting.
"Your sorrowful regret will equal my own when you learn that our beloved Supreme Ruler, Omanos Fûnha̤, grieves sorely over the continued ill health of his daughter, the lovely and amiable Princess Valloa̤, who slowly but, it is feared, surely declines toward the ending of her young life. She craves the presence of her affianced, my son, Dano, whom I hasten to summon to Dao. You, through all reasonable means, will facilitate his departure on the special transport awaiting him.
"Your kind heart and good judgment will guide you in breaking to my son this painful news which otherwise might assail him with too sudden force.
"With profoundest regard I honor myself by being your friend,
"Basto Andulesa."
Dano, dear youth, strive to compose yourself. Alas, how strangely true were the words of your prophecy. Andûmana̤, thy ways are incomprehensible. We implore Thee to aid us to understand the lessons Thou art offering to us, but which, in our ignorance, we fail to comprehend.
Dano, our loving sympathy is with Omanos Fûnha̤, your parents and you, our beloved Prince and pupil. Hasten to prepare for your departure and we will arrange for your comfort and speedy conveyance to Dao, where, we will pray the pitiful gods, you may find your beloved Valloa̤ recovering her precious life.
Gentola—Poor Dano, I feel so sorry for him. That Professor should not have announced the dreadful news so abruptly. A woman would have known better. These Entoans are a peculiar people. I do not mean that I do not admire them, for indeed, I do. They are so sympathetic, so ingenuous that I could wish that our Earth folk might be like them.
De L'Ester—They are some centuries older than our disingenuous Earth folk; consequently, have grown honest.