“They dread death, and it is undoubtedly true that life is prolonged here; our medical men declare that the longevity of every generation is improved.”
“Is it possible? But tell me about the sun, when it sets, what becomes of it?”
“It goes back to its place of rising through a great tunnel beneath us.”
Thorndyke sat in deep thought for a moment; then he looked so steadily and so admiringly into Bernardino's eyes that she grew red with confusion. “But you, yourself, are you thoroughly content here?”
“I know nothing else,” she continued. “I have heard little about your world except that your people are discontented, weak and insane, and that your changeable weather and your careless laws regarding marriage and heredity produce perpetual and innumerable diseases; that your people are not well developed and beautiful; that you war with one another, and that one tears down what another builds. I have, too, always been happy, and since you came I am happier still. I don't know what it means. I have never been so much interested in any one before.”
“It is love on the part of both of us,” replied the Englishman impulsively, taking her hand. “I never was content before. I went roving over the earth trying to end my life at sea or in balloon voyages, but now I only want to be with you. I have never dreamed that I could be so happy or that I would meet any one so beautiful as you are.”
Bernardino's delight showed itself in blushes on her face, and Thorndyke, unable to restrain himself, put his arm around her and drew her to his breast and kissed her.
She sprang up quickly and he saw that she was trembling and that all the color had fled from her face.
“What is the matter?” he asked, in alarm.
At first she did not answer, but only looked at him half-frightened, and then covered her face with her hands. He drew them from her face and compelled her to look at him.