Part 2, Chapter 1

6 min

I answered in the affirmative, and further added that I had a husband and a son.

I said yes and added that I had a husband and a son.

The effect of a confession so simple, and so natural, wounded and amazed me.

The effect of such a simple, natural confession hurt and amazed me.

The Preceptress started back with a look of loathing and abhorrence; but it was almost instantly succeeded by one of compassion.

The Preceptress recoiled with a look of disgust and horror. But almost immediately, her expression changed to one of compassion.

"You have much to learn," she said gently, "and I desire not to judge you harshly. You are the product of a people far back in the darkness of civilization. We are a people who have passed beyond the boundary of what was once called Natural Law. But, more correctly, we have become mistresses of Nature's peculiar processes. We influence or control them at will. But before giving you any further explanation I will show you the gallery containing the portraits of our very ancient ancestors."

"You have much to learn," she said gently, "and I don't want to judge you harshly. You are the product of a people still deep in the darkness of civilization. We are a people who have passed beyond the limits of what was once called Natural Law. More precisely, we have become masters of Nature's unusual processes. We can influence or control them at will. But before I explain further, I will show you the gallery containing portraits of our very ancient ancestors."

She then conducted me into a remote part of the National College, and sliding back a panel containing a magnificent painting, she disclosed a long gallery, the existence of which I had never suspected, although I knew their custom of using ornamented sliding panels instead of doors. Into this I followed her with wonder and increasing surprise. Paintings on canvas, old and dim with age; paintings on porcelain, and a peculiar transparent material, of which I have previously spoken, hung so thick upon the wall you could not have placed a hand between them. They were all portraits of men. Some were represented in the ancient or mediaeval costumes of my own ancestry, and some in garbs resembling our modern styles.

She then led me to a remote part of the National College. She slid back a panel bearing a magnificent painting, revealing a long gallery. I had never suspected it existed, although I knew they used decorated sliding panels instead of doors. I followed her into the gallery with wonder and growing surprise. Paintings on canvas, old and dim with age, hung alongside paintings on porcelain and a peculiar transparent material I have mentioned before. They covered the walls so densely that you could not have placed a hand between them. They were all portraits of men. Some wore the ancient or medieval costumes of my own ancestors. Others wore clothes resembling our modern styles.

Some had noble countenances, and some bore on their painted visages the unmistakable stamp of passion and vice. It is not complimentary to myself to confess it, but I began to feel an odd kind of companionship in this assembly of good and evil looking men, such as I had not felt since entering this land of pre-eminently noble and lovely women.

Some had noble faces, while others had painted faces that clearly showed passion and vice. It does me no credit to admit it, but I began to feel an odd sense of companionship among these good and evil looking men. I had felt nothing like it since entering this land of exceptionally noble and lovely women.

As I gazed upon them, arrayed in the armor of some stern warrior, or the velvet doublet of some gay cavalier, the dark eyes of a debonair knight looked down upon me with familiar fellowship. There was pride of birth, and the passion of conquest in every line of his haughty, sensuous face. I seemed to breathe the same moral atmosphere that had surrounded me in the outer world.

As I looked at them, dressed in the armor of stern warriors or the velvet doublets of cheerful cavaliers, one caught my eye. A charming knight looked down at me with dark eyes and a familiar sense of fellowship. Every line of his proud, sensual face showed pride in his birth and a passion for conquest. I seemed to breathe the same moral atmosphere that had surrounded me in the outer world.

They had lived among noble and ignoble deeds I felt sure. They had been swayed by conflicting desires. They had known temptation and resistance, and reluctant compliance. They had experienced the treachery and ingratitude of humanity, and had dealt in it themselves. They had known joy as I had known it, and their sorrow had been as my sorrows. They had loved as I had loved, and sinned as I had sinned, and suffered as I had suffered.

They had lived among noble and shameful deeds, I felt sure. They had been pulled in different directions by conflicting desires. They had known temptation, resisted it, and given in reluctantly. They had experienced human betrayal and ingratitude, and had betrayed others and been ungrateful themselves. They had known joy as I had, and their sorrows had been like mine. They had loved as I had loved, sinned as I had sinned, and suffered as I had suffered.

I wept for the first time since my entrance into Mizora, the bitter tears of actual experience, and endeavored to convey to the Preceptress some idea of the painful emotion that possessed me.

For the first time since I entered Mizora, I wept bitter tears born of my own experience. I tried to convey to the Preceptress the painful emotion that overwhelmed me.

"I have noticed," she said, "in your own person and the descriptions you have given of your native country, a close resemblance to the people and history of our nation in ages far remote. These portraits are very old. The majority of them were painted many thousands of years ago. It is only by our perfect knowledge of color that we are enabled to preserve them. Some have been copied by expert artists upon a material manufactured by us for that purpose. It is a transparent adamant that possesses no refractive power, consequently the picture has all the advantage of a painting on canvas, with the addition of perpetuity. They can never fade nor decay."

"I have noticed," she said, "that you and your descriptions of your native country closely resemble our people and history from ages long ago. These portraits are very old. Most were painted many thousands of years ago. Only our perfect knowledge of color allows us to preserve them. Expert artists have copied some of them onto a material we make for that purpose. It is a transparent adamant that does not refract light. So the picture has all the advantages of a painting on canvas, with the added benefit of lasting forever. The pictures can never fade or decay."

"I am astonished at the existence of this gallery," I exclaimed. "I have observed a preference for sliding panels instead of doors, and that they were often decorated with paintings of rare excellence, but I had never suspected the existence of this gallery behind one of them."

“I’m amazed that this gallery exists,” I exclaimed. “I had noticed that sliding panels were preferred to doors. The panels were often decorated with exceptionally fine paintings. But I never suspected there was a gallery behind one of them.”

"Any student," said the Preceptress, "who desires to become conversant with our earliest history, can use this gallery. It is not a secret, for nothing in Mizora is concealed; but we do not parade its existence, nor urge upon students an investigation of its history. They are so far removed from the moral imbecility that dwarfed the nature of these people, that no lesson can be learned from their lives; and their time can be so much more profitably spent in scientific research and study."

“Any student who wants to learn about our earliest history can use this gallery,” said the Preceptress. “It is not a secret, because nothing in Mizora is hidden. But we do not advertise the gallery or urge students to study its history. Our students are so far removed from the moral weakness that stunted these people's character that they can learn nothing from their lives. Their time is much better spent on scientific research and study.”

"You have not, then, reached the limits of scientific knowledge?" I wonderingly inquired, for, to me, they had already overstepped its imaginary pale.

"Then you haven't reached the limits of scientific knowledge?" I asked in wonder. To me, they had already gone beyond what I imagined those limits to be.

"When we do we shall be able to create intellect at will. We govern to a certain extent the development of physical life; but the formation of the brain—its intellectual force, or capacity I should say—is beyond our immediate skill. Genius is yet the product of long cultivation."

"When we do, we will be able to create intellect at will. We can control physical development to some extent. But we cannot yet directly shape the brain's intellectual power, or rather, its capacity. Genius is still the product of long cultivation."

I had observed that dark hair and eyes were as indiscriminately mingled in these portraits as I had been accustomed to find them in the living people of my own and other countries. I drew the Preceptress' attention to it.

I noticed that dark hair and eyes appeared just as randomly in these portraits as among people in my own and other countries. I pointed this out to the Preceptress.

"We believe that the highest excellence of moral and mental character is alone attainable by a fair race. The elements of evil belong to the dark race."

"We believe that only a fair race can achieve the highest moral and mental excellence. The elements of evil belong to the dark race."

"And were the people of this country once of mixed complexions?"

"And did the people of this country once have different skin colors?"

"As you see in the portraits? Yes," was the reply.

"As you see in the portraits? Yes," came the reply.

"And what became of the dark complexions?"

"And what happened to the dark complexions?"

"We eliminated them."

I was too astonished to speak and stood gazing upon the handsome face of a young man in a plumed hat and lace-frilled doublet. The dark eyes had a haughty look, like a man proud of his lineage and his sex.

I was too astonished to speak. I stood staring at the handsome face of a young man wearing a plumed hat and a lace-frilled doublet. His dark eyes had an arrogant look, like those of a man proud of his lineage and his sex.

"Let us leave this place," said the Preceptress presently. "It always has a depressing effect upon me."

“Let's leave this place,” the Preceptress said after a while. “It always makes me feel depressed.”

"In what way?" I asked.

"How?" I asked.

"By the degradation of the human race that they force me to recall."

"By the degradation of the human race that they force me to remember."

I followed her out to a seat on one of the small porticoes.

I followed her outside to a seat on one of the small porches.

In candidly expressing herself about the dark complexions, my companion had no intention or thought of wounding my feelings. So rigidly do they adhere to the truth in Mizora that it is of all other things pre-eminent, and is never supposed to give offense. The Preceptress but gave expression to the belief inculcated by centuries of the teachings and practices of her ancestors. I was not offended. It was her conviction. Besides, I had the consolation of secretly disagreeing with her. I am still of the opinion that their admirable system of government, social and political, and their encouragement and provision for universal culture of so high an order, had more to do with the formation of superlative character than the elimination of the dark complexion.

My companion spoke frankly about dark complexions, but she had no intention or thought of hurting my feelings. In Mizora, people hold truth above all else and never expect it to give offense. The Preceptress was simply expressing a belief passed down through centuries of her ancestors’ teachings and practices. I was not offended. It was her conviction. Besides, I had the comfort of secretly disagreeing with her. I still believe their admirable social and political system of government did more to produce exceptional character than eliminating dark complexions. So did their encouragement of and support for a universal culture of such a high order.

The Preceptress remained silent a long time, apparently absorbed in the beauty of the landscape that stretched before us. The falling waters of a fountain was all the sound we heard. The hour was auspicious. I was so eager to develop a revelation of the mystery about these people that I became nervous over my companion's protracted silence. I felt a delicacy in pressing inquiries concerning information that I thought ought to be voluntarily given. Inquisitiveness was regarded as a gross rudeness by them, and I could frame no question that I did not fear would sound impertinent. But at last patience gave way and, at the risk of increasing her commiseration for my barbarous mental condition, I asked:

The Preceptress was silent for a long time, apparently absorbed in the beauty of the landscape before us. The only sound we heard was the water falling in a fountain. The moment seemed favorable. I was so eager to uncover the mystery surrounding these people that her long silence made me nervous. I hesitated to ask for information that I thought she should offer freely. Her people regarded curiosity as extremely rude, and I feared any question I asked would sound disrespectful. But at last I lost patience. Risking even more pity from her for my barbarous state of mind, I asked:

"Are you conversant with the history of the times occupied by the originals of the portraits we have just seen?"

"Are you familiar with the history of the times when the people in the portraits we just saw lived?"

"I am," she replied.

"And would you object to giving me a condensed recital of it?"

"And would you mind giving me a brief summary of it?"

"Not if it can do you any good?"

"Not if it can help you?"

"What has become of their descendants—of those portraits?"

"What happened to the descendants of the people in those portraits?"

"They became extinct thousands of years ago."

"They died out thousands of years ago."

She became silent again, lost in reverie. The agitation of my mind was not longer endurable. I was too near the acme of curiosity to longer delay. I threw reserve aside and not without fear and trembling faltered out:

She fell silent again, lost in thought. I could no longer bear my agitation. My curiosity was too intense to wait any longer. I cast aside my reserve and, with fear and trembling, faltered out:

"Where are the men of this country? Where do they stay?"

"There are none," was the startling reply. "The race became extinct three thousand years ago."

"There are none," came the startling reply. "The race died out three thousand years ago."