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Updated: June 27, 2025
It would be many generations before clear explanations could be made and definite principles outlined without causing misunderstanding and serious damage. The Forell tales were evasive and preparatory as well as vaguely instructive. He recovered his self-discipline and waved his hand negligently. "You know, Charo," he said laughingly, "I've been thinking along similar lines for a long while.
All these things, that youngster is going to have to do. "It's your job to help teach him." Forell watched his friend closely as the critic laid aside the last page. Andorra sat for a moment, his head cocked in thought. Then, he picked up the last page and looked at it again. Finally, he laid the sheet aside.
On my arrival at Madrid I had reason to congratulate myself on the resolution I had formed of visiting the Peninsula. Baron de Forell, minister from the court of Saxony, treated me with a degree of kindness, of which I soon felt the value. He was well versed in mineralogy, and was full of zeal for every undertaking that promoted the progress of knowledge.
"As a matter of fact, I've been doing a little extension on my dream world. Built up a little sketch a while ago, and I'm not just sure what to do with it." As they entered the study, Forell walked across to his desk. He fumbled for a few seconds under the desk, then opened a drawer. For a moment, he paused, looking inside, then pulled out a thin folder. Again, he hesitated.
There were compensations in this job of his. It seemed to be profitable to have a purpose other than the obvious and usual one. He paid his bill and left the restaurant, to walk slowly along the street, enjoying the mild, spring air. As he passed a sidewalk café, a man beckoned from one of the tables. "Oh, Forell," he called. "I was hoping I'd see you this evening." He held up a book.
Elwar Forell leaned back in his chair, looking about the small dining salon. The usual couples were there, he noticed. Of course, the faces were different from those of last evening, but the poses were similar. And the people were there for the same reasons. They were enjoying the food and drinks, just as many others had enjoyed them before.
You'll have to prepare yourself for almost anything, always keeping in mind the peculiarities and capabilities of your own people." It looked as though the time might have come. If Andorra, a clever, influential critic, should guess at the real background and the sources of the Forell tales, and if he should misunderstand the motives behind those tales, he would probably publish his thoughts.
"Somehow, I can't help but look at some of the old legends and some of the things that have happened in more recent years, too. Can't help but wonder if we actually are babes of the cosmos, and if we haven't been visited and watched by some form of extra-planetary life at one time or another." Forell looked closely at his friend. Andorra, he knew, was a clear thinker in his own right.
"Just finished your 'Tales of the Sorcerers," he added. "Some of those yarns of yours seem almost real." Elwar Forell nodded. They should, he thought. Factual material, however disguised, often shines through its fictional background. And he had an inexhaustible source of material, drawn from many sources. He twisted his face into a gratified smile. "That's my objective," he said aloud.
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