Herland
those about me, and saw the shining snowpeaks of that mighty range, I
assumed that this too would pass, and I should presently find myself in
my own home.
That was precisely the experience of this awakening: receding waves of
half-caught swirling vision, memories of home, the steamer, the boat,
the airship, the forest--at last all sinking away one after another,
till my eyes were wide open, my brain clear, and I realized what had
happened.
The most prominent sensation was of absolute physical comfort. I was
lying in a perfect bed: long, broad, smooth; firmly soft and level; with
the finest linen, some warm light quilt of blanket, and a counterpane
that was a joy to the eye. The sheet turned down some fifteen inches,
yet I could stretch my feet at the foot of the bed free but warmly
covered.
I felt as light and clean as a white feather. It took me some time to
conscientiously locate my arms and legs, to feel the vivid sense of life
radiate from the wakening center to the extremities.
A big room, high and wide, with many lofty windows whose closed blinds
let through soft green-lit air; a beautiful room, in proportion, in
color, in smooth simplicity; a scent of blossoming gardens outside.
I lay perfectly still, quite happy, quite conscious, and yet not
actively realizing what had happened till I heard Terry.
“Gosh!” was what he said.
I turned my head. There were three beds in this chamber, and plenty of
room for them.
Terry was sitting up, looking about him, alert as ever. His remark,
though not loud, roused Jeff also. We all sat up.
Terry swung his legs out of bed, stood up, stretched himself mightily.
He was in a long nightrobe, a sort of seamless garment, undoubtedly
comfortable--we all found ourselves so covered. Shoes were beside each
bed, also quite comfortable and goodlooking though by no means like our
own.
We looked for our clothes--they were not there, nor anything of all the
varied contents of our pockets.
A door stood somewhat ajar; it opened into a most attractive bathroom,
copiously provided with towels, soap, mirrors, and all such convenient
comforts, with indeed our toothbrushes and combs, our notebooks, and
thank goodness, our watches--but no clothes.
Then we made a search of the big room again and found a large airy
closet, holding plenty of clothing, but not ours.
“A council of war!” demanded Terry. “Come on back to bed--the bed’s all
right anyhow. Now then, my scientific friend, let us consider our case
dispassionately.”
He meant me, but Jeff seemed most impressed.
“They haven’t hurt us in the least!” he said. “They could have killed
us--or--or anything--and I never felt better in my life.”
“That argues that they are all women,” I suggested, “and highly
civilized. You know you hit one in the last scrimmage--I heard her sing
out--and we kicked awfully.”
Terry was grinning at us. “So you realize what these ladies have done to
us?” he pleasantly inquired. “They have taken away all our possessions,
all our clothes--every stitch. We have been stripped and washed and put
to bed like so many yearling babies--by these highly civilized women.”
Jeff actually blushed. He had a poetic imagination. Terry had
imagination enough, of a different kind. So had I, also different.
I always flattered myself I had the scientific imagination, which,
incidentally, I considered the highest sort. One has a right to a
certain amount of egotism if founded on fact--and kept to one’s self--I
think.
“No use kicking, boys,” I said. “They’ve got us, and apparently they’re
perfectly harmless. It remains for us to cook up some plan of escape
like any other bottled heroes. Meanwhile we’ve got to put on these
clothes--Hobson’s choice.”
The garments were simple in the extreme, and absolutely comfortable,
physically, though of course we all felt like supes in the theater.
There was a one-piece cotton undergarment, thin and soft, that reached
over the knees and shoulders, something like the one-piece pajamas some
fellows wear, and a kind of half-hose, that came up to just under the
knee and stayed there--had elastic tops of their own, and covered the
edges of the first.
Then there was a thicker variety of union suit, a lot of them in the
closet, of varying weights and somewhat sturdier material--evidently
they would do at a pinch with nothing further. Then there were tunics,
knee-length, and some long robes. Needless to say, we took tunics.
We bathed and dressed quite cheerfully.
“Not half bad,” said Terry, surveying himself in a long mirror. His
hair was somewhat longer than when we left the last barber, and the
hats provided were much like those seen on the prince in the fairy tale,
lacking the plume.
The costume was similar to that which we had seen on all the women,
though some of them, those working in the fields, glimpsed by our
glasses when we first flew over, wore only the first two.
I settled my shoulders and stretched my arms, remarking: “They have
worked out a mighty sensible dress, I’ll say that for them.” With which
we all agreed.
“Now then,” Terry proclaimed, “we’ve had a fine long sleep--we’ve had a
good bath--we’re clothed and in our right minds, though feeling like a
lot of neuters. Do you think these highly civilized ladies are going to
give us any breakfast?”
“Of course they will,” Jeff asserted confidently. “If they had meant to
kill us, they would have done it before. I believe we are going to be
treated as guests.”
“Hailed as deliverers, I think,” said Terry.
“Studied as curiosities,” I told them. “But anyhow, we want food. So now
for a sortie!”
A sortie was not so easy.
The bathroom only opened into our chamber, and that had but one outlet,
a big heavy door, which was fastened.
We listened.
“There’s someone outside,” Jeff suggested. “Let’s knock.”
So we knocked, whereupon the door opened.
Outside was another large room, furnished with a great table at one
end, long benches or couches against the wall, some smaller tables
and chairs. All these were solid, strong, simple in structure, and
comfortable in use--also, incidentally, beautiful.
This room was occupied by a number of women, eighteen to be exact, some
of whom we distinctly recalled.
Terry heaved a disappointed sigh. “The Colonels!” I heard him whisper to
Jeff.
Jeff, however, advanced and bowed in his best manner; so did we all, and
we were saluted civilly by the tall-standing women.
We had no need to make pathetic pantomime of hunger; the smaller tables
were already laid with food, and we were gravely invited to be seated.
The tables were set for two; each of us found ourselves placed vis-a-vis
with one of our hosts, and each table had five other stalwarts nearby,
unobtrusively watching. We had plenty of time to get tired of those
women!
The breakfast was not profuse, but sufficient in amount and excellent in
quality. We were all too good travelers to object to novelty, and this
repast with its new but delicious fruit, its dish of large rich-flavored
nuts, and its highly satisfactory little cakes was most agreeable. There
was water to drink, and a hot beverage of a most pleasing quality, some
preparation like cocoa.
And then and there, willy-nilly, before we had satisfied our appetites,
our education began.
By each of our plates lay a little book, a real printed book, though
different from ours both in paper and binding, as well, of course, as in
type. We examined them curiously.
“Shades of Sauveur!” muttered Terry. “We’re to learn the language!”
We were indeed to learn the language, and not only that, but to teach
our own. There were blank books with parallel columns, neatly ruled,
evidently prepared for the occasion, and in these, as fast as we learned
and wrote down the name of anything, we were urged to write our own name
for it by its side.
The book we had to study was evidently a schoolbook, one in which
children learned to read, and we judged from this, and from their
frequent consultation as to methods, that they had had no previous
experience in the art of teaching foreigners their language, or of
learning any other.
On the other hand, what they lacked in experience, they made up for
in genius. Such subtle understanding, such instant recognition of our
difficulties, and readiness to meet them, were a constant surprise to
us.
Of course, we were willing to meet them halfway. It was wholly to
our advantage to be able to understand and speak with them, and as
to refusing to teach them--why should we? Later on we did try open
rebellion, but only once.
That first meal was pleasant enough, each of us quietly studying
his companion, Jeff with sincere admiration, Terry with that highly
technical look of his, as of a past master--like a lion tamer, a serpent
charmer, or some such professional. I myself was intensely interested.
It was evident that those sets of five were there to check any outbreak
on our part. We had no weapons, and if we did try to do any damage, with
a chair, say, why five to one was too many for us, even if they were
women; that we had found out to our sorrow. It was not pleasant, having
them always around, but we soon got used to it.
“It’s better than being physically restrained ourselves,” Jeff
philosophically suggested when we were alone. “They’ve given us a
room--with no great possibility of escape--and personal liberty--heavily
chaperoned. It’s better than we’d have been likely to get in a
man-country.”
“Man-Country! Do you really believe there are no men here, you innocent?
Don’t you know there must be?” demanded Terry.
“Ye--es,” Jeff agreed. “Of course--and yet--”
“And yet--what! Come, you obdurate sentimentalist--what are you thinking
about?”
“They may have some peculiar division of labor we’ve never heard of,” I
suggested. “The men may live in separate towns, or they may have subdued
them--somehow--and keep them shut up. But there must be some.”
“That last suggestion of yours is a nice one, Van,” Terry protested.
“Same as they’ve got us subdued and shut up! you make me shiver.”
“Well, figure it out for yourself, anyway you please. We saw plenty of
kids, the first day, and we’ve seen those girls--”
“Real girls!” Terry agreed, in immense relief. “Glad you mentioned
’em. I declare, if I thought there was nothing in the country but those
grenadiers I’d jump out the window.”
“Speaking of windows,” I suggested, “let’s examine ours.”
We looked out of all the windows. The blinds opened easily enough, and
there were no bars, but the prospect was not reassuring.
This was not the pink-walled town we had so rashly entered the day
before. Our chamber was high up, in a projecting wing of a sort of
castle, built out on a steep spur of rock. Immediately below us were
gardens, fruitful and fragrant, but their high walls followed the edge
of the cliff which dropped sheer down, we could not see how far. The
distant sound of water suggested a river at the foot.
We could look out east, west, and south. To the southeastward stretched
the open country, lying bright and fair in the morning light, but on
either side, and evidently behind, rose great mountains.
“This thing is a regular fortress--and no women built it, I can tell
you that,” said Terry. We nodded agreeingly. “It’s right up among the
hills--they must have brought us a long way.”
“We saw some kind of swift-moving vehicles the first day,” Jeff reminded
us. “If they’ve got motors, they _are_ civilized.”
“Civilized or not, we’ve got our work cut out for us to get away from
here. I don’t propose to make a rope of bedclothes and try those walls
till I’m sure there is no better way.”
We all concurred on this point, and returned to our discussion as to the
women.