Leonard Mark quietly finished his coffee. While he drank he kept his eyes on the moving, whispering Saul lying there on the dead sea bottom.
"All right," said Leonard Mark.
Saul sat up, rubbing his face.
After a moment he told Leonard Mark, "I saw the creek. I ran along the bank and I took off my clothes," he said breathlessly, his smile incredulous. "And Idived in and swam around!"
"I'm pleased," said Leonard Mark.
"Here!" Saul reached into his pocket and drew forth his last bar of chocolate. "This is foryou."
"What's this?" Leonard Mark looked at the gift. "Chocolate? Nonsense, I'm not doing this for pay. I'm doing it because it makes you happy. Put that thing back in your pocket before I turn it into a rattlesnake and it bites you."
"Thank you, thank you!" Saul put it away. "You don't know how good that water was." He fetched the coffeepot. "More?"
Pouring the coffee, Saul shut his eyes a moment.
I've got Socrates here, he thought; Socrates and Plato, and Nietzsche and Schopenhauer. This man, by his talk, is a genius. By his talent, he's incredible! Think of the long, easy days and the cool nights of talk we'll have. It won't be a bad year at all.
Not half.
He spilled the coffee.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Saul himself was confused, startled.
We'll be in Greece, he thought. In Athens. We'll be in Rome, if we want, when we study the Roman writers. We'll stand in the Parthenon and the Acropolis. It won't be just talk, but it'll be a place to be, besides. This man can do it. He has the power to do it. When we talk the plays of Racine, he can make
a stage and players and all of it for me. By Christ, this is better than life ever was! How much better to be sick and here than well on Earth without these abilities! How may people have ever seen a Greek drama played in a Greek amphitheater in the year 31 B.C.?
And if I ask, quietly and earnestly, will this man take on the aspect of Schopenhauer and Darwin and Bergson and all the other thoughtful men of the ages . . . ? Yes, why not? To sit and talk with Nietzsche in person, with Plato himself . . . !
There was only one thing wrong. Saul felt himself swaying. The other men. The other sick ones along the bottom of this dead sea.
In the distance men were moving, walking toward them.
They had seen the rocket flash, land, dislodge a passenger. Now they were coming, slowly, painfully, to greet the new arrival.
Saul was cold. "Look," he said. "Mark, I think we'd better head for the mountains."
"Why?"
"See those men coming? Some of them are insane."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Isolation and all make them that way?"
"Yes, that's it. We'd better get going."
"They don't look very dangerous. They move slowly."
"You'd be surprised."
Mark looked at Saul. "You're trembling. Why's that?"