The Centaurians
"You find me deep in my great work," a sweet voice murmured near me.
I glanced down at the lovely speaker, her arms were bared to the shoulders, and one was stained with a dull red color.
Centauri advised her to cease work and entertain the stranger.
She shrugged her shoulders and turned at once to the covered table and there followed a whispered argument which was perfectly audible to me (one always overhears). He cautioned her against overconfidence, adding that the stranger might lose the desire to teach the science she wished to learn. For several seconds she stood undecided, stubborn, then suddenly courtesied deeply and turned to me. "For once pleasure lures me," she murmured, smiling divinely. "I will be with you in a few moments."
She raised her arm as though to give some last direction to her father, it was the stained arm, but in my ardor I caught and passionately kissed it. The acid was glazed, sticky, the odor sickening. I turned from her, repelled, with a keen desire to get out of the place.
She laughed merrily as she hastened away, and Centauri twitted me that I changed color at the sight of life's fluid, but was able to endure the horrors of the polar regions. He considered that I possessed a remarkable constitution, and informed me his daughter's work was for the prolongation of life.
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