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begin to shine.

  He tried to explain what he felt to Wyatt, but Wyatt had no time.

  "But, Billy," Beauclaire said fervently, "do you see what these peoplego through? Do you see how they live?"

  Wyatt nodded, but his eyes were on the girl as she sat listeningdreamily to a recording of ancient music.

  "They live every day waiting," Beauclaire said. "They have no ideawhat the meteors are. They don't know that there is anything else inthe Universe but their planet and their sun. They think that's allthere is. They don't know why they're here--but when the meteors keepfalling like that, they have only one conclusion."

  * * * * *

  Wyatt turned from the girl smiling absently. None of this could touchhim. He had seen the order and beauty of space, the incredibleperfection of the Universe, so often and so deeply that, likeBeauclaire, he could not help but believe in a Purpose, a grand finalmeaning. When his father had died of an insect bite at Oberon he hadbelieved in a purpose for that, and had looked for it. When his firstcrewmate fell into the acid ocean of Alcestis and the second died of ahorrible rot, Wyatt had seen purpose, purpose; and each time anotherman died, for no apparent reason, on windless, evil useless worlds,the meaning of things had become clearer and clearer, and now in theend Wyatt was approaching the truth, which was perhaps that none of itmattered at all.

  It especially did not matter now. So many things had happened that hehad lost the capacity to pay attention. He was not young any more; hewanted to rest, and upon the bosom of this girl he had all the reasonfor anything and everything he needed.

  But Beauclaire was incoherent. It seemed to him that here on thisplanet a great wrong was being done, and the more he thought of it themore angry and confused he became. He went off by himself and lookedat the terrible wound on the face of the planet, at all the sweet,lovely, fragrant things which would never be again, and he ended bycursing the nature of things, as Wyatt had done so many years before.And then he went on with the translation of the book. He came upon thefinal passage, still cursing inwardly, and reread it again and again.When the sun was rising on a brilliant new morning, he went back tothe ship.

  "They had a man here once," he said to Wyatt, "who was as good awriter as there ever was. He wrote a book which these people use astheir Bible. It's like our Bible sometimes, but mostly it's just theopposite. It preaches that a man shouldn't worship anything. Would youlike to hear some of it?"

  Wyatt had been pinned down and he had to listen, feeling sorry forBeauclaire, who had such a long way to go. His thoughts were on Donna,who had gone out alone to walk in the woods and say goodbye to herworld. Soon he would go out and bring her back to the ship, and shewould probably cry a little, but she would come. She would come withhim always, wherever he went.

  "I have translated this the best way I could," Beauclaire saidthickly, "but remember this. This man could write. He was Shakespeareand Voltaire and all the rest all at once. He could make you _feel_. Icouldn't do a decent translation if I tried forever, but please listenand try to get what he means. I've put it in the style of Ecclesiastesbecause it's something like that."

  "All right," Wyatt said.

  * * * * *

  Beauclaire waited for a long moment, feeling this deeply. When heread, his voice was warm and strong, and something of his emotion camethrough. As Wyatt listened, he found his attention attracted, and thenhe felt the last traces of his sadness and weariness fall away.

  He nodded, smiling.

  These are the words Beauclaire had gathered from the Book:

  Rise up smiling, and walk with me. Rise up in the armor of thy body and what shall pass shall make thee unafraid. Walk among the yellow hills, for they belong to thee. Walk upon grass and let thy feet descend into soft soil; in the end when all has failed thee the soil shall comfort thee, the soil shall receive thee and in thy dark bed thou shalt find such peace as is thy portion.

  In thine armor, hear my voice. In thine armor, hear. Whatsoever thou doest, thy friend and thy brother and thy woman shall betray thee. Whatsoever thou dost plant, the weeds and the seasons shall spite thee. Wheresoever thou goest, the heavens shall fall upon thee. Though the nations shall come unto thee in friendship thou art curst. Know that the Gods ignore thee. Know that thou art Life, and that pain shall forever come into thee, though thy years be without end and thy days without sleep, even and forever. And knowing this, in thine armor, thou shalt rise up.

  Red and full and glowing is thy heart; a steel is forging within thy breast. And what can hurt thee now? In thy granite mansion, what can hurt thee ever? Thou shalt only die. Therefore seek not redemption nor forgiveness for thy sins, for know that thou hast never sinned.

  Let the Gods come unto _thee_.

  When it was finished, Wyatt sat very still.

  Beauclaire was looking at him intently.

  Wyatt nodded. "I see," he said.

  "They don't ask for anything," Beauclaire said. "No immortality, noforgiveness, no happiness. They take what comes and don't--wonder."

  Wyatt smiled, rising. He looked at Beauclaire for a long while, tryingto think of something to say. But there was nothing to say. If theyoung man could believe this, here and now, he would save himself along, long, painful journey. But Wyatt could not talk about it--notjust yet.

  He reached out and clapped Beauclaire gently upon the shoulder. Thenhe left the ship and walked out toward the yellow hills, toward thegirl and the love that was waiting.

  * * * * *

  _What will they do_, Beauclaire asked himself, _when the stars comeout_? _When there are other places to go, will these people, too,begin to seek?_

  They would. With sadness, he knew that they would. For there is achord in Man which is plucked by the stars, which will rise upward andoutward into infinity, as long as there is one man anywhere and onelonely place to which he has not been. And therefore what does themeaning matter? We are built in this way, and so shall we live.

  Beauclaire looked up into the sky.

  Dimly, faintly, like God's eye peeking through the silvery haze, asingle star had begun to shine.

  --MICHAEL SHAARA

  * * * * *