Paradise and Elsewhere Read Online Free Page A

too long to discover, said those who were already convinced she had been exiled for committing some ghastly offence. By the time we were sure of the facts, we would be fond of her and she would in effect be living here already; sending her away would be more painful, but just as necessary. We should simply give her a bag of provisions, they said, and encourage her to continue her journey the next day.
    We talked this over in twos or threes in the fields and gardens, we continued in larger groups, between other things, as we sat at table in the evenings. Any opinion that seemed extreme or novel quickly passed by word of mouth and was tested, adopted or rejected by the rest. Back then, we always discussed things minutely, this way and that, taking our time, pondering until some kind of agreement was reached. There is no hurry, we always told each other then, it is a pleasure in any case to talk… And the case of the stranger in the garden was endlessly complicated, or fruitful, depending on how you saw it.
    Why were some of us afraid of the traveller? Why did we want to turn aside what fate had sent us? The traveller, I pointed out, might well be a gift as much as a responsibility. She might have some skill we did not practise, she might have reached some understanding we were still groping for. Perhaps we should accept the unfamiliar and learn from it? After all, when occasionally a new plant is found growing in our fields, we discover its properties and decide whether it might be worth cultivating. We do not simply tear it out. Others elaborated this idea, comparing the traveller’s differentness to the grains of sand that cause some shelled creatures to grow gemstones inside themselves. How do we know, others countered, that the gemstone is of any value to the animal itself? Indeed the contrary seems more likely when you consider what it is: a hard object, pressing into soft flesh.
    Then again, how different was the traveller? She spoke another tongue, was evidently used to other customs; she was flat-chested, had green eyes, and paler, thinner hair but more of it: she was just a little different, not enough to make her completely other. We had recognized her as human from the start. Differentness was not the point, some said. It led both ways. Rather, the issue was that she had come from elsewhere and so we did not know her story or her intentions.
    In time many people tired of the discussion, though those who wished her gone were less tired than the rest. Eventually, the one thing that united almost everyone was a feeling that the traveller, who now lay peacefully on our couches, eating pies and pastes and watching us as we talked, even helping with light work, was taking up too much of our attention. I offered to make her my special responsibility, but this, I was told, would not solve the problem, and finally it was indeed decided to send her away.
    Two hours before dawn, the sand would be at its coolest. The air, at that time, when the invisible moisture that precipitates in the night has washed it of impediments, is extraordinarily still and clear. The traveller was to be dispatched with as much hospitality as she could carry. We had packed her a bag, making sure to include foods as dense in nutrients as possible and salty enough to counteract sweating, but not so salty as to create excessive thirst: nuts, seedcake, dried fruits, all of it wrapped in scented leaves. Even those who had most wanted the traveller to go softened now that she was about to leave, found themselves wanting her to remember us well. Two skins of water was easy enough for a fit person, as she was now, to carry. We supplied a yoke to make the carrying easier. We made special voluminous robes, a head wrap. A party of six undertook to wake her and lead her out of the oasis, then hand her the provisions and communicate our wishes as best we could.
    I was not one of the party but I woke that night at the appointed time, aware of my heart