Ah! to open once more those doors
of faith closed by the imperious dogmas of science--open them upon a
lovely land of mystery. Mankind must have mystery. And beyond each
mystery lies another. This will be our new religion."
Gerald had caught the enthusiasm of this swelling prologue and rose, his
face alight with curiosity.
"And that art is--is--?" he stammered.
"That art is--pyrotechny." It was too much for the young man's nerves,
and he fell back in his chair, purple with suppressed laughter. Angrily
darting at him and catching his left shoulder in a vicelike grip,
Karospina growled:
"You fool, how dare you mock something you know nothing of?" He shook
his guest roughly.
"Uncle, uncle, be patient! Tell Mr. Shannon, and he, too, will become a
believer. I believe in you. I believe in him, Mr. Shannon. Don't sneer!
Tell him, uncle." Mila's words, almost imploring in their tone, calmed
the infuriated inventor, who left the room. He reentered in a moment,
his head dripping, and he was grinning broadly.
"Whenever I encounter a refractory pattern in my fireworks--as you call
them--I am compelled to throw a bucket of water over it to quench its
too ardent spirits.
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