differently, we value things differently."
"My values are the same as yours," George pleaded. "I love you becauseof what you are, not because of some kind of stupid chart for physicalbeauty, not because ..."
"George," she said. "Look at me."
George met her eyes suddenly, caught by the urgency in her voice. Andslowly, in front of his eyes, she changed. Her features shifted, untilGeorge saw a beautiful young girl with pink white skin and red lips. Hesaw shining blue eyes and shimmering golden hair that fell over hershoulders. Gistla's body had changed to a lithe, smooth figure thatrevealed its contours beneath the gray cape.
He caught his breath and wiped a hand at his eyes.
"What you see," said Gistla softly, "is an illusion. You see what wouldbe in your values, a beautiful girl."
George opened his mouth but was unable to find his voice.
"Do not be afraid, George. Beneath the illusion of your senses, I amstill Gistla. I am still a Venusian."
George reached out and touched his fingers against a white arm and awhite shoulder bared by the cape. He touched the golden hair. "Gistla,"he said, amazed. "You're beautiful."
"Yes," she said sadly.
"But--you really are! Your hair and your eyes and your mouth. How didyou do it?"
She shook her head to show its unimportance. "It is something--like yourhypnotism."
George raised himself from his knees and sat beside her. "But I can'tbelieve it!"
"You can see, you can feel."
"Yes," George said. "Yes."
"You are happy with me this way, aren't you, George?"
"But you're so beautiful."
The golden-haired girl nodded her head, and the shining blue eyeswatched him carefully.
"You see then," Gistla said. "It does make a difference. You love memore this way."
"No," George said, touching her hair again. "I don't love you more, butif you can do this, why then, we'll have no more worries. Don't yousee?"
"I think so," Gistla said, looking away.
George's voice was excited, and his eyes darted over her face and body."Would other people see you as I do?"
"If I wished, yes."
"Then you see? It's all changed! You are what I see. Golden-haired andpale-skinned--"
"I am still Gistla. You would always know that. Would you love somethingthat is not real, just because you see it with your eyes?"
* * * * *
"But I can feel that you're real," George said, putting his hands on hershoulders. He pulled her closer and kissed her hair. "You're Gistla," hesaid, "and you're beautiful." He tipped her face up to his and bent tokiss her mouth.
His lips touched smooth green skin and he looked into Gistla's largeround lidless eyes. He recoiled as though he had been touched by fire.
She watched him as he wiped a trembling hand across his chest, and herglobular head glistened in the reflection of the late sun.
She nodded. "When you see what I really am, the difference _is_important." She gathered her cloak around her and stood up.
George felt the flush of his face, and he could not meet her eyes. Heheard her walk a few steps away.
"Good-by, George," she said.
He jumped up quickly. "That wasn't fair."
"No," she said slowly, "but it proved the value of things."
"It wasn't fair," George repeated. "And it didn't prove anything."
"I think it did," she said, moving away.
"No, listen, Gistla," he said. "You can't judge anything by what I didor said. We are different, in a physical sense, but that doesn't reallymatter. If a golden-haired girl materializes in front of my eyes, youcan't blame me for what my emotions did. It's still you I love. Not thecolor of your skin or the shape of your mouth. But you and what you or Ior anybody else looks like isn't important!"
He followed her and caught her arm. She turned to face him. "You can saythat," she said. "Your words tell me that and your eyes, but I know itisn't true."
The embarrassment was still inside him, but the way she denied him madehim want her more than ever. He held to her arm and then he said,"Gistla, could you change me? I mean, so that other people, even I,would see me as they see you--as a Venusian?"
She stood very still, staring at him.
"Could you?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Then do it, Gistla. I'll prove to you that nothing is important but youand me. I'll be a Venusian, like you are. I'll go back to my family as aVenusian and I'll take you with me. I'll prove that neither they noranybody else makes any difference in how I love you!"
Gistla watched him solemnly. Finally she said, "Would you really dothat?"
"Yes," he said quickly, "Yes."
"I love you, George," she said in her deep round voice.
He lifted his hands to touch her face and he found that his skin hadturned to pale green. He touched his own face, and he knew that if helooked into a mirror he would see a round smooth head with large lidlesseyes.
"Is that what you wanted?" she asked.
"Yes," he said stubbornly. "That's what I wanted." He stood there for along time, trying to become used to it, fighting the fear that ranthrough him every time he looked at his hands or touched his head.Finally he said, quietly, "Let's go meet my family."
* * * * *
As they drew near the house, he knew his family was still in the patio.He could hear the voices of his mother and father and the high, piercinglaughter of his sister.
"And, my God," he heard his sister say, "did you see the way thosehorrible eyes looked at you? What ever gets into George?"
"Dear, dear, dear," he heard his mother say.
Gistla was looking at him. "You do not have to do this."
"Yes," he said, feeling his heart jump. "I do."
He took her hand and they walked to the gate of the patio. He stoodthere, feeling Gistla's hand tighten about his own. And as he said,"Hello, everybody," he felt his breath shorten as though he had suddenlygotten stage fright.
He saw his father turn around. "What's this?" Mr. Kenington said,frowning.
"Hello, Father," George said.
"_Father_," Mr. Kenington repeated. "What are you doing in this patio?"
"I brought Gistla back."
"So I see," said Mr. Kenington, his eyes narrow as he looked at Gistla."Where's George?"
"I'm George."
"I'm not in the mood for joking with Venusians," his father snapped."What made you think you could come in here like this?"
Gistla's hand tightened again. "Try to understand," George said."Gistla--"
"What's going on?" his sister interrupted.
"Gistla, or whatever her name is," Mr. Kenington said, "has brought afriend of hers, another Venusian." He said the word, Venusian, as thoughit were a curse or a filthy word.
"My God," said his sister, squinting at them.
Mrs. Kenington leaned over in her chair, peering. "Tell them not to comeinto the patio, Harry," she said to her husband.
"Listen, Father," George said, feeling the panic begin. "Gistla changedmy appearance, so that I seem to look like a Venusian. I came here totell you that it doesn't make any difference what I look like, whether Ilook like a Venusian or a leaf on a vine or anything else. I still loveher, and it doesn't make any difference." He heard his voice rising andbecoming louder.
"My God," said his sister, giggling. "More black magic. Can you makemusic?" she asked George.
"Harry," his mother said. "They frighten me. Can't you make them keepoff the patio?"
"Mother--" George began.
"Now see here," Mr. Kenington growled. "You know we don't allowVenusians around here. I'd advise you to get out of here. Quick!"
"Why does he keep calling you father and mother?" his sister asked."Isn't that queer, how he keeps doing that? Make some music," she saidto George.
George could see the hatred in his father's eyes and in his mother's.And behind his sister's s
arcastic smile, he could see the hatred there,too. He felt himself getting more tense, and the panic raced throughhim.
"Listen," he shouted. "I'm George, don't you understand? George!"
"I don't want to tell you again," his father said, his face
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