Flatland
shewed me that the extremities passed into dimness too rapidly to represent one of the Female Sex; and I should have thought it a Circle, only that it seemed to change its size in a manner impossible for a Circle or for any regular Figure of which I had had experience.
But my Wife had not my experience, nor the coolness necessary to note these characteristics. With the usual hastiness and unreasoning jealousy of her Sex, she flew at once to the conclusion that a Woman had entered the house through some small aperture. “How comes this person here?” she exclaimed, “you promised me, my dear, that there should be no ventilators in our new house.” “Nor are there any,” said I; “but what makes you think that the stranger is a Woman? I see by my power of Sight Recognition———” “Oh, I have no patience with your Sight Recognition,” replied she, “‘Feeling is believing’ and ‘A Straight Line to the touch is worth a Circle to the sight’”—two Proverbs, very common with the Frailer Sex in Flatland.
“Well,” said I, for I was afraid of irritating her, “if it must be so, demand an introduction.” Assuming her most gracious manner, my Wife advanced towards the Stranger, “Permit me, Madam, to feel and be felt by———” then, suddenly recoiling, “Oh! it is not a Woman, and there are no angles either, not a trace of one. Can it be that I have so misbehaved to a perfect Circle?”
“I am indeed, in a certain sense a Circle,” replied the Voice, “and a more perfect Circle than any in Flatland; but to speak more accurately, I am many Circles in one.” Then he added more mildly, “I have a message, dear Madam, to your husband, which I must not deliver in your presence; and, if you would suffer us to retire for a few minutes———” But my Wife would not listen to the proposal that our august Visitor should
so incommode himself, and assuring the Circle that the hour
71
