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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac70adc --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #61048 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/61048) diff --git a/old/61048-h.zip b/old/61048-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 032de59..0000000 --- a/old/61048-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/61048-h/61048-h.htm b/old/61048-h/61048-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index ae88e2e..0000000 --- a/old/61048-h/61048-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1025 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Girls from Fieu Dayol, by Robert F. Young. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } - -.ph2 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph2 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Girls from Fieu Dayol, by Robert F. Young - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Girls from Fieu Dayol - -Author: Robert F. Young - -Release Date: December 30, 2019 [EBook #61048] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRLS FROM FIEU DAYOL *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="359" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>The Girls From Fieu Dayol</h1> - -<h2>By ROBERT F. YOUNG</h2> - -<p class="ph1">They were lovely and quick<br /> -to learn—and their only<br /> -faults were little ones!</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Up until the moment when he first looked into Hippolyte Adolphe Taine's -<i>History of English Literature</i>, Herbert Quidley's penchant for old -books had netted him nothing in the way of romance and intrigue. -Not that he was a stranger to either. Far from it. But hitherto the -background for both had been bedrooms and bars, not libraries.</p> - -<p>On page 21 of the Taine tome he happened upon a sheet of yellow copy -paper folded in four. Unfolding it, he read:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p><i>asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj -Cai: Sities towms copeis wotnid. Gind snoll doper nckli! Wilbe Fieu -Dayol fot ig habe mot toseo knwo—te bijk weil en snoll doper—Klio, -asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj</i></p></div> - -<p>Since when, Quidley wondered, refolding the paper and putting it back -in the book, had high-school typing students taken to reading Taine? -Thoughtfully he replaced the book on the shelf and moved deeper into -the literature section.</p> - -<p>He had just taken down Xenophon's <i>Anabasis</i> when he saw the girl walk -in the door.</p> - -<p>Let it be said forthwith that old books were not the only item on -Herbert Quidley's penchant-list. He liked old wood, too, and old -paintings, not to mention old wine and old whiskey. But most of all he -liked young girls. He especially liked them when they looked the way -Helen of Troy must have looked when Paris took one gander at her and -started building his ladder. This one was tall, with hyacinth hair and -liquid blue eyes, and she had a Grecian symmetry of shape that would -have made Paris' eyes pop had he been around to take notice. Paris -wasn't, but Quidley's eyes, did the job.</p> - -<p>After coming in the door, the girl deposited a book on the librarian's -desk and headed for the literature section. Quickly Quidley lowered -his eyes to the <i>Anabasis</i> and henceforth followed her progress out of -their corners. When she came to the O's she paused, took down a book -and glanced through it. Then she replaced it and moved on to the -P's ... the Q's ... the R's. Barely three feet from him she paused -again and took down Taine's <i>History of English Literature</i>.</p> - -<p>He simply could not believe it. The odds against two persons taking an -interest in so esoteric a volume on a single night in a single library -were ten thousand to one. And yet there was no gainsaying that the -volume was in the girl's hands, and that she was riffling through it -with the air of a seasoned browser.</p> - -<p>Presently she returned the book to the shelf, selected -another—seemingly at random—and took it over to the librarian's desk. -She waited statuesquely while the librarian processed it, then tucked -it under her arm and whisked out the door into the misty April night. -As soon as she disappeared, Quidley stepped over to the T's and took -Taine down once more. Just as he had suspected. The makeshift bookmark -was gone.</p> - -<p>He remembered how the asdf-;lkj exercise had given way to several lines -of gibberish and then reappeared again. A camouflaged message? Or was -it merely what it appeared to be on the surface—the efforts of an -impatient typing student to type before his time?</p> - -<p>He returned Taine to the shelf. After learning from the librarian that -the girl's name was Kay Smith, he went out and got in his hardtop. The -name rang a bell. Halfway home he realized why. The typing exercise had -contained the word "Cai", and if you pronounced it with hard c, you got -"Kai"—or "Kay". Obviously, then, the exercise had been a message, and -had been deliberately inserted in a book no average person would dream -of borrowing.</p> - -<p>By whom—her boy friend?</p> - -<p>Quidley winced. He was allergic to the term. Not that he ever let the -presence of a boy friend deter him when he set out to conquer, but -because the term itself brought to mind the word "fiance," and the word -"fiance" brought to mind still another word, one which repelled him -violently. I.e., "marriage". Just the same, he decided to keep Taine's -<i>History</i> under observation for a while.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Her boy friend turned out to be her girl friend, and her girl friend -turned out to be a tall and lissome, lovely with a Helenesque air of -her own. From the vantage point of a strategically located reading -table, where he was keeping company with his favorite little magazine, -<i>The Zeitgeist</i>, Quidley watched her take a seemingly haphazard route -to the shelf where Taine's <i>History</i> reposed, take the volume down, -surreptitiously slip a folded sheet of yellow paper between its pages -and return it to the shelf.</p> - -<p>After she left he wasted no time in acquainting himself with the second -message. It was as unintelligible as the first:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p><i>asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj Cai: Habe -wotnid ig ist ending ifedererer te. T'lide sid Fieu Dayol po jestig -toseo knwo, bijk weil en snoll doper entling—Yoolna. asdf ;lkj asdf -;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj</i></p></div> - -<p>Well, perhaps not quite as unintelligible. He knew, at least, who Cai -was, and he knew—from the reappearance of the words <i>wotnid</i>, <i>Fieu -Dayol</i> and <i>snoll doper</i>—that the two communications were in the -same code. And certainly it was reasonable to assume that the last -word—<i>Yoolna</i>—was the name of the girl he had just seen, and that -she was a different person from the <i>Klio</i> whose name had appended the -first message.</p> - -<p>He refolded the paper, replaced it between the pages, returned the book -to the shelf and went back to the reading table and <i>The Zeitgeist</i>.</p> - -<p>Kay didn't show up till almost closing time, and he was beginning -to think that perhaps she wouldn't come around for the pickup till -tomorrow when she finally walked in the door. She employed the same -tactics she had employed the previous night, arriving, as though by -chance, at the T-section and transferring the message with the same -undetectable legerdemain to her purse. This time, when she walked out -the door, he was not far behind her.</p> - -<p>She climbed into a sleek convertible and pulled into the street. It -took him but a moment to gain his hardtop and start out after her. -When, several blocks later, she pulled to the curb in front of an -all-night coffee bar, he followed suit. After that, it was merely a -matter of following her inside.</p> - -<p>He decided on Operation Spill-the-sugar. It had stood him in good stead -before, and he was rather fond of it. The procedure was quite simple. -First you took note of the position of the sugar dispensers, then you -situated yourself so that your intended victim was between you and the -nearest one, then you ordered coffee without sugar in a low voice, and -after the counterman or countergirl had served you, you waited till -he/she was out of earshot and asked your i.v. to please pass the sugar. -When she did so you let the dispenser slip from your fingers in such a -way that some of its contents spilled on her lap—</p> - -<p>"I'm terribly sorry," he said, righting it. "Here, let me brush it off."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"It's all right, it's only sugar," she said, laughing.</p> - -<p>"I'm hopelessly clumsy," he continued smoothly, brushing the gleaming -crystals from her pleated skirt, noting the clean sweep of her thighs. -"I beseech you to forgive me."</p> - -<p>"You're forgiven," she said, and he noticed then that she spoke with a -slight accent.</p> - -<p>"If you like, you can send it to the cleaners and have them send the -bill to me. My address is 61 Park Place." He pulled out his wallet, -chose an appropriate card, and handed it to her—</p> - -<p class="ph2">Herbert Quidley: <i>Profiliste</i></p> - -<p>Her forehead crinkled. "<i>Profiliste?</i>"</p> - -<p>"I paint profiles with words," he said. "You may have run across some -of my pieces in the Better Magazines. I employ a variety of pseudonyms, -of course."</p> - -<p>"How interesting." She pronounced it "anteresting."</p> - -<p>"Not famous profiles, you understand. Just profiles that strike my -fancy." He paused. She had raised her cup to her lips and was taking a -dainty sip. "You have a rather striking profile yourself, Miss—"</p> - -<p>"Smith. Kay Smith." She set the cup back on the counter and turned and -faced him. For a second her eyes seemed to expand till they preoccupied -his entire vision, till he could see nothing but their disturbingly -clear—and suddenly cold—blueness. Panic touched him, then vanished -when she said, "Would you really consider word-painting <i>my</i> profile, -Mr. Quidley?"</p> - -<p><i>Would</i> he! "When can I call?"</p> - -<p>She hesitated for a moment. Then: "I think it will be better if I call -on you. There are quite a number of people living in our—our house. -I'm afraid the quarters would be much too cramped for an artist like -yourself to concentrate."</p> - -<p>Quidley glowed. Usually it required two or three days, and sometimes a -week, to reach the apartment phase. "Fine," he said. "When can I expect -you?"</p> - -<p>She stood up and he got to his feet beside her. She was even taller -than he had thought. In fact, if he hadn't been wearing Cuban heels, -she'd have been taller than he was. "I'll be in town night after next," -she said. "Will nine o'clock be convenient for you?"</p> - -<p>"Perfectly."</p> - -<p>"Good-by for now then, Mr. Quidley."</p> - -<p>He was so elated that when he arrived at his apartment he actually -did try to write a profile. His own, of course. He sat down at his -custom-built chrome-trimmed desk, inserted a blank sheet of paper in -his custom-built typewriter and tried to arrange his thoughts. But as -usual his mind raced ahead of the moment, and he saw the title, <i>Self -Profile</i>, nestling noticeably on the contents page of one of the Better -Magazines, and presently he saw the piece itself in all its splendid -array of colorful rhetoric, sparkling imagery and scintillating wit, -occupying a two-page spread.</p> - -<p>It was some time before he returned to reality, and when he did the -first thing that met his eyes was the uncompromisingly blank sheet of -paper. Hurriedly he typed out a letter to his father, requesting an -advance on his allowance, then, after a tall glass of vintage wine, he -went to bed.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In telling him that she would be in town two nights hence, Kay had -unwittingly apprised him that there would be no exchange of messages -until that time, so the next evening he skipped his vigil at the -library. The following evening, however, after readying his apartment -for the forthcoming assignation, he hied himself to his reading-table -post and took up <i>The Zeitgeist</i> once again.</p> - -<p>He had not thought it possible that there could be a third such woman.</p> - -<p>And yet there she was, walking in the door, tall and blue-eyed and -graceful; dark of hair and noble of mien; browsing in the philosophy -section now, now the fiction section, now moving leisurely into the -literature aisle and toward the T's....</p> - -<p>The camouflage had varied, but the message was typical enough:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p><i>fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; Cai: Gind -en snoll doper nckli! Wotnid antwaterer Fieu Dayol hid jestig snoll -doper ifedererer te. Dep gogensplo snoll dopers ensing!—Gorka. fdsa -jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl;</i></p></div> - -<p>Judging from the repeated use of the words, <i>snoll dopers</i> were the -topic of the day. Annoyed, Quidley replaced the message and put the -book back on the shelf. Then he returned to his apartment to await Kay.</p> - -<p>He wondered what her reaction would be if he asked her point-blank what -a <i>snoll doper</i> was; whether she would reveal the nature of the amateur -secret society to which she and Klio and Yoolna and Gorka belonged. -It virtually had to be an amateur secret society. Unless, of course, -they were foreigners. But what on earth foreign organization would be -quixotic enough to employ Taine's <i>History of English Literature</i> as a -communications medium when there was a telephone in every drugstore and -a mailbox on every corner?</p> - -<p>Somehow the words "what on earth foreign organization" got turned -around in his mind and became "what foreign organization on earth" and -before he could summon his common sense to succor him, he experienced -a rather bad moment. By the time the door chimes sounded he was his -normal self again.</p> - -<p>He straightened his tie with nervous fingers, checked to see if his -shirt cuffs protruded the proper length from his coat sleeves, and -looked around the room to see if everything was in place. Everything -was—the typewriter uncovered and centered on the chrome-trimmed desk, -with the sheaf of crinkly first-sheets beside it; the reference books -stacked imposingly nearby; <i>Harper's</i>, <i>The Atlantic</i> and <i>The Saturday -Review</i> showing conspicuously in the magazine rack; the newly opened -bottle of bourbon and the two snifter glasses on the sideboard; the -small table set cozily for two—</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The chimes sounded again. He opened the door.</p> - -<p>She walked in with a demure, "Hello." He took her wrap. When he saw -what she was wearing he had to tilt his head back so that his eyes -wouldn't fall out of their sockets.</p> - -<p>Skin, mostly, in the upper regions. White, glowing skin on which her -long hair lay like forest pools. As for her dress, it was as though -she had fallen forward into immaculate snow, half-burying her breasts -before catching herself on her elbows, then turning into a sitting -position, the snow clinging to her skin in a glistening veneer; -arising finally to her feet, resplendently attired.</p> - -<p>He went over to the sideboard, picked up the bottle of bourbon. She -followed. He set the two snifter glasses side by side and tilted the -bottle. "Say when." "When!" "I admire your dress—never saw anything -quite like it." "Thank you. The material is something new. Feel it." -"It's—it's almost like foam rubber. Cigarette?" "Thanks.... Is -something wrong, Mr. Quidley?" "No, of course not. Why?" "Your hands -are trembling." "Oh. I'm—I'm afraid it's the present company, Miss -Smith." "Call me Kay."</p> - -<p>They touched glasses: "Your liquor is as exquisite as your living room, -Herbert. I shall have to come here more often." "I hope you will, Kay." -"Though such conduct, I'm told, is morally reprehensible on the planet -Earth." "Not in this particular circle. Your hair is lovely." "Thank -you.... You haven't mentioned my perfume yet. Perhaps I'm standing too -far away.... There!" "It's—it's as lovely as your hair, Kay." "Um, -kiss me again." "I—I never figured—I mean, I engaged a caterer to -serve us dinner at 9:30." "Call him up. Make it 10:30."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The <i>snoll-doper</i> -mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the next -message transfer took place.</p> - -<p>He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which he -intended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plotted -mentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercial -non-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes, -he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventure -flowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision: -the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the hordes of colorful -characters; the handsome virile hero, the compelling Helenesque -heroine.... God, it was going to be great! The best thing he'd ever -done! See, already there was a crowd of book lovers in front of the -bookstore, staring into the window where the new Herbert Quidley was -on display, trying to force its way into the jammed interior.... <i>Cut -to interior.</i> FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Tell me quickly, are there any -more copies of the new Herbert Quidley left? BOOK CLERK: A few. You -don't know how lucky you are to get here before the first printing ran -out. FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Give me a dozen. I want to make sure that -my children and my children's children have a plentiful supply. BOOK -CLERK: Sorry. Only one to a customer. Next? SECOND EAGER CUSTOMER: Tell -me quickly, are ... there ... any ... more ... copies ... of—</p> - -<p>ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ....</p> - -<p>Message no. 4, except for a slight variation in camouflage, ran true to -form:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p><i>a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj Cai: Habe te snoll dopers ensing? -Wotnid ne Fieu Dayol ist ifederereret, hid jestig snoll doper. Gind -ed, olro—Jilka. a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj</i></p></div> - -<p>Quidley sighed. What, he asked himself, standing in the library aisle -and staring at the indecipherable words, was a normal girl like Kay -doing in such a childish secret society? From the way she and her -correspondents carried on you'd almost think they were Martian girl -scouts on an interplanetary camping trip, trying for their merit badges -in communications!</p> - -<p>You could hardly call Kay a girl scout, though.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, she was the key figure in the <i>snoll-doper</i> enigma. The -fact annoyed him, especially when he considered that a <i>snoll doper</i>, -for all he knew, could be anything from a Chinese fortune cooky to an -H-bomb.</p> - -<p>He remembered Kay's odd accent. Was that the way a person would speak -English if her own language ran something like "<i>ist ifedereret, hid -jestig snoll doper adwo</i>?"</p> - -<p>He remembered the way she had looked at him in the coffee bar.</p> - -<p>He remembered the material of her dress.</p> - -<p>He remembered how she had come to his room.</p> - -<p>"I didn't know you had a taste for Taine."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Her voice seemed to come from far away, but she was standing right -beside him, tall and bewitching; Helenesque as ever. Her blue eyes -became great wells into which he found himself falling. With an effort, -he pulled himself back. "You're early tonight," he said lamely.</p> - -<p>She appropriated the message, read it. "Put the book back," she said -presently. Then, when he complied: "Come on."</p> - -<p>"Where are we going?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going to deliver a <i>snoll doper</i> to Jilka. After that I'm going to -take you home to meet my folks."</p> - -<p>The relieved sigh he heard was his own.</p> - -<p>They climbed into her convertible and she nosed it into the moving line -of cars. "How long have you been reading my mail?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Since the night before I met you."</p> - -<p>"Was that the reason you spilled the sugar?"</p> - -<p>"Part of the reason," he said. "What's a <i>snoll doper</i>?"</p> - -<p>She laughed. "I don't think I'd better tell you just yet."</p> - -<p>He sighed again. "But if Jilka wanted a <i>snoll doper</i>," he said after a -while, "why in the world didn't she call you up and say so?"</p> - -<p>"Regulations." She pulled over to the curb in front of a brick -apartment building. "This is where Jilka lives. I'll explain when I get -back."</p> - -<p>He watched her get out, walk up the walk to the entrance and let -herself in. He leaned his head back on the seat, lit a cigarette and -exhaled a mixture of smoke and relief. On the way to meet her folks. -So it was just an ordinary secret society after all. And here he'd -been thinking that she was the key figure in a Martian plot to blow up -Earth—</p> - -<p>Her <i>folks</i>!</p> - -<p>Abruptly the full implication of the words got through to him, and he -sat bolt-up-right on the seat. He was starting to climb out of the car -when he saw Kay coming down the walk. Anyway, running away wouldn't -solve his problem. A complete disappearing act was in order, and a -complete disappearing act would take time. Meanwhile he would play -along with her.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A station wagon came up behind them, slowed, and matched its speed -with theirs. "Someone's following us," Quidley said.</p> - -<p>"Probably Jilka."</p> - -<p>Five minutes later the station wagon turned down a side street and -disappeared. "She's no longer with us," Quidley said.</p> - -<p>"She's got to pick someone up. She'll meet us later."</p> - -<p>"At your folks'?"</p> - -<p>"At the ship."</p> - -<p>The city was thinning out around them now, and a few stars were visible -in the night sky. Quidley watched them thoughtfully for a while. Then: -"What ship?" he said.</p> - -<p>"The one we're going to <i>Fieu Dayol</i> on."</p> - -<p>"<i>Fieu Dayol?</i>"</p> - -<p>"Persei 17 to you. I said I was going to take you home to meet my -folks, didn't I?"</p> - -<p>"In other words, you're kidnapping me."</p> - -<p>She shook her head vehemently. "I most certainly am not! Neither -according to interstellar law or your own. When you compromised me, you -made yourself liable in the eyes of both."</p> - -<p>"But why pick on me? There must be plenty of men on <i>Fieu Dayol</i>. Why -don't you marry one of them?"</p> - -<p>"For two reasons: one, you're the particular man who compromised -me. Two, there are <i>not</i> plenty of men on <i>Fieu Dayol</i>. Our race is -identical to yours in everything except population-balance between the -sexes. At periodic intervals the women on <i>Fieu Dayol</i> so greatly -outnumber the men that those of us who are temperamentally and -emotionally unfitted to become spinsters have to look for <i>wotnids</i>—or -mates—on other worlds. It's quite legal and quite respectable. As a -matter of fact, we even have schools specializing in alien cultures -to expedite our activities. Our biggest problem is the Interstellar -statute forbidding us the use of local communications services and -forbidding us to appear in public places. It was devised to facilitate -the prosecution of interstellar black marketeers, but we're subject to -it, too, and have to contrive communications systems of our own."</p> - -<p>"But why were all the messages addressed to you?"</p> - -<p>"They weren't messages. They were requisitions. I'm the ship's stock -girl."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>April fields stretched darkly away on either side of the highway. -Presently she turned down a rutted road between two of them and they -bounced and swayed back to a black blur of trees. "Here we are," she -said.</p> - -<p>Gradually he made out the sphere. It blended so flawlessly with its -background that he wouldn't have been able to see it at all if he -hadn't been informed of its existence. A gangplank sloped down from an -open lock and came to rest just within the fringe of the trees.</p> - -<p>Lights danced in the darkness behind them as another car jounced down -the rutted road. "Jilka," Kay said. "I wonder if she got him."</p> - -<p>Apparently she had. At least there was a man with her—a rather -woebegone, wilted creature who didn't even look up as they passed. -Quidley watched them ascend the gangplank, the man in the lead, and -disappear into the ship.</p> - -<p>"Next," Kay said.</p> - -<p>Quidley shook his head. "You're not taking <i>me</i> to another planet!"</p> - -<p>She opened her purse and pulled out a small metallic object "A -little while ago you asked me what a <i>snoll doper</i> was," she said. -"Unfortunately interstellar law severely limits us in our choice of -marriageable males, and we can take only those who refuse to conform -to the sexual mores of their own societies." She did something to the -object that caused it to extend itself into a long, tubular affair. -"<i>This</i> is a <i>snoll doper</i>."</p> - -<p>She prodded his ribs. "March," she said.</p> - -<p>He marched. Halfway up the plank he glanced back over his shoulder for -a better look at the object pressed against his back.</p> - -<p>It bore a striking resemblance to a shotgun.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Girls from Fieu Dayol, by Robert F. Young - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRLS FROM FIEU DAYOL *** - -***** This file should be named 61048-h.htm or 61048-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/1/0/4/61048/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Young - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Girls from Fieu Dayol - -Author: Robert F. Young - -Release Date: December 30, 2019 [EBook #61048] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRLS FROM FIEU DAYOL *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - The Girls From Fieu Dayol - - By ROBERT F. YOUNG - - They were lovely and quick - to learn--and their only - faults were little ones! - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Up until the moment when he first looked into Hippolyte Adolphe Taine's -_History of English Literature_, Herbert Quidley's penchant for old -books had netted him nothing in the way of romance and intrigue. -Not that he was a stranger to either. Far from it. But hitherto the -background for both had been bedrooms and bars, not libraries. - -On page 21 of the Taine tome he happened upon a sheet of yellow copy -paper folded in four. Unfolding it, he read: - - _asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj - Cai: Sities towms copeis wotnid. Gind snoll doper nckli! Wilbe - Fieu Dayol fot ig habe mot toseo knwo--te bijk weil en snoll - doper--Klio, asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj_ - -Since when, Quidley wondered, refolding the paper and putting it back -in the book, had high-school typing students taken to reading Taine? -Thoughtfully he replaced the book on the shelf and moved deeper into -the literature section. - -He had just taken down Xenophon's _Anabasis_ when he saw the girl walk -in the door. - -Let it be said forthwith that old books were not the only item on -Herbert Quidley's penchant-list. He liked old wood, too, and old -paintings, not to mention old wine and old whiskey. But most of all he -liked young girls. He especially liked them when they looked the way -Helen of Troy must have looked when Paris took one gander at her and -started building his ladder. This one was tall, with hyacinth hair and -liquid blue eyes, and she had a Grecian symmetry of shape that would -have made Paris' eyes pop had he been around to take notice. Paris -wasn't, but Quidley's eyes, did the job. - -After coming in the door, the girl deposited a book on the librarian's -desk and headed for the literature section. Quickly Quidley lowered -his eyes to the _Anabasis_ and henceforth followed her progress out of -their corners. When she came to the O's she paused, took down a book -and glanced through it. Then she replaced it and moved on to the -P's ... the Q's ... the R's. Barely three feet from him she paused -again and took down Taine's _History of English Literature_. - -He simply could not believe it. The odds against two persons taking an -interest in so esoteric a volume on a single night in a single library -were ten thousand to one. And yet there was no gainsaying that the -volume was in the girl's hands, and that she was riffling through it -with the air of a seasoned browser. - -Presently she returned the book to the shelf, selected -another--seemingly at random--and took it over to the librarian's desk. -She waited statuesquely while the librarian processed it, then tucked -it under her arm and whisked out the door into the misty April night. -As soon as she disappeared, Quidley stepped over to the T's and took -Taine down once more. Just as he had suspected. The makeshift bookmark -was gone. - -He remembered how the asdf-;lkj exercise had given way to several lines -of gibberish and then reappeared again. A camouflaged message? Or was -it merely what it appeared to be on the surface--the efforts of an -impatient typing student to type before his time? - -He returned Taine to the shelf. After learning from the librarian that -the girl's name was Kay Smith, he went out and got in his hardtop. The -name rang a bell. Halfway home he realized why. The typing exercise had -contained the word "Cai", and if you pronounced it with hard c, you got -"Kai"--or "Kay". Obviously, then, the exercise had been a message, and -had been deliberately inserted in a book no average person would dream -of borrowing. - -By whom--her boy friend? - -Quidley winced. He was allergic to the term. Not that he ever let the -presence of a boy friend deter him when he set out to conquer, but -because the term itself brought to mind the word "fiance," and the word -"fiance" brought to mind still another word, one which repelled him -violently. I.e., "marriage". Just the same, he decided to keep Taine's -_History_ under observation for a while. - - * * * * * - -Her boy friend turned out to be her girl friend, and her girl friend -turned out to be a tall and lissome, lovely with a Helenesque air of -her own. From the vantage point of a strategically located reading -table, where he was keeping company with his favorite little magazine, -_The Zeitgeist_, Quidley watched her take a seemingly haphazard route -to the shelf where Taine's _History_ reposed, take the volume down, -surreptitiously slip a folded sheet of yellow paper between its pages -and return it to the shelf. - -After she left he wasted no time in acquainting himself with the second -message. It was as unintelligible as the first: - - _asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj Cai: - Habe wotnid ig ist ending ifedererer te. T'lide sid Fieu Dayol po - jestig toseo knwo, bijk weil en snoll doper entling--Yoolna. asdf - ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj asdf ;lkj_ - -Well, perhaps not quite as unintelligible. He knew, at least, who Cai -was, and he knew--from the reappearance of the words _wotnid_, _Fieu -Dayol_ and _snoll doper_--that the two communications were in the -same code. And certainly it was reasonable to assume that the last -word--_Yoolna_--was the name of the girl he had just seen, and that -she was a different person from the _Klio_ whose name had appended the -first message. - -He refolded the paper, replaced it between the pages, returned the book -to the shelf and went back to the reading table and _The Zeitgeist_. - -Kay didn't show up till almost closing time, and he was beginning -to think that perhaps she wouldn't come around for the pickup till -tomorrow when she finally walked in the door. She employed the same -tactics she had employed the previous night, arriving, as though by -chance, at the T-section and transferring the message with the same -undetectable legerdemain to her purse. This time, when she walked out -the door, he was not far behind her. - -She climbed into a sleek convertible and pulled into the street. It -took him but a moment to gain his hardtop and start out after her. -When, several blocks later, she pulled to the curb in front of an -all-night coffee bar, he followed suit. After that, it was merely a -matter of following her inside. - -He decided on Operation Spill-the-sugar. It had stood him in good stead -before, and he was rather fond of it. The procedure was quite simple. -First you took note of the position of the sugar dispensers, then you -situated yourself so that your intended victim was between you and the -nearest one, then you ordered coffee without sugar in a low voice, and -after the counterman or countergirl had served you, you waited till -he/she was out of earshot and asked your i.v. to please pass the sugar. -When she did so you let the dispenser slip from your fingers in such a -way that some of its contents spilled on her lap-- - -"I'm terribly sorry," he said, righting it. "Here, let me brush it off." - - * * * * * - -"It's all right, it's only sugar," she said, laughing. - -"I'm hopelessly clumsy," he continued smoothly, brushing the gleaming -crystals from her pleated skirt, noting the clean sweep of her thighs. -"I beseech you to forgive me." - -"You're forgiven," she said, and he noticed then that she spoke with a -slight accent. - -"If you like, you can send it to the cleaners and have them send the -bill to me. My address is 61 Park Place." He pulled out his wallet, -chose an appropriate card, and handed it to her-- - - Herbert Quidley: _Profiliste_ - -Her forehead crinkled. "_Profiliste?_" - -"I paint profiles with words," he said. "You may have run across some -of my pieces in the Better Magazines. I employ a variety of pseudonyms, -of course." - -"How interesting." She pronounced it "anteresting." - -"Not famous profiles, you understand. Just profiles that strike my -fancy." He paused. She had raised her cup to her lips and was taking a -dainty sip. "You have a rather striking profile yourself, Miss--" - -"Smith. Kay Smith." She set the cup back on the counter and turned and -faced him. For a second her eyes seemed to expand till they preoccupied -his entire vision, till he could see nothing but their disturbingly -clear--and suddenly cold--blueness. Panic touched him, then vanished -when she said, "Would you really consider word-painting _my_ profile, -Mr. Quidley?" - -_Would_ he! "When can I call?" - -She hesitated for a moment. Then: "I think it will be better if I call -on you. There are quite a number of people living in our--our house. -I'm afraid the quarters would be much too cramped for an artist like -yourself to concentrate." - -Quidley glowed. Usually it required two or three days, and sometimes a -week, to reach the apartment phase. "Fine," he said. "When can I expect -you?" - -She stood up and he got to his feet beside her. She was even taller -than he had thought. In fact, if he hadn't been wearing Cuban heels, -she'd have been taller than he was. "I'll be in town night after next," -she said. "Will nine o'clock be convenient for you?" - -"Perfectly." - -"Good-by for now then, Mr. Quidley." - -He was so elated that when he arrived at his apartment he actually -did try to write a profile. His own, of course. He sat down at his -custom-built chrome-trimmed desk, inserted a blank sheet of paper in -his custom-built typewriter and tried to arrange his thoughts. But as -usual his mind raced ahead of the moment, and he saw the title, _Self -Profile_, nestling noticeably on the contents page of one of the Better -Magazines, and presently he saw the piece itself in all its splendid -array of colorful rhetoric, sparkling imagery and scintillating wit, -occupying a two-page spread. - -It was some time before he returned to reality, and when he did the -first thing that met his eyes was the uncompromisingly blank sheet of -paper. Hurriedly he typed out a letter to his father, requesting an -advance on his allowance, then, after a tall glass of vintage wine, he -went to bed. - - * * * * * - -In telling him that she would be in town two nights hence, Kay had -unwittingly apprised him that there would be no exchange of messages -until that time, so the next evening he skipped his vigil at the -library. The following evening, however, after readying his apartment -for the forthcoming assignation, he hied himself to his reading-table -post and took up _The Zeitgeist_ once again. - -He had not thought it possible that there could be a third such woman. - -And yet there she was, walking in the door, tall and blue-eyed and -graceful; dark of hair and noble of mien; browsing in the philosophy -section now, now the fiction section, now moving leisurely into the -literature aisle and toward the T's.... - -The camouflage had varied, but the message was typical enough: - - _fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; - Cai: Gind en snoll doper nckli! Wotnid antwaterer Fieu Dayol hid - jestig snoll doper ifedererer te. Dep gogensplo snoll dopers - ensing!--Gorka. fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl; fdsa jkl;_ - -Judging from the repeated use of the words, _snoll dopers_ were the -topic of the day. Annoyed, Quidley replaced the message and put the -book back on the shelf. Then he returned to his apartment to await Kay. - -He wondered what her reaction would be if he asked her point-blank what -a _snoll doper_ was; whether she would reveal the nature of the amateur -secret society to which she and Klio and Yoolna and Gorka belonged. -It virtually had to be an amateur secret society. Unless, of course, -they were foreigners. But what on earth foreign organization would be -quixotic enough to employ Taine's _History of English Literature_ as a -communications medium when there was a telephone in every drugstore and -a mailbox on every corner? - -Somehow the words "what on earth foreign organization" got turned -around in his mind and became "what foreign organization on earth" and -before he could summon his common sense to succor him, he experienced -a rather bad moment. By the time the door chimes sounded he was his -normal self again. - -He straightened his tie with nervous fingers, checked to see if his -shirt cuffs protruded the proper length from his coat sleeves, and -looked around the room to see if everything was in place. Everything -was--the typewriter uncovered and centered on the chrome-trimmed desk, -with the sheaf of crinkly first-sheets beside it; the reference books -stacked imposingly nearby; _Harper's_, _The Atlantic_ and _The Saturday -Review_ showing conspicuously in the magazine rack; the newly opened -bottle of bourbon and the two snifter glasses on the sideboard; the -small table set cozily for two-- - - * * * * * - -The chimes sounded again. He opened the door. - -She walked in with a demure, "Hello." He took her wrap. When he saw -what she was wearing he had to tilt his head back so that his eyes -wouldn't fall out of their sockets. - -Skin, mostly, in the upper regions. White, glowing skin on which her -long hair lay like forest pools. As for her dress, it was as though -she had fallen forward into immaculate snow, half-burying her breasts -before catching herself on her elbows, then turning into a sitting -position, the snow clinging to her skin in a glistening veneer; -arising finally to her feet, resplendently attired. - -He went over to the sideboard, picked up the bottle of bourbon. She -followed. He set the two snifter glasses side by side and tilted the -bottle. "Say when." "When!" "I admire your dress--never saw anything -quite like it." "Thank you. The material is something new. Feel it." -"It's--it's almost like foam rubber. Cigarette?" "Thanks.... Is -something wrong, Mr. Quidley?" "No, of course not. Why?" "Your hands -are trembling." "Oh. I'm--I'm afraid it's the present company, Miss -Smith." "Call me Kay." - -They touched glasses: "Your liquor is as exquisite as your living room, -Herbert. I shall have to come here more often." "I hope you will, Kay." -"Though such conduct, I'm told, is morally reprehensible on the planet -Earth." "Not in this particular circle. Your hair is lovely." "Thank -you.... You haven't mentioned my perfume yet. Perhaps I'm standing too -far away.... There!" "It's--it's as lovely as your hair, Kay." "Um, -kiss me again." "I--I never figured--I mean, I engaged a caterer to -serve us dinner at 9:30." "Call him up. Make it 10:30." - - * * * * * - -The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The _snoll-doper_ -mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the next -message transfer took place. - -He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which he -intended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plotted -mentally, of course--notes were for the hacks and the other commercial -non-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes, -he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventure -flowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision: -the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the hordes of colorful -characters; the handsome virile hero, the compelling Helenesque -heroine.... God, it was going to be great! The best thing he'd ever -done! See, already there was a crowd of book lovers in front of the -bookstore, staring into the window where the new Herbert Quidley was -on display, trying to force its way into the jammed interior.... _Cut -to interior._ FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Tell me quickly, are there any -more copies of the new Herbert Quidley left? BOOK CLERK: A few. You -don't know how lucky you are to get here before the first printing ran -out. FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Give me a dozen. I want to make sure that -my children and my children's children have a plentiful supply. BOOK -CLERK: Sorry. Only one to a customer. Next? SECOND EAGER CUSTOMER: Tell -me quickly, are ... there ... any ... more ... copies ... of-- - -ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.... - -Message no. 4, except for a slight variation in camouflage, ran true to -form: - - _a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj Cai: Habe te snoll dopers - ensing? Wotnid ne Fieu Dayol ist ifederereret, hid jestig snoll - doper. Gind ed, olro--Jilka. a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj a;sldkfj_ - -Quidley sighed. What, he asked himself, standing in the library aisle -and staring at the indecipherable words, was a normal girl like Kay -doing in such a childish secret society? From the way she and her -correspondents carried on you'd almost think they were Martian girl -scouts on an interplanetary camping trip, trying for their merit badges -in communications! - -You could hardly call Kay a girl scout, though. - -Nevertheless, she was the key figure in the _snoll-doper_ enigma. The -fact annoyed him, especially when he considered that a _snoll doper_, -for all he knew, could be anything from a Chinese fortune cooky to an -H-bomb. - -He remembered Kay's odd accent. Was that the way a person would speak -English if her own language ran something like "_ist ifedereret, hid -jestig snoll doper adwo_?" - -He remembered the way she had looked at him in the coffee bar. - -He remembered the material of her dress. - -He remembered how she had come to his room. - -"I didn't know you had a taste for Taine." - - * * * * * - -Her voice seemed to come from far away, but she was standing right -beside him, tall and bewitching; Helenesque as ever. Her blue eyes -became great wells into which he found himself falling. With an effort, -he pulled himself back. "You're early tonight," he said lamely. - -She appropriated the message, read it. "Put the book back," she said -presently. Then, when he complied: "Come on." - -"Where are we going?" - -"I'm going to deliver a _snoll doper_ to Jilka. After that I'm going to -take you home to meet my folks." - -The relieved sigh he heard was his own. - -They climbed into her convertible and she nosed it into the moving line -of cars. "How long have you been reading my mail?" she asked. - -"Since the night before I met you." - -"Was that the reason you spilled the sugar?" - -"Part of the reason," he said. "What's a _snoll doper_?" - -She laughed. "I don't think I'd better tell you just yet." - -He sighed again. "But if Jilka wanted a _snoll doper_," he said after a -while, "why in the world didn't she call you up and say so?" - -"Regulations." She pulled over to the curb in front of a brick -apartment building. "This is where Jilka lives. I'll explain when I get -back." - -He watched her get out, walk up the walk to the entrance and let -herself in. He leaned his head back on the seat, lit a cigarette and -exhaled a mixture of smoke and relief. On the way to meet her folks. -So it was just an ordinary secret society after all. And here he'd -been thinking that she was the key figure in a Martian plot to blow up -Earth-- - -Her _folks_! - -Abruptly the full implication of the words got through to him, and he -sat bolt-up-right on the seat. He was starting to climb out of the car -when he saw Kay coming down the walk. Anyway, running away wouldn't -solve his problem. A complete disappearing act was in order, and a -complete disappearing act would take time. Meanwhile he would play -along with her. - - * * * * * - -A station wagon came up behind them, slowed, and matched its speed -with theirs. "Someone's following us," Quidley said. - -"Probably Jilka." - -Five minutes later the station wagon turned down a side street and -disappeared. "She's no longer with us," Quidley said. - -"She's got to pick someone up. She'll meet us later." - -"At your folks'?" - -"At the ship." - -The city was thinning out around them now, and a few stars were visible -in the night sky. Quidley watched them thoughtfully for a while. Then: -"What ship?" he said. - -"The one we're going to _Fieu Dayol_ on." - -"_Fieu Dayol?_" - -"Persei 17 to you. I said I was going to take you home to meet my -folks, didn't I?" - -"In other words, you're kidnapping me." - -She shook her head vehemently. "I most certainly am not! Neither -according to interstellar law or your own. When you compromised me, you -made yourself liable in the eyes of both." - -"But why pick on me? There must be plenty of men on _Fieu Dayol_. Why -don't you marry one of them?" - -"For two reasons: one, you're the particular man who compromised -me. Two, there are _not_ plenty of men on _Fieu Dayol_. Our race is -identical to yours in everything except population-balance between the -sexes. At periodic intervals the women on _Fieu Dayol_ so greatly -outnumber the men that those of us who are temperamentally and -emotionally unfitted to become spinsters have to look for _wotnids_--or -mates--on other worlds. It's quite legal and quite respectable. As a -matter of fact, we even have schools specializing in alien cultures -to expedite our activities. Our biggest problem is the Interstellar -statute forbidding us the use of local communications services and -forbidding us to appear in public places. It was devised to facilitate -the prosecution of interstellar black marketeers, but we're subject to -it, too, and have to contrive communications systems of our own." - -"But why were all the messages addressed to you?" - -"They weren't messages. They were requisitions. I'm the ship's stock -girl." - - * * * * * - -April fields stretched darkly away on either side of the highway. -Presently she turned down a rutted road between two of them and they -bounced and swayed back to a black blur of trees. "Here we are," she -said. - -Gradually he made out the sphere. It blended so flawlessly with its -background that he wouldn't have been able to see it at all if he -hadn't been informed of its existence. A gangplank sloped down from an -open lock and came to rest just within the fringe of the trees. - -Lights danced in the darkness behind them as another car jounced down -the rutted road. "Jilka," Kay said. "I wonder if she got him." - -Apparently she had. At least there was a man with her--a rather -woebegone, wilted creature who didn't even look up as they passed. -Quidley watched them ascend the gangplank, the man in the lead, and -disappear into the ship. - -"Next," Kay said. - -Quidley shook his head. "You're not taking _me_ to another planet!" - -She opened her purse and pulled out a small metallic object "A -little while ago you asked me what a _snoll doper_ was," she said. -"Unfortunately interstellar law severely limits us in our choice of -marriageable males, and we can take only those who refuse to conform -to the sexual mores of their own societies." She did something to the -object that caused it to extend itself into a long, tubular affair. -"_This_ is a _snoll doper_." - -She prodded his ribs. "March," she said. - -He marched. Halfway up the plank he glanced back over his shoulder for -a better look at the object pressed against his back. - -It bore a striking resemblance to a shotgun. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Girls from Fieu Dayol, by Robert F. 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