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"Idle, was he?" I said, for I thought it very likely in a hot country like that.
"No," said the stranger. "Never idle. Always spurred on by a fierce ambition. His very life was devoted to making inventions. Yes, he worked and he was working for us on something wonderful. Ah, well. We relied, and rightly, on that man's wisdom; but we forgot his folly."
The man was silent.
"What did Carasierra do?" I asked.
"That ambition was driving him all the time," he said. "He knew that he was the greatest scientist in the world, and he was determined to show it. As long as the germ on which he was working seemed the most wonderful thing ever invented, he was more than content. But before he had completed it, another inspiration came to him and drove him away. I tried everything: threats, appeals to him to think of our ancient glory, even bribes. But nothing would turn him from his project. The splendor of his new inspiration gripped him, and he was like a man drugged."
"And the splendor of our position faded like dreams. We were so nearly one of the Great Powers but for a fancy that came to this man's mind."
"What was Carasierra's fancy?" I asked.
"I will tell you," he said. "Day after day I went to his laboratory and appealed to him, almost in tears, to return to his work for us. But no, he would not listen. I gave him every chance. But at last I had to threaten him with death. I told him that if he would not return to his proper work he would have to be shot. But there was a queer light in his eyes that day, and really I think he hardly heard me. He would only say, 'I have done it, have done it.'"
"'Done what?' I asked him," the stranger continued.
"'The most wonderful invention,' he said, 'the most wonderful invention ever achieved by man.'"
"'You will be shot,' I repeated, 'if you don't get on with your work.'"
"'This is more wonderful,' he said."
"'Well, show it to me,' I demanded. He took me out to his lawn. And there he pointed. I saw only a square yard of grass, marked off with a strip of white tape. 'What is it?' I asked."
"He took up his tape and marked off a smaller area, one of only a few inches. 'Do you see anything wonderful there?' he asked. 'Look close.'"
"And I looked close and said, 'No.'"
"'That is what is wonderful,' he said. 'You see no blade different from the rest?'"
"'No,' I said again."
'"Then you have seen the most wonderful invention of all that man has made,' he replied with a wild look in his eyes. 'For one of those blades of grass I made myself.'"
"'But what is the use of that?' I asked."
"'Use! Use!' he repeated, and laughed. 'I do not work for use, but for wonder.'"
"'It will be wonderful,' I said, 'when we dominate the Caribbean.'"
"'It is far more wonderful,' he said, 'to have made a blade of grass. '"
"That I had to admit. But I added, 'You will return to your work now.'"
"And at that he laughed more wildly."
"'No, now that I can do this,' he exclaimed. 'I am going on to make flowers.'"
"I examined his blade of grass, and he gave me every facility, showing me the entire process in his laboratory. The blade was perfect and was clearly alive, but he satisfied me that it was artificial. A marvelous man. It was a pity. But we responsible ministers cannot make threats that we do not carry out. I had threatened him with death, and he had to be executed,..."
"Whether it was that the stranger's tale was told," Jorkens concluded, putting down his glass, "or that the influence of the strange wine was over, he fell then to silent brooding, gazing, as it seemed, into the past at the grip that his country had lost on the Caribbean, perhaps on the world."
