The Connoisseur — Background and Themes

He said I was the biggest knuckle-head he ever saw, but I didn't trust him. Sooner or later I knew he'd insult me!

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science Fiction, May 1961. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

It is infinitely more satisfactory to purchase wives when they are young. They are vastly more respectful.

Twelve is a good purchasing age. Lisa was twelve when I bargained for her, and she is an illustrious argument for the system.

I recall her excellent father and I facing each other across his gleaming synthol marble table that day. On the table were small metal shells of sweet liquor. And beside the shells were the sedulously gathered treasures I was formally offering for Lisa: A control knob, and a folded painting of one of our Navigator's other-ship visions.

Lisa's father eagerly examined the mirror-bright, chrome surface of the control knob--which I had handed to him with a pretense of casualness--trying to still the trembling of his fingers.

"The last knob on the control board!" he said in an emotion-cracked voice. "How could you have broken it off? We've all been tugging at it for years."

I answered--I hope with no more than legitimate pride--"I managed to get a thin hacksaw blade between the knob and the control board. Then I sawed off the shaft."

He nodded approvingly. "With knuckle-headed men like you aboard ship we will certainly all go to _Hell_."

I bowed, but I did not let his flattery relax my caution. After all, we were bargaining for his prettiest daughter. What flattering words bear weight in the midst of a sale? He, of course, referred to the ringing sincerity of our Navigator's dying words: "If you knuckle-heads all want to go to _Hell_, just keep dismantling the ship!"

Swinging adroitly to my other item of barter, I mused aloud, "Our Navigator! What a strange, frantic creature he was. Full of the wild, lovely visions which effervesced from his books of fantasy. Imploring us not only to read the books but to believe them--and, failing that, drawing immortal paintings of the fantasies for us to see."

Therewith I opened the folded painting and handed it reverently to him. It showed a large globular ship with people living on the _outside_ of it. The title of the painting was _Planet_.

Privately I had always thought the thing was wholly unnatural--a curious off-beat of the master's imagination. I was quite willing, despite its great beauty and its origin, to exchange it for something which to me was far more attractive at the moment. Namely a woman.

Lisa lay curled up on the narrow, in-wall couch, with her head propped up by a slim arm. She chewed her synthel-gum lazily and surveyed me with mild interest. She was a tender-featured girl, with shimmering black, shoulder-length hair. It was possible to forecast that she would some day be a lovely and gentle-hearted woman.

Her father, notwithstanding his habitually rigid integrity, saw my lively interest in her and tried to increase my generous bid for her by an artifice of delay.

Holding the painting of the master at arm's length, he grumbled critically, "A vision of _Hell_ would have been more to my liking. Unhappily our Navigator did not paint one of his radiant visions of that ship. Now, why would he prefer _Planet_ to _Hell_--particularly when he described _Hell_ as warm and enclosed like our own ship?"

I did not answer his frivolous complaint, knowing full well it was only bartering talk.

He handled the immortal painting with crudely feigned indifference. He could not quite bring himself to let go of it. He was determined to own it, I knew, and he sensed also my resolve to offer no more for Lisa. Yet slyly he determined on an evil course.

For, incredibly, he turned to tranquil Lisa and asked: "What is your value, lovely child? Does he offer enough?"

And slowly lifting her candid eyes to him she shook her head NO!

"Shall I bargain with _her_ then?" I asked my friend caustically. I will own I was vexed.

Shrewdly he nodded. "Whatever she accepts will be our bargain." Then, laughing at my undignified discomfiture, "It is manifest she is more aware of her value than I."

"Will you be serious? It is not kindly to banter with a woman-child in such an important matter as her future."

But greed now fully possessed him. "I do not joke. Whatever she demands shall be her price." He sipped his sweet wine, hiding his eyes from my displeasure.