Hari Seldon kept his face expressionless and bent¹ his head just sufficiently² to allow a sense of reasonable courtesy. He had taken the trouble to look up a variety of holographs of Joranum, but, as is often the case, the real thing, unguarded, shifting constantly in response to changing conditions, is never quite the same as a holograph-however carefully prepared. Perhaps, thought Seldon, it is the response of the viewer to the "real thing" that makes it different.
    Joranum was a tall man-as tall as Seldon, at any rate-but larger in other directions. It was not due to a muscular physique, for he gave the impression of softness, without quite being fat. A rounded face, a thick head of hair that was sandy rather than yellow, light blue eyes. He wore a subdued⁴ coverall and his face bore a half-smile that gave the illusion of friendliness⁵, while making it clear, somehow, that it was only an illusion.
    "Professor Seldon"-his voice was deep and under strict control, an orator's voice-"I am delighted to meet you. It is kind of you to permit this meeting. I trust you are not offended that I have brought a companion, my right-hand man, with me, although I have not cleared that with you in advance. He is Gambol⁶ Deen Namarti-three names, you notice. I believe you have met him."
    "Yes, I have. I remember the incident well." Seldon looked at Namarti with a touch of the sardonic⁷. At the previous encounter, Namarti had been speaking at the University Field. Seldon viewed him carefully now-under relaxed conditions. Namarti was of moderate height, with a thin face, sallow complexion⁸, dark hair, and a wide mouth. He did not have Joranum's half-smile or any noticeable expression-except for a sense of cautious wariness⁹.
    "My friend Dr. Namarti-his degree is in ancient literature-has come at his own request," said Joranum, his smile

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