"I'm not. I am simply being arbitrary and dictatorial. You solve it, pig. And bring me diamonds." "Yes, Excellency," Nob said, bowing low. "Diamonds. But the people—" "I love the people. But to hell with them!" she cried, fire in her eyes. "Fine, fine," Nob said, and bowed his way out of the room. Jusa stood for a few moments in thought, then picked up a vase and shattered it on the floor. She made a mental note to order several dozen more. Then she flung herself upon the royal couch and began to weep bitterly. She was quite a young Empress and she had the feeling of being in beyond her depth. The problems of the war and of royalty had completely ended her social life. She resented it; any girl would. Nob, meanwhile, left the palace and went home in his armored car. The car had been ordered to protect him against assassins, who, according to the Earth books, aimed a good deal of their plots at Prime Ministers. Nob could see no reason for this, since if he weren't Prime Minister, any one of a thousand men could do the job with equal efficiency. But he supposed it had a certain symbolic meaning. He reached his home and his wife kissed him on the cheek. "Hard day at the palace, dear?" she asked. "Quite hard," Nob said. "Lots of work for after supper." "It just isn't fair," complained his wife. She was a plump, pleasant little person and she worried continually about her husband's health. "They shouldn't make you work so hard." "But of course they should!" said Nob, a little astonished. "Don't you remember what I told you? All the books say that during a war, a Prime Minister is a harried, harassed individual, weighed down by the enormous burden of state, unable to relax, tense with the numerous strains of high office." "It isn't fair," his wife repeated. "No one said it was. But it's extremely Earthlike." His wife shrugged her shoulders. "Well, of course, if it's Earthlike, it must be right. Come eat supper, dear." After eating, Nob attacked his mounds of paperwork. But soon he was
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