platinum-haired statue, then she moved to meet him, bringing up an expert knee that struck too high to injure him, but low enough to crush the breath from his lungs.

Daphne clomped down on all fours gasping. "He knows better than that," his wife said. It was such a cold-blooded blow that I reacted.

"Maybe if you'd give him half a chance—" I said.

"I'd wind up as a niece," she snapped at me. "Wait until you see what happens to them."

"Shut up!" Daphne rolled to his side doubled up and glared at Annellica. "Shut up, Nellie, before I kill you."

I left the domestic tableau to resolve itself and sought my cabin. I stayed there through the remainder of the heavy acceleration, but when we went into free flight the Major dragged me out.

The party was still in full force with the three other girls doing titivating push-offs from wall to wall, convoluting their lovely bodies into incredible ballet formations which Daphne took keen delight in disrupting with licentious hands—like a spoiled child pricking colorful balloons. Each fiasco ended in shrieks of laughter and mock combat, until the Major was snugged back in his hold-down strap, promising to behave.

Frequently he would raise his arms and aim an imaginary rifle. "Ka-chunk! Broke a leg that time. Ka-chunk! Right in the hip!" Then he'd holler over at me, "Never gut-shoot 'em. Break a bone."

Annellica remained bored and indifferent to the revelry. She drank sparingly and passed up a hundred opportunities to be alone with me. She paid meticulous attention to her husband's wants with the quiet efficiency and anticipation of a trained secretary, but I caught her eyeing me with a most provocative, speculating look. My experience with married virgins was too limited to interpret her glances.

All revolved around the Major. When he ate, we all ate. When he over-drank and slept, we slept.

I never did discover which three nieces were supposed to be "mine." None paid me any attention, and Daphne, much to my relief, never insisted upon my activity in his Bacchanalian affairs.

Before we arrived at Tigursh II I was quite fed up with my host, drunk or sober. His indefatigable, sensual tastes wore on my nerves, but I still had no conception of the Roman carnival this was to turn into.

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