Then there was a silence. One of the young students moved forward, stood under the young girl's window with his guitar and sang a ballad praising her eyes, smile, and voice.

She answered him in a clear, light voice, accepting the compliment. The young student praised her again and begged admittance to her home.

She answered him in a clear, light voice, accepting this compliment too, smiled at him, but did not invite him in. This meant that his ballad was not considered artful enough.

This was their yearly poetry tournament, at which only excellence in verse counted. It was the bad poets who were left outside to dance among themselves!

One of the student's ballads finally pleased the girl, and she invited him inside. Her family met him at the door. The other students cheered.

Lillian said: "I'm going out to dance with the bad poets!"

"No," said Michael, "you can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"It isn't done here."

"But I'm American. I don't have to conform to their traditions."

Lillian went out. When she first appeared at the door the students all stared at her in awe. Then they murmured with pleasure: "The American is allowed to dance in the streets."

A bolder one asked her to dance. She glided off with him. The marimbas played with a tinkle of music boxes, the resonances of Tibetan bells, and sometimes like Balinese cymbals. The fireworks lighted up the sky and faces.

Other students pressed around her, waiting for a dance. They offered her a flower to wear in her hair. Tactfully, they made a wall against the students who were drunk, shielding her. She passed from the arms of one student to another. As she passed she could see Michael's face at the window, cold and angry.

The dances grew faster and the change of partners swifter. They sang ballads in her ears.

As the evening wore on she began to tire because of the cobblestones, and she became a little frightened too, because the students were growing more ardent and more intoxicated. So she began to dance toward the house where Michael stood waiting. They realized she was seeking to escape, and the ones she had not yet danced with pressed forward, pleading with her. But she was out of breath and had lost one heel, so she moved eagerly toward the door. Michael opened it and closed it quickly after her. The students knocked on the door and for a moment she feared they would knock it down.

Then she noticed that Michael was trembling. He looked so pale, drawn, unhappy that Lillian asked him tenderly: "What is it, Michael? What is it, Michael? Did you mind my going out to dance? Did you mind that your fantasy about a world without women was proved not true? Why don't you come with me? We're invited to the Queen's house."

"No, I won't go."

"I don't understand you, Michael. You make it so clear that you want a world without women."