I felt the blood drain from my face, until I realized the reason for this violent response. It was all down to a misunderstanding. As I looped the tie around my neck and began to tie the knot, Alcibiades assumed, as he told me afterward, that I was about to hang myself. And he did, indeed, turn very pale, trembling and sweating. Now it was my turn to laugh. I chuckled, and explained the use of a necktie to him, noting that it was a white tie, not black, although we did wear black ties on certain occasions. Only after I’d explained all this would he agree to give it back to me. I put it on and then put on my vest.

“For the love of Aphrodite!” he exclaimed. “You are the oddest thing I’ve ever seen, alive or dead. You’re entirely the color of night—a night with only three stars,” he continued, pointing to the buttons on my shirtfront. “The world must be a very melancholy place for you to choose to wear such a sad, dead color. We were a far jollier lot, we lived . . .”

He couldn’t finish the sentence; I had just put on my tailcoat, and the Athenian’s consternation surpassed description. His arms drooped by his sides, he struggled for air, unable to utter a word, and stared at me with wide, bulging eyes. Believe me, sir, I was truly afraid now, and made even more haste to leave the house.

“Are you finished?” he asked.

“No, there’s still the hat.”

“Oh! Please let it be something that’ll make up for all the rest!” replied Alcibiades in a pleading voice. “Please, please! Has all the elegance we bequeathed to you been whittled away to a pair of closed pipes and another pair of open pipes (as he said this he lifted up my coattails), and all in this boring, depressing color? No, I can’t believe it! Please let there be something that makes up for it. What is it you say that’s missing?”

“My hat.”

“Well, whatever it is, put it on, dear fellow, put it on.”

I obeyed; I went over to the coat stand, took down my hat, and put it on my head. Alcibiades looked at me, swayed, and fell. I rushed to the illustrious Athenian’s side to help him up, but (and it pains me to say this) it was too late; he was dead, dead for the second time. I therefore request, sir, that you see fit to issue the requisite orders for the corpse to be taken to the morgue, and proceed with the corpus delicti. Please excuse my not coming to your house in person at this hour (it being ten o’clock at night), on account of the deep shock I have just experienced, and rest assured that I will do so tomorrow morning, before eight o’clock.

The Devil’s Church

THE DEVIL’S CHURCH