They found a place to stay for the night, a big room with twin beds in a third-category hotel down near the beach. We’re both very cool, Tina thought; neither of them fussing about sleeping arrangements, but just taking things as they came. Jason, when they had started out, had simply said that they’d save money by sharing a room, but they didn’t have to share a bed if she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to, she said.

Now he went out while she meditated. When he came back he handed her a yellow rose. “Here you are,” he said, “one of Virgil’s twice-blooming roses of Paestum.”

She took it and sniffed deeply. “You’re a nice guy, Jason.”

“Ah! So you’ve finally noticed?”

“Cretino!” she laughed, nudging him. “I’ve known all along, or why would I be here? Still, you’ve really been great, Jason . . . you know, no moralizing or questions about that business of mine in Rome. And actually I thought you were such a righteous, uptight guy. I mean, you remember how you were when we took the mescaline in Rome? So disapproving?”

“I wouldn’t look at it that way, Tina. Think of it like this: I like you a lot. And if anything catches between us, I want it to be naturally, because we both have the right feelings toward each other. Not because we’re tripping and just getting it off with anyone who happens to be around.”

“It’s true, Jason, it wasn’t the right time.” She looked at him surmisingly, as she sniffed at the rose. “First I’ll have to earn your approval,” she teased.

“Right now I’m very approving.”

“Well, I’m not!”

“Oofah! You’re as grim as old Eeyore,” he said in mock despair.

“One of my favorite characters, actually.”

“Great! Winnie-the-Pooh will bring us together even if Dante doesn’t.”

“Silly old bear.” She laughed, and tousled his thick, dark hair.

The next day they were scrambling like the proverbial mad dogs at noon over the heat-baked ruins of ancient Elea.

She was glad that he was there; that at the moments when she was moved by glimpses of the ancient world she had Jason with whom to share things. As when they saw the old black-and-white paving blocks characteristic of Magna Graecia leading to an archway called Porta Rosa at the acropolis of the Elea excavations, and no one else was there but they two. Over in the shade of an old gnarled olive tree, the custodian of the site sat and watched them. Finally he motioned to them with the flask that was at his side and indicated they should come and have a drink of water in the shade.