“The third caste is the Vulcates, our great mechanics and engineers. The fourth the Æsthetes, the arbiters of fashions, the decorators, the great culinary artists, all those who study the greatest enjoyment to be had out of life. The fifth are the Cerenes, the agricultural producers, farmers, cattlewomen, dairywomen, wine makers. The sixth caste, the Mercurenes, the artisans and manufacturers, and finally the seventh caste, the Domesticates, the servants, the clerks, and the police.” “And are these castes rigid? Is there no hope of rising from one caste to another?” “There is nothing rigid about any of them, Bogardus, because there is no inheritance. A woman’s caste is determined by her education. Opportunity is open to everyone according to their merits. You will see how this works out. “We are going to visit the University?” “Now,” said Acquilla, pointing to the open lawn at the bottom of the park, where an aeromat was descending at this moment. “But I have a busy day in Europa and will have to leave you to another guide.” “Dulcina?” I said with simulated eagerness. “You are attracted by her. Admit it!” “I thought her interesting, more so than Carrilla or Dianne, who are amusing but like all artists interested only in themselves,” I replied adroitly. Again I was conscious of a translated personality in the domineering presence of the Minervene, as though the sexes were reversed and I was resorting to the artifices of the weaker. “Dulcina is even more vain and egotistical,” said Acquilla peremptorily, “and knows nothing outside her own talent.” “Then it is not Dulcina?” “Certainly not!” “Carrilla?” “It is not Carrilla!” Before I could venture another guess, my lovely Dianne stepped out of the aeromat and said, “Doctrina has an important meeting and asked me to take her place.” CHAPTER XI Acquilla did not look any too well pleased at this substitution, but as she had no time to lose she made the best of it. “How in the world did you manage it?” I exclaimed when Dianne and I had soared lightly into the clear air. “Oh, we Histriones are privileged to lie a little now and then,” said Dianne with the smile of a naughty child. “Were you disappointed it wasn’t Dulcina?” I took quite a little time to prove to her that her jealousy had no foundation. “It is Acquilla that worries me,” I concluded. “Acquilla is a cerebral. I am not worried about her. I shall never be jealous of a Minervene, I promise you.” “She is very intelligent,” I remarked, unwilling to surrender any advantage. “Are you trying to make me jealous!” exclaimed Dianne, taking me in her arms with a savagery that crushed my body to hers. “The eternal feminine, thank heaven,” I cried laughing. Dianne’s eyes were glowing like a startled lioness. “If you hurt me, I shall hurt you!” she said, showing her sharp white teeth. But instantly she relaxed under my mocking gaze. “Please, Jack dear, don’t stir me up. Things are bad enough as they are.”