An orchestra! Perhaps you could call it that. They played it with enthusiasm, and almost continuously. On the platform also were three Marinoid girls. One of them, waving a long, filmy robe about her, was twisting her body in the music’s rhythm; when she tired, the other girls took her place. And their voices, singing, joined the music. Nona and I watched, breathless, confused, but like children at your circus, eager to see everything which simultaneously was going on. Presently, several young men swam to different parts of the arena, and clung to the foliage. A young girl—one of the Marinoid beauties—swam to the center of the open water. She hung poised; and as the music suddenly stopped, she unbound her coiled hair and dropped the garland of seaweed which had been adorning it. The garland drifted downward. The girl uttered a sudden sharp command. At the signal, the young men dove for the prize. A sharp scuffle. . . . Then one, quicker, more fortunate than the rest, secured the garland and amid applause from the onlookers, swam up and restored it to the girl. Her embrace thanked him. With tenderly lingering fingers he bound up her tresses and adorned them with the garland; and together they swam off to the roof-top to eat, or to sit down and watch the performance repeated by others. In another section of the water, the couples thus chosen were dancing. I can call it nothing else—swimming in close embrace in time to the music. And there were other games, the details of which I could not grasp. Combats between young men—bloodless, but real enough for all that—with the maiden’s favor always as the prize. Nona and I sat enthralled. I was disappointed in my Nona. She wanted to join in the games! But I would not let her, of course. We were getting hungry. I turned to find that Atar was no longer with us. On the throne behind us the King was adorning a Marinoid girl just chosen as the most beautiful. But where was Atar? A group of girls and a gay young man came swimming up and importuned the King. He listened to them, and then signed for Nona and me to approach. “Nemo,” he said. “They wish your Nona for the swimming and diving exhibitions.” I did not know what he meant at once; but Nona seemed to understand. “Nemo! Let me do it! Please!” Her eagerness was child-like. And then abruptly Atar dashed up. He whispered to the King. Then he turned to me. “Nemo, come!” Nona was still begging me. “Let her do it,” said Atar. “We will be back shortly.” “You will stay near her?” I said to Caan. I could not leave Nona again uncared for. Caan nodded; and Atar pulled me away. We swam from the gay, noisy scene—up a dim cross-street which was silent and deserted. Atar had not spoken. “What is it?” I demanded. * * * * *