To confess the truth, none of these possibilities appeared very credible to me. But I could think of nothing more plausible, and at length was forced to recognize that the mystery was too deep for my penetration. The only reasonable course would be to consult one of the natives, who could doubtless answer all my questions without any trouble. And since I was acquainted with only one of the natives besides my tutor, and since it would give me particular pleasure to consult that one, I decided that, if possible, I should refer the baffling document to Aelios. But how to isolate Aelios long enough for a conversation was in itself a problem. After some thought, however, I conceived an idea which seemed promising: if I could determine where Aelios lived and then pay her a visit, I might solve the mystery of the Selective Assignments at the same time as I made possible a closer intimacy with Aelios herself. Yet it was only by a severe effort that I found the courage to carry out my plans----to follow Aelios one afternoon after the conclusion of her day’s instruction. Through innumerable curving lanes and avenues I trailed her and her fellow tutors, pressing close to the columns and the walls of the building, like a detective tracking his prey. At length, when we seemed to be approaching the outskirts of the city, Aelios waved a pleasant farewell to her companions, and started off alone down a little path bordered by a deep-red geranium-like flower. Thinking this to be my opportunity, I hastened my footsteps; but before I could overtake her she had reached the end of the path, and, quite oblivious of my approach, had entered the arching doorway of a house--or, should I call it a palace?--with curving convex walls of the color of pearl. For several minutes I stood wavering without. And it was in half-timid hesitancy, that at lest I forced my feet to the threshold and urged my hands to rap at the violet stained-glass panels of the door. It was but a minute before the sound of approaching footsteps notified me that I had not knocked in vain. But in that minute I was swept by wild hopes and still wilder torments and regrets. Would it be Aelios herself that answered me? Or would it be some member of her family, possibly her mother or father, or else a sister almost as charming as herself? And, if so, what should I say? and on what business pretend to seek a conference with Aelios? While I was wrapped in such thoughts, the door swung open, and I found myself face to face--not with Aelios, nor with her mother or father, nor with a sister of hers! But a young man of perhaps twenty-five, broad-browed and sparkling-eyed like most of the Atlanteans, stood looking inquiringly out at me. “Is this--is this where Aelios lives?” I gasped, in embarrassment. “Yes, Aelios lives here,” he returned, in matter-of-fact tones. And then, with a winning smile, “You would like to see her?”