Breakfast was over. The hymn of the United State had been harmoniously sung; rhythmically, four abreast we walked to the elevators, the motors buzzed faintly and swiftly we went down--down--down, the heart sinking slightly. Again that stupid dream or some unknown function of that dream. Oh, yes! Yesterday in the aero, then down--down! Well, it is all over, anyhow. Period. It is very fortunate that I was so firm and brusque with her. The car of the underground railway carried me swiftly to the place where the motionless, beautiful body of the _Integral_, not yet spiritualized by fire, was glittering in the docks in the sunshine. With closed eyes I dreamed in formulae. Again I calculated in my mind what was the initial velocity required to tear away the _Integral_ from the earth. Every second the mass of the _Integral_ would change because of the expenditure of the explosive fuel. The equation was very complex with transcendant figures. As in a dream I felt, right here in the firm calculated world, how someone sat down at my side, barely touching me and saying, "Pardon." I opened my eyes. At first, apparently because of an association with the _Integral_, I saw something impetuously flying into the distance: a head; I saw pink wing-ears sticking out on the sides of it, then the curve of the overhanging back of the head, the double-curved letter S. Through the glass walls of my algebraic world, again I felt the eyelash in my eye. I felt something disagreeable, I felt that today I must.... "Certainly, please,"--I smiled at my neighbor and bowed. Number S-4711 I saw glittering on his golden badge (that is why I associated him with the letter S from the very first moment: an optical impression which remained unregistered by consciousness). His eyes sparkled, two sharp little drills; they were revolving swiftly, drilling in deeper and deeper. It seemed that in a moment they would drill in to the bottom and would see something that I do not even dare to confess to myself.... That bothersome eyelash became wholly clear to me. S- was one of them, one of the Guardians, and it would be the simplest thing immediately, without deferring to tell him everything! "I went yesterday to the Ancient House ..." my voice was strange, husky, flat,--I tried to cough. "That is good. It must have given you material for some instructive deductions." "Yes ... but ... You see, I was not alone; I was in the company of I-330, and then...." "I-330? You are fortunate. She is a very interesting, gifted woman; she has a host of admirers." But he too--then during the promenade.... Perhaps he is even assigned as her he-Number! No, it is impossible to tell him, unthinkable. This was perfectly clear. "Yes, yes, certainly, very," I smiled, broader and broader, more stupidly, and felt as if my smile made me look foolish, naked.