the name upon it, and a blushing damsel slipped from the crowd above,
crossing over to the side of the man with whom chance had thus lightly
linked her for the brief Martian year, and putting her hands in his
they kissed before all the company, and sat down to their places at the
table as calmly as country folk might choose partners at a village fair
in hay-time.

But not so with me. Each time a name was called I started and stared at
the drawer in a way which should have filled him with alarm had alarm
been possible to the peace-soaked triflers, then turned to glance
to where, amongst the women, my tender little princess was leaning
against a pillar, with drooping head, slowly pulling a convolvulus bud
to pieces. None drew, though all were thinking of her, as I could tell
in my fingertips. Keener and keener grew the suspense as name after name
was told and each slim white damsel skipped to the place allotted her.
And all the time I kept muttering to myself about that "golden pool,"
wondering and wondering until the urn had passed half round the tables
and was only some three men up from me--and then an idea flashed across
my mind. I dipped my fingers in the scented water-basin on the table,
drying them carefully on a napkin, and waiting, outwardly as calm as
any, yet inwardly wrung by those tremors which beset all male creation
in such circumstances.

And now at last it was my turn. The great urn, blazing golden,
through its rosy covering, was in front, and all eyes on me. I clapped
a sunburnt hand upon its top as though I would take all remaining in it
to myself and stared round at that company--only her herself I durst not
look at! Then, with a beating heart, I lifted a corner of the web and
slipped my hand into the dark inside, muttering to myself as I did so,
"A golden pool, and a silver fish, and a line no thicker than a hair."