“But you do not know my circumstances.”

“No,” Jim said encouragingly.

“Someday I will tell you. When I know you better. How long do you stay on the island?”

Sir Christopher answered.

“Another month, perhaps. I have commitments in England.”

“An Honors List, perhaps?” She smiled at him.

Sir Christopher became the image of the well-bred Englishman expressing modesty.

Jim laughed. “There have been rumors,” he said, smiling at his boss.

“Only rumors,” said Sir Christopher. “Actually, I must prepare for a lecture tour in the States and Canada. It was arranged some time ago.”

“And you?” She turned to me. “How long do you stay?”

“I don’t know.” Damn the woman; I was actually stammering. “A few weeks, maybe…”

“Longer, I think.” She stood up, in a sudden decisive movement that caught Sir Christopher with a half-spoken comment on his lips. “I must go now, I cannot stay,” she said. But she didn’t leave. She stood there looking down at me with the same avid fascination that had marked the first moments of our meeting.

“The sea king’s daughter,” she said softly. “It is fitting. I came to warn you to go away, but now… Yes, I think you will stay longer than youmeant, Ariadne. Give my greeting to Minos.”

And away she went.

“She knows,” Sir Christopher exclaimed, staring after her. “How does she know?”

“Know what?” Jim demanded.

Sir Christopher appeared not to hear him. I had never seen the man so shaken. His lean cheeks were flushed with anger or embarrassment.

“Our old code names,” he said, addressing me. “They were a conceit of Frederick ’s. Taken from Cretan legend. I was Daedalus, Durkheim was Poseidon; and Minos was your-”

He stopped, shooting Jim a guilty look. I think Jim was beginning to catch on anyway, but that look and halt, as explicit as a hand clapped over the mouth, finished the job. Jim’s face reddened, and I had no doubt as to the emotion that caused the flow of blood to his cheeks.

“Is your name really Ariadne?” he demanded.

“Yes,” I mumbled, staring at the tablecloth as if I were trying to memorize its varied stains. “But I never use the name, I hate it. Jim, I want to tell you-”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Jim’s voice was flat with controlled anger. “If I hadn’t been so damn stupid I would have seen it right away. Who else but the bastard’s daughter would come out here to work for him? What the hell kind of mother do you have that she would let you do it?”

It was such an absurd question that it would have made me laugh under any other circumstances. Now it served as an excuse to turn my anger into outrage.

“You leave my mother out of this!” I shouted.

“Children, children,” Sir Christopher began.

“Children, hell,” Jim yelled-only he didn’t say “hell.” “You shut up! I’m sorry, Chris, I shouldn’t have said that, but that is really adding insult to injury. You knew, and you didn’t tell me, and now you’ve got the nerve to-”

“If you were too stupid to figure it out, why should he tell you?” I interrupted. I rose, with my chin in the air. “I apologize, Sir Christopher, for this boorish outburst. You have behaved like a gentleman throughout. Good night.”

I stalked off into the gathering darkness. My chin was still in the air and I kept stumbling over the cobblestones. It wasn’t until I reached the edge of the plaza that I realized I had succumbed. I had apologized to Sir Christopher.

Frederick and I had our dinner out of cans after all. I was so upset I didn’t stop to buy food in the village. The long, bumpy walk back to the house gave me time to regret my rudeness to Jim. Remorse demanded a scapegoat, and it wasn’t hard to find someone toward whom my self-anger could be turned. I burst into the house, slamming doors, and confronted Frederick, who was in his usual chair in the kitchen. He looked up, his eyes widening, as I stormed in.

“You,” I said, panting with anger. I added a few epithets no nice daughter should apply to a parent. “What kind of game are you playing? How could you drag me into this? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pack my bags tomorrow morning and leave.”

I had to stop to breathe, and Frederick, who had been waiting for his chance, said coldly,

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you are raving about. If you will calm yourself and speak coherently, perhaps I can-”

“Damn coherence!” I shouted-only I didn’t say “damn.”

Frederick looked severe.

“Such language is disgusting from a young girl. Sit down and hold your tongue. If you don’t, I will assume you are hysterical and deal with you accordingly.”

I think he would have slapped me, at that; but it wasn’t fear of the threat that made me subside. My rage had blown itself out. I have a hasty temper, but it is short-lived. I sat down in the nearest chair and glowered at him.

“That woman,” I said. “Don’t tell me she doesn’t know you. She knows my name. She called me Ariadne. And she sends her greeting to you, Minos. Is that really what you called yourself? If you ask me, it was pretty corny.”

“So it was Kore,” Frederick said coolly. “She has changed a great deal. I had hoped-”

“You’d hoped it wasn’t. Why? Who is she? Or rather, what was she-to you?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Frederick said. “I knew her for a short time many years ago-yes, in Crete. And yes, we were corny, if that is the word you prefer. We were young. The names seemed appropriate.”

“Minos, the sea king,” I said. “So that’s why you named me Ariadne. I’m surprised, Frederick. I wouldn’t have expected such a poetic touch from you.”

“You know nothing about me,” Frederick said, in a queer, flat voice. “But you are ready to judge me. The cruelty and intolerance of youth-”

“I’m not judging you for what you did. I don’t care about that, it’s over and done with. I question what you are doing now. I’m afraid… No, notafraid; I’m apprehensive, because I don’t understand what is happening. I don’t understand that woman. Is she crazy? She said the strangest things.”

“What things?”

I repeated some of Kore’s remarks. Frederick listened with interest.

“She does sound a bit mad,” he agreed. “She was an ignorant, superstitious peasant girl when I knew her. Astonishingly beautiful, of course, but virtually illiterate. Now her beauty is gone, and although she has acquired a veneer of sophistication, the peasant girl is basically unchanged. Quite understandable. I don’t see why such nonsense should make you apprehensive.”

“You didn’t hear her. And what was the point of the snake bracelets? Jim seemed to think there was something meaningful about them.”

“Ah, did he? Interesting.” Frederick got up and began opening cans. It was the first time he had ever offered to do any of the menial chores around the house, but after he had opened a can of peaches and one of tomato paste, I took the can opener away from him and started putting together a halfway balanced meal. Frederick went on talking.

“Yes, it would be interesting if Kore’s mania has taken that form. The roots of it go quite far back; she called herself Kore when I knew her. It seemed to suit that dark beauty of hers, and the position she had chosen, in defiance of custom and loyalty… Kore, as you know, was one of thenames of Persephone, the daughter of Demeter, who was stolen away by Pluto, king of Hell. The grieving mother, who was goddess of grain and vegetation, refused to fertilize the new crops unless the gods intervened and restored her child. They did so; but Pluto tricked his young bride into eating a pomegranate, and by virtue of its magic she was forced to spend half the year in the Underworld-thus accounting for the drear winter months. In the spring the maiden returns to her mother, and the rejoicing goddess allows the new shoots to appear.”