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do a better job if she had it to do again. Only once or twice in her life had she ever understood all of him, but the part of him which she knew, she knew intricately and well. No little appetite or pain, no carelessness or meanness in him escaped her; no thought or dream or longing in him ever reached her. And yet several times in her life she had seen the stars.
    She stepped around the Mayor and she took his hand and pulled his finger out of his outraged ear and pushed his hand to his side, the way she would take a baby’s thumb away from his mouth.
    â€œI don’t believe for a moment it hurts as much as you say,” she said, and to Doctor Winter, “He won’t let me fix his eyebrows.”
    â€œIt hurts,” said Mayor Orden.
    â€œVery well, if you want to look like that there is nothing I can do about it.” She straightened his already straight tie. “I’m glad you’re here, Doctor,” she said. “How many do you think will come?” And then she looked up and saw Captain Bentick. “Oh,” she said, “the colonel!”
    Captain Bentick said, “No, ma’am, I’m only preparing for the colonel. Sergeant!”
    The sergeant, who had been turning over pillows, looking behind pictures, came quickly to Mayor Orden and ran his hands over his pockets.
    Captain Bentick said, “Excuse him, sir, it’s regulations.”
    He glanced again at the little book in his hand. “Your Excellency, I think you have firearms here. Two items, I believe?”
    Mayor Orden said, “Firearms? Guns, you mean, I guess. Yes, I have a shotgun and a sporting-rifle.” He said deprecatingly, “You know, I don’t hunt very much any more. I always think I’m going to, and then the season opens and I don’t get out. I don’t take the pleasure in it I used to.”
    Captain Bentick insisted. “Where are these guns, Your Excellency?”
    The Mayor rubbed his cheek and tried to think. “Why, I think—” He turned to Madame. “Weren’t they in the back of that cabinet in the bedroom with the walking-sticks?”
    Madame said, “Yes, and every stitch of clothing in that cabinet smells of oil. I wish you’d put them somewhere else.”
    Captain Bentick said, “Sergeant!” and the sergeant went quickly into the bedroom.
    â€œIt’s an unpleasant duty. I’m sorry,” said the captain.
    The sergeant came back, carrying a double-barreled shotgun and a rather nice sporting-rifle with a shoulder strap. He leaned them against the side of the entrance door.
    Captain Bentick said, “That’s all, thank you, Your Excellency. Thank you, Madame.”
    He turned and bowed slightly to Doctor Winter. “Thank you, Doctor. Colonel Lanser will be here directly. Good morning!”
    And he went out of the front door, followed by the sergeant with the two guns in one hand and the sub-machine gun over his right arm.
    Madame said, “For a moment I thought he was the colonel. He was a rather nice-looking young man.”
    Doctor Winter said sardonically, “No, he was just protecting the colonel.”
    Madame was thinking, “I wonder how many officers will come?” And she looked at Joseph and saw that he was shamelessly eavesdropping. She shook her head at him and frowned and he went back to the little things he had been doing. He began dusting all over again.
    And Madame said, “How many do you think will come?”
    Doctor Winter pulled out a chair outrageously and sat down again. “I don’t know,” he said.
    â€œWell”—she frowned at Joseph—“we’ve been talking it over. Should we offer them tea or a glass of wine? If we do, I don’t know how many there will be, and if we don’t, what are we to do?”
    Doctor Winter shook his head and smiled. “I don’t know. It’s been so long since we conquered anybody or anybody conquered