"With perfect balance and an ease unequaled she walked the tightrope to its center," Ren said. "A green weird, deathly light was pinned on her. In the shadows two clowns hauled the net away from beneath her. And she pirouetted."

"Did she make it?"

"In a way, yes."

"In a way? My God, Ren. She must have been at least fifty feet in the air!" Ren paused again to strike a match with the nail of her thumb. The snap resounded and the flame burst into being. The blaze grew on the match stick and all their eyes seemed mesmerized curiously on it, watching it rise and fall as Ren puffed slowly on her pipe. "It seems she was on her way back to the platform when she stopped. You understand, she was still in a position of danger when just as everyone was about to catch his breath she turned and repeated her performance." Ren said, "Remember I said her chances were nil if she pirouetted twice consecutively? But she seemed impelled. Never do I hope to see such beauty long as I live, more lovely than a dance."

"But did-did she come down!" The Young Man squirmed in his chair. "As I say, she demonstrated perfect control," Ren said, "but if you mean did she come down for the applause... no. Like all great things it destroyed her. According to this man's hypothesis, love is secondary in the eye of greatness. Don't you agree?"

The Young Man leaned forward again, "Nonsense," he said, "it was a pure case of suicide. No one else knew, perhaps . . . except you and that man. Don't you see, Ren? She had been told it was suicide if she did it twice."

"But he was too old for her," Ren said, "or something, too old or too purple maybe... or round. I don't know. Too something."

"What did it matter that he was older than she?" said the Young Man. "Wasn't he carrying his principles a little bit too far?”

"But the criterion..." Ren began.

"To the devil with the criterion," the Young Man said. "Obviously the girl was in love with him. And for my money love offers more than death anytime."

Ren drew her red pipe up to her mouth and with a spasmodic movement, not in keeping with her seemingly casual air, she hit the stem of it hard against her clenched teeth. With her tapering fingers she covered the warm bowl of her pipe and puffed on it quickly but she didn't succeed in relighting even a spark.

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