At the moment he faced his daughter, and she was furious. She lacked only two inches of his height, and the Director lacked less than an inch of six feet. She was a smoldering girl, dark of hair and of eyes, and, at the moment, loweringly dark of complexion.
She said again, "I can't do it! I won't do it!"
Hinrik said, "But, Arta, Arta, this is unreasonable. What am I to do? What can I do? In my position, what choice have I?"
"If Mother were alive, she would find a way out." And she stamped her foot. Her full name was Artemisia, a royal name that had been borne by at least one female of the Hinriads in every generation.
"Yes, yes, no doubt. Bless my soul! What a way your mother had with her! There are times when you seem all of her and none of me. But surely, Arta, you haven't given him a chance. Have you observed his-ah-better points?"
"Which are those?"
"The ones which..." He gestured vaguely, thought a while and gave it up. He approached her and would have put a consoling hand upon her shoulder, but she squirmed away from him, her scarlet gown shimmering in the air.
"I have spent an evening with him," she said bitterly, "and he tried to kiss me. It was disgusting!"
"But everyone kisses, dear. It's not as though this were your grandmother's time-of respected memory. Kisses are nothing-less than nothing. Young blood, Arta, young blood!"
"Young blood, my foot. The only time that horrible little man has had young blood in him these fifteen years has been immediately after a transfusion. He's four inches shorter than I am, Father. How can I be seen in public with a pygmy?"
"He's an important man. Very important!"
"That doesn't add a single inch to his height. He is bowlegged, as they all are, and his breath smells."
"His breath smells?" Artemisia wrinkled her nose at her father. "That's right; it smells. It has an unpleasant odor. I didn't like it and I let him know it."
Hinrik.dropped his jaw wordlessly for a moment, then said in a hoarse half whisper, "You let him know it? You implied that a high official of the Royal Court of Tyrann could have an unpleasant personal characteristic?"
"He did! I have a nose, you know! So when he got too close, I just held it and pushed. A figure of man to admire, that one is. He went flat on his back, with his legs sticking up." She gestured with her fingers in illustration, but it was lost on Hinrik, who, with a moan, hunched his shoulders and put his hands over his face.
He peered miserably from between two fingers. "What will happen now? How can you act so?"
"It didn't do me any good. Do you know what he said? Do you know what he said? It was the last straw. It was absolutely the limit. I made up my mind then that I couldn't stand that man if he were ten feet taIl."
"But-but-what did he say?"
"He said-straight out of a video, Father-he said, 'Ha! A spirited wench! I like her all the better for that!' and two servants helped him stagger to his feet. But he didn't try to breathe in my face again."
Hinrik doubled into a chair, leaned forward and regarded Artemisia earnestly. "You could go through the motions of marrying him, couldn't you? You needn't be in earnest. Why not merely, for the sake of political expediency-"
"How do you mean, not in earnest, Father? Shall I cross the fingers of my left hand while signing the contract with my right?"
Hinrik looked confused. "No, of course not. What good would that do? How would crossing fingers alter the validity of the contract? Really, Arta, I'm surprised at your stupidity."
Artemisia sighed. "What do you mean, then?"
"Mean by what? You see, you've disrupted things. I can't keep my mind on matters properly when you argue with me. What was I saying?"
"I was merely to pretend I was getting married, or something. Remember?"
"Oh yes. I mean, you needn't take it too seriously, you see."
"I can have lovers, I suppose."
Hinrik stiffened and frowned. "Arta! I brought you up to be a modest, self-respecting girl. So did your mother. How can you say such things? It's shameful."
"But isn't that what you mean? "
"I can say it. I am a man, a mature man. A girl like you ought not to repeat it."
"Well, I have repeated it and it's out in the open. I don't mind lovers. I'll probably have to have them if I'm forced to marry for reasons of state, but there are limits." She placed her hands upon her hips, and the cape-like sleeves of her gown slithered away from her tanned and dimpled shoulders. "What will I do between lovers? He'll still be my husband and I just can't bear that particular thought."
"But he's an old man, my dear. Life with him would be short."
"Not short enough, thank you. Five minutes ago he had young blood. Remember?"
Hinrik spread his hands wide and let them drop. "Arta, the man is a Tyrannian, and a powerful one. He is in good odor at the Khan's court."
"The Khan might think it's a good odor. He probably would. He probably stinks himself."
Hinrik's mouth was an O of horror. Automatically, he looked over his shoulder. Then he said hoarsely, "Don't ever say anything like that again."
"I will if I feel like it. Besides, the man has had three wives already." She forestalled him. "Not the Khan, the man you want me to marry."
"But they're dead," Hinrik explained earnestly. "Arta, they're not alive. Don't think that. How can you imagine I would let my daughter marry a bigamist? We'll have him produce documents. He married them consecutively, not simultaneously, and they're dead now, entirely dead, all of them."