Through the glass walls of my algebraic world, again I felt the eyelash in my eye. I felt something disagreeable, I felt that today I must....
“Certainly, please,”—I smiled at my neighbor and bowed.
Number S-4711 I saw glittering on his golden badge (that is why I associated him with the letter S from the very first moment: an optical impression which remained unregistered by consciousness). His eyes sparkled, two sharp little drills; they were revolving swiftly, drilling in
deeper and deeper. It seemed that in a moment they would drill in to the bottom and would see something that I do not even dare to confess to myself....
That bothersome eyelash became wholly clear to me. S- was one of them, one of the Guardians, and it would be the simplest thing immediately, without deferring to tell him everything!
“I went yesterday to the Ancient House ...” my voice was strange, husky, flat,—I tried to cough.
“That is good. It must have given you material for some instructive deductions.”
“Yes ... but ... You see, I was not alone; I was in the company of I-330, and then....”
“I-330? You are fortunate. She is a very interesting, gifted woman; she has a host of admirers.”
But he too—then during the promenade.... Perhaps he is even assigned as her he-Number! No, it is impossible to tell him, unthinkable. This was perfectly clear.