"Well," Forrester confessed, "yes." He sighed. "And I guess that Bacchanal is going to be the one really high spot in a very shortened sort of life."
Diana sat upright. "What are you talking about?"
"What else would I be talking about? The Bacchanal. You know what happened. You must know—everybody must by now. Mars is probably demanding my head from Hera right now. Unless he's got more complicated ideas like taking me apart limb by limb. I remember he mentioned that."
Diana stood up and came over to Forrester. "Why would Mars do something like that and especially now? And what makes you think Hera would go along with him if he did?"
"Why not? Now that I've failed my tests—"
"Failed?" Diana cried. "You haven't failed!"
Forrester stood up shakily. "Of course I have. After what happened at the Bacchanal, I—"
"Don't pay any attention to that," Diana said. "Mars is a louse. Always has been, I hear. Nobody likes him. As a matter of fact, you've just passed your finals. The last test was to see if you could figure out who we were—and you've done that, haven't you?"
There was a long, taut silence.
Then Diana laughed. "Your face looks the way mine must have, over three thousand years ago!"