e away
from home, an oasis of the West in the Sov-world.

Joe, figuring that in view of the double role, unknown even to the
higher ranking officers of the embassy, he could best secure
protective coloring by conforming and would have slipped into embassy
routine without more than ordinary notice. But that wasn't Nadine's
style.

From the first, she gloried in porkolt, the veal stew with paprika
sauce, in rostelyos, the round steak potted in a still hotter paprika
sauce, in halaszle, the fish soup which is Hungary's challenge to
French bouillabaisse, and threatened her lithe figure with her
consumption of retes, the Magyar strudel. All these washed down with
Szamorodni or a Hungarian Riesling, the despair of a hundred
generations of connoisseurs due to its inability to travel. When
liqueurs were called for, barack, the highly distilled apricot brandy
which was still the national tipple, was her choice, if not Tokay
Aszu, the sweet nectar wine, once allowed only to be consumed by
nobility so precious was it considered.

Her apartment became adorned with Hungarian, Bulgarian and Czech
antiques, somewhat to the surprise even of the few Sovs with whom she
and Joe associated. It had been long years since antiques were in
vogue. She dressed in the latest styles from the dressing centers of
Prague, Leningrad or from the local houses, ignoring the raised
eyebrows of her embassy associates.

Joe, with an inner sigh, followed along in the swath she cut, Nadine
being Nadine, and the woman he loved, to boot.

His being raised in caste to Upper through the easy efforts of Philip
Holland, had made no observable difference in his relationship with
Nadine. Of course, she was Mid-Upper, he told himself, while he was
Low-Upper. Still it was far from unknown for romances to cross such
comparatively little boundary. He couldn't quite figure out why she
seemed to hold him at arm's length. Months had passed since she had
told him, that day, she would marry him, even though he be a Middle.
But now, when he tried to get her off by herself, for a moment of
intimacy between them, she avoided the situation. When he brought
their personal relationship into the conversation, she switched
subjects. Joe, wedded for too long to his grim profession,
inexperienced in the world of the lover, was out of his element.

His Upper caste rating also made little impression on the other
embassy personnel, largely because it was the prevalent rank. In
de