'In this case we must proceed as I have outlined. We cannot let the years go by and do nothing.'
Both Irena and Madame Clara turned to examine Wayness more closely. Wayness attempted a smile but it was evident that she had made an unfavorable impression.
Irena turned back to Olivano. She asked coldly: 'Exactly what is involved in this inconvenient scheme?”
“It will not be all that bad,” said Olivano. “Marin will spend as much time as possible with the children. She will in effect be their companion and try to engage their interest, using whatever tactics she thinks appropriate. She will bring her own meals and will cause you no extra work. I want her to observe the children’s daily routines, from the time they leave bed to the time they retire.”
“That seems a gross intrusion into our privacy, Doctor Olivano.”
“As you wish. Your privacy will be respected. I will remove Lydia and Myron to the hospital for the regimen we had in mind. If you will pack some things for the children, I will take them with me now and you need not be exposed to any inconvenience whatever.'
Irena stood stock-still staring miserably at Olivano. Madame Clara, smiling her meaningless half-grin, turned and padded from the room and into the kitchen, as if divorcing herself from the proceedings. Lydia and Myron watched from the dining room. Wayness thought they seemed as vulnerable and defenseless as baby birds in a nest.
“Irena looked slowly at Wayness, taking her measure. She muttered, “I don’t know what to do. The children must stay with me.”
“In that case, if you will leave us alone, I will introduce them to Marin.'
'No. I will stay. I want to hear what you tell them.”
“Then please take a seat in the corner and do not enter the conversation.'
Three days had passed; the time was early evening. Following instructions, Wayness telephoned Dr. Olivano at his home near Montalvo, thirty miles east of Pombareales. The face of a pretty blonde woman appeared on the screen. 'Sufy Jirou here.”
“I am Wayness Tamm, calling for Dr. Olivano.'
“One moment, please.'
Olivano’s face came to the screen. He greeted Wayness without surprise. “You have just met my wife,' he told her. “She is a musician, and lacks all interest in abnormal psychology. Speaking of which, what is the news from Casa Lucasta?'
Wayness gathered her thoughts. “It depends upon whom you ask. Irena would say ‘Bad.' Clara would say: ‘I have no news; I just do my work and hate every minute of it’. As for me, I have discovered nothing — not even the best place to look. I expect no confidences from Irena; she has barely spoken to me and clearly resents my presence.'
'I am not surprised. What of the children?'
“There the news is good so far. They seem to like me, though Myron is very dignified. Lydia is probably not quite so clever, but she is mercurial and demonstrative, and her sense of humor is always unexpected. She laughs at things which seem quite staid to me: a crumpled piece of paper, or a bird, or one of Myron’s odd sand houses. She is delighted when I tickle Myron’s ear with a blade of grass; this is the best joke of all, and even Myron allows himself to be amused.”
Olivano showed his faint smile. “You don’t seem to be bored with them.”
“Not at all. But I can't say that I like Casa Lucasta. At some deep level the house frightens me. I am afraid of Irena and Madame Clara; they seem like witch women in a dark cave.”
“You express yourself in colorful language,” said Olivano dryly.
Sufy's voice sounded from off-screen. She seemed to muse: “Life is perceived as a flux of color.” He turned his head away from the screen. 'Sufy? I see that you have a remark to make.”
“It is of no great consequence. I thought that I might mention that life is perceived as a flux of colors, but this is well known, and solves no mysteries.”
“That is a pity,” said Wayness. “There are a number of mysteries at Casa Lucasta. I could not estimate how many, since some may be parts of the same mystery.'
“Mysteries — such as?”
“There is Irena herself. She goes off in the morning composed, neat and cold as an iceberg. She returns in the afternoon in a terrible mood, her face haggard and mottled.'
“I have noticed something similar. Under the circumstances, I did not care to speculate. It may be just a minor problem.”
“As for the children, I am surprised how they have changed in just the few days I have been with them. I can't be sure, but they seem more aware of their surroundings, more responsive, more alert. Lydia speaks when the impulse moves her and I understand her — I think. She knows what she means, at least. Today, and I consider it a real triumph, she answered a few of my questions, quite sensibly. Myron pretends not to notice, but he observes and thinks. In the main, he prefers his blissful detachment and his freedom to roam his private worlds. Occasionally though, I see his attention focus on our activity, and if it is interesting enough, he might be tempted to join us.'
“What does Irena think of all this?'
“I spoke to her today and told her more or less what I have told you. She merely shrugged and told me that they often went through phases and that they must not be over-stimulated. Sometimes I feel that she wants to keep them as they are: submissive and unable to complain.”
“It is not an uncommon attitude.'
“Yesterday I brought out paper and pictures, and pencils, and started to teach them to read. Myron grasped the idea instantly, but became bored and couldn't be bothered. Lydia wrote ‘CAT’ when I showed her a picture of a cat. Myron did the same, after I insisted, and with an air of contemptuous indifference. Irena says it’s a waste of time, since they have no interest in reading.
“We made a kite and flew it, which both found exciting. Then the kite crashed and they were mournful. I said that we would make another kite soon, but that they must learn to read first. Myron gave a morose grunt: the only sound I have heard from him. When Irena came home, I wanted Lydia to read for her, but Lydia became engrossed in other affairs. This is when Irena said I was wasting my time. Then she told me that since tomorrow was Sunday, Clara would be away on her own errands. This being the case, Irena would be busy with the children all day: giving them their baths, serving their Sunday dinner, and so forth. She said that I would be in the way, and need not come to Casa Lucasta.”
Olivano spoke in surprise. Baths? Sunday dinner? That is not a lengthy program. Two or three hours, and the rest of the day alone with them, and no Marin on hand to see what goes on.” Olivano rubbed his chin. “She can't be receiving a special visitor the whole town would know about it. Most likely, she simply doesn’t want you on hand any more than necessary.”
“I don’t trust Irena, and I doubt if she is their natural mother; they don’t resemble her in the least.'
“An interesting thought. We can quite readily get at the truth.” Olivano rubbed his chin. “We have taken blood samples from the children in order to check for genetic deviations. We found nothing, of course; their affliction is still a mystery — among all the others. You are calling from the hotel?'
“Yes.'
“I will call you back in a few moments.”
The screen darkened. Wayness went to the window and looked out across the square. On Saturday night all the folk of Pombareales, from high quality to low, had dressed themselves in their best and come out to promenade. For the young men, fashion dictated tight black trousers, shirts striped with dark rich colors: maroon, deep sea green, gamboge, dark blue, with waistcoats carefully echoing one of the colors present in their shirts: such were the stringencies of the style. The most gallant bravos wore low-crowned black hats with broad brims, rakishly slanted to reflect the wearer's mood. The young women wore short-sleeved ankle-length gowns, with flowers in their hair. From somewhere beyond the range of her vision came the sound of cheerful music. Wayness thought that it all seemed like great fun.
A chime called Wayness to the telephone. Olivano’s face, now somewhat somber, appeared. “I have spoken with Irena. She gave me no convincing reason for keeping you away. I explained that the time you could spend at
