ck soon, Yoorgin," Al replied. "Play some more with us."

"I'll do that." Jurgen put his hand to his head, then remembered he
had no hat. He smiled and walked out.

Jurgen returned to his room long after midnight, turned on the single
light, and sat upon the bed to look through his sheaf of music. He
tossed the music aside after a few minutes and laid down to think back
over the evening. It had been a long time since he had had as much
fun--sheer enjoyment--as that evening with Plain Al and Mabel. She was
remarkable--sophisticated and graceful--they had played together as if
they knew each other intimately.

Something fluttered and fluttered against his eyelids--he opened his
eyes and looked up. A moth had somehow got into the room, and
fluttered around and around the lightbulb, casting shadows that
flitted. Annoyed to be cast from his reverie, he took his towel and
began flicking at the moth as it circled and circled. Something about
the lightbulb caught his attention then--it was unusually shaped. He
pulled the chair over beneath it and standing carefully on the chair,
looked at the slowly swinging bulb before reaching out to grab the
socket. Stamped upon the end of the bulb in rough, smeared letters
were three words: Made in Hungary. He almost lost his balance for an
instant, and jumped to the floor with a thump. There was an immediate
answering thump from the room below, and Jurgen mentally apologized to
his lower neighbor.

* * * * *

Two days later, on a Saturday evening, after what had become his
accustomed daily rounds of playing on street-corners--Jurgen found
himself again descending the stairs into Calcutta. The place was
noisier than it had been before. There might have been thirty people
inside. He found a seat at the booth closest to the spotlights--the
open tables were full. A young waitress in a slinky white dress came
over to serve him. He decided to have dinner there--a repayment to
Mabel. The last time, he had only ordered one drink, and when he
thought back over the evening, decided that he had in fact never paid
for it or any of the drinks he had with Al and the others. At least he
could give her some business by ordering dinner.

"Where's Mabel this evening?" he asked.

"Huh?" The waitress seemed confused. She let one knee bend, and ran a
hand quickly along the strap of her dress.

"Oh," he stammered, "I thought Mabel would be here."

"Oh,