Марсианские хроники

           Andthen,witheverythingwellonitswaytoSafety,theSpoil-Funs,thepeoplewithmercurochromeforbloodandiodine-coloredeyes,camenowtosetuptheirMoralClimatesanddoleoutgoodnesstoeveryone.Andtheywerehisfriends!Yes,carefully,carefully,hehadmetandbefriendedeachofthemonEarthinthelastyear!

           "WelcometothevastyhallsofDeath!"hecried.

           "Hello,Stendahl,whatisallthis?"

           "You’llsee.Everyoneoffwiththeirclothes.You’llfindboothstoonesidethere.Changeintocostumesyoufindthere.Menonthisside,womenonthat."

           Thepeoplestooduneasilyabout.

           "Idon’tknowifweshouldstay,"saidMissPope."Idon’tlikethelooksofthis.Itvergeson—blasphemy."

           "Nonsense,acostumeball!"

           "Seemsquiteillegal."Mr.Steffenssniffedabout.

           "Comeoffit."Stendahllaughed."Enjoyyourselves.Tomorrowit’llbearuin.Getinthebooths!"

           TheHouseblazedwithlifeandcolor;harlequinsrangbywithbelledcapsandwhitemicedancedminiaturequadrillestothemusicofdwarfswhotickledtinyfiddleswithtinybows,andflagsrippledfromscorchedbeamswhilebatsflewincloudsaboutgargoylemouthswhichspouteddownwine,cool,wild,andfoaming.Acreekwanderedthroughthesevenroomsofthemaskedball.Guestssippedandfoundittobesherry.Guestspouredfromthebooths,transformedfromoneageintoanother,theirfacescoveredwithdominoes,theveryactofputtingonamaskrevokingalltheirlicensestopickaquarrelwithfantasyandhorror.