'Oh, right. Poor old Maidenhair. Perhaps he won't get laughed at so much in a foreign language. And Mister Macarona's here to better himself, yes? Put a bit of polish on his career, no doubt.'
'Hardly, sir. He's got doctorates from Unki, QIS and Chubb, thirteen in all, and a visiting professorship at Bugarup, and he has been cited in two hundred and thirty-six papers and, er, one divorce petition.'
'What?'
'The rule about celibacy isn't taken seriously over there, sir. Very hot-blooded people, I understand, of course. His family owns a huge ranch and the biggest coffee plantation outside Klatch, and I think his grandmother owns the Macarona Shipping Company.'
'So why the hell did he come here?'
'He wants to work with the best, sir,' said Ponder. 'I think he's serious.'
'Really? Oh, well, he seems like a sensible chap, then. Er, the divorce thing?'
'Don't know much, sir, it got hushed up, I believe.'
'Angry husband?'
'Angry wife, as I heard it,' said Ponder.
'Oh, he was married, was he?'
'Not to my knowledge, Archchancellor.'
'I don't think I quite understand,' said Ridcully.
Ponder, who was not at all at home in this area, said very slowly, 'She was the wife of another man... I, er, believe, sir.'
'But I - '
To Ponder's relief, light dawned on Ridcully's huge face. 'Oh, you mean he was like Professor Hayden. We used to have a name for him... '
Ponder braced himself.
'Snakes. Very keen on them, you know. Could talk for hours about snakes with a side order of lizards. Very keen.'
'I'm glad you feel like that, Archchancellor, because I know that a number of the students - '
'And then there was old Postule, who was in the rowing team. Coxed us through two wonderful years.' Ponder's expression did not change, but for a few moments his face went pink and shiny. 'A lot of that sort of thing about, apparently,' said Ridcully. 'People make such a fuss. Anyway, in my opinion there's not enough love in the world. Besides, if you didn't like the company of men you wouldn't come here in the first place. I say! Well done, that man!' This was because, in the absence of Ridcully's attention, the footballers had at last started their own kick-about and some quite fancy footwork was emerging. 'Yes, what?'
A bledlow had appeared alongside Ridcully.
'Gentleman to see the Archchancellor, sir. He's a wizard, sir. The, er, the Dean, as was, only he says he's an Archchancellor too.'
Ridcully hesitated, but you'd have had to be an experienced Ridcully watcher, like Ponder, to notice the moment. When the Archchancellor spoke, it was calmly and carefully, every word hammered on the anvil of self-control.
'What a pleasant surprise, Mister Nobbs. Do show the Dean in. Oh, and please do not glance at Mister Stibbons for confirmation, thank you. I am still the Archchancellor in these parts. The only one, in fact. Is there a problem, Mister Stibbons?'
'Well, sir, it is a bit public in here - ' Ponder stopped, because suddenly he had nobody's attention. He hadn't seen the ball bounce towards Bledlow Nobbs (no relation). Nor the vicious kick the latter gave it, just as he would an impertinent intrusion by a street urchin's tin can. Ponder did see the ball curving majestically through the air, heading for the other end of the Hall where, behind the organ, rose the stained-glass window dedicated to Archchancellor Abasti, which on a daily basis showed one of several thousand scenes of a mystical or spiritual nature. The intuition with which Ponder had successfully calculated the distance and trajectory of the ball told him that the current glowing picture of 'Bishop Horn realizing that the alligator quiche was an unwise choice' had appeared just in time to be extremely unlucky.
And then, like some new planet swimming into the ken of a watcher of the skies, as they are prone to do, a rusty red shape arose, unfolding as it came, snatched the ball out of the air and landed on the organ keyboard to the sound of gloing! in B flat.
'Well done, that ape!' the Archchancellor boomed. 'A beautiful save, but, regrettably, against the rules!'
To Ponder's surprise there was a murmur of dissent from all the players. 'I believe that decision may benefit from some consideration,' said a small voice behind them.
'Who said that?' said Ridcully, spinning round and looking into the suddenly terrified little eyes of Nutt.
'Nutt, sir. The candle dribbler. We met yesterday. I helped you with the ball... ?'