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ease, riding over him, 'what it is specifically that Professor Lurie acknowledges and therefore what it is that he is being censured for.'
              Mathabane: 'If he is censured.'
              'If he is censured. We fail to perform our duty if we are not crystal clear in our minds, and if we do not make it crystal clear in our recommendations, what Professor Lurie is being censured for.'
              'In our own minds I believe we are crystal clear, Dr Rassool. The question is whether Professor Lurie is crystal clear in his mind.'
              'Exactly. You have expressed exactly what I wanted to say.'
              It would be wiser to shut up, but he does not. 'What goes on in my mind is my business, not yours, Farodia,' he says. 'Frankly, what you want from me is not a response but a confession. Well, I make no confession. I put forward a plea, as is my right. Guilty as charged. That is my plea. That is as far as I am prepared to go.'
              'Mr Chair, I must protest. The issue goes beyond mere technicalities. Professor Lurie pleads guilty, but I ask myself, does he accept his guilt or is he simply going through the motions in the hope that the case will be buried under paper and forgotten? If he is simply going through the motions, I urge that we impose the severest penalty.'
              'Let me remind you again, Dr Rassool,' says Mathabane, 'it is not up to us to impose penalties.'
              'Then we should recommend the severest penalty. That Professor Lurie be dismissed with immediate effect and forfeit all benefits and privileges.'
              'David?'
              The voice comes from Desmond Swarts, who has not spoken hitherto. 'David, are you sure you are handling the situation in the best way?' Swarts turns to the chair. 'Mr Chair, as I said while Professor Lurie was out of the room, I do believe that as members of a university community we ought not to proceed against a colleague in a coldly formalistic way. David, are you sure you don't want a postponement to give yourself time to reflect and perhaps consult?'
              'Why? What do I need to reflect on?'
              'On the gravity of your situation, which I am not sure you appreciate. To be blunt, you stand to lose your job. That's no joke in these days.'
              'Then what do you advise me to do? Remove what Dr Rassool calls the subtle mockery from my tone? Shed tears of contrition? What will be enough to save me?'
              'You may find this hard to believe, David, but we around this table are not your enemies. We have our weak moments, all of us, we are only human. Your case is not unique. We would like to find a way for you to continue with your career.'
              Easily Hakim joins in. 'We would like to help you, David, to find a way out of what must be a nightmare.'
              They are his friends. They want to save him from his weakness, to wake him from his nightmare. They do not want to see him begging in the streets. They want him back in the classroom.
              'In this chorus of goodwill,' he says, 'I hear no female voice.'
              There is silence.
              'Very well,' he says, 'let me confess. The story begins one evening, I forget the date, but not long past. I was walking through the old college gardens and so, it happened, was the young woman in question, Ms Isaacs. Our paths crossed. Words passed between us, and at that moment something happened which, not being a poet, I will not try to describe. Suffice it to say that Eros entered. After that I was not the same.'
              'You were not the same as what?' asks the businesswoman cautiously.
              'I was not myself. I was no longer a fifty-year-old divorcé at a loose end. I became a servant of Eros.'
              'Is this a defence you are offering us? Ungovernable