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- Джон Фоулз
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Obviously
a
consummate
young
actress
,
and
consummately
immoral
into
the
bargain
;
because
only
a
prostitute
could
have
behaved
as
she
did
.
A
pair
of
prostitutes
,
because
I
saw
that
her
sister
,
June
,
Rose
,
might
well
have
been
prepared
to
carry
out
that
final
abominable
seduction
.
Probably
they
would
have
liked
me
to
be
thus
doubly
humiliated
.
All
her
story
—
her
stories
—
had
been
lies
;
or
groundbait
.
Those
letters
,
forgeries
.
They
could
not
make
it
so
easy
for
me
to
trace
her
.
In
a
grim
flash
I
guessed
:
none
of
my
post
left
the
island
unintercepted
.
And
from
that
I
leapt
to
the
realization
that
they
must
now
know
about
Alison
;
because
of
course
they
would
have
intercepted
letters
coming
to
me
as
well
.
When
Conchis
had
advised
me
to
go
back
and
marry
Alison
he
must
have
known
she
was
dead
;
Lily
must
have
known
she
was
dead
.
Then
my
mind
plunged
sickeningly
,
as
if
I
had
walked
off
the
edge
of
the
world
.
Forged
cuttings
about
the
sisters
,
forged
cuttings
…
forged
cuttings
.
Alison
.
I
stared
at
my
own
dilated
eyes
in
the
mirror
.
Suddenly
her
honesty
,
her
untreachery
—
her
death
—
was
the
last
anchor
left
.
If
she
,
if
she
…
I
was
swept
away
.
The
whole
of
life
became
a
conspiracy
.
I
strained
back
through
time
to
seize
Alison
,
to
seize
her
and
to
be
absolutely
sure
of
her
.
To
seize
a
quintessential
Alison
beyond
all
her
powers
of
love
or
hate
.
For
a
while
I
let
my
mind
wander
into
a
bottomless
madness
.
Supposing
all
my
life
that
last
year
had
been
the
very
opposite
of
what
Conchis
so
often
said
—
so
often
,
to
trick
me
once
again
—
about
life
in
general
.
That
is
,
the
very
opposite
of
hazard
.
The
fiat
in
Russell
Square
…
but
I
had
got
it
by
answering
a
chance
advertisement
in
the
New
Statesman
.
Meeting
Alison
that
very
first
evening
…
but
I
might
so
easily
have
not
gone
to
the
party
,
not
have
waited
those
few
minutes
…
and
Margaret
,
Ann
Taylor
,
all
of
them
…
the
hypothesis
became
top
-
heavy
,
and
crashed
.
I
stared
at
myself
.
They
were
trying
to
drive
me
mad
,
to
brainwash
me
in
some
astounding
way
.
But
I
clung
to
reality
.
I
clung
too
,
to
something
in
Alison
,
something
like
a
tiny
limpid
crystal
of
eternal
nonbetrayal
.
Like
a
light
in
the
darkest
night
.
Like
a
teardrop
.
An
eternal
inability
to
be
so
cruel
.
And
the
tears
that
for
a
brief
moment
formed
in
my
own
eyes
were
a
kind
of
bitter
guarantee
that
she
was
indeed
dead
.
They
were
not
only
tears
for
her
,
but
also
tears
of
rage
at
Conchis
and
Julie
;
at
the
certainty
that
they
knew
she
was
dead
and
were
using
this
new
doubt
,
this
torturing
possibility
that
could
not
be
a
possibility
,
to
rack
me
.
To
perform
on
me
,
for
some
incomprehensible
reason
,
a
viciously
cruel
vivisection
of
the
mind
.
As
if
they
only
wanted
to
punish
me
;
and
punish
me
;
and
punish
me
again
.
With
no
right
;
and
nc
reason
.
I
sat
with
my
hands
clenched
against
my
head
.
Fragments
of
things
they
had
said
kept
on
coming
back
,
with
dreadful
double
meanings
;
a
constant
dramatic
irony
.
Almost
every
line
Conchis
and
Lily
had
spoken
was
ironic
;
right
up
to
that
last
,
transparently
double
-
meaning
,
dialogue
with
June
.
Wind
and
running
water
.
I
cannot
stand
dishonesty
in
personal
relationships
.
I
cannot
believe
Maurice
is
evil
.
You
will
understand
.
A
whole
summer
of
tomorrows
.
Perhaps
a
young
English
master
who
is
newly
married
…
That
blank
weekend
:
of
course
they
had
canceled
it
to
give
me
reasonable
time
to
receive
the
"
letter
of
reference
"
from
the
bank
;
holding
me
back
only
to
hurl
me
faster
down
the
slope
.
That
day
she
had
murmured
,
down
at
Moutsa
,
when
I
said
I
loved
her
:
I
want
you
to
love
me
.
She
might
just
as
well
have
said
,
My
real
name
is
Circe
.
Again
and
again
images
of
Lily
,
the
Lily
of
the
Julie
phase
,
surged
back
;
moments
of
passion
,
that
last
almost
total
surrender
of
herself
—
and
other
moments
of
gentleness
,
sincerity
,
spontaneous
moments
that
could
not
have
been
rehearsed
but
could
only
have
sprung
out
of
a
deep
identification
with
the
part
she
was
playing
.
I
even
went
back
to
that
earlier
theory
I
had
had
,
that
she
was
acting
under
hypnosis
.
Our
final
wild
struggle
had
seemed
a
struggle
in
Lily
herself
,
a
wanting
to
let
go
but
a
knowledge
that
she
mustn
’
t
let
go
;
though
the
inhibition
was
certainly
not
virginal
,
there
had
been
something
to
inhibit
.
Then
I
recalled
her
appearance
afterwards
,
when
she
seemed
so
professional
;
coldly
solicitous
for
me
,
but
above
all
professional
.
Hypnotism
explained
nothing
.
I
lit
another
Philip
Morris
.
I
tried
to
think
of
the
present
.
But
everything
drove
me
back
to
the
same
anger
,
the
same
profound
humiliation
.
Only
one
thing
could
ever
give
me
relief
.
Some
equal
humiliation
of
Lily
.
It
made
me
furious
that
I
had
not
been
more
violent
with
her
before
.
That
was
indeed
the
ultimate
indignity
:
that
my
own
small
stock
of
decency
had
been
used
against
me
.
There
was
noise
outside
,
and
the
door
opened
.
The
crewcut
blond
German
came
in
;
behind
him
was
another
man
,
in
the
same
black
trousers
,
black
shirt
,
black
gym
shoes
.
And
behind
him
came
Anton
.
He
was
in
a
doctor
’
s
collarless
white
overall
.
A
pocket
with
pens
.
A
bright
German
-
accented
voice
;
as
if
on
his
rounds
.
And
he
had
no
limp
.
"
How
are
you
feeling
?
"
I
stared
at
him
;
controlled
myself
.
"
Wonderful
.
Enjoying
every
minute
of
it
.
"
He
looked
at
the
breakfast
tray
.
"
You
would
like
more
coffee
?
"
I
nodded
.
He
gestured
to
the
second
man
,
who
took
the
tray
out
.
Anton
sat
on
the
chair
by
the
table
,
and
the
other
man
leaned
easily
against
the
door
.
Beyond
appeared
a
long
corridor
,
and
right
at
the
end
steps
leading
up
to
daylight
.
It
was
much
too
big
a
cistern
for
a
private
house
.
Anton
watched
me
.
I
refused
to
speak
,
and
we
sat
there
in
silence
for
some
time
.
"
I
am
a
doctor
.
I
come
to
examine
you
.
"
He
studied
me
,
then
smiled
.
"
You
feel
…
not
too
bad
?
"
I
didn
’
t
answer
,
but
leant
back
against
the
wall
;
stared
at
him
.
He
waved
his
finger
reprovingly
.
"
Please
to
answer
.
"
"
I
love
being
humiliated
.
I
love
having
a
girl
I
like
trampling
over
every
human
affection
and
decency
.
Every
time
that
stupid
old
bugger
tells
me
another
lie
I
feel
thrills
of
ecstasy
run
down
my
spine
.
"
I
shouted
.
"
Now
where
the
hell
am
I
?
"
He
gave
the
impression
that
my
words
were
meaningless
;
it
was
my
manner
he
was
watching
.
He
said
slowly
,
"
Good
.
You
have
awoken
up
.
"
He
sat
with
his
legs
crossed
,
leaning
back
a
little
;
a
very
fair
imitation
of
a
doctor
in
his
consulting
room
.
"
Where
’
s
that
little
tart
?
"
He
seemed
not
to
understand
.
"
Lily
.
Julie
.
Whatever
her
name
is
.
"
He
smiled
.
"
Ah
so
.
’
Tart
’
means
bad
woman
?
"
I
shut
my
eyes
.
My
head
was
beginning
to
ache
.
I
had
to
keep
cool
.
The
man
in
the
door
turned
;
the
second
man
appeared
down
the
distant
steps
with
a
tray
and
came
and
put
it
on
the
table
.
Anton
poured
out
a
cup
for
me
and
one
for
himself
.
The
blondhead
reached
me
mine
.
Anton
swallowed
his
quickly
.
"
My
friend
,
you
are
wrong
.
She
is
a
good
girl
.
Very
pretty
.
Very
intelligent
.
Very
brave
.
Oh
yes
.
"
He
contradicted
my
sneer
.
"
Very
brave
.
"
"
All
I
have
to
say
to
you
is
that
when
I
get
out
of
here
I
am
going
to
create
such
bloody
fucking
hell
for
all
of
you
that
you
’
ll
wish
to
Christ
you
—
"
He
raised
his
hand
,
calmingly
,
forgivingly
.
"
Your
mind
is
not
well
.
We
have
given
you
many
drugs
these
last
days
.
"
I
took
a
breath
.
"
How
many
days
?
"
"
It
is
Sunday
.
"
Three
totally
missing
days
:
I
remembered
the
wretched
exam
papers
.
The
boys
,
the
other
masters
…
the
whole
school
could
not
be
in
league
with
Conchis
.
It
was
the
enormity
of
the
abuse
that
bewildered
me
,
far
more
than
the
aftermath
of
the
drug
;
that
they
could
crash
through
law
,
through
my
job
,
through
respect
for
the
dead
,
through
everything
that
made
the
world
customary
and
habitable
and
orientated
.
And
it
was
not
only
a
denial
of
my
world
;
it
was
a
denial
of
what
I
had
come
to
understand
was
Conchis
’
s
world
.
I
stared
at
Anton
"
Of
course
,
this
is
all
good
homely
fun
to
you
Germans
.
"
"
I
am
Swiss
.
And
my
mother
is
Jewish
.
By
the
way
.
"
His
eyebrows
were
very
heavy
,
charcoal
tufts
,
his
eyes
amused
.
I
swilled
the
last
of
the
coffee
in
my
cup
,
then
threw
it
in
his
face
.
It
stained
his
white
coat
.
He
pulled
out
a
handkerchief
and
wiped
his
face
,
and
said
something
to
the
man
beside
him
.
He
did
not
look
angry
;
merely
shrugged
,
then
glanced
at
his
watch
.
"
The
time
is
ten
thirty
…
eight
.
Today
we
have
the
trial
and
you
must
be
awoke
.
So
good
.
"
He
touched
his
coat
.
"
You
are
awoke
.
"
He
stood
up
.
"
Trial
?
"
"
Very
soon
we
shall
go
and
you
will
judge
us
.
"
"
Judge
you
!
"
"
Yes
.
You
think
this
is
like
a
prison
.
Not
at
all
.
It
is
like
…
how
call
you
the
room
where
the
judge
lives
?
"
"
Chambers
.
"
"
Chambers
.
So
perhaps
you
would
like
to
…
shave
?
"
"
Christ
!
"
"
There
will
be
many
people
there
.
"
I
stared
incredulously
at
him
.
"
It
will
look
better
.
"
He
gave
up
.
"
Very
well
.
Adam
—
"
he
nodded
at
the
blondhead
,
stressing
the
name
on
the
second
syllable
—
"
he
will
return
in
twenty
minutes
to
prepare
you
.
"
"
Prepare
me
?
"
"
It
is
nothing
.
We
have
a
small
ritual
.
It
is
nothing
for
you
.
For
us
.
"
"
’
Us
’
?
"
"
Very
soon
—
you
will
understand
all
.
"
I
wished
I
had
saved
the
coffee
to
throw
till
then
.
He
smiled
,
bowed
,
and
went
out
.
The
other
two
closed
the
door
,
and
a
bolt
was
shot
.
I
stared
at
the
skeleton
at
the
wall
.
And
in
his
necromantic
way
he
seemed
to
say
the
same
:
very
soon
,
you
will
understand
.
All
.
I
rewound
my
watch
;
and
in
precisely
twenty
minutes
the
same
three
Germans
in
their
"
uniforms
"
came
back
into
the
cell
.
The
black
clothes
made
them
look
more
aggressive
,
more
fascist
,
than
they
were
;
there
was
nothing
particularly
brutal
about
their
faces
.
Adam
stood
in
front
of
me
;
in
his
hand
he
carried
an
incongruous
small
grip
.
"
Please
…
not
fight
.
"
He
set
the
grip
on
the
table
and
fished
inside
it
;
came
up
with
two
pairs
of
handcuffs
.
I
held
out
my
wrists
contemptuously
and
allowed
myself
to
be
linked
to
the
other
two
beside
me
.
Now
he
produced
a
curious
black
rubber
mouthmask
;
concave
,
with
a
thick
projection
that
one
had
to
bite
.
"
Please
…
I
put
this
on
.
No
hurt
.
"
We
both
hesitated
a
moment
.
I
had
determined
that
I
wouldn
’
t
fight
,
that
it
would
be
better
to
keep
cool
and
wait
until
a
time
when
I
could
hurt
someone
I
really
wanted
to
hurt
.
He
cautiously
held
out
the
rubber
gag
,
and
I
shrugged
.
I
took
its
black
tongue
between
my
teeth
;
a
taste
of
disinfectant
.
Adam
expertly
fastened
the
straps
behind
.
Then
he
went
back
to
the
case
for
some
wide
black
adhesive
,
and
taped
the
edges
of
the
gag
against
my
skin
.
I
began
to
wish
I
had
shaved
.
The
next
move
took
me
by
surprise
.
They
made
me
sit
on
the
bed
.
Adam
pushed
my
right
trouser
leg
up
to
above
the
knee
,
and
fastened
it
there
with
an
elastic
garter
.
Then
I
was
made
to
stand
again
.
With
a
warning
gesture
that
I
was
not
to
be
alarmed
,
he
pulled
my
sweater
back
over
my
head
and
forced
it
down
till
it
hung
from
my
wrists
behind
me
.
Then
he
unbuttoned
my
shirt
to
the
bottom
and
forced
the
left
side
back
until
the
shoulder
was
bare
.
Next
he
produced
two
inch
-
wide
white
ribbons
,
each
with
a
bloodred
rosette
attached
,
from
the
grip
.
He
tied
one
round
the
top
of
my
right
calf
,
another
under
my
armpit
and
over
the
bare
shoulder
.
Next
,
a
black
circle
,
some
two
inches
in
diameter
and
cut
in
adhesive
tape
,
was
fixed
like
a
huge
patch
on
the
middle
of
my
forehead
.
Finally
with
one
last
domesticating
gesture
he
put
a
close
-
fitting
,
excellently
fitting
,
mask
over
my
eyes
.
I
wryly
remembered
that
early
incident
,
when
Conchis
had
measured
my
head
;
even
then
.
I
was
more
and
more
inclined
to
struggle
;
but
I
had
missed
my
chance
.
We
moved
off
.
We
marched
along
the
cistern
.
They
stopped
me
at
the
end
and
Adam
said
,
"
Slow
,
we
go
up
stairs
.
"
I
wondered
if
"
up
stairs
"
meant
"
into
the
house
"
;
or
was
just
bad
English
.
I
toed
forward
and
we
climbed
into
the
sun
.
I
could
feel
it
on
my
bare
skin
,
though
the
blindfolding
mask
occluded
all
but
the
thinnest
glints
of
light
.
We
must
have
walked
some
two
or
three
hundred
yards
.
I
thought
I
could
smell
the
sea
,
I
wasn
’
t
sure
.
I
half
expected
to
feel
a
wall
against
my
back
,
to
find
myself
facing
a
firing
squad
.
But
then
once
again
they
halted
me
and
a
voice
said
,
"
Down
stairs
now
.
"
They
gave
me
plenty
of
time
to
maneuver
the
steps
;
more
than
those
leading
to
my
cell
,
and
the
air
grew
cool
.
We
went
round
a
corner
and
down
yet
more
steps
and
then
I
could
hear
by
the
resonance
of
the
sounds
we
made
that
we
had
entered
a
large
room
.
There
was
also
a
mysterious
,
ominous
smell
of
burning
wood
and
acrid
tar
.
I
was
stopped
,
someone
fiddled
with
the
mask
.
I
could
see
.
I
had
expected
to
see
people
.
But
I
and
my
three
guards
were
alone
.
We
were
at
one
end
of
a
huge
underground
room
,
the
kind
of
enormous
cistern
,
the
size
of
a
small
church
,
that
is
found
under
some
of
the
old
Venetian
-
Turkish
castles
that
are
crumbling
away
in
the
Peloponnesus
.
I
remembered
having
seen
one
very
like
it
that
winter
at
Pylos
.
I
looked
up
and
saw
two
telltale
chimneylike
openings
;
they
would
be
the
blocked
-
off
necks
at
ground
level
.
At
the
far
end
there
was
a
small
dais
and
on
the
dais
a
throne
.
Facing
the
throne
was
a
table
,
or
rather
three
long
tables
put
end
to
end
in
a
fiat
crescent
and
draped
in
black
cloth
.
Behind
the
table
were
twelve
black
chairs
with
an
empty
thirteenth
place
in
the
middle
.
The
walls
had
been
whitewashed
up
to
a
height
of
fifteen
feet
or
so
,
and
over
the
throne
was
painted
an
eight
-
spoked
wheel
.
Between
table
and
throne
,
against
the
wall
to
the
right
,
was
a
small
tiered
bank
of
benches
,
like
a
jury
box
.
There
was
one
completely
incongruous
thing
in
this
strange
courtroom
.
The
light
I
saw
it
by
came
from
a
series
of
brands
that
were
burning
along
the
sidewalls
.
But
in
each
of
the
corners
behind
the
throne
was
a
battery
of
projectors
trained
on
the
crescent
-
shaped
table
.
They
were
not
on
;
but
their
cables
and
serried
lenses
added
a
vaguely
reassuring
air
of
the
film
studio
to
the
otherwise
alarming
Ku
Klux
Klan
ambience
.
It
did
not
look
like
a
court
of
justice
;
but
a
court
of
injustice
;
a
Star
Chamber
,
an
inquisitorial
committee
.
I
was
made
to
go
forward
.
We
marched
down
one
side
of
the
room
,
past
the
crescent
table
and
up
towards
the
throne
.
I
suddenly
realized
that
I
was
to
sit
there
.
They
paused
for
me
to
step
up
onto
the
dais
.
There
were
four
or
five
steps
leading
to
a
little
platform
at
the
top
,
on
which
stood
the
throne
.
Like
the
roughly
carpentered
dais
,
it
was
not
a
real
throne
,
simply
a
bit
of
stage
property
,
painted
black
,
with
armrests
,
a
pointed
back
and
columns
on
either
side
.
In
the
middle
of
the
solid
black
panel
was
a
white
eye
,
like
those
that
Mediterranean
fishermen
paint
on
the
bows
of
their
boats
to
ward
off
evil
.
A
fiat
crimson
cushion
;
I
was
made
to
sit
.
As
soon
as
I
had
done
so
,
my
guards
’
ends
of
the
handcuffs
were
unlocked
,
then
immediately
snapped
onto
the
armrests
.
I
looked
down
.
The
throne
was
secured
to
the
dais
by
strong
brackets
.
I
mumbled
through
the
gag
,
but
Adam
shook
his
head
.
I
was
to
watch
,
not
to
speak
.
The
other
two
guards
took
up
positions
behind
the
throne
,
on
the
lowest
step
of
the
dais
,
against
the
wall
.
Adam
,
like
some
mad
valet
,
checked
the
handcuffs
,
pulled
down
the
shirt
I
had
tried
to
shrug
back
onto
my
left
shoulder
,
then
went
down
the
steps
to
the
ground
.
There
he
turned
,
as
if
to
the
altar
in
a
church
,
and
made
a
slight
bow
;
after
which
he
went
round
the
table
and
out
through
the
door
at
the
end
.
I
was
left
sitting
with
the
silent
pair
behind
me
and
the
faint
crackle
of
the
burning
torches
.
