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A
secret
report
…
There
was
a
swift
conversation
in
Greek
between
the
headmaster
and
his
deputy
.
I
heard
the
name
Conchis
twice
,
but
I
couldn
’
t
follow
what
they
said
.
Androutsos
was
told
to
translate
.
"
The
headmaster
does
not
understand
your
remark
.
"
"
No
?
"
I
grimaced
menacingly
at
the
old
man
,
but
I
was
already
more
than
half
persuaded
that
his
incomprehension
was
genuine
.
At
a
sign
from
the
vicemaster
Androutsos
raised
a
sheet
of
paper
and
read
from
it
.
"
The
following
complaints
were
made
against
you
.
One
:
you
have
failed
to
enter
the
life
of
the
school
,
absenting
yourself
almost
every
weekend
during
this
last
term
.
"
I
began
to
grin
.
"
Two
:
you
have
twice
bribed
prefects
to
take
your
supervision
periods
.
"
This
was
true
,
though
the
bribery
had
been
no
worse
than
a
letting
them
off
compositions
they
owed
me
.
Demetriades
had
suggested
it
;
and
only
he
could
have
reported
it
.
"
Three
:
you
failed
to
mark
your
examination
papers
,
a
most
serious
scholastic
duty
.
Four
:
you
—
"
But
I
had
had
enough
of
the
farce
.
I
stood
up
.
The
headmaster
spoke
;
a
pursed
mouth
in
a
grave
old
face
.
"
The
headmaster
also
says
,
"
translated
Androutsos
,
"
that
your
insane
assault
on
a
colleague
at
breakfast
this
morning
has
done
irreparable
harm
to
the
respect
he
has
always
entertained
for
the
land
of
Byron
and
Shakespeare
.
"
"
Jesus
.
"
I
laughed
out
loud
,
then
I
wagged
my
finger
at
Androutsos
.
The
gym
master
got
ready
to
spring
at
me
.
"
Now
listen
.
Tell
him
this
.
I
am
going
to
Athens
.
I
am
going
to
the
British
Embassy
,
I
am
going
to
the
Ministry
of
Education
,
I
am
going
to
the
newspapers
,
I
am
going
to
make
such
trouble
that
…
"
I
didn
’
t
finish
.
I
raked
them
with
a
broadside
of
contempt
,
and
walked
out
.
I
was
not
allowed
to
get
very
far
with
my
packing
,
back
in
my
room
.
Not
five
minutes
afterwards
there
was
a
knock
on
the
door
.
I
smiled
grimly
,
and
opened
it
violently
.
But
the
member
of
the
tribunal
I
had
least
expected
was
standing
there
:
the
deputy
headmaster
.
His
name
was
Mavromichalis
.
He
ran
the
school
administratively
,
and
was
the
disciplinary
dean
also
;
a
kind
of
camp
adjutant
,
a
lean
,
tense
,
balding
man
in
his
late
forties
,
withdrawn
even
with
other
Greeks
.
I
had
had
very
little
to
do
with
him
.
The
senior
teacher
of
demotic
,
he
was
,
in
the
historical
tradition
of
his
kind
,
a
fanatical
lover
of
his
own
country
.
He
had
run
a
famous
underground
newssheet
in
Athens
during
the
Occupation
;
and
the
classical
pseudonym
he
had
used
then
,
o
Bouplix
,
the
oxgoad
,
had
stuck
.
Though
he
always
deferred
to
the
headmaster
in
public
,
in
many
ways
it
was
his
spirit
that
most
informed
the
school
;
he
hated
the
Byzantine
accidie
that
lingers
in
the
Greek
soul
far
more
intensely
than
any
foreigner
could
.
He
stood
there
,
closely
watching
me
,
and
I
stood
in
the
door
,
surprised
out
of
my
anger
by
something
in
his
eyes
.
He
managed
to
suggest
that
if
matters
had
allowed
he
might
have
been
smiling
.
He
spoke
quietly
.
"
Je
veux
vous
parler
,
Monsieur
Urfe
.
"
I
had
another
surprise
then
,
because
he
had
never
spoken
to
me
before
in
anything
but
Greek
;
I
had
always
assumed
that
he
knew
no
other
language
.
I
let
him
come
in
.
He
glanced
quickly
at
the
suitcases
open
on
my
bed
,
then
invited
me
to
sit
behind
the
desk
.
He
took
a
seat
himself
by
the
window
and
folded
his
arms
:
shrewd
,
incisive
eyes
.
He
very
deliberately
let
the
silence
speak
for
him
.
I
knew
then
.
For
the
headmaster
,
I
was
simply
a
bad
teacher
;
for
this
man
,
something
else
besides
.
I
said
coldly
,
"
Eh
bien
?
"
"
I
regret
these
circumstances
.
"
"
You
didn
’
t
come
here
to
tell
me
that
.
"
He
stared
at
me
.
"
Do
you
think
our
school
is
a
good
school
?
"
"
My
dear
Mr
.
Mavromichalis
,
if
you
imagine
—
"
He
raised
his
hands
sharply
but
pacifyingly
.
"
I
am
here
simply
as
a
colleague
.
My
question
is
serious
.
"
His
French
was
ponderous
,
rusty
,
but
far
from
elementary
.
"
Colleague
…
or
emissary
?
"
He
lanced
a
look
at
me
.
The
boys
had
a
joke
about
him
:
how
even
the
cicadas
stopped
talking
when
he
passed
.
"
Please
to
answer
my
question
.
Is
our
school
good
?
"
I
shrugged
impatiently
.
"
Academically
.
Yes
.
Obviously
.
"
He
watched
me
a
moment
more
,
then
came
to
the
point
.
"
For
our
school
’
s
sake
,
I
do
not
want
scandals
.
"
I
noted
the
implication
of
that
first
person
singular
.
"
You
should
have
thought
of
that
before
.
"
Another
silence
.
He
said
,
"
We
have
in
Greece
an
old
folk
song
that
says
,
He
who
steals
for
bread
is
innocent
,
He
who
steals
for
gold
is
guilty
.
"
His
eyes
watched
to
see
if
I
understood
.
"
If
you
wish
to
resign
…
I
can
assure
you
that
Monsieur
le
Directeur
will
accept
.
The
other
letter
will
be
forgotten
.
"
"
Which
monsieur
le
directeur
?
"
He
smiled
very
faintly
,
but
said
nothing
;
and
would
,
I
knew
,
never
say
anything
.
I
remembered
those
eyes
that
had
watched
me
during
the
finale
of
the
trial
scene
;
eyes
that
took
risks
.
In
an
odd
way
,
perhaps
because
I
was
behind
the
desk
,
I
felt
like
the
tyrannical
interrogator
.
He
was
the
brave
patriot
.
Finally
,
he
looked
out
of
the
window
and
said
,
as
if
irrelevantly
,
"
We
have
an
excellent
science
laboratory
.
"
I
knew
that
;
I
knew
the
equipment
in
it
had
been
given
by
an
anonymous
donor
when
the
school
was
reopened
after
the
war
and
I
knew
the
staifroom
"
legend
"
was
that
the
money
had
been
wrung
out
of
some
rich
collaborationist
.
I
said
,
"
I
see
.
"
"
I
have
come
to
invite
you
to
resign
.
"
"
As
my
predecessors
did
?
"
He
didn
’
t
answer
.
I
shook
my
head
.
He
tacked
nearer
the
truth
.
"
I
do
not
know
what
has
happened
to
you
.
I
do
not
ask
you
to
forgive
that
.
I
ask
you
to
forgive
this
.
"
He
gestured
:
the
school
.
"
I
hear
you
think
I
’
m
a
bad
teacher
anyway
.
"
He
said
,
"
We
will
give
you
a
good
recommandation
.
"
"
That
’
s
not
an
answer
.
"
He
shrugged
.
"
If
you
insist
…
"
"
Am
I
so
bad
that
—
"
He
raised
his
head
in
curt
negation
,
but
said
,
almost
fiercely
.
"
We
have
no
place
here
for
any
but
the
best
.
"
Under
his
oxgoad
eyes
,
I
looked
down
.
The
suitcases
waited
on
the
bed
.
I
wanted
to
get
away
,
to
Athens
,
anywhere
,
to
nonidentity
and
noninvolvement
.
I
knew
I
wasn
’
t
a
good
teacher
.
But
I
was
too
flayed
,
too
stripped
elsewhere
,
to
admit
it
.
"
You
’
re
asking
too
much
.
"
He
shook
his
head
.
"
You
did
not
steal
for
bread
.
"
"
I
’
ll
keep
quiet
in
Athens
on
one
condition
.
That
he
meets
me
there
.
"
"
Pas
possible
.
"
Silence
.
I
wondered
how
his
monomaniacal
sense
of
duty
towards
the
school
lived
with
whatever
allegiance
he
owed
Conchis
.
A
hornet
hovered
threateningly
in
the
window
,
then
caromed
away
;
as
my
anger
retreated
before
my
desire
to
have
it
all
over
and
done
with
.
I
said
,
"
Why
you
?
"
He
smiled
then
,
a
thin
,
small
smile
.
"
Avant
la
guerre
.
"
I
knew
he
had
not
been
teaching
at
the
school
;
it
must
have
been
at
Bourani
.
I
looked
down
at
the
desk
.
"
I
want
to
leave
at
once
.
Today
.
"
"
That
is
understood
.
But
no
more
scandals
?
"
He
meant
,
after
that
at
breakfast
.
"
I
’
ll
see
.
If
…
"
I
gestured
in
my
turn
.
"
Only
because
of
this
.
"
"
Bien
.
"
He
said
it
almost
warmly
,
and
came
round
the
desk
to
take
my
hand
;
and
even
shook
my
shoulder
,
as
Conchis
had
sometimes
done
,
as
if
to
assure
me
that
he
took
my
word
.
Then
,
briskly
and
sparsely
,
he
went
.
And
so
I
was
expelled
.
As
soon
as
he
had
gone
,
I
felt
angry
again
,
angry
that
once
again
I
had
not
used
the
cat
.
I
did
not
mind
leaving
the
school
;
to
have
dragged
through
another
year
,
pretending
Bourani
did
not
exist
,
brewing
sourly
in
the
past
…
it
was
unthinkable
.
But
leaving
the
island
,
the
light
,
the
sea
.
I
stared
out
over
the
olive
groves
.
It
was
suddenly
a
loss
like
that
of
a
limb
.
It
was
not
the
meanness
of
making
a
scandal
,
it
was
the
futility
.
Whatever
happened
,
I
was
banned
from
ever
living
again
in
Phraxos
.
After
a
while
I
forced
myself
to
go
on
packing
The
bursar
sent
a
clerk
up
with
my
pay
check
and
the
address
of
the
travel
agency
I
should
go
to
in
Athens
about
my
journey
home
.
By
noon
I
was
ready
to
leave
.
I
deposited
my
bags
with
Barba
Vassili
and
then
,
with
a
goodbye
only
to
him
,
and
no
regrets
at
all
,
I
walked
out
of
the
gate
for
the
last
time
.
At
the
village
I
went
first
to
Patarescu
’
s
house
.
A
peasant
woman
came
to
the
door
;
the
doctor
had
gone
to
Rhodes
for
a
month
.
Then
I
went
to
the
house
on
the
hill
.
I
knocked
on
the
gate
.
Hermes
came
Out
to
open
it
.
No
,
the
young
lady
had
not
been
.
He
still
had
the
suitcase
.
Did
I
want
to
look
at
it
again
?
I
went
back
down
through
the
village
to
the
old
harbor
,
to
the
taverna
where
I
had
met
old
Barba
Dimitraki
.
Georgiou
,
as
I
hoped
,
knew
of
a
room
for
me
in
a
cottage
nearby
.
I
sent
a
boy
back
to
the
school
with
a
fish
trolley
to
get
my
bags
;
then
ate
some
bread
and
olives
.
At
two
,
in
the
fierce
afternoon
sun
,
I
started
to
toil
up
between
the
hedges
of
prickly
pear
towards
the
central
ridge
.
I
was
carrying
a
hurricane
lamp
,
a
crowbar
and
a
hacksaw
.
No
scandal
was
one
thing
;
but
no
investigation
was
another
.
I
came
to
Bourani
about
half
-
past
three
.
The
gap
beside
and
the
top
of
the
gate
had
been
wired
,
while
a
new
notice
covered
the
salle
d
’
attente
sign
.
It
said
in
Greek
,
Private
property
,
entrance
strictly
forbidden
.
It
was
still
easy
enough
to
climb
over
.
But
I
had
no
sooner
got
inside
than
I
heard
a
voice
coming
up
through
the
trees
from
Moutsa
.
Hiding
the
tools
and
lamp
behind
a
bush
,
I
climbed
back
.
I
went
cautiously
down
the
path
,
tense
as
a
stalking
cat
,
until
I
could
see
the
beach
.
A
caïque
was
at
the
far
end
.
There
were
five
or
six
people
—
not
islanders
,
people
in
gay
beach
clothes
,
a
brown
girl
in
a
white
bikini
.
As
I
watched
,
two
of
the
men
picked
up
the
girl
,
who
screamed
,
and
carried
her
down
the
shingle
and
dumped
her
into
the
sea
.
There
was
the
blare
of
a
battery
wireless
.
I
walked
a
few
yards
inside
the
fringe
of
trees
,
half
expecting
at
any
moment
to
recognize
them
.
But
the
girl
was
small
and
dark
,
very
Greek
;
two
plump
women
;
a
man
of
thirty
and
two
older
men
.
I
had
never
seen
any
of
them
before
.
There
was
a
sound
behind
me
.
A
barefoot
fisherman
in
ragged
gray
trousers
,
the
owner
of
the
caïque
;
came
from
the
chapel
.
I
asked
him
who
the
people
were
.
They
were
from
Athens
,
a
Mr
.
Sotiriades
and
his
family
,
they
came
every
summer
to
the
island
.
Did
many
Athenian
people
come
to
the
bay
in
August
?
Many
,
very
many
,
he
said
.
He
pointed
along
the
beach
:
In
two
weeks
,
ten
,
fifteen
caIques
,
more
people
than
sea
.
Bourani
was
pregnable
:
and
I
had
my
final
reason
to
leave
the
island
.
The
house
was
shuttered
and
closed
,
just
as
I
had
last
seen
it
.
I
made
my
way
round
over
the
gulley
to
the
Earth
.
I
admired
once
again
the
cunning
way
its
trap
door
was
concealed
,
then
lifted
the
stone
and
pulled
on
the
ring
.
The
dark
shaft
stared
up
.
I
climbed
down
with
the
lamp
and
lit
it
;
then
climbed
back
and
got
the
tools
.
I
had
to
saw
halfway
through
the
hasp
of
the
padlock
;
then
,
under
pressure
from
the
crowbar
,
it
snapped
.
I
picked
up
the
lamp
,
shot
back
the
bolt
,
pulled
open
the
massive
door
,
and
went
in
.
I
found
myself
in
the
northwest
corner
of
a
rectangular
room
.
Facing
me
I
could
see
two
embrasures
that
had
evidently
been
filled
in
,
though
little
ventilator
grilles
showed
they
had
some
access
to
the
air
.
Along
the
north
wall
opposite
,
a
long
built
-
in
wardrobe
.
By
the
east
wall
,
two
beds
,
a
double
and
a
single
.
Tables
and
chairs
.
Three
armchairs
.
The
floor
had
some
kind
of
rough
folkweave
carpeting
on
top
of
felt
,
and
three
of
the
walls
had
been
whitewashed
,
so
that
the
place
,
though
windowless
,
was
surprisingly
ungloomy
.
On
the
west
wall
,
above
the
bed
,
was
a
huge
mural
of
Tyrolean
peasants
dancing
;
lederhosen
and
a
girl
whose
flying
skirt
showed
her
legs
above
her
flower
-
clocked
stockings
.
The
colors
were
still
good
;
or
retouched
.
In
the
middle
of
the
east
wall
there
was
a
door
.
I
opened
it
and
found
myself
in
another
similarly
shaped
room
.
There
were
five
beds
in
this
one
,
another
wardrobe
.
In
a
corner
,
a
paraffin
stove
.
The
same
blockedin
embrasure
slits
.
And
on
a
desk
in
one
corner
a
field
telephone
.
I
went
back
into
what
had
evidently
been
the
girls
’
room
,
and
started
examining
it
more
thoroughly
.
There
were
fifteen
or
so
changes
of
costume
for
Lily
in
the
wardrobe
,
and
at
least
eight
of
them
were
duplicated
for
Rose
;
several
I
had
not
seen
.
In
a
set
of
drawers
there
were
period
gloves
,
handbags
,
stockings
,
hats
.
Even
an
antiquated
linen
swimming
costume
with
a
lunatic
ribboned
Tam
o
’
Shanter
cap
to
match
.
Blankets
were
piled
on
each
mattress
.
I
smelt
one
of
the
pillows
,
but
couldn
’
t
detect
Lily
’
s
characteristic
scent
.
Over
a
table
between
the
old
gun
slits
there
was
a
bookshelf
.
I
pulled
down
one
of
the
books
.
The
Perfect
Hostess
.
A
Little
Symposium
on
the
Principles
and
Laws
of
Etiquette
as
Observed
and
Practised
in
the
Best
Society
.
London
.
1901
.
I
flicked
through
it
.
How
to
make
an
elegant
billet
.
A
note
folded
into
a
star
.
There
were
a
dozen
or
so
Edwardian
novels
.
Someone
had
penciled
notes
on
the
flyleaves
.
Good
dialogue
,
or
Useful
cliche
’
s
at
98
and
164
.
See
scene
at
203
,
said
one
.
"
Are
you
asking
me
to
commit
osculation
?
’
laughed
the
ever
-
playful
Fanny
.
"
There
was
a
chest
,
but
it
was
empty
.
In
fact
the
whole
room
was
disappointingly
empty
of
anything
personal
.
I
searched
next
door
.
The
desk
was
empty
.
In
the
wardrobe
there
I
found
the
horn
that
the
Apollo
figure
had
called
with
;
the
Robert
Foulkes
costume
;
a
chef
’
s
white
overall
and
drum
hat
;
a
Lapp
smock
;
and
the
entire
uniform
of
a
First
World
War
captain
with
Rifle
Brigade
badges
.
I
began
to
go
more
carefully
through
the
drawers
,
pockets
,
to
see
if
I
could
find
something
.
At
last
I
came
back
to
the
shelf
of
books
.
In
irritation
I
pulled
down
the
whole
lot
and
out
of
one
of
the
books
,
an
old
bound
copy
of
Punch
,
1914
(
in
which
various
pictures
had
been
ticked
in
red
crayon
)
,
spilled
a
little
folded
pile
of
what
I
thought
at
first
were
letters
.
But
they
were
not
.
They
were
pieces
of
paper
used
by
Lily
to
scribble
on
.
They
had
apparently
originally
been
orders
.
None
was
dated
.
1
.
The
Drowned
Italian
AirmanWe
have
decided
to
omit
this
episode
.
2
.
NorwayWe
have
decided
to
omit
the
visits
with
this
episode
.
3
.
HirondelleHas
arrived
.
Treat
with
caution
.
Still
tender
.
4
.
If
Subject
discovers
EarthPlease
be
sure
you
know
the
new
procedure
for
thiseventuality
by
next
weekend
.
Lily
considers
thesubject
likely
to
force
such
a
situation
on
us
.
I
wondered
why
they
had
bothered
to
keep
up
the
pretense
of
the
false
name
.
5
.
HirondelleAvoid
all
mention
with
the
subject
.
6
.
New
PhaseTermination
by
end
of
July
for
all
except
nucleus
.
7
.
State
of
subjectMaurice
considers
that
the
subject
has
now
reachedthe
malleable
stage
.
Remember
that
for
the
subjectany
play
is
now
better
than
no
play
.
Change
modes
,
intensify
withdrawals
.
The
eighth
sheet
was
a
typewritten
copy
of
the
Frog
verses
Lily
had
recited
to
me
.
Finally
,
on
different
paper
,
a
scrawled
message
:
Tell
Bo
not
to
forget
the
unmentionables
and
the
books
.
Oh
and
tissues
,
please
.
Each
of
these
nine
pieces
of
paper
had
writing
on
the
back
,
obviously
(
or
obviously
intended
to
look
like
)
Lily
’
s
rough
drafts
.
1
.
What
is
it
?
If
you
were
told
its
nameYou
would
not
understand
.
Why
is
it
?
If
you
were
told
its
reasonsYou
would
not
understand
.
