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"
You
are
not
the
first
English
person
to
have
admired
Maria
’
s
cooking
.
"
"
Mitford
?
"
His
eyes
fixed
me
sharply
again
.
"
I
met
him
in
London
.
"
He
poured
more
tea
.
"
How
did
you
like
Captain
Mitford
?
"
"
Not
my
type
.
"
"
He
told
you
about
me
?
"
"
Not
at
all
.
That
is
…
"
his
eyes
flicked
at
me
.
"
He
just
said
you
’
d
had
a
row
.
"
"
Captain
Mitford
made
me
ashamed
to
have
English
blood
.
"
Till
then
I
had
felt
I
was
beginning
to
get
his
measure
;
first
of
all
,
his
English
,
though
excellent
,
was
somehow
not
contemporary
,
more
that
of
someone
who
hadn
’
t
been
in
England
for
many
years
;
and
then
his
whole
appearance
was
foreign
.
He
had
a
bizarre
family
resemblance
to
Picasso
;
saurian
as
well
as
simian
,
decades
of
living
in
the
sun
,
the
quintessential
Mediterranean
man
,
who
had
discarded
everything
that
lay
between
him
and
his
vitality
.
A
monkey
-
glander
,
essence
of
queen
bees
;
and
intense
by
choice
and
exercise
as
much
as
by
nature
.
He
was
plainly
not
a
dandy
about
clothes
;
but
there
are
other
sorts
of
narcissism
.
"
I
didn
’
t
realize
you
were
English
.
"
"
I
spent
the
first
nineteen
years
of
my
life
in
England
.
Now
I
have
Greek
nationality
and
my
mother
’
s
name
.
My
mother
was
Greek
.
"
"
You
go
back
to
England
?
"
"
Never
.
"
He
jumped
swiftly
on
.
"
Do
you
like
my
house
?
I
designed
and
built
it
myself
.
"
I
looked
around
.
"
I
envy
you
.
"
"
And
I
envy
you
.
"
"
Not
much
to
envy
.
"
"
You
have
the
one
thing
that
matters
.
You
have
all
your
discoveries
before
you
.
"
His
face
was
without
the
offensively
avuncular
smile
that
usually
accompanies
such
trite
statements
;
and
something
intent
about
the
look
he
gave
me
made
it
clear
he
did
not
think
it
trite
;
that
it
did
not
carry
its
usual
meaning
.
He
stood
up
.
"
Well
.
Now
I
will
leave
you
for
a
few
minutes
.
Then
we
shall
have
a
look
round
.
"
I
stood
up
with
him
,
but
he
gestured
me
down
again
.
"
Finish
the
cakes
.
Maria
will
be
honored
.
Please
.
"
He
walked
into
the
sunlight
at
the
edge
of
the
colonnade
,
stretched
his
arms
and
fingers
,
and
with
another
gesture
to
me
to
help
myself
passed
back
inside
the
room
.
From
where
I
was
sitting
I
could
see
one
end
of
a
cretonne
-
covered
sofa
,
a
table
with
a
bowl
of
milky
flowers
on
it
.
The
wall
behind
was
covered
by
bookshelves
,
from
the
ceiling
to
the
floor
.
I
stole
another
kourabiè
.
The
sun
was
beginning
to
float
down
on
the
mountains
,
and
the
sea
glittered
lazily
at
the
foot
of
their
ashy
,
opaque
shadows
.
Then
there
was
an
unannounced
shock
of
antique
sound
,
a
rapid
arpeggio
,
far
too
real
to
come
from
a
radio
or
record
.
I
stood
up
,
wondering
what
new
surprise
I
was
being
presented
with
.
There
was
a
moment
’
s
silence
,
perhaps
to
leave
me
guessing
.
Then
came
the
quiet
plangent
sound
of
a
harpsichord
.
I
hesitated
,
then
decided
that
two
could
play
the
independence
game
,
and
sat
down
again
.
He
played
quickly
,
and
then
tranquilly
;
once
or
twice
he
stopped
and
retook
a
phrase
.
The
old
woman
came
and
silently
cleared
away
,
without
once
looking
at
me
,
even
when
I
pointed
at
the
few
cakes
left
and
praised
them
in
my
stilted
Greek
;
the
hermit
master
evidently
liked
silent
servants
.
The
music
came
clearly
out
of
the
room
,
and
flowed
around
me
and
out
through
the
colonnade
into
the
light
.
He
broke
off
,
repeated
a
passage
,
and
then
stopped
as
abruptly
as
he
had
begun
.
A
door
closed
,
there
was
a
silence
.
Five
minutes
passed
,
then
ten
.
The
sun
crept
towards
me
over
the
red
tiles
.
I
felt
I
ought
to
have
gone
in
earlier
;
that
now
I
had
put
him
in
a
huff
.
But
he
appeared
in
the
doorway
,
speaking
.
"
I
have
not
driven
you
away
.
"
"
Not
at
all
.
It
was
Bach
?
"
"
Telemann
.
"
"
You
play
very
well
.
"
"
Once
,
I
could
play
.
Never
mind
.
Come
.
"
His
jerkiness
was
pathological
;
as
if
he
wanted
to
get
rid
not
only
of
me
,
but
of
time
itself
.
I
stood
up
.
"
I
hope
I
shall
hear
you
play
again
.
"
He
made
a
little
bow
,
refusing
the
invitation
to
invite
.
"
I
hope
you
will
.
"
"
One
gets
so
starved
of
music
here
.
"
"
Only
of
music
?
"
He
went
on
before
I
could
answer
.
"
Come
now
.
Prospero
will
show
you
his
domaine
.
"
As
we
went
down
the
steps
to
the
gravel
I
said
,
"
Prospero
had
a
daughter
.
"
"
Prospero
had
many
things
.
"
He
turned
a
look
on
me
.
"
And
not
all
young
and
beautiful
,
Mr
.
Urfe
.
"
"
You
live
alone
here
?
"
"
What
some
would
call
alone
.
What
others
would
not
.
"
He
stared
ahead
as
he
said
it
;
whether
to
mystify
me
once
more
or
because
there
was
no
more
to
be
said
to
a
stranger
,
I
couldn
’
t
tell
.
He
walked
rapidly
on
,
alertly
,
incessantly
pointing
things
out
.
He
showed
me
around
his
little
vegetable
-
garden
terrace
:
his
cucumbers
,
his
almonds
,
his
loquats
,
his
pistachios
.
From
the
far
edge
of
the
terrace
I
could
see
down
to
where
I
had
been
lying
only
an
hour
or
two
before
.
"
Moutsa
.
"
"
I
haven
’
t
heard
it
called
that
before
.
"
"
Albanian
.
"
He
tapped
his
nose
.
"
Snout
.
Because
of
the
cliff
over
there
.
"
"
Not
very
poetic
for
such
a
lovely
beach
.
"
"
The
Albanians
were
pirates
.
Not
poets
.
Their
word
for
this
cape
was
Bourani
.
Two
hundred
years
ago
it
was
their
slang
word
for
gourd
.
Also
for
skull
.
"
He
moved
away
.
"
Death
and
water
.
"
As
I
walked
behind
him
,
I
said
,
"
I
wondered
about
the
sign
by
the
gate
.
Salle
d
’
attente
.
"
"
The
German
soldiers
put
it
there
.
They
requisitioned
Bourani
during
the
war
.
"
"
But
why
that
?
"
"
I
think
they
had
been
stationed
in
Paris
.
They
found
it
dull
being
garrisoned
here
.
"
He
turned
and
saw
me
smile
.
"
Precisely
.
One
must
be
grateful
for
the
smallest
grain
of
humor
from
the
Germans
.
I
should
not
like
the
responsibility
of
destroying
such
a
rare
plant
.
"
"
Do
you
know
Germany
?
"
"
It
is
not
possible
to
know
Germany
.
Only
to
endure
it
.
"
"
Bach
?
Isn
’
t
he
reasonably
endurable
?
"
He
stopped
.
"
I
do
not
judge
countries
by
their
geniuses
.
I
judge
them
by
their
racial
characteristics
.
The
ancient
Greeks
could
laugh
at
themselves
.
The
Romans
could
not
.
That
is
why
France
is
a
civilized
society
and
Spain
is
not
.
That
is
why
I
forgive
the
Jews
and
the
Anglo
-
Saxons
their
countless
vices
.
And
why
I
should
thank
God
,
if
I
believed
in
God
,
that
I
have
no
German
blood
.
"
It
seemed
odd
that
a
man
so
penetrated
by
dryness
should
hold
such
views
.
But
we
had
come
to
an
arbor
of
bougainvillea
and
morning
-
glory
at
the
end
of
the
kitchen
-
garden
terrace
,
set
back
and
obliquely
.
He
gestured
me
in
.
In
the
shadows
,
in
front
of
an
outcrop
of
rock
,
stood
a
pedestal
.
On
it
was
a
bronze
manikin
with
a
grotesquely
enormous
erect
phallus
.
Its
hands
were
flung
up
as
well
,
as
if
to
frighten
children
;
and
on
its
face
it
had
a
manic
-
satyric
grin
.
It
was
only
eighteen
inches
or
so
high
,
yet
it
emitted
a
distinct
primitive
terror
.
"
You
know
what
it
is
?
"
He
was
standing
close
behind
me
.
"
Pan
?
"
"
A
Priapus
.
In
classical
times
every
garden
and
orchard
had
one
.
To
frighten
away
thieves
and
bring
fertility
.
It
should
be
made
of
pear
wood
.
"
"
Where
did
you
find
it
?
"
"
I
had
it
made
.
Come
.
"
He
said
"
come
"
as
Greeks
prod
their
donkeys
;
as
if
,
it
later
struck
me
,
I
was
a
potential
employee
who
had
to
be
shown
briefly
around
the
works
.
We
went
back
towards
the
house
.
A
narrow
path
zigzagged
steeply
down
from
in
front
of
the
colonnade
to
the
shore
.
There
was
a
small
cove
there
,
not
fifty
yards
across
at
its
cuffed
mouth
.
He
had
built
a
miniature
jetty
,
and
a
small
green
and
rose
-
pink
boat
,
an
open
island
boat
with
an
engine
fitted
,
was
tied
up
alongside
.
At
one
end
of
the
beach
I
could
see
a
small
cave
,
drums
of
kerosene
.
And
there
was
a
little
pump
-
house
,
with
a
pipe
running
back
up
the
cliff
.
"
Would
you
like
to
swim
?
"
We
were
standing
on
the
jetty
.
"
I
left
my
trunks
at
the
house
.
"
"
A
costume
is
not
necessary
.
"
His
eyes
were
those
of
a
chess
-
player
who
has
made
a
good
move
.
I
remembered
a
joke
of
Demetriades
’
s
about
English
bottoms
;
and
the
Priapus
.
Perhaps
this
was
the
explanation
;
Conchis
was
simply
an
old
queer
.
"
I
don
’
t
think
I
will
.
"
"
As
you
please
.
"
We
moved
back
to
the
strip
of
shingle
and
sat
on
a
large
balk
of
timber
that
had
been
dragged
up
away
from
the
water
.
I
lit
a
cigarette
and
looked
at
him
;
tried
to
determine
him
.
I
was
in
something
not
unlike
a
mild
state
of
shock
.
It
was
not
only
the
fact
that
this
man
who
spoke
English
so
fluently
,
who
was
seemingly
cultured
,
cosmopolitan
,
had
come
to
"
my
"
desert
island
,
had
sprung
almost
overnight
from
the
barren
earth
,
like
some
weird
plant
.
It
was
not
even
that
his
manner
was
so
strange
.
But
I
knew
that
there
must
really
be
some
mystery
about
the
previous
year
,
some
deliberate
and
inexplicable
suppression
on
Mitford
’
s
part
.
Second
meanings
hung
in
the
air
;
ambiguities
,
unexpectednesses
.
"
How
did
you
first
come
to
this
place
,
Mr
.
Conchis
?
"
"
Will
you
forgive
me
if
I
ask
you
not
to
ask
me
questions
?
"
"
Of
course
.
"
"
Good
.
"
And
that
was
that
;
I
bit
my
lip
.
If
anyone
else
had
been
there
I
should
have
had
to
laugh
.
Shadows
began
to
fall
across
the
water
from
the
pines
on
the
bluff
to
our
right
,
and
there
was
peace
,
absolute
peace
over
the
world
,
the
insects
stilled
,
and
the
water
like
a
mirror
.
He
sat
in
silence
,
sitting
with
his
hands
on
his
knees
,
apparently
engaged
in
deep
-
breathing
exercises
.
Not
only
his
age
but
everything
about
him
was
difficult
to
tell
.
Outwardly
he
seemed
to
have
very
little
interest
in
me
,
yet
he
watched
me
;
even
when
he
was
looking
away
,
he
watched
me
;
and
he
waited
.
Right
from
the
beginning
I
had
this
:
he
was
indifferent
to
me
,
yet
he
watched
and
he
waited
.
So
we
sat
there
in
the
silence
as
if
we
knew
each
other
well
and
had
no
need
merely
to
talk
;
and
as
a
matter
of
fact
it
seemed
in
a
way
to
suit
the
stillness
of
the
day
.
It
was
an
unnatural
,
but
not
an
embarrassing
,
silence
.
Suddenly
he
moved
.
His
eyes
had
flicked
up
to
the
top
of
the
small
cliff
to
our
left
.
I
looked
around
.
There
was
nothing
.
I
glanced
back
at
him
.
"
Something
there
?
"
"
Nothing
.
"
Silence
.
I
watched
his
profiled
face
.
Was
he
mad
?
Was
he
making
fun
of
me
?
But
he
stared
expressionlessly
out
to
sea
.
I
tried
to
make
conversation
again
.
"
I
gather
you
’
ve
met
both
my
predecessors
.
"
His
head
turned
on
me
with
a
snakelike
swiftness
,
accusingly
,
but
he
said
nothing
.
I
prompted
.
"
Leverrier
?
"
"
Who
told
you
this
?
"
For
some
reason
he
was
terrified
about
what
we
might
have
said
of
him
behind
his
back
.
I
explained
about
the
sheet
of
notepaper
,
and
he
relaxed
a
little
.
"
He
was
not
happy
here
.
On
Phraxos
.
"
"
So
Mitford
told
me
.
"
"
Mitford
?
"
Again
the
accusing
stare
.
"
I
suppose
he
heard
gossip
at
the
school
.
"
He
searched
my
eyes
,
then
nodded
,
but
not
very
convincedly
.
I
smiled
at
him
,
and
he
gave
me
the
trace
of
a
wary
smile
back
.
We
were
playing
obscure
psychological
chess
again
.
I
apparently
had
the
advantage
,
but
I
didn
’
t
know
why
.
Unexpectedly
,
from
the
invisible
house
above
,
came
the
sound
of
the
bell
.
It
rang
twice
;
then
after
a
moment
,
three
times
;
then
twice
again
.
It
clearly
had
a
meaning
,
and
it
gave
a
voice
to
the
peculiar
state
of
tension
that
seemed
to
pervade
both
the
place
and
its
owner
,
and
which
clashed
so
oddly
with
the
enormous
peace
of
the
landscape
.
Conchis
stood
at
once
.
"
I
must
go
.
And
you
have
a
long
walk
.
"
We
set
off
back
up
the
cliff
hill
.
Halfway
up
,
where
the
steep
path
broadened
,
there
was
a
small
cast
-
iron
seat
.
Conchis
,
who
had
set
a
quickish
pace
,
sat
down
gratefully
on
it
.
He
was
breathing
hard
;
so
was
I
.
He
patted
his
heart
.
I
put
on
a
look
of
concern
,
but
he
shrugged
.
"
When
you
grow
old
.
The
annunciation
in
reverse
.
"
He
grimaced
.
"
Not
to
be
.
"
We
sat
in
silence
and
got
our
breaths
back
.
I
watched
the
yellowing
sky
through
the
delicate
fenestrations
in
the
pines
.
The
sky
in
the
west
was
hazy
.
A
few
evening
wisps
of
cloud
were
curled
high
,
tranced
over
the
stillness
of
the
world
.
Then
out
of
the
blue
he
said
quietly
,
"
Are
you
elect
?
"
"
Elect
?
"
"
Do
you
feel
chosen
by
anything
?
"
"
Chosen
?
"
"
John
Leverrier
felt
chosen
by
God
.
"
"
I
don
’
t
believe
in
God
.
And
I
certainly
don
’
t
feel
chosen
.
"
"
I
think
you
may
be
.
"
I
smiled
dubiously
.
"
Thank
you
.
"
"
It
is
not
meant
as
a
compliment
.
Hazard
makes
you
elect
.
You
cannot
elect
yourself
.
"
"
I
’
m
afraid
you
have
me
out
of
my
depth
.
"
He
put
his
hand
momentarily
on
my
shoulder
,
as
if
to
reassure
me
;
to
say
it
did
not
matter
.
Then
he
stood
and
climbed
the
rest
of
the
hill
.
At
last
we
were
on
the
gravel
by
the
side
colonnade
.
He
stopped
.
"
So
.
"
"
Thank
you
very
much
indeed
.
"
I
tried
to
get
him
to
return
my
smile
,
to
confess
that
he
had
been
pulling
my
leg
;
but
his
masklike
face
was
drained
of
humor
.
"
I
make
two
requests
of
you
.
One
is
that
you
tell
no
one
over
there
that
you
have
met
me
.
This
is
because
of
certain
events
that
happened
during
the
war
.
"
"
I
’
ve
heard
about
that
.
"
"
What
have
you
heard
?
"
"
The
story
.
"
"
There
are
many
versions
of
the
story
.
But
never
mind
now
.
For
them
I
am
a
recluse
.
No
one
ever
sees
me
.
You
understand
?
"
"
Of
course
.
I
shan
’
t
tell
anyone
.
"
I
knew
what
the
next
request
would
be
:
not
to
visit
him
again
.
"
My
second
request
is
that
you
come
here
next
weekend
.
And
stay
Saturday
and
Sunday
nights
.
That
is
,
if
you
do
not
mind
the
walking
back
early
on
Monday
morning
.
"
"
Thank
you
.
Thank
you
very
much
.
I
’
d
love
to
.
"
"
I
think
we
have
many
things
to
discover
.
"
"
’
We
shall
not
cease
from
exploration
’
?
"
"
You
read
that
in
the
book
on
the
beach
?
"
"
Didn
’
t
you
leave
it
for
me
to
read
?
"
He
looked
down
.
"
Well
.
Yes
.
It
was
left
.
And
you
read
it
.
"
"
I
had
a
feeling
someone
was
watching
me
.
It
was
you
?
"
His
dark
brown
eyes
burnt
up
into
mine
;
he
took
a
long
moment
to
reply
.
The
faintest
ghost
of
a
smile
.
"
Do
you
feel
that
you
are
being
watched
now
?
"
And
once
again
his
eyes
flicked
past
my
shoulders
,
as
if
he
could
see
something
some
way
inside
the
trees
.
I
looked
round
.
The
pines
were
empty
.
I
looked
back
at
him
;
a
joke
?
He
was
still
smiling
,
a
small
dry
smile
.
"
Am
I
?
"
"
I
merely
wondered
,
Mr
.
Urfe
.
"
He
held
out
his
hand
.
"
If
for
some
reason
you
cannot
come
,
leave
a
message
at
Sarantopoulos
’
s
for
Hermes
It
will
get
here
the
next
day
.
"
"
I
’
ve
enjoyed
meeting
you
very
much
.
"
"
Good
.
I
am
delighted
.
Till
Saturday
.
"
After
fifty
yards
I
turned
and
looked
back
.
He
was
still
standing
there
,
master
of
his
domaine
.
I
waved
and
he
raised
both
his
arms
in
an
outlandish
hieratic
gesture
,
one
foot
slightly
advanced
,
as
if
in
some
kind
of
primitive
blessing
.
When
I
looked
back
again
,
just
before
the
trees
hid
the
house
,
he
had
disappeared
.
Whatever
else
he
was
he
was
not
like
anyone
else
I
had
ever
met
.
Something
more
than
mere
loneliness
,
mere
senile
fantasies
and
quirks
,
burnt
in
his
striking
eyes
,
in
that
abrupt
,
probing
then
dropping
conversation
,
in
those
sudden
oblique
looks
at
nothing
.
But
I
certainly
didn
’
t
think
,
as
I
went
into
the
trees
,
that
I
should
have
the
apparent
answer
within
another
hundred
yards
.
