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I
looked
at
my
watch
.
Nearly
half
an
hour
had
passed
.
I
could
not
sleep
.
After
some
hesitation
,
I
crept
downstairs
and
out
through
the
music
room
under
the
colonnade
.
There
I
made
my
way
round
the
gravel
along
the
route
that
Lily
must
have
taken
.
I
walked
a
little
way
into
the
trees
in
the
direction
the
two
had
disappeared
;
then
turned
back
and
went
down
to
the
beach
.
The
sea
lapped
slowly
,
dragging
down
a
few
small
pebbles
now
and
again
,
making
them
rattle
drily
,
though
there
was
no
wind
,
no
air
.
The
cliffs
and
trees
and
the
little
boat
lay
drenched
in
starlight
,
in
a
million
indecipherable
thoughts
from
other
worlds
.
The
mysterious
southern
sea
,
luminous
,
waited
;
alive
yet
empty
.
I
smoked
a
cigarette
,
and
then
climbed
back
to
the
fraught
house
and
my
bedroom
.
I
had
my
breakfast
alone
again
.
It
was
a
day
of
wind
,
the
sky
as
blue
as
ever
,
but
the
breeze
tore
boisterously
off
the
sea
,
typhooning
the
fronds
of
the
two
palms
that
stood
like
sentinels
in
front
of
the
house
.
Further
south
,
off
Cape
Matapan
,
the
meltemi
,
the
tough
summer
gale
from
the
Ionian
islands
,
was
blowing
.
I
went
down
to
the
beach
.
The
boat
was
not
there
.
It
confirmed
my
half
-
formed
theory
about
the
"
visitors
"
—
that
they
were
on
a
yacht
in
one
of
the
many
deserted
coves
round
the
west
and
south
sides
of
the
island
,
or
anchored
among
the
group
of
deserted
islets
some
five
miles
to
the
east
.
I
swam
out
some
way
to
see
if
Conchis
was
visible
on
the
terrace
.
But
it
was
empty
.
I
lay
on
my
back
and
floated
for
a
while
,
feeling
the
cool
chop
of
the
waves
over
my
sunwarmed
face
,
thinking
of
Lily
.
Then
I
looked
toward
the
beach
.
She
was
standing
on
it
,
a
brilliant
figure
on
the
salt
-
gray
shingle
,
with
the
ochre
of
the
cliff
and
the
green
plants
behind
her
.
I
began
to
swim
towards
the
shore
,
as
fast
as
I
could
.
She
moved
a
few
steps
along
the
stones
and
then
stopped
and
watched
me
.
At
last
I
stood
up
,
dripping
,
panting
,
and
looked
at
her
.
She
was
about
ten
yards
away
,
in
an
exquisitely
pretty
First
World
War
summer
dress
.
It
was
striped
mussel
-
blue
,
white
and
pink
,
and
she
carried
a
fringed
sunshade
of
the
same
cloth
.
She
wore
the
sea
wind
like
a
jewel
.
It
caught
her
dress
,
moulded
it
against
her
body
.
Every
so
often
she
had
a
little
struggle
with
the
sunshade
.
And
all
the
time
fingers
of
wind
teased
and
skeined
her
long
,
silky
-
blond
hair
around
her
neck
or
across
her
mouth
.
She
showed
a
little
moue
,
half
mocking
herself
,
half
mocking
me
as
I
stood
knee
-
deep
in
the
water
.
I
don
’
t
know
why
silence
descended
on
us
,
why
we
were
locked
for
a
strange
few
moments
in
a
more
serious
look
.
It
must
have
been
transparently
excited
on
my
side
.
She
looked
so
young
,
so
timidly
naughty
.
She
gave
an
embarrassed
yet
mischievous
smile
,
as
if
she
should
not
have
been
there
,
had
risked
impropriety
.
"
Has
Neptune
cut
your
tongue
off
?
"
"
You
look
so
ravishing
.
Like
a
Renoir
.
"
She
moved
a
little
further
away
,
and
twirled
her
ombrelle
.
I
slipped
into
my
beachshoes
and
,
toweling
my
back
,
caught
her
up
.
"
I
prefer
you
without
the
silver
bow
.
"
She
raised
a
finger
to
her
lips
,
banning
the
subject
,
then
smiled
with
a
sort
of
innocent
sideways
slyness
;
she
had
a
remarkable
gift
for
creating
and
diminishing
distance
by
an
intonation
,
a
look
.
She
sat
down
on
a
low
projecting
piece
of
rock
that
was
overshaded
by
a
pine
tree
,
where
the
precipitous
gulley
ran
down
to
the
shingle
;
then
closed
her
sunshade
and
pointed
with
it
to
a
stone
beside
her
,
a
little
away
from
her
,
in
the
sun
,
where
I
was
to
sit
.
But
I
spread
my
towel
on
the
rock
and
sat
beside
her
in
the
shade
.
I
thought
how
ridiculous
it
really
was
to
pretend
that
she
was
in
some
way
"
psychic
"
;
the
moist
mouth
,
the
down
on
her
bare
forearms
,
a
scar
above
her
left
wrist
,
her
slim
neck
,
her
loose
hair
,
an
animated
glance
she
turned
to
give
me
.
"
You
’
re
the
most
deliciously
pretty
girl
I
’
ve
ever
seen
.
"
"
Am
I
?
"
I
had
meant
it
;
and
I
had
also
meant
to
embarrass
her
,
But
she
simply
widened
her
smile
and
stared
back
at
me
,
and
I
was
the
one
who
eventually
looked
down
.
"
Do
we
still
have
to
…
keep
to
the
rules
?
"
"
If
you
want
me
to
sit
with
you
.
"
"
Who
’
s
the
other
girl
?
"
"
What
other
girl
?
"
Her
innocence
was
charming
;
no
natural
and
so
false
;
an
irresistible
invitation
to
take
nothing
seriously
.
"
When
am
I
going
to
meet
your
brother
?
"
Her
prettily
lashed
eyes
flickered
modestly
down
and
sideways
.
I
hope
you
did
not
venture
to
think
he
was
really
my
brother
?
"
"
I
ventured
to
think
all
sorts
of
things
.
"
She
sought
my
meaning
,
for
a
moment
held
my
eyes
,
then
bit
her
lips
.
For
no
reason
at
all
I
began
to
feel
less
jealous
.
"
Wouldn
’
t
you
like
to
bathe
?
"
"
No
.
I
cannot
swim
.
"
"
I
could
teach
you
.
It
’
s
very
easy
.
"
"
Thank
you
.
I
do
not
like
sea
water
.
"
Silence
.
She
shifted
a
pebble
with
her
shoe
.
It
was
a
pretty
buttoned
shoe
of
gray
kid
over
a
white
silk
stocking
,
but
very
old
-
fashioned
.
The
hem
of
her
dress
came
within
three
of
four
inches
of
her
ankles
.
Her
hair
blew
forward
,
clouding
her
face
a
little
.
I
wanted
to
brush
it
back
.
"
You
speak
like
a
Scandinavian
sometimes
.
"
"
Yes
?
"
"
’
I
cannot
swim
.
’
’
I
do
not
like
.
’
"
"
What
should
I
say
?
"
"
I
can
’
t
swim
.
I
don
’
t
like
.
"
She
made
a
little
pout
,
then
put
on
a
very
creditable
foreign
accent
.
"
Does
it
mattair
eef
I
am
not
Eenglish
?
"
Then
she
smiled
like
the
Cheshire
Cat
;
disappearing
behind
her
humor
.
"
Does
it
matter
if
you
tell
me
who
you
really
are
?
"
"
Give
me
your
hand
.
I
will
read
your
fortune
.
You
may
sit
a
little
closer
,
but
you
must
not
wet
my
dress
.
"
I
gave
her
my
hand
.
She
held
it
tightly
by
the
wrist
and
traced
the
palmistry
lines
with
the
forefinger
of
her
free
hand
.
I
was
able
to
see
the
shape
of
her
breasts
at
the
bottom
of
the
opening
in
her
dress
,
very
pale
skin
,
the
highly
caressable
beginning
of
soft
curves
.
It
was
strange
;
she
managed
to
suggest
that
this
hackneyed
sexgambit
—
one
I
had
used
myself
on
occasion
—
was
rather
daring
,
mama
-
defying
.
Her
fingertip
ran
innocently
yet
suggestively
over
my
palm
.
She
began
to
"
read
.
"
"
You
will
have
a
long
life
.
You
will
have
three
children
.
At
about
forty
years
old
you
will
nearly
die
.
You
are
quite
sensitive
,
but
you
are
also
very
treacherous
.
There
are
…
there
are
many
treacheries
in
your
life
.
Sometimes
you
betray
yourself
.
Sometimes
you
betray
those
who
love
you
.
"
"
Why
do
I
betray
?
"
She
looked
seriously
up
at
me
.
"
The
palm
says
what
is
.
Not
why
it
is
.
"
"
Can
I
read
yours
?
"
"
I
have
not
finished
.
You
will
never
be
rich
.
Beware
of
horses
,
strong
drink
and
old
women
.
You
will
make
love
to
many
girls
,
but
you
will
love
only
one
,
and
you
will
marry
her
and
be
very
happy
.
"
"
In
spite
of
nearly
dying
at
forty
.
"
"
Because
you
nearly
die
at
forty
.
Here
is
where
you
nearly
die
.
The
happiness
line
is
very
,
very
strong
after
that
.
"
She
let
go
of
my
hand
.
"
Now
can
I
read
yours
?
"
She
hesitated
a
moment
,
then
put
her
small
hand
in
mine
,
and
I
pretended
to
read
it
.
I
tried
to
read
it
quite
seriously
in
one
way
—
the
Sherlock
Holmes
way
.
But
even
that
great
master
at
detecting
in
a
second
Irish
maidservants
from
Brixton
with
a
mania
for
boating
and
bullseyes
would
have
been
baffled
.
However
,
Lily
’
s
hands
were
very
white
,
very
smooth
,
very
unblemished
;
whatever
else
she
was
she
was
not
a
maidservant
from
anywhere
.
"
You
are
taking
a
long
time
,
Mr
.
Urfe
.
"
"
My
name
is
Nicholas
.
"
"
May
I
call
you
Nicholas
?
"
"
If
I
may
call
you
…
?
"
"
You
may
call
me
Lily
,
Nicholas
.
But
you
may
not
sit
for
hours
pretending
to
read
my
hand
.
"
"
It
’
s
a
very
difficult
hand
to
read
.
Very
obscure
.
I
can
only
see
one
thing
clearly
.
"
"
And
what
is
that
?
"
"
It
’
s
extremely
nice
to
look
at
and
to
hold
.
"
She
snatched
it
away
.
"
There
.
You
prove
what
I
said
.
You
are
treacherous
.
"
"
Let
me
have
it
back
.
I
’
ll
be
serious
.
"
But
she
shook
her
head
,
and
put
both
her
hands
behind
her
,
and
turned
,
and
looked
at
me
with
a
perfectly
done
pert
Edwardian
rebelliousness
.
A
wisp
of
hair
blew
across
her
face
;
the
wind
kindled
in
her
clothes
a
wantonness
,
bared
her
throat
,
so
that
she
suddenly
looked
very
young
,
absurdly
young
,
seventeen
;
a
world
away
from
an
avenging
goddess
.
I
remembered
what
Conchis
had
said
about
the
original
Lily
’
s
gentleness
and
mischievousness
,
and
I
thought
how
wonderfully
well
he
had
cast
this
Lily
—
there
was
,
it
seemed
to
me
,
a
natural
teasing
obliquity
in
her
that
couldn
’
t
be
acted
.
Not
when
she
was
so
close
,
in
daylight
;
she
seemed
far
less
sophisticated
than
she
had
on
the
terrace
the
night
before
.
All
the
condescension
had
disappeared
.
Impulsively
she
thrust
her
hand
back
out
at
me
.
I
began
to
read
it
.
"
I
see
all
the
usual
things
.
Long
life
.
Happiness
.
Children
.
And
then
…
intelligence
.
A
lot
of
intelligence
.
Some
heart
.
And
yes
—
great
acting
ability
,
combined
with
a
strong
sense
of
humor
.
And
this
line
means
that
you
love
mystery
.
But
I
think
the
acting
’
s
strongest
.
"
A
little
white
cloud
floated
across
the
sun
,
casting
shadow
over
the
beach
.
She
took
her
hand
away
,
and
stared
down
at
it
in
her
lap
.
"
And
death
?
"
"
I
said
.
A
long
life
.
"
"
But
I
am
dead
.
One
cannot
die
twice
.
"
I
touched
her
arm
.
"
You
’
re
the
most
living
dead
person
I
’
ve
ever
met
.
"
She
did
not
smile
;
there
was
swiftly
,
too
swiftly
,
something
very
cold
and
gray
in
her
eyes
,
a
silent
trouble
.
"
Oh
come
on
.
There
is
a
limit
.
"
"
Death
is
the
limit
.
"
I
knew
she
must
be
improvising
her
moods
and
dialogue
with
me
.
The
cloud
had
come
;
she
had
brought
in
death
.
It
was
time
to
call
her
bluff
.
"
Look
—
"
"
You
still
do
not
understand
.
"
"
Of
course
I
’
ll
keep
up
the
pretense
in
front
of
Maurice
.
"
"
We
are
in
front
of
Maurice
.
"
I
thought
for
one
mad
moment
that
he
had
crept
up
behind
us
.
I
even
looked
round
.
There
was
no
one
;
and
no
place
where
anyone
could
have
hidden
and
overheard
us
.
"
Lily
—
I
admire
him
.
I
like
him
.
I
like
this
extraordinary
masque
of
his
.
Very
much
.
And
I
admire
you
for
being
so
…
faithful
?
But
—
"
She
said
abruptly
,
"
I
have
no
choice
.
"
This
was
a
new
tack
.
I
thought
I
heard
a
faint
note
of
regret
.
That
he
insisted
on
her
keeping
up
the
pretense
at
all
times
?
On
pain
of
dismissal
,
perhaps
?
"
Meaning
?
"
"
Everything
you
say
to
me
and
I
say
to
you
,
he
hears
,
he
knows
.
"
"
You
have
to
tell
him
?
"
I
sounded
incredulous
.
She
nodded
,
then
stared
out
to
sea
and
I
knew
that
she
was
not
unmasking
at
all
.
I
began
to
feel
exasperated
;
foiled
.
"
Are
we
talking
about
telepathy
?
"
"
Telepathy
and
—
"
She
broke
off
the
sentence
,
and
she
shook
her
head
.
"
And
?
"
"
I
cannot
say
any
more
.
"
She
opened
out
her
sunshade
,
as
if
she
was
thinking
of
going
away
.
It
had
little
black
tassels
that
hung
from
the
ends
of
the
ribs
.
"
Why
not
?
"
"
Maurice
would
be
angry
.
He
would
know
.
"
I
gave
an
unbelieving
sniff
.
I
thought
,
then
said
,
"
Are
you
his
mistress
?
"
She
looked
very
genuinely
shocked
.
"
That
is
very
impertinent
.
Very
rude
.
"
She
turned
her
back
on
me
and
I
grinned
—
at
her
skill
,
and
remembering
that
naked
"
brother
,
"
at
her
nerve
.
"
I
just
want
to
know
where
I
am
.
"
"
That
was
…
"
she
dropped
her
voice
and
the
wind
almost
carried
the
words
away
…
"
completely
uncalled
-
for
and
most
disgusting
.
"
Suddenly
she
stood
up
and
began
to
walk
quickly
away
over
the
shingle
,
towards
the
path
that
led
up
to
the
house
.
I
ran
after
her
and
blocked
her
way
.
The
sun
had
come
out
again
.
She
stopped
,
her
eyes
down
,
then
she
looked
up
at
me
,
hotly
,
apparently
very
near
anger
.
I
said
,
"
I
am
not
disgusting
.
"
She
burst
out
.
"
Why
must
you
always
know
where
you
are
?
Why
have
you
no
imagination
,
no
humor
,
no
patience
?
You
are
like
a
child
who
tears
a
beautiful
toy
to
pieces
to
see
how
it
is
made
.
You
have
no
imagination
…
no
poetry
.
"
Her
eyes
stared
at
me
intensely
,
as
if
she
was
going
to
cry
.
"
That
is
why
you
are
so
treacherous
.
"
I
spread
the
towel
out
before
her
feet
,
and
knelt
on
it
.
Then
looked
up
at
her
.
"
I
beg
forgiveness
.
"
"
You
make
me
angry
.
I
want
to
be
your
friend
and
you
make
it
so
difficult
.
"
She
half
turned
away
.
But
her
voice
was
softer
.
"
Difficult
to
be
friends
if
I
can
’
t
really
know
who
you
are
.
"
I
sat
back
on
my
haunches
.
With
a
swift
change
of
mood
she
lowered
her
shade
and
tapped
me
lightly
on
the
shoulder
with
it
.
"
I
deserve
a
knighthood
now
?
"
"
You
deserve
nothing
now
.
"
She
turned
completely
,
as
if
she
wanted
to
laugh
;
as
if
the
effort
of
playing
this
"
serious
"
exchange
had
exhausted
her
gravity
.
She
ran
,
little
stumbling
steps
,
her
skirt
lifted
with
one
hand
,
towards
the
jetty
.
I
got
up
and
lit
a
cigarette
,
and
then
went
to
where
she
was
strolling
up
and
down
.
There
was
more
wind
on
the
jetty
,
and
she
kept
on
having
trouble
with
her
hair
;
charming
trouble
.
The
ends
of
it
floated
up
in
the
sunshine
,
silky
wings
of
living
light
.
In
the
end
I
held
her
closed
sunshade
for
her
,
and
she
tried
to
hold
her
hair
still
.
Her
mood
had
veered
abruptly
again
.
She
kept
on
laughing
,
fine
white
teeth
catching
the
sunlight
,
hopping
,
swaying
back
when
a
wave
hit
the
jetty
end
and
sent
up
a
little
spray
.
Though
once
or
twice
she
caught
my
arm
,
there
was
no
physical
coquettishness
about
her
.
She
seemed
absorbed
in
her
game
with
the
wind
and
the
sea
.
A
pretty
,
rather
skittish
schoolgirl
in
a
gay
striped
dress
.
I
stole
looks
at
the
sunshade
.
It
was
newly
made
.
I
supposed
a
ghost
from
1915
would
have
been
carrying
a
new
sunshade
;
but
somehow
I
believed
it
would
have
been
more
authentic
,
though
supernaturally
less
logical
,
if
it
had
been
old
and
faded
.
Then
the
bell
rang
,
from
the
house
.
It
was
that
same
ring
I
had
heard
the
weekend
before
,
in
the
rhythm
of
my
own
name
.
Lily
stood
still
,
and
listened
.
Wind
-
distorted
,
the
bell
rang
again
.
"
Nich
-
o
-
las
.
"
She
looked
mock
-
grave
.
"
It
tolls
for
thee
.
"
I
looked
up
through
the
trees
.
"
I
can
’
t
think
why
.
"
"
You
must
go
.
"
"
Will
you
come
with
me
?
"
"
I
must
wait
.
"
The
bell
rang
again
.
"
You
must
go
.
"
I
stood
undecided
.
"
Why
must
you
wait
?
"
"
Because
it
did
not
toll
for
me
.
"
"
I
think
we
ought
to
show
that
we
’
re
friends
again
.
"
She
was
standing
close
to
me
,
holding
her
hair
from
blowing
across
her
face
.
She
gave
me
a
severe
look
.
"
Mr
.
Urfe
!
"
She
said
it
exactly
as
she
had
the
night
before
.
The
same
chilly
over
-
precise
pronunciation
.
"
Are
you
asking
me
to
commit
osculation
?
"
And
it
was
perfect
;
a
mischievous
girl
of
1915
poking
fun
at
a
feeble
Victorian
joke
;
a
lovely
double
remove
;
the
linguistic
-
dramatic
equivalent
of
some
complicated
ballet
-
movement
;
and
she
looked
absurd
and
lovely
as
she
did
it
.
She
pushed
her
cheek
forward
,
and
I
hardly
had
time
to
touch
it
with
my
lips
before
she
had
skipped
back
.
I
stood
and
watched
her
bent
head
.
"
I
’
ll
be
as
quick
as
I
can
.
"
I
handed
her
back
her
sunshade
;
gave
her
what
I
trusted
was
both
a
hopelessly
attracted
and
a
totally
unduped
look
.
Turning
every
so
often
,
I
climbed
up
the
path
.
Twice
she
waved
from
the
jetty
.
I
came
over
the
steep
rise
and
started
through
the
last
of
the
thirmed
trees
towards
the
house
.
I
could
see
Maria
standing
by
the
music
-
room
door
,
at
the
bell
.
