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"
You
haven
’
t
told
me
where
you
live
here
.
"
She
turned
on
the
rug
and
knelt
.
"
Nicholas
,
now
you
know
our
side
—
do
you
want
to
go
on
?
Do
you
think
we
ought
to
go
on
?
"
Her
eyes
searched
mine
,
looking
for
a
decision
.
"
What
do
you
feel
?
"
"
I
feel
braver
now
.
"
"
We
could
go
on
just
for
a
bit
.
Wait
and
see
.
"
She
leant
schoolgirlishly
forward
on
her
hands
for
a
moment
.
"
If
we
do
I
don
’
t
want
to
tell
you
where
we
disappear
to
.
"
"
Why
?
"
"
In
case
you
gave
it
away
.
"
"
I
wouldn
’
t
.
"
"
Please
.
Nothing
else
.
Just
that
.
"
She
sat
back
on
her
heels
.
"
But
supposing
you
were
—
"
"
It
’
s
not
as
if
we
were
prisoners
.
If
we
had
to
run
,
we
could
.
One
of
us
could
.
"
I
watched
her
eyes
.
"
As
you
’
re
not
in
fact
emotionally
involved
,
I
suppose
it
doesn
’
t
really
matter
.
"
I
lay
back
on
my
elbow
and
still
kneeling
,
she
looked
down
at
me
;
then
gave
a
little
smile
.
"
Fronti
nulla
fides
.
"
"
Gloss
,
please
.
"
"
It
hasn
’
t
been
the
hardest
role
to
play
.
"
I
began
to
think
that
the
real
girl
she
was
excited
me
far
more
than
her
Lily
self
;
was
more
tangible
,
and
yet
also
retained
more
than
a
little
of
the
part
she
had
played
.
The
shape
of
her
breasts
,
her
stockiriged
feet
;
a
girl
too
intelligent
to
abuse
her
prettiness
;
and
then
too
intelligent
again
not
to
admit
it
.
"
How
did
you
get
your
scar
?
"
She
raised
her
left
hand
and
looked
at
it
.
’
When
I
was
ten
.
Playing
hide
-
and
-
seek
.
"
Her
eyes
glanced
from
it
at
me
.
"
I
should
have
learnt
my
lesson
.
I
was
in
a
garden
shed
,
and
I
knocked
this
long
—
what
looked
like
a
stick
off
a
peg
and
put
up
my
arm
to
shield
myself
.
"
She
mimed
it
.
"
It
was
a
scythe
.
I
’
m
lucky
not
to
be
one
-
handed
.
"
I
took
the
wrist
and
kissed
it
.
There
was
a
silence
between
us
;
an
infinitesimal
pulling
of
the
hand
on
my
part
,
a
resistance
from
hers
.
I
let
her
have
it
back
.
She
said
,
’
What
’
s
the
time
?
"
"
Just
before
one
.
"
"
I
’
ve
got
to
leave
you
for
an
hour
.
I
’
ll
come
back
.
"
"
Why
?
"
"
The
script
.
"
"
Where
are
you
going
?
"
"
To
the
place
.
"
"
But
Maurice
has
gone
to
Geneva
.
"
She
shook
her
head
.
"
He
’
s
waiting
.
I
always
have
to
tell
him
everything
.
"
"
Have
to
?
"
She
smiled
,
remembering
that
old
dialogue
.
"
Supposed
to
.
"
She
reached
out
her
hands
and
I
stood
.
"
I
’
ll
be
back
soon
after
two
.
"
"
Promise
?
"
Her
eyes
said
yes
.
"
Did
you
like
the
poems
I
picked
for
you
?
"
"
That
was
you
?
"
"
Maurice
’
s
idea
.
My
choice
.
"
"
’
Where
love
was
innocent
,
being
far
from
cities
.
’
"
She
looked
down
,
then
up
,
and
then
down
again
.
I
still
had
hold
of
her
hands
.
She
murmured
,
"
Please
.
"
"
As
long
as
you
know
how
much
I
want
to
.
"
She
stared
into
my
eyes
for
a
moment
,
a
look
that
was
almost
like
the
kiss
she
would
not
suffer
,
and
that
also
managed
to
convey
the
reason
she
would
not
—
a
refusal
to
give
anything
until
a
fuller
trust
lay
between
us
—
and
then
almost
roughly
she
pulled
away
,
picked
up
her
raffia
bag
,
and
was
gone
.
She
walked
a
few
steps
,
then
raising
her
skirt
began
to
run
;
after
a
few
yards
,
broke
into
a
fast
walk
again
.
She
went
up
the
hill
,
towards
the
carob
.
I
moved
up
the
slope
a
little
,
to
keep
her
in
sight
.
Almost
at
once
something
in
the
heavy
shade
under
the
carob
moved
;
as
if
a
piece
of
the
black
trunk
had
detached
itself
.
It
was
the
Negro
,
Joe
He
was
in
the
same
clothes
I
had
seen
the
night
before
;
in
black
from
head
to
foot
,
the
hideously
sinister
mask
.
He
came
lithely
and
stood
in
the
sunlight
at
the
edge
of
the
carob
,
his
arms
folded
,
forbidding
the
way
.
I
stared
at
him
through
the
trees
,
then
went
back
to
where
the
rug
was
.
I
let
a
minute
pass
,
jotting
down
the
addresses
she
had
shown
me
.
The
Negro
had
gone
from
the
carob
.
But
when
I
reached
the
statue
I
saw
him
standing
beyond
it
among
the
trees
,
still
watching
to
make
sure
that
I
returned
to
the
house
.
It
seemed
clear
that
that
was
the
real
direction
in
which
they
had
to
go
to
reach
their
hiding
place
;
and
that
it
must
be
to
the
east
,
beyond
the
cottages
.
With
a
sarcastic
wave
I
turned
to
the
left
over
the
gulley
;
and
soon
I
was
sitting
down
under
the
colonnade
.
I
had
a
quick
,
abstemious
lunch
,
pouring
the
retsina
into
a
pot
with
a
tired
-
looking
pelargonium
in
it
;
went
upstairs
,
put
my
things
in
the
dufflebag
and
brought
it
down
.
The
beady
-
eyed
Modigliani
stared
;
but
I
went
to
the
curiosa
cabinet
and
examined
Lily
’
s
photo
,
held
it
to
the
light
,
and
now
I
looked
at
it
very
closely
again
I
thought
I
could
see
that
it
had
been
faked
—
some
subtly
smudged
outlines
,
an
overdarkening
of
the
shadows
.
I
came
to
the
statue
.
Once
again
the
wretched
Negro
stood
in
my
path
.
This
time
he
was
on
the
other
side
of
the
gulley
,
maskless
,
and
when
I
came
to
the
edge
of
it
,
on
the
house
side
,
he
waved
his
hand
forbiddingly
backwards
and
forwards
a
couple
of
times
.
He
was
some
twenty
yards
away
,
and
for
the
first
time
I
realized
he
had
a
small
moustache
;
and
that
he
was
younger
and
less
brutish
than
I
had
thought
before
.
I
stood
staring
sulkily
at
him
,
the
dufflebag
hanging
by
my
side
.
He
put
up
both
hands
,
fingers
outstretched
.
I
gave
him
the
coldest
look
I
could
,
then
shrugged
and
sat
down
against
a
tree
,
where
I
could
watch
him
.
He
folded
his
arms
again
over
his
chest
as
if
he
really
were
a
scimitared
janissary
at
the
gates
of
the
imperial
harem
;
slapped
the
side
of
his
face
when
a
fly
landed
on
it
.
Occasionally
he
looked
at
me
,
expressionlessly
,
but
most
of
the
time
he
watched
down
the
hill
.
Suddenly
there
was
a
whistle
,
a
blown
whistle
,
from
the
direction
of
the
cliffs
.
The
Negro
waited
a
minute
more
,
then
walked
away
up
past
the
statue
and
out
of
sight
.
I
crossed
the
gulley
and
went
fast
down
the
hill
to
the
place
where
we
had
sat
.
I
had
been
reduced
to
the
state
when
it
was
no
longer
a
question
of
whether
any
story
at
Bourani
could
be
absolutely
believed
,
but
of
whether
it
could
be
absolutely
disbelieved
.
I
knew
I
wanted
this
one
to
be
true
,
and
that
was
dangerous
.
I
still
had
some
questions
,
and
I
was
going
to
still
watch
her
like
a
lynx
.
But
my
instinct
told
me
I
was
a
lynx
moving
into
a
landscape
where
the
mists
were
rapidly
thinning
.
Finding
her
at
the
rug
again
seemed
a
test
of
her
truth
.
I
came
over
the
small
rise
,
and
there
she
was
.
She
made
a
little
concealed
praying
movement
,
gladness
that
I
had
come
.
She
hadn
’
t
changed
her
clothes
,
but
her
hair
was
tied
loosely
back
at
the
nape
with
a
blue
ribbon
.
"
What
was
the
whistle
?
"
She
whispered
.
"
Maurice
.
He
is
here
.
He
’
s
gone
now
.
"
She
jumped
up
.
"
Come
and
look
.
"
She
led
me
through
the
trees
to
the
clifftop
.
I
thought
for
a
mad
moment
that
she
was
going
to
show
me
Conchis
’
s
retreating
back
.
But
she
stopped
under
the
branches
of
the
last
pine
and
pointed
.
Right
in
the
south
,
almost
hull
down
,
a
line
of
ships
steamed
east
across
the
Aegean
between
Malea
and
Skyli
:
a
carrier
,
a
cruiser
,
four
destroyers
,
another
ship
,
intent
on
some
new
Troy
.
I
glanced
down
at
her
long
pink
skirt
,
her
ridiculously
oldfashioned
shoes
,
and
then
back
at
those
pale
gray
shapes
on
the
world
’
s
blue
rim
.
Thousands
of
gum
-
chewing
,
contraceptive
-
carrying
men
,
more
thirty
or
forty
years
away
than
thirty
or
forty
miles
,
as
if
we
were
looking
into
the
future
,
not
into
the
south
.
She
said
,
"
Our
being
here
.
Their
being
there
.
"
I
looked
again
at
her
profile
;
then
to
the
distant
fleet
,
and
weighed
them
in
the
balance
;
made
her
the
victress
.
"
Tell
me
what
’
s
happened
.
"
We
walked
back
through
the
trees
.
"
I
’
ve
told
him
that
you
’
re
almost
convinced
now
that
I
am
in
some
way
in
his
sinister
power
…
that
you
don
’
t
really
know
whether
it
’
s
hypnosis
or
schizophrenia
or
what
.
And
that
you
’
re
falling
in
love
with
me
.
All
according
to
the
script
.
"
"
What
did
he
say
?
"
She
sat
down
on
the
rug
and
looked
up
.
"
He
wants
us
to
meet
during
the
week
.
Secretly
.
As
if
secretly
.
"
But
she
seemed
worried
.
"
The
only
thing
is
—
he
assured
me
that
it
was
the
last
time
I
’
d
have
to
play
a
’
love
’
scene
with
you
.
"
A
moment
of
silence
.
"
The
end
of
act
one
.
His
words
.
"
"
And
act
two
?
"
"
I
think
next
weekend
he
will
want
me
to
turn
against
you
.
"
"
This
meeting
?
"
"
He
told
me
to
try
Wednesday
.
Do
you
know
Moutsa
?
The
little
chapel
?
"
"
What
time
?
"
"
Dusk
.
Half
-
past
eight
?
"
I
nodded
.
She
turned
,
a
sudden
vivacity
.
"
I
forgot
to
tell
you
.
I
think
there
’
s
someone
at
your
school
who
spies
on
you
for
Maurice
.
Another
master
?
"
"
Oh
?
"
"
Maurice
told
us
one
day
you
were
very
standoffish
with
the
other
masters
.
That
they
didn
’
t
like
you
.
"
I
thought
at
once
of
Demetriades
;
of
how
,
when
I
reflected
,
it
was
peculiar
that
such
a
gossip
should
have
kept
my
trips
to
Bourani
so
secret
.
Besides
,
I
was
standoffish
,
and
he
was
the
only
other
master
I
was
ever
frequently
with
,
or
spoke
to
.
I
began
my
supplementary
cross
-
examination
.
What
did
the
sisters
do
during
the
week
?
They
went
to
Athens
or
to
Nauplia
,
to
the
yacht
.
Maurice
]
eft
them
very
much
to
their
own
devices
.
What
about
Foulkes
and
the
girl
?
But
I
found
that
she
knew
nothing
about
them
,
though
she
had
guessed
from
my
face
that
evening
that
I
had
seen
de
Deukans
.
I
asked
what
would
have
happened
if
I
had
gone
into
the
music
room
that
first
Sunday
.
They
had
expected
I
would
;
she
had
had
all
her
speeches
,
variations
of
those
she
had
used
the
next
weekend
,
ready
.
Where
had
June
worked
in
England
?
At
a
publisher
’
s
.
Had
they
discovered
anything
from
"
Apollo
"
and
the
other
actor
?
Only
that
"
they
must
not
be
frightened
"
—
the
man
had
left
her
as
soon
as
they
entered
the
trees
.
Who
had
held
the
torches
?
She
thought
Maria
and
Hermes
.
Maria
?
As
ungiving
as
a
stone
.
What
did
she
think
of
the
story
of
Conchis
’
s
life
?
Like
me
,
she
could
only
half
believe
it
.
What
did
her
mother
think
?
They
’
d
told
her
they
were
still
rehearsing
…
"
she
’
d
only
get
into
a
useless
tizzy
.
"
How
long
did
the
contracts
last
?
Till
the
end
of
October
.
I
suddenly
saw
a
new
possibility
—
that
when
term
ended
Conchis
might
invite
me
to
spend
my
holidays
at
Bourani
,
a
limitless
black
and
gold
stretch
of
masque
.
"
Mitford
.
You
know
he
’
s
a
mess
,
you
said
so
.
But
you
never
met
him
.
"
"
Maurice
.
He
described
him
to
us
.
"
All
through
the
questions
she
kept
her
eyes
solemnly
on
mine
.
"
And
what
happened
last
year
?
"
"
No
.
Except
that
it
was
a
failure
of
some
kind
.
"
I
produced
my
last
and
key
question
.
"
That
theatre
at
Canonbury
.
"
"
The
Tower
?
"
"
Yes
.
Isn
’
t
there
a
little
pub
round
the
corner
where
people
go
afterwards
?
I
’
ve
forgotten
its
name
.
"
I
had
;
but
I
knew
if
she
told
it
to
me
,
I
would
remember
.
"
The
Beggar
’
s
Broom
?
"
She
seemed
delighted
.
"
Do
you
know
it
?
"
I
thought
of
a
warm
-
armed
Danish
girl
called
Kirsten
;
a
brown
bar
with
people
’
s
signatures
scrawled
on
the
ceiling
.
"
Not
really
.
But
I
’
m
so
glad
you
do
.
"
Our
eyes
met
,
amused
and
relieved
that
the
test
was
passed
.
"
You
were
beginning
to
frighten
me
as
much
as
Maurice
.
"
I
lay
back
.
The
hot
wind
fretted
the
branches
.
"
Don
’
t
you
want
to
frighten
me
now
?
"
She
shook
her
head
;
lay
back
as
well
,
and
we
stared
up
at
the
sky
through
a
long
silence
.
Then
she
said
,
"
Tell
me
about
Nicholas
.
"
So
we
talked
about
Nicholas
:
his
family
,
his
ambitions
and
his
failings
.
The
third
person
was
right
,
because
I
presented
a
sort
of
ideal
self
to
her
,
a
victim
of
circumstances
,
a
mixture
of
attractive
raffishness
and
essential
inner
decency
.
I
wanted
to
kill
Alison
off
in
her
mind
,
and
confessed
to
a
"
rather
messy
affaire
"
that
had
made
me
leave
England
.
"
The
girl
you
were
going
to
meet
?
"
"
It
was
cowardice
.
You
know
,
letters
…
being
lonely
here
.
I
told
you
.
I
ought
never
to
have
let
it
drag
on
so
long
.
It
could
never
have
come
to
anything
.
"
I
gave
her
an
edited
version
of
the
relationship
;
one
in
which
Alison
got
less
than
her
due
and
I
got
a
good
deal
more
;
but
in
which
the
main
blame
was
put
on
hazard
,
on
fate
,
on
elective
affinity
,
the
feeling
one
had
that
one
liked
some
people
and
loved
others
.
"
If
I
hadn
’
t
been
here
…
would
you
have
gone
and
met
her
?
"
"
Probably
.
"
She
looked
pensive
.
"
Shouldn
’
t
I
have
said
that
?
"
She
nodded
.
"
It
’
s
just
that
I
can
’
t
stand
dishonesty
in
personal
relationships
.
"
"
Nor
can
I
.
That
’
s
why
I
’
ve
broken
off
this
other
thing
.
"
She
sat
up
and
smoothed
down
her
skirt
.
"
I
think
I
shall
go
wild
somethnes
.
All
this
sun
and
sea
and
never
being
able
to
really
enjoy
it
.
How
women
lived
fifty
years
ago
in
these
miserable
…
"
But
she
looked
at
me
,
saw
by
my
eyes
I
wasn
’
t
listening
,
and
stopped
.
I
said
,
"
How
long
have
we
got
?
"
"
Till
four
.
"
"
What
happens
then
?
"
"
You
must
go
.
"
"
I
want
to
kiss
you
.
"
She
was
silent
.
Then
she
said
quietly
,
"
Don
’
t
you
want
to
know
about
the
real
me
?
"
"
If
you
lie
back
.
"
So
she
turned
and
lay
flat
on
her
stomach
again
,
with
her
head
pillowed
on
her
arms
.
She
talked
about
her
mother
,
their
life
in
Dorset
,
her
own
boredom
with
it
;
about
her
scholarship
to
Cambridge
,
acting
,
and
finally
,
about
the
man
in
the
photograph
.
He
had
been
a
don
,
a
mathematician
,
at
Sidney
Sussex
.
Fifteen
years
older
than
Julie
;
married
and
separated
;
and
they
had
had
not
an
affaire
,
but
a
relationship
"
too
peculiar
and
too
sad
to
talk
about
.
"
I
asked
what
made
it
so
sad
.
"
Physical
things
.
"
She
stared
into
the
ground
,
chin
on
arms
.
"
Being
too
similar
.
One
day
I
realized
we
were
driving
each
other
mad
.
Torturing
each
other
instead
of
helping
each
other
.
"
"
Was
he
cut
up
?
"
"
Yes
.
"
"
And
you
?
"
"
Of
course
.
"
She
looked
sideways
.
"
I
loved
him
.
"
Her
tone
made
me
feel
crass
,
and
I
let
the
silence
come
before
I
spoke
again
.
"
No
one
else
?
"
"
No
one
who
matters
.
"
After
a
moment
or
two
she
turned
round
on
her
back
,
and
spoke
at
the
sky
.
"
I
think
intelligence
is
terrible
.
It
magnifies
all
one
’
s
faults
.
Complicates
things
that
ought
to
be
simple
.
"
"
One
can
learn
to
simplify
.
"
She
said
nothing
.
I
moved
a
little
closer
,
and
began
to
caress
,
with
a
timidity
I
felt
but
would
in
any
case
have
simulated
,
the
side
of
her
face
,
her
cheek
.
She
closed
her
eyes
,
and
I
traced
the
lines
of
the
eyelids
with
my
forefingers
;
then
the
mouth
,
then
kissed
the
unresponding
mouth
,
then
the
side
of
the
neck
and
the
top
of
the
shoulder
where
the
white
-
trimmed
collar
gaped
a
little
;
then
remained
looking
down
.
It
seemed
to
me
a
face
one
could
never
tire
of
,
an
eternal
source
of
desire
,
of
love
,
of
the
will
to
protect
;
without
physical
or
psycho
-
logical
flaw
.
She
opened
her
eyes
and
I
could
see
in
them
something
still
reserved
,
unsure
,
not
giving
.
So
we
lay
side
by
side
,
our
faces
only
two
feet
apart
,
staring
at
each
other
.
She
reached
out
her
hand
and
took
mine
,
and
we
interlocked
fingers
,
twisted
them
,
wrestled
gently
,
mock
-
coupled
.
Some
of
her
reserve
melted
away
,
and
I
could
see
that
she
took
this
thing
,
this
exchange
of
trivial
caress
,
with
a
seriousness
no
other
girl
I
had
ever
met
had
felt
—
or
had
the
independence
of
mind
to
show
.
I
saw
in
Julie
fear
of
man
and
something
that
hinted
at
craving
for
him
.
Her
natural
aloofness
and
coolness
suddenly
seemed
rather
pitiable
,
a
mere
social
equivalent
of
some
neurosis
about
frigidity
.
I
kissed
her
hand
.
She
allowed
it
,
and
then
,
withdrawing
her
hand
,
suddenly
turned
her
back
on
me
.
"
What
’
s
wrong
?
"
She
spoke
in
a
whisper
.
