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Indeed
,
of
all
the
region
only
the
beach
stirred
with
activity
.
Three
British
nannies
sat
knitting
the
slow
pattern
of
Victorian
England
,
the
pattern
of
the
forties
,
the
sixties
,
and
the
eighties
,
into
sweaters
and
socks
,
to
the
tune
of
gossip
as
formalized
as
incantation
;
closer
to
the
sea
a
dozen
persons
kept
house
under
striped
umbrellas
,
while
their
dozen
children
pursued
unintimidated
fish
through
the
shallows
or
lay
naked
and
glistening
with
cocoanut
oil
out
in
the
sun
.
As
Rosemary
came
onto
the
beach
a
boy
of
twelve
ran
past
her
and
dashed
into
the
sea
with
exultant
cries
.
Feeling
the
impactive
scrutiny
of
strange
faces
,
she
took
off
her
bathrobe
and
followed
.
She
floated
face
down
for
a
few
yards
and
finding
it
shallow
staggered
to
her
feet
and
plodded
forward
,
dragging
slim
legs
like
weights
against
the
resistance
of
the
water
.
When
it
was
about
breast
high
,
she
glanced
back
toward
shore
:
a
bald
man
in
a
monocle
and
a
pair
of
tights
,
his
tufted
chest
thrown
out
,
his
brash
navel
sucked
in
,
was
regarding
her
attentively
.
As
Rosemary
returned
the
gaze
the
man
dislodged
the
monocle
,
which
went
into
hiding
amid
the
facetious
whiskers
of
his
chest
,
and
poured
himself
a
glass
of
something
from
a
bottle
in
his
hand
.
Rosemary
laid
her
face
on
the
water
and
swam
a
choppy
little
four
-
beat
crawl
out
to
the
raft
.
The
water
reached
up
for
her
,
pulled
her
down
tenderly
out
of
the
heat
,
seeped
in
her
hair
and
ran
into
the
corners
of
her
body
.
She
turned
round
and
round
in
it
,
embracing
it
,
wallowing
in
it
.
Reaching
the
raft
she
was
out
of
breath
,
but
a
tanned
woman
with
very
white
teeth
looked
down
at
her
,
and
Rosemary
,
suddenly
conscious
of
the
raw
whiteness
of
her
own
body
,
turned
on
her
back
and
drifted
toward
shore
.
The
hairy
man
holding
the
bottle
spoke
to
her
as
she
came
out
.
"
I
say
—
they
have
sharks
out
behind
the
raft
.
"
He
was
of
indeterminate
nationality
,
but
spoke
English
with
a
slow
Oxford
drawl
.
"
Yesterday
they
devoured
two
British
sailors
from
the
flotte
at
Golfe
Juan
.
"
"
Heavens
!
"
exclaimed
Rosemary
.
"
They
come
in
for
the
refuse
from
the
flotte
.
"
Glazing
his
eyes
to
indicate
that
he
had
only
spoken
in
order
to
warn
her
,
he
minced
off
two
steps
and
poured
himself
another
drink
.
Not
unpleasantly
self
-
conscious
,
since
there
had
been
a
slight
sway
of
attention
toward
her
during
this
conversation
,
Rosemary
looked
for
a
place
to
sit
.
Obviously
each
family
possessed
the
strip
of
sand
immediately
in
front
of
its
umbrella
;
besides
there
was
much
visiting
and
talking
back
and
forth
—
the
atmosphere
of
a
community
upon
which
it
would
be
presumptuous
to
intrude
.
Farther
up
,
where
the
beach
was
strewn
with
pebbles
and
dead
sea
-
weed
,
sat
a
group
with
flesh
as
white
as
her
own
.
They
lay
under
small
hand
-
parasols
instead
of
beach
umbrellas
and
were
obviously
less
indigenous
to
the
place
.
Between
the
dark
people
and
the
light
,
Rosemary
found
room
and
spread
out
her
peignoir
on
the
sand
.
Lying
so
,
she
first
heard
their
voices
and
felt
their
feet
skirt
her
body
and
their
shapes
pass
between
the
sun
and
herself
.
The
breath
of
an
inquisitive
dog
blew
warm
and
nervous
on
her
neck
;
she
could
feel
her
skin
broiling
a
little
in
the
heat
and
hear
the
small
exhausted
wa
-
waa
of
the
expiring
waves
.
Presently
her
ear
distinguished
individual
voices
and
she
became
aware
that
some
one
referred
to
scornfully
as
"
that
North
guy
"
had
kidnapped
a
waiter
from
a
café
in
Cannes
last
night
in
order
to
saw
him
in
two
.
The
sponsor
of
the
story
was
a
white
-
haired
woman
in
full
evening
dress
,
obviously
a
relic
of
the
previous
evening
,
for
a
tiara
still
clung
to
her
head
and
a
discouraged
orchid
expired
from
her
shoulder
.
Rosemary
,
forming
a
vague
antipathy
to
her
and
her
companions
,
turned
away
.
Nearest
her
,
on
the
other
side
,
a
young
woman
lay
under
a
roof
of
umbrellas
making
out
a
list
of
things
from
a
book
open
on
the
sand
.
Her
bathing
suit
was
pulled
off
her
shoulders
and
her
back
,
a
ruddy
,
orange
brown
,
set
off
by
a
string
of
creamy
pearls
,
shone
in
the
sun
.
Her
face
was
hard
and
lovely
and
pitiful
.
Her
eyes
met
Rosemary
’
s
but
did
not
see
her
.
Beyond
her
was
a
fine
man
in
a
jockey
cap
and
red
-
striped
tights
;
then
the
woman
Rosemary
had
seen
on
the
raft
,
and
who
looked
back
at
her
,
seeing
her
;
then
a
man
with
a
long
face
and
a
golden
,
leonine
head
,
with
blue
tights
and
no
hat
,
talking
very
seriously
to
an
unmistakably
Latin
young
man
in
black
tights
,
both
of
them
picking
at
little
pieces
of
seaweed
in
the
sand
.
She
thought
they
were
mostly
Americans
,
but
something
made
them
unlike
the
Americans
she
had
known
of
late
.
