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In
melted
sun
he
paused
for
a
while
above
Kamena
Voura
,
swam
in
the
clear
water
looking
across
the
narrow
strait
to
Euboea
;
there
must
the
thousand
ships
have
sailed
from
Aulis
,
on
their
way
to
Troy
.
It
was
a
strong
current
,
swirling
seaward
;
they
must
not
have
had
to
ply
their
oars
very
hard
.
The
ecstatic
cooings
and
strokings
of
the
ancient
black-garbed
crone
in
the
bathhouse
embarrassed
him
;
he
could
n't
get
away
from
her
fast
enough
.
People
never
referred
to
his
beauty
to
his
face
anymore
,
so
most
of
the
time
he
was
able
to
forget
it
.
Delaying
only
to
buy
a
couple
of
huge
,
custard-filled
cakes
in
the
shop
,
he
went
on
down
the
Attic
coast
and
finally
came
to
Athens
as
the
sun
was
setting
,
gilding
the
great
rock
and
its
precious
crown
of
pillars
.
But
Athens
was
tense
and
vicious
,
and
the
open
admiration
of
the
women
mortified
him
;
Roman
women
were
more
sophisticated
,
subtle
.
There
was
a
feeling
in
the
crowds
,
pockets
of
rioting
,
grim
determination
on
the
part
of
the
people
to
have
Papandreou
.
No
,
Athens
was
n't
herself
;
better
to
be
elsewhere
.
He
put
the
Lagonda
in
a
garage
and
took
the
ferry
to
Crete
.
And
there
at
last
,
amid
the
olive
groves
,
the
wild
thyme
and
the
mountains
,
he
found
his
peace
.
After
a
long
bus
ride
with
trussed
chickens
screeching
and
the
all-pervasive
reek
of
garlic
in
his
nostrils
,
he
found
a
tiny
white-painted
inn
with
an
arched
colonnade
and
three
umbrellaed
tables
outside
on
the
flagstones
,
gay
Greek
bags
hanging
festooned
like
lanterns
.
Pepper
trees
and
Australian
gum
trees
,
planted
from
the
new
South
Land
in
soil
too
arid
for
European
trees
.
The
gut
roar
of
cicadas
.
Dust
,
swirling
in
red
clouds
.
At
night
he
slept
in
a
tiny
cell-like
room
with
shutters
wide
open
,
in
the
hush
of
dawn
he
celebrated
a
solitary
Mass
,
during
the
day
he
walked
.
No
one
bothered
him
,
he
bothered
no
one
.
But
as
he
passed
the
dark
eyes
of
the
peasants
would
follow
him
in
slow
amazement
,
and
every
face
would
crease
deeper
in
a
smile
.
It
was
hot
,
and
so
quiet
,
and
very
sleepy
.
Perfect
peace
.
Day
followed
day
,
like
beads
slipping
through
a
leathery
Cretan
hand
.
Voicelessly
he
prayed
,
a
feeling
,
an
extension
of
what
lay
all
through
him
,
thoughts
like
beads
,
days
like
beads
.
Lord
,
I
am
truly
Thine
.
For
Thy
many
blessings
I
thank
Thee
.
For
the
great
Cardinal
,
his
help
,
his
deep
friendship
,
his
unfailing
love
.
For
Rome
and
the
chance
to
be
at
Thy
heart
,
to
have
lain
prostrate
before
Thee
in
Thine
own
basilica
,
to
have
felt
the
rock
of
Thy
Church
within
me
.
Thou
hast
blessed
me
above
my
worth
;
what
can
I
do
for
Thee
,
to
show
my
appreciation
?
I
have
not
suffered
enough
.
My
life
has
been
one
long
,
absolute
joy
since
I
began
in
Thy
service
.
I
must
suffer
,
and
Thou
Who
suffered
will
know
that
.
It
is
only
through
suffering
that
I
may
rise
above
myself
,
understand
Thee
better
.
For
that
is
what
this
life
is
:
the
passage
toward
understanding
Thy
mystery
.
Plunge
Thy
spear
into
my
breast
,
bury
it
there
so
deeply
I
am
never
able
to
withdraw
it
!
Make
me
suffer
...
For
Thee
I
forsake
all
others
,
even
my
mother
and
my
sister
and
the
Cardinal
.
Thou
alone
art
my
pain
,
my
joy
.
Abase
me
and
I
shall
sing
Thy
beloved
Name
.
Destroy
me
,
and
I
shall
rejoice
.
I
love
Thee
.
Only
Thee
...
He
had
come
to
the
little
beach
where
he
liked
to
swim
,
a
yellow
crescent
between
beetling
cliffs
,
and
stood
for
a
moment
looking
across
the
Mediterranean
to
what
must
be
Libya
,
far
below
the
dark
horizon
.
Then
he
leaped
lightly
down
the
steps
to
the
sand
,
kicked
off
his
sneakers
,
picked
them
up
,
and
trod
through
the
softly
yielding
contours
to
the
spot
where
he
usually
dropped
shoes
,
shirt
,
outer
shorts
.
Two
young
Englishmen
talking
in
drawling
Oxford
accents
lay
like
broiling
lobsters
not
far
away
,
and
beyond
them
two
women
drowsily
speaking
in
German
.
Dane
glanced
at
the
women
and
self-consciously
hitched
his
swimsuit
,
aware
they
had
stopped
conversing
and
had
sat
up
to
pat
their
hair
,
smile
at
him
.
"
How
goes
it
?
"
he
asked
the
Englishmen
,
though
in
his
mind
he
called
them
what
all
Australians
call
the
English
,
Pommies
.
They
seemed
to
be
fixtures
,
since
they
were
on
the
beach
every
day
.
"
Splendidly
,
old
boy
.
Watch
the
current
--
it
's
too
strong
for
us
.
Storm
out
there
somewhere
.
"
