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They heard the muted sound of the gong. Marika rubbed hard again,
shaking her head.
'We'll have to go. Nickolas hates you to be late for meals.'
Nickolas subjected her to an intense scrutiny, then gave her no further
attention throughout the meal.
After lunch Marika and David went over to the office.
'I just want to thank you, Mr. Loukas.' David spoke with a sincerity
that pleased Marika, as he went on to say what a wonderful holiday he
had had. 'I do thank you,' he said again.
'That's all right; you have in fact done me a service.' Nickolas paused.
'As for Marika, she appears to have derived a considerable amount of
enjoyment from your visit. Isn't that so?'
She did not reply immediately, for David had slipped an arm about
her shoulders. She wished he hadn't, for it was no longer necessary.
Nickolas had seen enough during the past three weeks to disillusion
him completely. His attitude gave every indication that he now
believed her to be in love with David.
'Yes, I have enjoyed David's visit,' assented Marika quietly, realizing
that both men were awaiting an answer.
'Kostos tells me you are hoping to return next year?' Nickolas spoke
in tones of cool courtesy which lacked any real interest.
'If I can save enough.' David looked rueful. 'It's diffi-cult when you've
only the vacations - and even then there may not be enough jobs to go
round.'
Nickolas agreed about the difficulty, and they fell into casual
conversation until Kostos, having been to fill up with petrol, came to
say he was ready to go.
Marika viewed the departing car with a mixture of relief and regret.
She went up and read to Stephanos, who seemed strangely quiet, and
no matter how Marika tried, she could not quell the misgivings which
persisted throughout the afternoon.
The sun was beginning to set when, feeling restless, and anxious
about Stephanos, she left the house and walked slowly down the road
towards Souphoula's cottage. The houses, precariously perched
among the heights, were bathed in a golden radiance; the landscape
became softer and yet more mysterious in that curious mixture of
light and shadow falling on the sun's rapid descent.
A sense of depression marred her usual pleasure in the familiar scene.
Her thoughts, uncontrolled, flitted from one thing to another; each
added to her unhappiness.
How would Pitsa react to the broken engagement? Without doubt it
would be a disappointment to her, for the two girls were now devoted
friends. But she had Kostos and Marika hoped that would help her not
to feel too unhappy. A deep sigh escaped Marika as, nearing the
cottage, she visualized Souphoula sitting there, straight, grotesque
almost, in her sombre black, her eyes watchful, all-penetrating. Yet
how she had grown to love her! For there was nothing superficial
about Souphoula; she was deep, and sincere.
Nickolas had certainly spoken the truth when he said it was
dangerous to love too much. She'd left herself open to pain that would
not heal for a very long time. And what of Greece ... so soft and
warm? The country had claimed her, made her a part of it. The white
house clinging to the hillside, the garden with lilies and oleanders and
hibiscus, with shady plane trees and vine-draped arbours; the
enchantment of shining mountains and eagle crags, of olive groves
and the shrine so long abandoned. With all these she had lived
intimately; she'd achieved a sense of belonging, and even begun to
take the overwhelming hospitality and friendliness of the Greeks for
granted.
To leave, without hope of ever returning, was almost more than she
could bear.
Souphoula sat in the dimly-lit room, a waxen statue, erect and stiff. A
mere flicker of her eyes expressed a welcome.
'Is Pitsa not with you?' she murmured as Marika sat down on the
couch.
'She'll be along soon. I came on ahead.'
'Why?'
Marika plucked absently at a button of her blouse, her eyes very dark
and uncertain.
'I don't know.' So difficult to explain the comfort she derived from
these moments alone with Souphoula. 'I've been reading to Father.
Souphoula, he's gravely ill.'
'Stephanos has been gravely ill for a long while, my child. We are all
resigned.' Her eyes were devoid of expression. It was hard to estimate
the extent of her sorrow. Did she suffer as deeply as Nickolas? Which
was the more heartbreaking, for a mother to lose her son - or for a son
to lose his father? Her own sense of loss would be great, she knew,
and a sudden access of pain became reflected in her gaze.
Souphoula regarded her in silence for a long moment.
'Your young friend has gone ?'
'Yes.' Marika nodded. David had said good-bye to Souphoula the
previous evening. 'They went directly after lunch.'
'Is Hilary back?' A soft and curious inflection had entered the old
woman's voice, which caused Marika to send her a sharp glance of
puzzlement.
'She's expected to be back before dinner.'
'So Pitsa and Kostos are to be married. That should relieve Nickolas
of some of his worries.'
Some ... ? Marika frowned and stared at Souphoula in the
semi-darkness wondering why, after inquiring about Hilary, she had
so abruptly changed the subject. There was perception, yet at the
same time obscurity in her manner. What lay behind those dark,
inscrutable eyes?
Pitsa often spoke in awesome tones when referring to her
grandmother's great wisdom. Souphoula, she maintained, knew
everything that you felt or thought, everything that went on around
her. The old woman's eyes still penetrated, though the rest of her face
was a mask. Yes, Marika could believe that very little escaped her,
and she felt no surprise at hearing her say,
'Do you wish to talk about it?' The voice was soft and faintly
persuasive; Marika gave a little sigh and for a moment hesitated, not
knowing how to answer. Souphoula added, 'You may have convinced
Nick that you're in love with that boy, but you haven't convinced me.'
That did startle Marika, for, on her instructions, David had acted with
supreme caution. Their intention had been to mislead Nickolas - and
no one else.
'You will not tell Nickolas?' she said urgently. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]