Chapter 18

           "Ithinkweshouldbemorecomfortableintheloungingchairs."Ihelpedhimpullthetwolongwickerchairsfromthefarendoftheterrace.Thenwebothputourfeetupandlayback,sothatwelookedintothestars.AndatonceIcouldsmellitonthetied-onheadcushionthatsameelusive,old-fashionedperfumeofthetowel,oftheglove.IwassureitdidnotbelongtoConchisoroldMaria.Ishouldhavesmeltitbythen.Therewasawoman,andsheoftenusedthischair."ItwilltakemealongtimetodefinewhatImean.Itwilltakemethestoryofmylife.""I’vespentthelastsevenmonthsamongpeoplewhocanspeakonlythemostrudimentaryEnglish.""MyFrenchisbetterthanmyEnglishnow.Butnomatter.Comprendre,c’esttout.""’Onlyconnect.’""Whosaidthat?""AnEnglishnovelist.""Heshouldnothavesaidit.Fictionistheworstformofconnection."Ismiledinthedarkness.Therewassilence.Thestarsgavesignals.Hebegan."ItoldyoumyfatherwasEnglish.Buthisbusiness,importingtobaccoandcurrants,laymainlyintheLevant.OneofhiscompetitorswasaGreeklivinginLondon.In1892thisGreekhadtragicnews.HiseldestbrotherandhiswifehadbeenkilledinanearthquakeoverthemountainsthereontheothersideofthePeloponnesus.Threechildrensurvived.Thetwoyoungest,twoboys,weresentouttoSouthAmerica,toathirdbrother.Andtheeldestchild,agirlofseventeen,wasbroughttoLondontokeephouseforheruncle,myfather’scompetitor.Hehadlongbeenawidower.

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