Chapter 22

           Someonewasknockingatthedoor.Throughtheshadowyairoftheopenwindow,theburningsky.Aflycrawledacrossthewallabovethebed.Ilookedatmywatch.Itwashalf-pastten.Iwenttothedoor,andheardtheslapofMaria’sslippersgoingdownstairs.Intheglaringlight,theracketofcicadas,theeventsofthenightseemedinsomewayfictional;asifImusthavebeenslightlydrugged.Butmyminddidn’tseemfuzzled;Ifeltfitandclearheaded.Idressedandshavedandwentdowntobreakfastunderthecolonnade.ThetaciturnMariaappearedwithcoffee."Okyrios?"Iasked."Ephage.Eineepano."Haseaten;isupstairs.Likethevillagers,withforeignersshemadenoattempttospeakmorecomprehensibly,bututteredherusualfastslurofvowelsounds.Ihadmybreakfastandcarriedthetraybackalongthesidecolonnadeanddownthestepstotheopendoorofhercottage.Thefrontroomwasfittedoutasakitchen.Withitsoldcalendars,itsluridcardboardikons,itsbunchesofherbsandshallotsanditsbluepaintedmeatsafehangingfromtheceiling,itwaslikeanyothercottageliving-kitchenofPhraxos.Onlytheutensilswererathermoreambitious,andthestovelarger.Iwentinandputthetrayonthetable.Mariaappearedoutofthebackroom;Iglimpsedalargebrassbed,moreikons,photographs.Ashadowofasmilecreasedhermouth;butitwascircumstantial,notgenuine.ItwouldhavebeendifficultenoughinEnglishtoaskquestionswithoutappearingtobeprying;inmyGreekitwasimpossible.

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