Волхв

Chapter 66

           IwalkedpastlinesoftoyIonictemplesandcolumnedbustsandfancysteles,aforestofHellenicbadtaste;butpleasantlygreenandshady.Fifthleft.Andthere,betweentwocypresses,shadedbyamournfulaspidistra-likeplant,layasimplePentelicmarbleslabwith,underneathacross,thewords:MORISKOLCHIS18961949Fouryearsdead.Atthefootoftheslabwasasmallgreenpotinwhichsat,risingfromacushionofinconspicuouswhiteflowers,awhitearumlilyandaredrose.Ikneltandtookthemout.Thestemswererecentlycut,probablyfromonlythatmorning;thewaterwasclearandfresh.Iunderstood;itwashiswayoftellingmewhatIhadalreadyguessed,thatdetectiveworkwouldleadmenowheretoafalsegrave,toyetanotherjoke,asmilefadingintothinair.Ireplacedtheflowers.OneofthehumblerbackgroundsprigsfellandIpickeditupandsmeltit;asweet,honeyfragrance.Sincetherewasaroseandalily,perhapsithadsomesignificance.Iputitinmybuttonhole,andforgotaboutit.AtthegateIaskedtheoldmanifheknewofanyrelativesofthedeceasedMauriceConchis.Helookedinhisbookagainforme,buttherewasnothing.Didheknowwhohadbroughttheflowers?No,manypeoplebroughtflowers.Thebreezeraisedthewispyhairsoverhiswrinkledforehead.Hewasanold,tiredman.Theskywasveryblue.AplanedroneddowntotheairportontheothersideoftheAtticplain.Othervisitorscame,andtheoldmanlimpedaway.Thedinnerthateveningwasdreadful,theepitomeofEnglishvacuity.

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