Волхв

Chapter 11

           Helaunchedoutonalongstory.Theislanddialectwasdifficult,evenforGreeks,andIcouldn’tunderstandaword.Heleantearnestlyacrossthetable.Demetriadeslookedboredandnoddedcomplacentlyatthepauses."What’shesay,Méli?""Nothing.Awarstory.Nothingatall."Sarantopoulossuddenlylookedpastus.HesaidsomethingtoDemetriades,andstoodup.Iturned.Inthedoorstoodatall,mournful-lookingislander.Hewenttoatableinthefarcorner,theislanders’corner,ofthelongbareroom.IsawSarantopoulosputhishandontheman’sshoulder.Themanstaredatusdoubtfully,thengaveinandallowedhimselftobeledtoourtable."HeistheagoyatisofMr.Conchis.""Thehowmuch?""Hehasadonkey.HetakesthemailandthefoodtoBourani.""What’shisname?"HisnamewasHermes.IhadbecomefartoousedtohearingnotconspicuouslybrilliantboyscalledSocratesandAristotle,andtoaddressingtheill-favoredoldwomanwhodidmyroomoutasAphrodite,tosmile.Thedonkeydriversatdownandrathergrudginglyacceptedasmalltumblerofretsina.Hefingeredhiskoumbologi,hisamberpatiencebeads.Hehadabadeye,fixed,withasinisterpallor.FromhimMéli,whowasmuchmoreinterestedineatinghislobster,extractedalittleinformation.WhatdidMr.Conchisdo?Helivedaloneyes,alonewithahousekeeper,andhecultivatedhisgarden,quiteliterally,itseemed.Heread.Hehadmanybooks.Hehadapiano.Hespokemanylanguages.Theagoyatisdidnotknowwhichall,hethought.

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