Поющие в терновнике

           DownthegreatSavaRivervalleyamidfieldsbluewithchicoryflowerstoBeograd,thencetoNis,anothernight.MacedoniaandSkopje,stillincrumblingruinsfromtheearthquaketwoyearsbefore;andTito-Velesthevacationcity,quaintlyTurkishwithitsmosquesandminarets.AllthewaydownYugoslaviahehadeatenfrugally,tooashamedtositwithagreatplateofmeatinfrontofhimwhenthepeopleofthecountrycontentedthemselveswithbread.

           TheGreekborderatEvzone,beyonditThessalonika.TheItalianpapershadbeenfulloftherevolutionbrewinginGreece;standinginhishotelbedroomwindowwatchingthebobbingthousandsofflamingtorchesmovingrestlesslyinthedarknessofaThessalonikanight,hewasgladJustinehadnotcome.

           "Pap-an-dre-ou!Pap-an-dre-ou!Pap-an-dre-ou!"thecrowdsroared,chanting,millingamongthetorchesuntilaftermidnight.

           Butrevolutionwasaphenomenonofcities,ofdenseconcentrationsofpeopleandpoverty;thescarredcountrysideofThessalymuststilllookasithadlookedtoCaesar’slegions,marchingacrossthestubble-burnedfieldstoPompeyatPharsala.Shepherdssleptintheshadeofskintents,storksstoodone-leggedinnestsatoplittleoldwhitebuildings,andeverywherewasaterrifyingaridity.Itremindedhim,withitshighclearsky,itsbrowntreelesswastes,ofAustralia.Andhebreathedofitdeeply,begantosmileatthethoughtofgoinghome.Mumwouldunderstand,whenhetalkedtoher.

           AboveLarisahecameontothesea,stoppedthecarandgotout.