"I am not going back. The General's estate has been settled. I returned much of it to his family. The rest— "She shrugged. "I have no need of it."
"You seem well."
She touched his arm with embarrassment. "I am glad to see you. I've thought of you so much—of that night here in Athens . . . you see, I am in love. Everything has changed for me." When he said nothing, watching her face, she smiled. "I fear I must hurt your male vanity. You are not the man."
"I never was," he said.
"Yes, you knew that, but I did not. I was alone and frightened, and not free. I was hunted—"
"You're free now."
"Yes. Don't you want to know who the man is? I am going to marry him. We're to meet here in a few minutes." She paused. "It is Angus Cunningham."
His face was expressionless. "He's a fine man."
"I do love him, you know. When he took me back to Athens, he was very attentive, looked after me, helped me find myself, to see what a normal life might be."
"I'm glad for you," he said.
He felt uneasy with her now. She kept turning to the crowds wandering over the Acropolis, looking for the man she really wanted to be with. He didn't mind. He felt relieved.
"And you?" she said vaguely. "What will you do now? It all seems such a nightmare. It never really could have happened, could it? I mean, those Chinese rockets—it seems impossible, today, to think we were all so afraid—"
"It was possible. But it didn't happen."
She looked uncertain. He saw that she had moved far away from the terror of those days. She was a different woman, like all the innocents here, gaping at the wonders of the past. He thought it was just as well. Her world was not for him.
After a few moments he said goodbye, shook hands, and left, using his cane on the rough, uneven ground made sacred by the blood of men long dead, but never forgotten.
He reached Epidaurus in the late afternoon. The drama festival was long over, and there were not many tourists here now. His driver took him directly to the Minoa Inn. Nothing had changed. The proprietor had trouble remembering him, but his question was quickly answered.
"Panayotis Stephanes? You'll find him where he usually is—foolishly hunting for relics among the old stones. The Apollo Temple in the valley—that way. You take this path—"
"Thank you. I know the way."
It was difficult for him, because of his injured leg, but there was no urgency now. The sun was warm. The valley dreamed peacefully of the past under the crystal bowl of the sky. The little temple shone white against the clear heavens.
He heard the sound of Captain Stephanes' pick long before he reached the site. The old man looked like an ancient god as he labored among the shale and broken columns. Nothing seemed to have changed. But there was one difference.
Ursula was with him.
He paused to watch her while they were still unaware of his approach. She seemed slender and fragile beside the old man's burly figure. Her dark hair had grown longer, but it shone with soft health in the sunlight. Her face was tanned, and she wore white shorts that emphasized the slim, clean lines of her hips and legs. She wore a man's blue work shirt, the sleeves rolled up, and she labored among the ruins as hard as Stephanes.
Stephanes saw him first, paused in mid-stroke with his pick, and bellowed a welcome. The girl was startled. He saw the stricken look on her face an instant before she put her hand to her cheek.
Durell walked across the temple floor to join them. He felt very conscious of his need for the cane.
"It's the American!" Stephanes exclaimed. "But they told us you had gone home!"
Durell laughed. "In my business, they don't even want to tell you the day of the week." He looked at Ursula. She still held her hand to her cheek. "I've been trying to find you."
"I've been here," she said quietly.
"At the hospital, you didn't want to see me. I came to find out why."
"It's nothing. It's all over."
"Was it because you hated me? Because of what they did to you, and you turned your pain into hatred for me?"
She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it I'm sorry you came here."
"What is this?" Stephanes shouted. "But we are all friends! We fought the barbarians together, and we won! Why should we now be enemies?"
"We're not enemies," Durell said. "Let me see your face, Ursula."
"No!" she said sharply.
"The little one was injured," Stephanes said, his voice suddenly soft. "She came here to hide. She stays at the inn and works with me. She has been ill, but she grows better here in the sunlight, living with the past."
"The present could be better." Durell smiled at the old man. "It's been a long, hard walk for me. Have you any of that awful wine?"
"Of course! A gallon of it! Come, we will eat bread and cheese, have some wine, and celebrate!"
Ursula made a small negative gesture, but Stephanes ignored her. She was silent while the old man talked with relish of his expedition to Debrec. It was the Albanian villagers who had helped him into the cave and along the old secret tunnels under the cliff, who had packed in dynamite at the critical spot where a single blast dislodged half the mountain, together with the concrete and steel missile silos.
"A glorious sight," Stephanes chuckled. "They never suspected us. It was difficult getting back—we had to run all night, over the mountains and across the frontier. But they can never rebuild that place again. And the rockets they had are all destroyed."
"Three men were killed at the frontier," Ursula said flatly.
"But that is the price the barbarian demands, my child." Stephanes' wise eyes regarded her solemnly. "Show Mr. Durell your face."
"No."
"They cut her," said Stephanes. "She loves you, and she does not wish you to see her now. But she is still beautiful. I try to convince her of this, and if I were thirty years younger, I would know how to do it. But—"
He shrugged expressively. Ursula made a small sound, jumped to her feet, and walked away from the ruined temple. Durell started after her, and Stephanes put a hand on his arm.
"Let her go. She will be at the Minoa. She will not run away from you a second time. Be patient."
"It was my fault. I sacrificed her and used her and put her through hell, to gain time for you."
"It was the world's fault. Don't blame yourself."
"I keep wondering if another man would have put her through it."
"It was necessary and it succeeded. That makes it right, my young friend."
He watched the sun sink over the hills, and the light faded on the glimpse of the sea from the hilltop. He talked with Stephanes a long time. The government could not officially acknowledge his deed, but he had been given a grant of funds to continue his work at this cherished little temple. The old man was content.
After a time, when it was dusk, Durell returned to the inn. Ursula had the room next to his, on the ground floor next to a courtyard where two olive trees stood beside an old fountain. There were no other guests at the inn that night. He ate alone and waited, then walked out and sat on a stone bench under the olive trees, in the moonlight.
He did not hear her until, quite suddenly, silently, she was sitting there beside him.
"Caro Sam, it is difficult to see you in need of a stick," she said gently, "in order to help you walk."
"It will pass. You need not hide your face forever, either," he said. "I know you blame me for it. And correctly."
"In the beginning, yes. But it was necessary. Perhaps the price was not too high, now that you are with me again."
"I was going to look for you in Venice," he said.
He looked at her face in the moonlight. The scar was there, but it did not trouble him. She touched it lingeringly; he took her fingers away and held her hand for a moment, very tightly, and then he kissed her. He felt the stiffness of resistance in her, and then she made a whimpering sound and moved in response to him, within the circle of his arms.
"But this,
too, will not be forever," she whispered. "How long can you stay?"
"I don't know. Perhaps until the barbarians, as Captain Stephanes puts it, try to move against us again."
"I pray it will be a long time."
"It will be for as long as we both need," he said. "As long as it is necessary for us."
He kissed her again, and then, without words, they stood up and walked inside together.
This book made available by the Internet Archive.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Pages
Back Cover
Assignment The Girl in the Gondola Page 19