ralone,"saidSandra."Wehavebeenseparatedfromthenewspapers.Well,itisbetterthatpeopleshouldhavewhattheywant….Youhaveseenallthesewonderfulthingssincewemet….Whatimpression…Ithinkthatyouarechanged."
"YouwanttogototheAcropolis,"saidJacob."Upherethen."
"Onewillrememberitallone'slife,"saidSandra.
"Yes,"saidJacob."Iwishyoucouldhavecomeintheday-time."
"Thisismorewonderful,"saidSandra,wavingherhand.
Jacoblookedvaguely.
"ButyoushouldseetheParthenonintheday-time,"hesaid."Youcouldn'tcometo-morrow—itwouldbetooearly?"
"Youhavesatthereforhoursandhoursbyyourself?"
"Thereweresomeawfulwomenthismorning,"saidJacob.
"Awfulwomen?"Sandraechoed.
"Frenchwomen."
"Butsomethingverywonderfulhashappened,"saidSandra.Tenminutes,fifteenminutes,halfanhour—thatwasallthetimebeforeher.
"Yes,"hesaid.
"Whenoneisyourage—whenoneisyoung.Whatwillyoudo?Youwillfallinlove—ohyes!Butdon'tbeintoogreatahurry.Iamsomucholder."
Shewasbrushedoffthepavementbyparadingmen.
"Shallwegoon?"Jacobasked.
"Letusgoon,"sheinsisted.
Forshecouldnotstopuntilshehadtoldhim—orheardhimsay—orwasitsomeactiononhispartthatsherequired?Farawayonthehorizonshediscerneditandcouldnotrest.
"You'dnevergetEnglishpeopletositoutlikethis,"hesaid.
"Never—no.WhenyougetbacktoEnglandyouwon'tforgetthis—orcomewithustoConstantinople!"shecriedsuddenly.
"Butthen…"
Sandrasighed.
"YoumustgotoDelphi,ofcourse,"shesaid."But,"sheaskedherself,"whatdoIwantfromhim?PerhapsitissomethingthatIhavemissed…."
"Youwillgetthereaboutsixintheevening,"shesaid."Youwillseetheeagles."
Jacoblookedsetandevendesperatebythelightatthestreetcornerandyetcomposed.Hewassuffering,perhaps.Hewascredulous.Yettherewassomethingcausticabouthim.Hehadinhimtheseedsofextremedisillusionment,whichwouldcometohimfromwomeninmiddlelife.Perhapsifonestrovehardenoughtoreachthetopofthehillitneednotcometohim—thisdisillusionmentfromwomeninmiddlelife.
"Thehotelisawful,"shesaid."Thelastvisitorshadlefttheirbasinsfullofdirtywater.Thereisalwaysthat,"shelaughed.
"ThepeopleonemeetsAREbeastly,"Jacobsaid.
Hisexcitementwasclearenough.
"Writeandtellmeaboutit,"shesaid."Andtellmewhatyoufeelandwhatyouthink.Tellmeeverything."
Thenightwasdark.TheAcropoliswasajaggedmound.
"Ishouldliketo,awfully,"hesaid.
"WhenwegetbacktoLondon,weshallmeet…"
"Yes."
"Isupposetheyleavethegatesopen?"heasked.
"Wecouldclimbthem!"sheansweredwildly.
ObscuringthemoonandaltogetherdarkeningtheAcropolisthecloudspassedfromeasttowest.Thecloudssolidifiedthevapoursthickenedthetrailingveilsstayedandaccumulated.
ItwasdarknowoverAthens,exceptforgauzyredstreakswherethestreetsranandthefrontofthePalacewascadaverousfromelectriclight.Atseathepiersstoodout,markedbyseparatedotsthewavesbeinginvisible,andpromontoriesandislandsweredarkhumpswithafewlights.
"I'dlovetobringmybrother,ifImay,"Jacobmurmured.
"AndthenwhenyourmothercomestoLondon—,"saidSandra.
ThemainlandofGreecewasdarkandsomewhereoffEuboeaacloudmusthavetouchedthewavesandspatteredthem—thedolphinscirclingdeeperanddeeperintothesea.ViolentwasthewindnowrushingdowntheSeaofMarmarabetweenGreeceandtheplainsofTroy.
InGreeceandtheuplandsofAlbaniaandTurkey,thewindscoursthesandandthedust,andsowsitselfthickwithdryparticles.Andthenitpeltsthesmoothdomesofthemosques,andmakesthecypresses,standingstiffbytheturbanedtombstonesofMohammedans,creakandbristle.
Sandra'sveilswereswirledabouther.
"Iwillgiveyoumycopy,"saidJacob."Here.Willyoukeepit?"
(ThebookwasthepoemsofDonne.)
Nowtheagitationoftheairuncoveredaracingstar.Nowitwasdark.Nowoneafteranotherlightswereextinguished.Nowgreattowns—Paris—Constantinople—London—wereblackasstrewnrocks.Waterwaysmightbedistinguished.InEnglandthetreeswereheavyinleaf.Hereperhapsinsomesouthernwoodanoldmanlitdryfernsandthebirdswerestartled.Thesheepcoughedoneflowerbentslightlytowardsanother.TheEnglishskyissofter,milkierthantheEastern.Somethinggentlehaspassedintoitfromthegrass-roundedhills,somethingdamp.ThesaltgaleblewinatBettyFlanders'sbedroomwindow,andthewidowlady,raisingherselfslightlyonherelbow,sighedlikeonewhorealizes,butwouldfainwardoffalittlelonger—oh,alittlelonger!—theoppressionofeternity.
ButtoreturntoJacobandSandra.
Theyhadvanished.TherewastheAcropolisbuthadtheyreachedit?ThecolumnsandtheTempleremaintheemotionofthelivingbreaksfreshonthemyearafteryearandofthatwhatremains?
AsforreachingtheAcropoliswhoshallsaythatweeverdoit,orthatwhenJacobwokenextmorninghefoundanythinghardanddurabletokeepforever?Still,hewentwiththemtoConstantinople.
SandraWentworthWilliamscertainlywoketofindacopyofDonne'spoemsuponherdressing-table.Andthebookwouldbestoodontheshel