The Magus - John Fowles [156]
She said nothing. I moved a little closer, and began to caress, with a timidity I felt but would in any case have simulated, the side of her face, her cheek. She closed her eyes, and I traced the lines of the eyelids with my forefingers; then the mouth, then kissed the unresponding mouth, then the side of the neck and the top of the shoulder where the white-trimmed collar gaped a little; then remained looking down. It seemed to me a face one could never tire of, an eternal source of desire, of love, of the will to protect; without physical or psycho- logical flaw. She opened her eyes and I could see in them something still reserved, unsure, not giving. So we lay side by side, our faces only two feet apart, staring at each other. She reached out her hand and took mine, and we interlocked fingers, twisted them, wrestled gently, mock-coupled. Some of her reserve melted away, and I could see that she took this thing, this exchange of trivial caress, with a seriousness no other girl I had ever met had felt--or had the independence of mind to show. I saw in Julie fear of man and something that hinted at craving for him. Her natural aloofness and coolness suddenly seemed rather pitiable, a mere social equivalent of some neurosis about frigidity. I kissed her hand. She allowed it, and then, withdrawing her hand, suddenly turned her back on me. "What's wrong?" She spoke in a whisper. "When I was thirteen I was--well the stock euphemism is..." her voice sank lower than the wind "... interfered with." It was like hitting an air-pocket; my mind plunged--some terrible wound, some physical incapacity... I stared at the back of her head. She kept her face averted. "I've rationalised it and rationalised it, I know it's just biology. Mechanism. But I've..." her voice trailed away. I kissed her shoulder through the fabric. "It's as if--with even the nicest men, men like you--I can't help suspecting that they're just using me. As if everyone else was born able to distinguish love and lust. But I wasn't." She lay curled up, head on hand. "I'm so sorry. I'm not abnormal. If you could just be patient with me." "Infinitely patient." "You're only the second man I've ever told this to." I took her hand and kissed it again. There was a silence. She turned, gave me a little self-ashamed smile. Her cheeks were red. "I think about you all the time." "I think about you all the time." For a long time we said nothing; lay in the warmth of a new closeness. Then the bell rang. I said, "To hell with it. I'm not going." "You must." "No." "Please." Such tender regret in her eyes. "If we're going to go on." "I'll come tomorrow." "We're going away for two days." "To Nauplia?" "I suppose." "There's so much." "I know." Silence; eyes. The bell rang again: dang, dang, dang, dang, dang. She stood up. "Julie." "Nicholas." "It seems so simple to me." "You must teach me. I'll be your pupil." "Wednesday?" "I promise." We stared at each other intensely for a moment; then I picked up my bag and set off. After a few paces I looked back, and she touched her fingers to her lips. And later still, waved. Twice, three times, till I went out of sight. I got to the house. Hermes the donkey driver was waiting there solemnly, but with no air of urgency. He wanted to know if I had my _prammata_, my things: he had to lock up. I said impatiently, I have them.
Did I want to ride his donkey back?
No. I went quickly to the gate. Once outside I struck off to the northeast, until I came to a place where I could see the bluff that ran inland along the eastern boundary, and the bay with the three cottages. I leant against a tree, and waited for a pink or a black shape to come running through the trees towards the cottages; or for the sound of a boat beyond Bourani, or down at Moutsa. But the bay lay silent, the afternoon sea stretched out down towards Crete, ninety miles away. The fleet had disappeared. I watched the steepling shadows thrown by some cypresses near the cottages lengthen, stab into the golden earth. An hour passed. And then a small ca�e did come chugging round the headland