The Magus - John Fowles [34]
insects stilled, and the water like a mirror. He sat in silence, sitting with his hands on his knees, apparently engaged in deep-breathing exercises. Not only his age but everything about him was difficult to tell. Outwardly he seemed to have very little interest in me, yet he watched me; even when he was looking away, he watched me; and he waited. Right from the beginning I had this: he was indifferent to me, yet he watched and he waited. So we sat there in the silence as if we knew each other well and had no need merely to talk; and as a matter of fact it seemed in a way to suit the stillness of the day. It was an unnatural, but not an embarrassing, silence. Suddenly he moved. His eyes had flicked up to the top of the small cliff to our left. I looked around. There was nothing. I glanced back at him. "Something there?" "Nothing." Silence. I watched his profiled face. Was he mad? Was he making fun of me? But he stared expressionlessly out to sea. I tried to make conversation again. "I gather you've met both my predecessors." His head turned on me with a snakelike swiftness, accusingly, but he said nothing. I prompted. "Leverrier?" "Who told you this?" For some reason he was terrified about what we might have said of him behind his back. I explained about the sheet of notepaper, and he relaxed a little. "He was not happy here. On Phraxos." "So Mitford told me." "Mitford?" Again the accusing stare. "I suppose he heard gossip at the school." He searched my eyes, then nodded, but not very convincedly. I smiled at him, and he gave me the trace of a wary smile back. We were playing obscure psychological chess again. I apparently had the advantage, but I didn't know why. Unexpectedly, from the invisible house above, came the sound of the bell. It rang twice; then after a moment, three times; then twice again. It clearly had a meaning, and it gave a voice to the peculiar state of tension that seemed to pervade both the place and its owner, and which clashed so oddly with the enormous peace of the landscape. Conchis stood at once. "I must go. And you have a long walk." We set off back up the cliff hill. Halfway up, where the steep path broadened, there was a small cast-iron seat. Conchis, who had set a quickish pace, sat down gratefully on it. He was breathing hard; so was I. He patted his heart. I put on a look of concern, but he shrugged. "When you grow old. The annunciation in reverse." He grimaced. "Not to be." We sat in silence and got our breaths back. I watched the yellowing sky through the delicate fenestrations in the pines. The sky in the west was hazy. A few evening wisps of cloud were curled high, tranced over the stillness of the world. Then out of the blue he said quietly, "Are you elect?" "Elect?" "Do you feel chosen by anything?" "Chosen?" "John Leverrier felt chosen by God." "I don't believe in God. And I certainly don't feel chosen." "I think you may be." I smiled dubiously. "Thank you." "It is not meant as a compliment. Hazard makes you elect. You cannot elect yourself." "I'm afraid you have me out of my depth." He put his hand momentarily on my shoulder, as if to reassure me; to say it did not matter. Then he stood and climbed the rest of the hill. At last we were on the gravel by the side colonnade. He stopped. "So." "Thank you very much indeed." I tried to get him to return my smile, to confess that he had been pulling my leg; but his masklike face was drained of humour. "I make two requests of you. One is that you tell no one over there that you have met me. This is because of certain events that happened during the war." "I've heard about that." "What have you heard?" "The story." "There are many versions of the story. But never mind now. For them I am a recluse. No one ever sees me. You understand?" "Of course. I shan't tell anyone." I knew what the next request would be: not to visit him again. "My second request is that you come here next weekend. And stay Saturday and Sunday nights. That is, if you do not mind the walking back early on Monday morning." "Thank you. Thank you very much. I'd love to." "I