The Magus - John Fowles [75]
other with the dinner things. I saw at once that there were three chairs at the dinner table; and Conchis saw me see. "We shall have a visitor after dinner." "From the village?" But I was smiling, and he was too when he shook his head. It was a magnificent evening, one of those gigantic Greek spans of sky and world fluxed in declining light. The mountains were the grey of a Persian cat's fur, and the sky like a vast, unfaceted primrose diamond. I remembered noticing, one similar sunset in the village, how every man outside every taverna had turned to face the west, as if they were in a cinema, with the eloquent all-saying sky their screen. "I read the passage you marked in _Le Masque Fran �s_." "It is only a metaphor. But it may help." He handed me an _ouzo_. We raised glasses. Coffee was brought and poured, and the lamp moved to the table behind me, so that it shone on Conchis's face. We were both waiting. "I hope I shan't have to forego the rest of your adventures." He raised his head, in the Greek way, meaning no. He seemed a little tense, and looked past me at the bedroom door; and I was reminded of that first day. I turned, but there was no one there. He spoke. "You know who it will be?" "I didn't know if I was meant to come in last week or not." "You are meant to do as you choose." "Except ask questions." "Except ask questions." A thin smile. "Did you read my little pamphlet?" "Not yet." "Read it carefully." "Of course. I look forward to it." "Then tomorrow night perhaps we can perform an experiment." "On communicating with other worlds?" I didn't bother to keep a certain scepticism out of my voice. "Yes. Up there." The star-heavy sky. "Or across there." I saw him look down, making the visual analogy, to the black line of mountains to the west. I risked facetiousness. "Up there--do they speak Greek or English?" He didn't answer for nearly fifteen seconds; didn't smile. "They speak emotions." "Not a very precise language." "On the contrary. The most precise. If one can learn it." He turned to look at me. "Precision of the kind you mean is important in science. It is unimportant in --" But I never found out what it was unimportant in. We both heard the footsteps, those same light footsteps I had heard before, on the gravel below, coming as if up from the sea. Conchis looked at me quickly. "You must not ask questions. That is most important." I smiled. "As you wish." "Treat her as you would treat an amnesiac." "I'm afraid I've never met an amnesiac." "She lives in the present. She does not remember her personal past--she has no past. If you question her about the past, you will only disturb her. She is very sensitive. She would not want to see you again. I wanted to say, I like your masque, I shan't spoil it. I said, "If I don't understand why, I begin to understand how." He shook his head. "You are beginning to understand why. Not how." His eyes lingered on me, burning the sentence in; looked aside, at the doors. I turned. I realised then that the lamp had been put behind me so that it would light her entrance; and it was an entrance to take the breath away. She was dressed in what must have been the formal evening style of 1915: an indigo silk evening wrap over a slim ivory-coloured dress of some shot material that narrowed and ended just above her ankles. Her hair was up, in a sort of Empire fashion. She was smiling and looking at Conchis, though she glanced with a cool interest at me as I stood. Conchis was already on his feet. She looked as stunningly elegant, as poised and assured--because even her slight nervousness seemed professional--as if she had just stepped out of a _cabine_ at Dior. That was indeed my immediate thought: She's a professional model. And then, the old devil. The old devil spoke, after first kissing her hand. "Lily. May I present Mr. Nicholas Urfe. Miss Montgomery." She held out her hand, which I took. A cool hand, no pressure. I had touched a ghost. Our eyes met, but hers gave nothing away. I said, "Hello." But she replied only with a slight inclination, and then turned for Conchis to take