rolled off me, a cloud of insects zoomed into the air and long worms crawled lazily down my legs.
The parasites fled the body that had one foot in the grave but no longer wanted to be a corpse. Between the wall and the trees was a narrow, deep path that could be negotiated only sideways and even then the body had to scrape its way along the wall as if it were blind as a bat. The branches with their thorns and snags tore my ragged clothes to shreds; nettles caused an itching and burning rash on those parts of my skin that had been spared by the mosquitoes.
After this battering I finally found myself in a clearing in the trees that had once been open; dead tree trunks had fallen at right angles across each other, and a dense mesh of thick creepers crossed the space at head height. On the far side an avenue opened up. I struggled through this too. I went down the avenue and stood before a single-storey building, dilapidated but made of stone. It was the hunting lodge where I had had a rendezvous with her. Apart from that I knew nothing. It could be summer or autumn, probably the latter, as I was shivering and was covered in cold dew.
Inside it would be warm and safe from insects, solitary , without people on all sides, without the din I had heard in the island villages, the meaning of which I was ignorant of. The door was closed, but the window at the back was usually open, as it was now. Diana would probably not come here any more. All the better. It hadbeen rebuilt inside, and all the rooms were interconnecting . It was better before, when they all opened onto a courtyard; you know where you are like that, and you can close the door behind you, and escape if you are taken by surprise. No matter: the big rough wooden bed was there; in a jug there was water, green and ill-smelling ; it was no good for thirst, but did serve to dab the most inflamed spots.
Trembling hands stripped my body of what tatters were still hanging about me, and a pile of material lay on the ground. Nothing was left of the man who had sailed forth to cover himself in glory, only the bruised, emaciated body. All I had left with which to cover my shame was a deeper, heavier sleep that still lay on me when I woke.
I could not move a muscle. Through the blinds chinks of light, criss-cross and parallel like a trellis, picked out a figure squatting by the wall opposite me staring intently with sparkling green eyes. A smell hung about the room: not incense, but heavier and more pungent…
I lay motionless, for hours, not out of fear of the guard, but for fear of breaching the wall of silence, and tumbling back into an existence I hoped to have done with.
The blind flew open at a sudden gust of wind. In the niche where the statue of St Sebastian had been sat a saint very unlike the emaciated and contorted figureswith ascetic limbs and ecstatic, deathly pale, hollow-eyed faces that I had up to now taken for saints. This seemed to be a mockery of my old acquaintances and the situation in which I found myself.
I got up, and saw Sebastian suddenly retreat far into the wall of the room; he seemed to have suffered greatly since I had last seen him, when he had been close to death, which must now lie far behind him. I went up to him: in the past I had had an aversion to him, but now I felt sympathy. He must have felt this, since he responded to me. Yet I was frightened of him, and stretched out my hand, I don’t know whether to greet him or ward him off. It was my own form, seen in a weathered mirror. I turned round; the fat saint was still sitting immovably on a low chair, his fingertips touching but with a belly that flopped over his thighs, and a fat grin around his mouth, as if, making fun of his own saintliness, he had consumed a heavy meal and was already looking forward to the next. The hunting trophies, elk antlers and bear and fox pelts had been removed. A wide painted screen hung down, as far as I could see depicting an old man, bald, with long
The parasites fled the body that had one foot in the grave but no longer wanted to be a corpse. Between the wall and the trees was a narrow, deep path that could be negotiated only sideways and even then the body had to scrape its way along the wall as if it were blind as a bat. The branches with their thorns and snags tore my ragged clothes to shreds; nettles caused an itching and burning rash on those parts of my skin that had been spared by the mosquitoes.
After this battering I finally found myself in a clearing in the trees that had once been open; dead tree trunks had fallen at right angles across each other, and a dense mesh of thick creepers crossed the space at head height. On the far side an avenue opened up. I struggled through this too. I went down the avenue and stood before a single-storey building, dilapidated but made of stone. It was the hunting lodge where I had had a rendezvous with her. Apart from that I knew nothing. It could be summer or autumn, probably the latter, as I was shivering and was covered in cold dew.
Inside it would be warm and safe from insects, solitary , without people on all sides, without the din I had heard in the island villages, the meaning of which I was ignorant of. The door was closed, but the window at the back was usually open, as it was now. Diana would probably not come here any more. All the better. It hadbeen rebuilt inside, and all the rooms were interconnecting . It was better before, when they all opened onto a courtyard; you know where you are like that, and you can close the door behind you, and escape if you are taken by surprise. No matter: the big rough wooden bed was there; in a jug there was water, green and ill-smelling ; it was no good for thirst, but did serve to dab the most inflamed spots.
Trembling hands stripped my body of what tatters were still hanging about me, and a pile of material lay on the ground. Nothing was left of the man who had sailed forth to cover himself in glory, only the bruised, emaciated body. All I had left with which to cover my shame was a deeper, heavier sleep that still lay on me when I woke.
I could not move a muscle. Through the blinds chinks of light, criss-cross and parallel like a trellis, picked out a figure squatting by the wall opposite me staring intently with sparkling green eyes. A smell hung about the room: not incense, but heavier and more pungent…
I lay motionless, for hours, not out of fear of the guard, but for fear of breaching the wall of silence, and tumbling back into an existence I hoped to have done with.
The blind flew open at a sudden gust of wind. In the niche where the statue of St Sebastian had been sat a saint very unlike the emaciated and contorted figureswith ascetic limbs and ecstatic, deathly pale, hollow-eyed faces that I had up to now taken for saints. This seemed to be a mockery of my old acquaintances and the situation in which I found myself.
I got up, and saw Sebastian suddenly retreat far into the wall of the room; he seemed to have suffered greatly since I had last seen him, when he had been close to death, which must now lie far behind him. I went up to him: in the past I had had an aversion to him, but now I felt sympathy. He must have felt this, since he responded to me. Yet I was frightened of him, and stretched out my hand, I don’t know whether to greet him or ward him off. It was my own form, seen in a weathered mirror. I turned round; the fat saint was still sitting immovably on a low chair, his fingertips touching but with a belly that flopped over his thighs, and a fat grin around his mouth, as if, making fun of his own saintliness, he had consumed a heavy meal and was already looking forward to the next. The hunting trophies, elk antlers and bear and fox pelts had been removed. A wide painted screen hung down, as far as I could see depicting an old man, bald, with long
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