OLGA GRUSHIN
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to be nothing but crude stage decoration, beyond which lay an unrec–
ognizable dark terrain. Maria's tragedy lay heavy on his soul, but more
disturbing than the story itself was the dejected calm with which she had
brushed aside his compassion, as if she truly believed that both her hus–
band and her son had suffered rightfully. To Constantine, who prided
himself on being a modern man, this helpless obedience to some
unnamed primordial power was as incomprehensible as the existence of
a little girl who ran wild, lived in a malodorous cave, and dreamed of
riding dolphins.
And gradually, as the night moved across the island, his confusion
crystallized into a powerful feeling of disgust. He was disgusted with
Maria for seeing the double misfortune of her life as something
deserved, disgusted with the men of Inos for insisting on the ways of the
past out of fear or caution, disgusted with the wind seller for her insult–
ing trade, her calm, matter-of-fact manners, her very presence-but
most of all he was disgusted with himself for ever finding this stale back–
water a charming place. God help him, he had hoped to study human
nature here, hadn't he?
He glanced once more at the hills with their sprinkle of squatting
houses, the whole village a mere whiff of light in the deep blue night of
the Mediterranean, then listlessly drew the curtains closed. As he was
drifting off ro sleep, he had the momentary sensation that something in
Maria's story did not quite add up, something worth thinking about–
but the dark wave of his dreams swept him along before he could
remember, and he was already hurrying through the crowded streets of
the Plaka, desperately trying to catch up with a tall, dark-eyed, smiling
young man walking a few steps ahead.
IV
IN OCTOBER CONSTANTINE WENT to Athens for two weeks of leave. He
stayed with his friend Georgos, and together they took the city by
storm, dancing, eating, and drinking in every club, cafe, and restaurant
they saw. In the afternoons, when Georgos was still on duty, Constan–
tine sat alone in this or that place, slowly sipping his martini and watch–
ing women walk by-women in red stiletto heels, women with elegant
black-and-white purses made of fur, women in tight silk pants criss–
crossed with silver chain belts, women with tiny trotting dogs; or he
wandered about aimlessly, weaving in and out of stores, occasionally
catching his own reflection in the sleek mirrored surfaces of showcase
windows. Although the summer was over, he could not resist buying a
pair of sunglasses with the name of a sought-after designer flaunted in
