“Bah,” said Kore. “Bring your dull books. There is nothing else. No television, no theater, no music. Such a place! How do I endure it?” She waved her hand. The jewels on her fingers flashed, and one sleeve slid back, showing the coils of the golden serpent.
The Colonel had taken advantage of her speech to retire noiselessly, and the maid appeared with my breakfast. It was an English- or American-type meal, not the European petit dé jeuner I had expected. The bacon was thicker and fatter than the kind I was used to, and rather too salty, but the eggs were fresh and well cooked. Kore sat watching me, nodding with satisfaction at every bite.
“I cannot eat so,” she announced blithely. “It makes too fat, you see. But you are needing the food, Jürgen says. He is clever, Jürgen.”
“He is a very good man,” I said. “I’m grateful.”
“Yes,” she said soberly. “He is a good man.”
After the tray had been removed, Kore went into action. She hadn’t been kidding when she announced her intention of making me beautiful. I didn’t like it. I felt like a life-sized doll, or one of those cult statues, the Virgin or a female saint, being re-robed by devout peasant women. But I hated to complain when she was being so kind, and enjoying herself so much. She twisted my hair up and tied it with ribbons, and the fresh nightgown she produced had obviously been altered to fit my measurements. It was a stunning gown, layer on layer of chiffon that ran the gamut of greens and blues and blended into a heavenly aquamarine. When she came at me waving brushes and lipsticks, I protested. She looked so hurt I gave in, but I hated it. I don’t know how movie and TV stars stand being made up; I felt like a thing.
Finally Kore stepped back, clapping her hands, and exclaimed with joy. I started to smile, but stopped; my face felt as if something were going to crack. I asked for a mirror. While Kore was flapping around looking for one, the maid came in and said something. Kore answered her and then turned to me, her eyes glowing.
“It is Jim,” she announced-she pronounced it “Jeem.” “We are just in time. Now sit up-let me make the pillow straight… Ah, he will bedrunken with love, you are so beautiful!”
I heard him coming from a long way off. Even the sound of his footsteps was unique. My heart was beating faster, and not only with pleasant anticipation. Jim would have a few things to say about my carelessness.
He must have come straight from the dig, without stopping to change clothes. They were his usual garb, un-pressed cotton work clothes, but he looked marvelous in them, and I thought, with unaccustomed sentimentality, of the couriers who had reported to the king in their travel-stained garments, in token of their zeal.
Jim took one look at me and stopped short. “My God,” he said.
“Well, that’s really sweet,” I said. “That’s a nice way to greet someone in my condition.”
“What condition are you referring to?” Jim inquired politely.
Kore giggled. “Ah, the lovers’ quarrel,” she exclaimed, beaming. “I go. I leave you alone, to make it up. See, Jim, she is beautiful for you. Only for you.”
She slipped away, closing the door with exaggerated care and giving me a wink before she went. Jim sat down on the chair by the bed and stared at me.
“How do you like it?” I asked self-consciously.
“I like you better the way you were.”
“Men,” I said.
“Did Kore dress you up that way?”
“She was just trying to be nice.”
“Have you seen yourself?”
“No.”
“Do you want to know what you look like?”
“No.”
“Then I won’t tell you… Oh, you look beautiful. But you look beautiful to me with your wet hair all over your face and your nose peeling. And,” he added, while I was still gulping over that tender declaration, “if you weren’t in a delicate condition I’d take you by the throat and squeeze till your face turned blue. How could you have been so stupid? What happened?”
I sighed with relief. That took care of the lecture. At least he wasn’t the sort of man who said “I told you so.”
“Didn’t Kore tell you?” I asked.
“She gave me some wild story. I can’t believe half of what she says. What did you cut yourself on?”
“I didn’t get a good look at it. Metal of some kind. It sort of jumped out at me when I lifted a rock.”
“You ought to know better than to stick your hands into some place you can’t see clearly. What were you looking for?”
I told him about the amphora. At first he wasn’t visibly impressed, but as I went on to describe it in detail he listened with increasing interest and asked several questions. The answers didn’t seem to please him; he fell into a frowning silence.
“Well?” I said. “It was a Minoan amphora, don’t you think?”
“What? Oh-oh, yes, it sounds like it. Late Minoan IB. But I don’t understand why… Youcouldn’t describe the location, I suppose?”
“Not accurately. I was about to mark it with a buoy when I got hurt. Maybe I can find it again.”
“Oh, no. That’s the silver lining to the cloud, my girl. No more diving for you. I’d feel better if a doctor looked at that arm. Suppose I borrow a car and drive you to Phira tomorrow.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Jim. Jürgen seems to know what he’s doing.”
“So it’s Jürgen, is it?”
“That’s what Kore calls him.”
“What’s he like?” Jim pulled his chair closer.
“Oh-sixty-ish; tall; military bearing and all that. He’s nice. Withdrawn but nice. He must be pretty good in the water. I was in bad shape when he reached me, and I struggled some.”
“Are you sure he hasn’t got a horrible scar? Or that he doesn’t bear an uncanny resemblance to the late Adolf Hitler?”
“Of course I’m sure. What are you talking about?”
“Trying to find an explanation for his retiring habits.”
“Maybe he’s just shy.”
Jim snorted.
“Never mind Jürgen,” I said impatiently.
“What about Frederick? I suppose he’s mad at me.”
“I’m not sure who he’s mad at,” Jim said. “I saw him last night, and I will frankly admit I went up there looking for trouble. We had-er-words.”
“Why waste your time? He’ll never admit he’s made a mistake. I’ve failed him. You’re right, I can’t do any more diving, not for a while. He’ll blame me, not himself.”
“That’s about the gist of it.”
I smoothed the sheet that lay over my lap and avoided looking at Jim.
“I don’t suppose he said anything about coming to see me.”
“Well…” Jim’s voice was very gentle.
“It’s okay,” I said.
“Chris sent you his regards,” Jim went on. “He was concerned when I told him what had happened; he didn’t even object when I took time off to come and see you. In fact, he reiterated his offer of a job next summer. He likes you, Sandy.”
“Big deal,” I muttered. I regretted my rudeness immediately. Jim was trying to make me feel better, and it was nice of Sir Christopher to offer me a job. I said so, and Jim brightened.
There was a tap on the door. I assumed it was Kore, coming back to see how the lovers’ quarrel was progressing, and I said, “Come in.” Instead of Kore, I saw Jürgen with a pile of books. He hesitated in the doorway.
“I am sorry I intrude,” he said. “I have brought the books. I did not know you had-”
“This is Jim Sanchez,” I said, as Jim turned. “I’m afraid I don’t know-”
My next words were lost in the sound of the heavy books hitting the floor. Jürgen’s face looked like a faded papier-mâché mask, except for his eyes, which had widened until the whites showed all around the pupils. He said something in a strangled voice and then he disappeared. The footsteps that echoed back along the hallway were the steps of a man in mindless, headlong flight.