As a child, then, I had almost fallen into the well. When grown up, I nearly fell into the word "eternity," and into quite a number of other words too-"love," "hope," "country," "God." As each word was conquered and left behind, I had the feeling that I had escaped a danger and made some progress. But no, I was only changing words and calling it deliverance. And there I had been, for the last two years, hanging over the edge of the word "Buddha."

But I now feel sure-Zorba be praised-that Buddha will be the last well of all, the last word precípice, and then I shall be delivered forever. Forever? That is what we say each time.

I jumped up. I was happy from head to foot. I undressed and plunged into the sea; the joyful waves were frolicking and I frolicked with them. Tired at last, I came out of the water, let the night wind dry me, and set out again with long easy strides, feeling I had escaped a great danger and that I had a still tighter grip on the Great Mother's breast.

16

AS SOON as I came within sight of the lignite beach I stopped abruptly: there was a light in the hut.

"Zorba must be back!" I thought happily.

I felt like running, but restrained myself. I must hide my joy, I thought. I must look annoyed and first give him a good talking-to. I sent him there on urgent business, and he'd just gone through my money, lived with some cabaret tart, and now comes back twelve days late. I must look as if I'm in a furious temper… I must!

I walked slower to give me time to work up a temper. I tried hard to be angry-frowned and clenched my fists, did everything an angry man usually does-but could not manage it. On the contrary, the nearer I came the happier I grew.

I crept up to the hut and looked through the small lighted window. Zorba was on his knees by the tiny stove which he had lit and was making coffee.

My heart melted and I shouted: "Zorba!"

In a trice the door swung open and Zorba, barefoot, rushed out. He craned his neck, peering in the dark, discovered me, opened his arms to embrace me, then stopped and let them fall to his sides.

"Glad to see you again, boss," he said hesitantly, standing long-faced and motionless before me.

I tried to raise my voice angrily:

"Glad to see you've taken the trouble to come back," I mocked. "Don't come any nearer-you reek of toilet soap."

"Ah, if only you knew what a scrubbing I've given myself, boss," he said. "Have I cleaned myself up! I scraped my blasted skin to bits before seeing you, boss! I've sandstoned myself for an hour. But this hellish smell… Anyway, what of it? It'll pass off sooner or later. It isn't the first time-it's bound to go."

"Let's get inside," I said, nearly bursting with laughter.

We went in. The hut smelled of perfume, powder, soap and women.

"What in God's name is all that, may I ask?" I said, pointing to a case filled with handbags, bars of toilet soap, stockings, a small red parasol and two minute bottles of scent.

"Presents…" muttered Zorba, hanging his head.

"Presents?" I said, trying to sound furious. "Presents?"

"Presents, boss… for little Bouboulina. Don't be angry, boss. Easter's coming soon, and she's a human being too, you know."

I managed to restrain my laughter once again.

"You haven't brought her the most important thing," I said.

"What?"

"The marriage wreaths, of course."

"What? What d'you mean? I don't understand."

I then told him the way I had pulled the lovesick siren's leg.

Zorba scratched his head a second, reflected and then said:

"You shouldn't do things like that, boss, if you don't mind my saying so. That sort of joke, you know, is… women are weak, delicate creatures-how many times have I got to tell you that? Like porcelain vases, they are, and you have to handle them very carefully, boss."

I felt ashamed. I had regretted it, too, but it was too late. I changed the subject.

"And the cable?" I asked. "And the tools?"

"I've brought everything; don't get worked up! 'You can't have your cake and eat it!' as they say! The cable railway, Lola, Bouboulina-everything's well in hand."

He took the briki [22] off the flame, filled my cup, gave me some jumbals [23] with sesame which he had brought and honey halva [24] which he knew was my favorite sweet.

"I've brought you a present of a large box of halva!" he said fondly. "I didn't forget you, you see."

"Look, I've brought a little bag of peanuts for the parrot. I've forgotten no one. You know, my brain's overweight." Zorba was sipping his coffee, smoking and watching me. His eyes fascinated me like those of a serpent.

"Have you solved the problem which was tormenting you, you old rogue?" I asked him, my voice gentler now.

"What problem, boss?"

"If women are human beings or not?"

"Oh! That's settled!" answered Zorba, waving his hand. "A woman's human, too, a human like us-only worse! The minute she sees your purse she loses her head. She clings to you, gives up her freedom and is glad to give it up because, at the back of her mind, the purse is glittering. But she soon… Ah, to hell with all that, boss!"

He stood up and threw his cigarette out of the window.

"Now, man to man," he went on. "Holy Week's coming, we've got the cable, it's high time we went up to the monastery and got those fat pigs to sign the documents for that forest land… before they see the line and become excited-see what I mean? Time's going by, boss, and we'll never get anywhere being so lackadaisical; we must get down to it; we've got to start raking in… we must start loading the ships to make up for what we've spent… That trip to Candia cost a packet. You see, the devil…"

He stopped. I was sorry for him. He was just like a child who has done something silly and, not knowing how he can put things right again, just trembles all over.

"Shame on you!" I said to myself. "How can you let a soul like that tremble with fright? Where will you ever find another Zorba? Come on, sponge it all out!"

"Zorba!" I cried. "Leave the devil alone; we have no use for him! What's done is done… and forgotten! Take down your santuri!"

He opened his arms again as if he wanted to embrace me. But he closed them slowly, still hesitant.

In one bound he was at the wall. He stood up on his toes and took down the santuri. As he came back into the light of the lamp I saw his hair: it was as black as pitch.

"You old dog," I shouted, "what on earth have you done to your hair? Where did you get that?"

Zorba began to laugh.

"I've dyed it, boss. Don't get upset… I dyed it because I had no luck with it…"

"What for?"

"Vanity, by God! One day I was out walking with Lola, holding her arm. Not even holding… look, like that, just the end of my fingers! And some bloody little urchin, no bigger than this hand, started shouting after us: 'I say, old 'un!' the whoreson kid shouted. 'You there! Where are you taking her, baby-snatcher?'

"Lola was ashamed, you can imagine, and so was I. So I went the same night to the barber's and had my wig dyed black."

I began to laugh. Zorba watched me gravely.

"Does that sound comic to you, boss? Well, just wait and see what a strange animal man is, though! From the day I had it done, I've been another man altogether. You'd think I had black hair for good; I've begun to believe it myself-a man easily forgets what doesn't suit him, you know-and I swear I've got stronger. Lola's noticed it, too. D'you remember that pain I used to have in my back here? Well, it's gone! Haven't had it since! You don't believe me, of course, your books don't tell you things like that."