Zorba was breathing heavily. For a moment he shook himself as though he wanted to run away, but he controlled himself.

"Go on," he grunted, in a strangled voice.

Then he straightway leaped up.

"Shut up! Shut up!" he shouted. "Why are you saying this to me, boss? Why are you poisoning my mind? I was all right here, why äre you upsetting me? I was hungry, and God and the devil (I'm damned if I can see the difference) threw me a bone and I was licking it. I was wagging my tail and shouting: 'Thank you! Thank you!' And now…"

He stamped his foot, turned his back, made a move as if he were going over to the hut, but he was still boiling inside. He stopped.

"Pff! A fine bone it was he threw me, that god-devil!" he roared. "A dirty old cabaret tart! An old tub that isn't even seaworthy!"

He seized a handful of pebbles and threw them into the sea.

"But who is he? Who is it who throws these bones to us? Eh?"

He waited a little, then when he felt no reply was coming he became excited.

"Can't you say anything, boss?" he cried. "If you know, tell me, so that I know his name. Then, don't you worry, I'll look after him! But if it's just on the off-chance, like that, which way must I go? I'll come to grief."

"I'm hungry," I said. "Go and get some food. Let's eat first!"

"Can't we last an evening without eating, boss? One of my uncles was a monk, and weekdays he took nothing but salt and water. On Sundays and feast days he added a bit of bran. He lived to be a hundred and twenty."

"He lived to be a hundred and twenty, Zorba, because he had faith. He had found his God and he had no worries. But we have no God to nourish us, Zorba, so light the fire, will you, and we'll cook those chads. Make a thick, hot soup with plenty of onions and pepper, the sort we like. Then we'll see."

"See what?" asked Zorba in a rage. "As soon as our bellies are full we shall forget all that!"

"Exactly! That's what food's really for, Zorba. Now then, off you go and make a good fish soup so that our heads don't burst!"

But Zorba didn't budge. He stayed where he was, motionless, looking at me.

"Listen, boss, I want to tell you something. I know what you're up to. Just now when you were talking to me I suddenly had an inkling; I saw it all in a flash."

"What am I up to, Zorba?" I asked, intrigued.

"You want to build a monastery. That's it! Instead of monks you'd stick a few quill drivers like your honored self ínside and they'd pass the time scribbling day and night. Then, like the saints in the old pictures, printed ribbons would come rolling out of your mouths. I've guessed right, haven't I?"

I hung my head, saddened. Old dreams of my youth, huge wings that have lost their feathers, naïve, noble, generous impulses… Build an intellectual community and bury ourselves there; a dozen friends-musicians, poets, painters… Work all day, meet only at night, eat, sing, read together, discuss the great problems of humanity, demolish the traditional answers. I had worked out the rules of the community already. I had even found the building in one of the passes of Mount Hymettus, at St. John the Hunter.

"I've guessed it right enough," said Zorba happily, when he saw I remained silent.

"Well, I'm going to ask you a favor, holy abbot: I want you to appoint me doorkeeper to your monastery so that I can do some smuggling and, now and then, let some very strange things through into the holy precincts: women, mandolins, demijohns of raki, roast sucking pigs… All so that you don't fritter away your life with a lot of nonsense!"

He laughed and went quickly towards the hut. I ran after him. He cleaned the fish, without opening his mouth, while I fetched wood and lit the fire. As soon as the soup was ready, we took our spoons and began eating straight out of the pot.

Neither of us spoke. We had not had a bite all day and we both ate ravenously. We drank some wine and our spirits improved. Zorba opened his mouth at last.

"It would be fun to see Dame Bouboulina turn up now, boss. It would be a good moment for her to come, but God preserve us! She'd be the last straw. And yet you know, boss, I've missed her, devil take her!"

"You aren't asking me who threw you that particular little bone, are you?"

"What do you care, boss? It's like a flea in a haystack… Take the bone and don't worry about who threw it down to you. Is it tasty? Is there any flesh on it? Those are the questions to ask. All the rest is…"

"Food has worked its wondrous miracle!" I said, slapping him on the back. "The famished body is calmed… and so the soul that was asking questions has calmed down, too. Get your santuri!"

But just as Zorba stood up we heard quick, heavy steps on the pebbles. Zorba's hairy nostrils quivered.

"Speak of the devil…" he said in a low voice, slapping his thighs. "Here she is! The bitch has scented a Zorba smell in the air, and here she comes."

"I'm off," I said, rising. "I don't want anything to do with this. I'll go out for a bit. I leave this to you."

"Good night, boss."

"And don't forget, Zorba. You promised to marry her… Don't make me a liar."

Zorba sighed.

"Marry again, boss? I've had my bellyful!"

The scent of toilet soap was coming nearer.

"Courage, Zorba!"

I left quickly. Outside, I could already hear the panting breath of the old siren.

17

THE NEXT DAY at dawn Zorba's voice woke me from sleep.

"What's got into you so early in the morning? Why all thís shouting?"

"We have to take things seriously, boss," he answered, filling his haversack with food. "I've brought two mules; get up and we'll go to the monastery and have the papers signed for the cable railway. There's only one thing makes a lion afraid and that's a louse. The lice will eat us all up, boss."

"Why call that poor Bouboulina a louse?" I asked him with a laugh.

But Zorba pretended he had not heard.

"Come on," he said, "before the sun is too high."

I was really very glad to go up into the mountains and enjoy the smell of the pine trees. We mounted our beasts and began the ascent, halting for a moment at the mine where Zorba gave some instructions to the workmen. He told them to work at the "Mother Superior," to dig out the trench in "The Piddler" and clean out the "Canavaro."

The day shone like a diamond of the first water. The higher we went, the more our spirits seemed to become purged and exalted. Once again I felt the influence on the soul of pure air, easy breathing and a vast horizon. Anyone would think the soul, too, was an animal with lungs and nostrils, and that it needed oxygen, was stifled in the dust or in the midst of too much stale breath.

The sun was already high when we entered the pine forest. The air there smelled of honey, the wind was blowing above us and soughed like the sea.

During the trek Zorba studied the slope of the mountainside. In his imagination he was driving in piles every so many yards, and when he raised his eyes he could already see the cable shining in the sun and running right down to the shore. Attached to the cable the felled tree trunks descended, whistling along like arrows from a bow.

He rubbed his hands together:

"Capital!" he said. "This'll be a gold mine! We'll soon be rolling in money, and we can do all we said."

I looked at him in astonishment.

"Hm! Don't tell me you've forgotten already! Before we built your monastery, we were going up the great mountain. What's its name?"

" Tibet, Zorba, Tibet. But only the two of us. You can't take women there."

"Who mentioned taking women? The poor creatures are very useful, anyway, so don't say anything against them; very useful, when a man hasn't got any man's'Work to do, such as cutting coal, taking towns by assault or talking to God. What else is there for him to do, then, if he isn't going to burst? He drinks wine, plays dice, or puts his arms round a woman… and he waits… waits for his hour to come-if it is coming."