“But he watches you often. He is a man; he likes to see a pretty girl, there is no harm in that.” She made a comical face. “I do not look so in a swimming costume, not now. Once… But thatwas long ago. So Jürgen watches you; he says, that is a pretty girl; she swims well. Let her enjoy our water, I will not go for my swim till she finishes, I would not make her think I am bad old man. But today he sees you are hurt. He sees you swim slowly. He rushes down…” Her eyesflashed; she waved her hands excitedly. “It is romantic, is it not? But poor Jürgen is not romantic, he is too old. You do not have to be afraid of him, not when you have a handsome young lover.”

She had a lot of charm. The story was told with such verve and humor I couldn’t help smiling.

It was a little unbelievable, though. Her Jürgen must have been on his way down the cliff when he saw I was in trouble; he couldn’t have reached me in time otherwise. And strain my imagination as I might, I couldn’t hear him saying the words she had so gaily attributed to him, or drooling through his binoculars over a girl’s figure.

But I didn’t really care. I didn’t care about anything; I felt drowsy and warm, and so comfortable… I had forgotten how pleasant it was toenjoy the commonplace comforts of civilization. There was even a plump, smiling mother type sitting by me, patting my hand.

The thought of Kore as a motherly type made me want to laugh. And yet there was something maternal about her, under the glittering clothes and expert maquillage.

“You are sleepy, yes?” She put her hand on my forehead. “Good,” she murmured. “It is good; there is no fever.”

But her hand did not leave my brow. The fingers moved slowly; I thought of little snakes, squirming. But there was nothing repellent about the idea. I’m not afraid of snakes. I used to have a garter snake whose name was Herman. Snakes aren’t slimy, they are cool and hard and a little rough. Bundles of living muscle, moving…but quickly, not like those white fingers with their gentle, rhythmic caress…

The pillow under my head was lowered. I lay flat, staring up at a shadowy ceiling. Somewhere a voice was whispering.

“You are drowsy…you will sleep. And when you sleep, she will awaken, she who has slept so long and found a vessel of rebirth. O Most Holy, guardian of the dancing floor, daughter and maiden, awaken to your ancient heritage and live again!”

I heard the words. I understood what they meant and knew them for the half-pathetic, half-menacing nonsense that they were. But I was sinking down, down into green watery depths, sinking as if a stone had been tied to my feet; and as the darkness of the deep wrapped around me it was as if I, sinking, passed Another who was rising up out of the sea floor into sunlight.

Drugged.

I woke with that word floating on the surface of my mind. Sunlight was bright at the windows. The room was no longer like subaqueous space, it glowed like the green of a forest in broad daylight. My mouth felt dry, but otherwise I was in good shape. I flexed my arm experimentally and got a stab of pain for reward, but it wasn’t as bad as I had expected.

There had been some drug in the food or the wine. I had no doubts about that; my physical sensations just before I fell asleep had been typical. No worry, no concern, only an illusion of clarity and comfort and understanding. That’s what grass does for some people, at least so they tell me. It didn’t do anything for me except make my mouth taste foul. But I could get addicted to this stuff, whatever it was.

Looking back now on that episode, it seems incredible to me that I could have accepted it with such blind complacency. For it was a sign of what was to come, and not until the very end was I able to break free and reject what was happening to me. But it’s easy to be wise after the event. Each separate incident could be explained, and I was only too eager to explain them. The personal weaknesses that made me vulnerable also made me blind.

And surely that first incident was easy to understand. People get all uptight about the word “drugs,” but drugs have medicinal purposes too. No doubt I had been given a sedative or painkiller. Any kind of drug can affect the mind. I couldn’t even be sure I had really heard the eerie whispering. It fit only too well with previous outpourings of my subconscious.

Besides, the villa was such a pretty, comfortable place. If there had been gothic arches and moldering castle walls, or a few bats… Who couldimagine demons in a room furnished with French antiques and linen sheets?

I felt so good I decided I would get up. That was a mistake. The bed was a lot higher than I had expected. My feet didn’t quite reach the floor, and as soon as I sat up my head started to spin. Then the whole room began to heave slowly up and down, just like an earthquake. I slid off the bed and hit the floor with a thud. Luckily I fell on my left side, but the impact jarred my arm, and it hurt so badly I must have fainted. I wasn’t out very long. The crash alerted Kore and the maid; they came running in and put me back to bed. Kore was clucking like a mother hen.

“See, how foolish! You have hurt yourself. You are bad! I must call Jürgen to look at you.”

Jürgen duly appeared. In the unflattering light of day he appeared much older than he had the night before, but he had the strong, elegant bone structure that triumphs over wrinkles and sagging flesh. His eyes continued to avoid me, while he checked my pulse and temperature and unwound the bandages to look at the wound.

“Already it heals,” he said with satisfaction. “That is what it is to be strong and young! But no more foolishness about leaving the bed. Rest and sleep and eat, that is what you need.”

He smiled in my general direction and started backing away.

“How soon can I leave?” I asked, and then felt my face grow warm as the ungraciousness of the question struck me. “I didn’t mean that; I just meant-”

“Of course you meant it. You are young, and already you are bored. I can offer you only books. My selection of English volumes is not great, I fear. Shall I bring you what I have?”

“Yes, please,” I said resignedly. He hadn’t answered me, which indicated that I had a couple of days of boredom ahead of me. He might not be a doctor, but he had a physician’s reticence.

“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.