Down below, the sea broke on the jagged chaos of rock. A stiff dry breeze blowing from distant Turkey fanned his face. The harbour, protected from the sea by a concrete mole, thrust itself in an irregular arc into the shore-line. And overlooking it all were the tiny white cottages of the town's outskirts perched on the slopes of the mountain range which broke off abruptly at the sea.
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It was quiet here in the old park outside of the town. Yellow maple leaves floated slowly down onto its grass-grown paths.
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The old Persian cabby who had driven Pavel out here from town could not help asking as his strange fare alighted: "Why come here of all places? No young ladies, no amusements. Nothing but the jackals… What will you do here? Better let me drive you back to town, mister tovarish!"
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第十七章
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