Death in a Salubrious Place [antikvár]

Chapter One Sylvie died without knowing why. In the instant when she had realised his intention and before the blow fell, when it was already too late to make the smallest effort to escape, she had experienced not only a paralysing fear but profound astonishment. It is said of some who die by violence that their features express neither horror nor fear but only intense surprise. Had it been possible to discern any expression on die battered face of the girl it might well have been one of blank incredulity. She died because she had not listened, because she was indifferent. For twenty minutes the man had walked beside her when, above all else, she wanted to be alone. With the masochistic self-indulgence of deeply injured pride she wanted only to relive the moment, probe the wound, extract the last scrap of pain and humiliation from the experience. But she had not wanted to die. Even in the depths of her misery a small voice whispered that it would pass. A tiny part of her mind was beginning to make healing adjustments even, perhaps, to skirmish with the practical problems which would now confront her. At heart, she was a realist. It was late. Overhead, in a cloudless sky, the stars were brilliant points of cold light. Nearer the horizon they twinkled through thickening mists. The landscape in the starlight was pale, almost bleached. They had climbed the slope out of the valley. Salu- 7