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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 k
 
 TALES FROM THE ISLES OF GREECE
 
 All Eights Reserved
 
 «--^ ^/i-ce^ t.>/^le')X^^-c^i^^ .
 
 TALES FROM THE ISLES ^ 
 
 OF GREECE BEING SKETCHES 
 OF MODERN GREEK PEASANT 
 LIFE TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK 
 OF ARGYRIS EPHTALIOTIS BY 
 W. H. D. ROUSE 
 
 LONDON MDCCCXCVII PUBLISHED BY 
 J. M. DENT ik CO. ALDINE HOUSE E.G. 
 AND 67 SAINT JAMES'S STREET S.W.
 
 A^,. ^y^ 
 
 PA 
 
 
 BcDication 
 
 Herald of morn, when still the night was deep, 
 Mother of heroes, nurse of arts divine. 
 
 Now newly wakened from millennial sleep, 
 Hellas ! to thee whatever here is mine. 
 
 'EXXdj, trot T68e Keirai, iirel irore fioivij iXafiirei 
 <j>Cii fJMVTevofj.ivT) vvKTepivtfi ffK&rei, 
 
 7jpd)wv fjt-rjrep, delwv /j.ov(XOTp6<pe Texv(JLV, 
 vvf 5' dirb X'XteroCs virvov iyeipofxivr]. 
 
 896582
 
 The stories here offered to English readers are 
 taken from a little book which has excited much 
 interest in Greece. It is one of the few books 
 dealing with their own peasant life that the Greeks 
 of to-day have given us. With material so plenti- 
 ful, and of such interest not only for themselves but 
 for all who love Greece, we can only wonder and 
 regret that there are so few books of the kind. 
 One or two of the sketches in the original work 
 have been omitted, and their place has been taken 
 by three others given at the end, dealing with 
 the days of the War of Independence. These 
 have not yet been published, and have been trans- 
 lated from the author's manuscript. If among 
 those that have been retained some are but slight, 
 there is none but throws light upon the life and 
 customs of the Greek peasant.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 After many Years 
 
 
 
 PAOB 
 
 1 
 
 Kapetan Giorgis 
 
 
 
 9 
 
 Pappa Sophronios 
 
 
 
 22 
 
 Blind Kostas' Wife . 
 
 
 
 34 
 
 Marinos Kontaras 
 
 
 
 53 
 
 Zanos Charisis 
 
 
 
 72 
 
 First Love 
 
 
 
 104 
 
 Angelica 
 
 
 
 . 109 
 
 Old Thanos 
 
 
 
 . 123 
 
 Uncle Anastasis 
 
 
 
 . 126 
 
 The Boat 
 
 
 
 . 130 
 
 Paraskevas and his Daughter 
 
 
 . 133 
 
 Secret Love 
 
 • 
 
 
 . 137 
 
 Fire 
 
 • 
 
 
 . 141 
 
 The Buried Treasure 
 
 . 
 
 
 . 144 
 
 In Their Deaths They 
 
 were not Divided 
 
 . 148 
 
 Vangelis and His New Year's Cake 
 
 . 152 
 
 The Shepherd Boy 
 
 • • • 
 
 . 157 
 
 Charon's Victim 
 
 • 
 
 • • 
 
 . 162
 
 viii CONTENTS 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 DiAMANTO ..... 
 
 168 
 
 KoUTOZArHIRIS ..... 
 
 . 173 
 
 Uncle Yannis and His Donkey 
 
 178 
 
 Love in the Train .... 
 
 184 
 
 Love on the Hills .... 
 
 192 
 
 Aunt Yannoula .... 
 
 198 
 
 Panayis Kaloyannis . . . . . 
 
 208 
 
 Ibrahim ....... 
 
 219
 
 IN THE GREEK ISLANDS 
 
 There is something Homeric still lingering about 
 rural Greece, and especially about those isles of the 
 ^gean where few travellers come. It is not only 
 the delicate and voluble speech, which in spite of 
 all its changes still suggests the ripple of the hexa- 
 meter, if not its majesty ; but the very life and 
 thoughts of the people go back to an immemorial 
 antiquity. On every barren hill an Eumaeus in 
 his ixavSpa, with fierce belling hounds that know 
 each stranger for an enemy ; Odysseus sailing the 
 seas in a bark no other than those we see upon a 
 Greek vase, its bows painted with just such a pair 
 of huge eyes as of yore ; Penelope weaving at her 
 hand-loom, linen, or a carpet of bright colours ; the 
 same simple fare, the same open hospitality ; Nereids 
 haunting the brooks and the hills, Charon calling 
 away the dead. It is not so long since blind 
 Homers trudged the country side, and in return 
 for a welcome, sang the heroic ballads of olden 
 days ; only now no Troy was their theme, but the 
 struggle of Greece for freedom against the Turk. 
 Your host comes to his door to bid you welcome.
 
 X IN THE GEEEK ISLANDS 
 
 You enter the building, blind walls without, but 
 within, rooms opening upon a courtyard, with per- 
 haps a kind of verandah on the side. In the 
 porch, basin and towel are brought you, and a 
 son or daughter of the house pours water upon 
 your hands. You take your seat on a stool or 
 lounge, and the goodwife with her own hands 
 brings in a tray of sweetmeats — a small glass 
 of delicious jam, of which you take one spoon- 
 ful, wishing the lady health in a set formula, to 
 which she replies. Then follows the meal, the 
 women waiting on you and your host ; and finally 
 mastick is brought on in little bottles, with grapes 
 and figs or melons ; a dependent, half servant, half 
 friend, of the same kin as your host, pours out con- 
 tinual drams of this potent spirit, of which he too 
 is now and then permitted to taste. He sits in a 
 corner, joins deferentially in the conversation ; while 
 without, lounge one or two humbler servants, listen- " 
 ing to all that goes on. Your host has a full share 
 of curiosity, and will know who you are, where you 
 live, your income, whether you have a wife, if not 
 why not, all about you in short ; and equally ready 
 to tell of himself. While you will, you are welcome 
 to stay ; and as a rule there is no thought of pay- 
 ment. Even the poor will often make you their 
 guest. On one occasion — and this not far from
 
 IN THE GREEK ISLANDS xi 
 
 Athens — I hired a man and mule for half a day. 
 After some little bargaining, we settled the price at 
 three drachmas, then worth something less than 
 eighteen pence. The bargain sealed by a sip of 
 sour wine, he said, " Where do you eat bread ? " 
 "Oh," I said, " here, I suppose" (in the coffee-house). 
 " Come and eat with me," he answered. So I joined 
 my muleteer at his breakfast, where we had simple 
 fare, it is true, but plenty and hospitably offered : 
 salt fish, bread, cheese, wine of a sort, figs, grapes, 
 set on a wooden tray, while we reclined on the 
 floor ; and grace said by the priest long enough for 
 a Lord Mayor's banquet. On returning from my 
 excursion, he insisted on my sharing another meal, 
 this time hunks of black bread and an immense 
 raw onion. 
 
 Out on the hills Pan is not yet dead ; if he 
 sleeps perchance, at least the Nereids are awake. 
 In the form of lovely women (" fair as a Nereid," 
 or " ugly as a Fate," the folk say in their proverbs), 
 drest in white, with long black hair, they accost 
 the lonely shepherd or the wayfarer, and woe be to 
 him if he fails to fend them off. To reply is fatal : 
 they strike him dumb, or they paralyse a limb, do 
 him some hurt anyhow. One old man, a storehouse 
 of ancient lore, told me that as he kept his flocks 
 by night he heard the Nereids, as it were a great
 
 xii IN THE GEEEK ISLANDS 
 
 sound of bells ; since when he has heard nothing 
 plainly, for they made him deaf. If you would 
 have them harmless, you draw a circle around you 
 with a black-handled knife, and within this they 
 cannot come. Nor have the dryads gone, nor the 
 nymphs of the streams ; witness this chapel over 
 some sacred well, or that tree with its tribute of 
 rags and onions. All over the land, I might say 
 in nearly every field, often far from any now in- 
 habited spot, are ruined shrines or simple enclosures, 
 each with its patron saint ; recalling the corners set 
 apart for Pan and the nymphs in a Greek farm of 
 old. Many of these spots have Byzantine remains 
 upon them, and it is surely not impossible to believe 
 that some at least may be the very spots where 
 Pan once was worshipt. They are marked in no 
 map, and known only in local tradition ; and a list 
 of their saints, if such could be made, might throw 
 light on their origin. Very many of them are 
 dedicated to the Virgin, Havayla, and it is perhaps 
 not too fanciful to hear in the name an echo of the 
 old god, when we see how Demeter becomes St 
 Dimitri, and Eilithyia, St Lephteri (Eleutheros). 
 
 The Three Fates still spin their pitiless thread ; 
 on the head of the new-born babe they write his 
 destiny, and ill luck is for that house where on the 
 christening night no food is laid for the Sisters.
 
 IN THE GREEK ISLANDS xiii 
 
 The evil eye is ever to be guarded against ; if it 
 fall upon you, fail not to spit thrice into your 
 bosom, as they did in the days of Theocritus. And 
 when you die, it is Charon who comes grim to fetch 
 you. Hear one of their dirges : — 
 
 *' Why are the mountain heights so black ? why swirl the 
 
 clouds around them ? 
 Is it the hurricane that beats, or rain the hilltops scourging ? 
 It is no hurricane that beats, no rain the hilltops scourging ; 
 'Tis Charos who is passing by with hosts of dead about him. 
 The young men he drives on before, the greybeards follow 
 
 after, 
 And all the tender little ones are slung across his saddle." 
 
 These dread powers are propitiated much as they 
 used to be. Enter any church of repute : there 
 hang the little votive arms and legs, breasts and 
 faces. There, as in the temple of Asclepius, the 
 night before a great Panegyris, the sick folk sleep 
 in hope of a blessing from the saint. The place 
 looks like a barrack ; in the aisles there is no 
 stepping for the beds, rugs, pots and pans, dirty 
 children, and all the paraphernalia of the household ; 
 on the carved stalls they sleep two deep. Many 
 are the miracles wrought on them, no less (we may 
 believe) than the wondrous cures of Epidaurus. 
 
 But fate, nor Charon, nor dread of disease can 
 make the Greek melancholy. He works as much 
 as he must, to gain food to live on. In winter, if
 
 xiv IN THE GREEK ISLANDS 
 
 duty takes him out on the hills, he wraps about 
 him a sheepskin thick as a board, and makes the 
 best of it ; when the warm weather comes, he basks 
 in the sunlight, eats his fruit and cheese, drinks his 
 weak wine, and passes most of his time in rolling 
 cigarettes, which consist chiefly of paper. In the 
 evening, he sits at the cafe and enjoys the latest 
 gossip ; full of animation and vivid talk, laughter, 
 jokes, and stories, hardly ever drinking to excess, 
 and but rarely excited to use the daggers and 
 pistols that stuff his pouch. 
 
 Then again, when the holy day comes for the 
 local saint, or be it vintage time and the grapes 
 must be blessed, early in the morning, by sunrise, 
 the whole village will be assembled at the church. 
 Outside the gates donkeys and mules are tethered, 
 hucksters drive a trade ; within the gates, men 
 stand bare-headed, and women veiled, the church 
 full, the yard thronged with the residue ; the priest 
 says his prayers, and an acolyte carries the censer 
 to wave in and out among the crowd ; the offerings 
 of first-fruits are blessed, and baskets of bread and 
 grapes are brought out, each person taking a piece. 
 Till then the pious have eaten none of the grapes 
 in their vineyards. They worship, they go about 
 their day's work, and in the evening down to the 
 sea-shore, where music and dancing make them
 
 IN THE GREEK ISLANDS xv 
 
 happy till nightfall, or even (should there be a 
 moon) far into the night. Men and women alike 
 join in the worship ; they are not yet educated into 
 unbelief; and their passion for dancing is no whit 
 less strong than their faith. A Greek will always 
 be dancing, even as an Englishman, when he is 
 happy, will sing a comic song. 
 
 The charm of these sunny lands, and their people 
 so merry and light-hearted, attracts the thoughts 
 ever to them again. We long to climb the rugged 
 hill paths once more, to see the partridges fly 
 whirring from under our feet, or the eagle sail 
 among the rocks ; to lie in the evening beneath the 
 cloudless sky, and hear the innumerable buzzing 
 things that fill the air with life, the moan of the 
 sea on the not distant shores ; to feel the whiff of 
 the evening breeze setting off the land ; and with 
 all around so untouched by what is ugly in modern 
 life, to dream that the world is three thousand 
 years younger, and that Troy has but just fallen ; 
 and half expect to hear Pan piping down there in 
 the glen, 
 
 Trap iroraixov KeXdSovra, "jrapa poSavov SovaKrja. 
 
 W. H. D. ROUSE.
 
 AFTER MANY YEARS 
 
 The other day I happened to be travelling from 
 our island to the Capital. ^ When I travel, I always 
 like to know who my companions are. On this 
 occasion our steamer had not many passengers 
 aboard ; but when we touched at the little town 
 to the north of the island, a man came off whose 
 appearance I thought rather peculiar. He had all 
 the looks and ways of Western Europe ; his very 
 walk was of the West ; yet he rated his greedy 
 boatman in the purest Romaic. I wondered who 
 on earth he might be. 
 
 When the steamer was once more under weigh, 
 I went up to the man, and giving him good-day, 
 opened a conversation. 
 
 " May I ask where you come from ? " I began. 
 
 " That is my home," said he, " the place which, 
 as you see, I am now leaving." 
 
 " And whither away, if God will ? " I began. 
 
 " To Europe. I have spent all my youth in 
 Europe ; I just came home for a visit, to see my 
 people, and now I am going back." 
 
 ^ Constantinople.
 
 2 AFTER MANY YEARS 
 
 The ice thus broken, we soon became friends. 
 In the evening, as we sat on deck together, gazing 
 upon the quiet sea as it lay before us, and on 
 the mountains opposite, we talked away, each of 
 himself. 
 
 It was a long tale he told me, and full of sad- 
 ness. He begged me never to make it known, 
 except the one small portion which I am about 
 to tell you now. 
 
 " I was quite a youngster (so he began) when 
 I first left our island. My journey led me far into 
 strange lands, to far-away Europe, where the light 
 is, so you wise folks say ; but full of darkness 
 and mist I found it. Yes, darkness and mist ; 
 and its melancholy paths overgrown with the herb 
 of forgetfulness. Twenty years did that deadly 
 herb numb ray senses. For twenty years some- 
 thing gnawed at my vitals unseen, — the undying 
 love for home, which not even Europe was strong 
 enough wholly to destroy. 
 
 " After these twenty years, this craving over- 
 powered the herb of forgetfulness. Awoke my heart, 
 awoke my mind, — all my being awoke and cried 
 out for home. 
 
 " I took ship, and away I sailed — away to these 
 our beloved islands. And there they were still, 
 each in its proper place. There I found them
 
 AFTER MANY YEARS 3 
 
 again, still smiling as they smiled when I turned 
 my back upon them long ago. And the sun, as 
 though he knew what sorrows I had had to bear, 
 thawed me and warmed me until I was numb with 
 excess of joy. 
 
 " The captain of the little boat that was bearing 
 me home all but shed tears, poor fellow, when he 
 learnt my history. It was late in the evening when 
 we arrived ; and as our tiny steamer cast anchor 
 in the bay, all was dark. You could see the 
 lights kindling one by one in the houses 
 opposite. 
 
 " The old man hurried to his gun to signal our 
 approach, but it hung fire. Then he ran to the 
 whistle, and at once began such a din, you might 
 have thought some dragon had been vomited up 
 from the bowels of the earth. For half an hour it 
 shrieked without a pause. 
 
 " ' Boat ahoy ! ' cried the look-out man. ' Here 
 she comes, skipper ! They have heard the signal, 
 and here's the boat coming.' 
 
 " The boat ran alongside, with a few handsome 
 young fellows in her. In a trice all were aboard of 
 us, and greeting me with their 'Welcome, welcome ! ' 
 as shy as could be. Just think of it ! Instead of 
 pelting me with rotten oranges, after all my heart- 
 lessness, they were actually shy of me, poor fellows !
 
 4 AFTER MANY YEAES 
 
 " ' And who are you ? ' I asked them. 
 
 " ' I am your godchild,' says one. ' Your cousin,' 
 says another. ' Your nephew — your brother-in- 
 law.' Ah ! it's a cruel and topsy-turvy world this ; 
 but it has its odd moments of sweetness. 
 
 " The boat cut through the waves, and ran up to 
 the landing-place. Scarce was the painter made fast, 
 when off at a run went Uncle Stamd^tis, to get the 
 credit of being first with the good news. 
 
 " ' Now, you can't take me in ! ' I cried, as I 
 set foot on shore. ' I know you all. There's my 
 uncle — how white he has grown ! There's Zisis, 
 gay old dog ! with that sly laugh of his.' 
 
 " For a few minutes I stood still, gathering them 
 all about me. I tried to say something ; I wanted 
 to assure them that nobody was a bit altered, and 
 that they all seemed to me just as if I had never 
 left them. But I could not open my lips. One 
 moment I leaned upon my old uncle's arm ; then 
 we wiped our tears, and moved away from the 
 jetty by light of the lantern. 
 
 " As we went, I stopped now and again to look 
 about me. I noticed a new house here, a new 
 road there; gardens yonder, where I had last seen 
 nothing but a heap of stones ; shops where I could 
 remember the bare rocks. I seemed to have 
 grown twice my former size, so small and shrunken
 
 AFTER MANY YEARS 5 
 
 everything seemed to be. I told them this, and 
 they laughed. 
 
 " All the way a heavy anxiety tormented me. 
 For a man to meet his mother after so many years 
 was no laughing matter ; one must be very brave 
 indeed ; or something might happen to the old 
 dame. So I began to behave very much like a 
 drunken man trying to show that he is not drunk. 
 I walked on stoutly, bringing down my stick upon 
 the ground with a great air of determination. 
 Afterwards the poor old soul herself told me that 
 she had had the same kind of struggle. And then 
 all of a sudden we found ourselves face to face I In 
 an instant we were locked in each other's arms. 
 "We were mute ; not a word was said. Standing 
 by were forty or fifty of our friends and kin, watch- 
 ing with the same feeling of awe as if they saw 
 some holy sacrament. And a sacrament it was to 
 me, the holiest sacrament of my life, when one kiss 
 wiped out the errors of a lifetime. 
 
 " I lifted my eyes to look around me, and found 
 myself clasped in the arms of a young woman weep- 
 ing. They told me it was my sister. 
 
 " ' How pretty you are ! ' I said, turning to banter 
 her ; but my words were choked in tears. She 
 was a few months' bride, and beside her stood the 
 husband, awaiting his turn to embrace me. I
 
 6 AFTER MANY YEARS 
 
 took his hand, saying, ' It must be you have made 
 her so pretty ! She was a little wild goat when I 
 used to hold her on my knees, a child of four ! ' 
 Then I turned and looked her in the eyes. ' Now 
 I know you,' I added ; * bigger, but still the same.' 
 
 " And thus with jest and tear I went through 
 that awful joy, the like of which there is none 
 other in the world. 
 
 " When we got to the house, they brought me 
 into the sitting-room. The house was very much 
 the same as ever, but the furniture was all changed ; 
 everything now was made in Germany. 
 
 " ' A curse on thee, Europe ! ' said I to myself ; 
 ' so we cannot get quit of thee even here ! ' But 
 before I could utter a word, the house was full of 
 three generations of my family, the two that I 
 knew (all save those who had gone on their last 
 journey), and the new generation which had sprung 
 up after. 
 
 " To describe the meeting with each old kinsman 
 or friend would need a longer time than I have to 
 spare. I will only say that each fresh face was a 
 separate riddle, and I guessed the riddles every 
 one, so well remembered were those days long 
 gone by. 
 
 " Ah, those bygone days ! Again I felt their 
 delijiht and their bliss ! There was the cellar with
 
 AFTER MANY YEARS 7 
 
 its store of figs, just as it used to be, the cupboard 
 full of sweetmeats, the pancakes of a morning before 
 dawn, all those trifles that mothers contrive to make 
 us children once again, though our hair be gray ! 
 The old hearts and the old songs brought back the 
 past again ; but when I entered new houses, and 
 looked upon new faces, and heard things that were 
 new, my soul shrank into itself, and I felt a stranger 
 in a strange land. For even here they had brought 
 the rags of ' civilisation ' from Syra and the Capital ; 
 here too all the old Greek life was ' refined ' away, 
 and they had lost their old island customs as they 
 had lost their old songs. Ah, songs of my home 
 that I love so well ! I have sung you, I, the so- 
 journer in foreign lands ; and these girls that have 
 never been away from home care nothing to remem- 
 ber you any more, but only babble the ditties of the 
 day with their affected and artificial phrasing ! 
 
 " ' Let us go into the country,' said I one day to 
 my mother ; ' never mind if it is October. There 
 at least there will be no change.' Neither was 
 there. The old tower, with the poplars near it and 
 the spring hard by, the plane trees farther up, the 
 flocks scattered about the hillside, with their bells 
 tinkling in accompaniment to the shepherds' pipes, 
 the sea far below — all, all was the same as ever. 
 These have not grown old, nor ever will. These
 
 8 ATTEK MANY YEARS 
 
 are still waiting to greet you and to refresh, be you 
 never so weary. 
 
 " I led the old dame to the lonely chapel by the 
 sea-shore. We prayed there, we lit a taper, and 
 vowed to pass our last years at home together. 
 
 " ' Only let me go back once again,' said I, ' and 
 I swear to you I will not be long this time.' 
 
 " She saw how I wished it, and she did not say 
 no. Only she turned her eyes to the sea, and sang 
 a snatch of an old soncj of her husband's, lonof since 
 dead : 
 
 " ' The sea has wept and wept her fill ; now on the rocks 'tis 
 beating. 
 Again the sea has wept her fill, again on the rocks 'tis 
 beating.' "
 
 KAPETAN GIORGIS 
 
 There is a ghost in many a hamlet, many a hill, 
 wood, or lonely chapel ; indeed, if we look closely, 
 we find that each single house has some haunting 
 horror of its own. Here it is sickness, here death, 
 there drunkenness, or some other demon poisoning 
 the air, when all would seem as though comfort 
 and bliss reigned supreme. 
 
 In the island village whither I am about to take 
 you, the ghost of the place was for many years a 
 certain Skipper Giorgis. Now the poor creature 
 has departed, and made way for some other ghost. 
 
 Let us go back some twenty years, and pay a 
 visit to yon sacred soil. Let us stand upon the 
 cape, where once upon a time rose a proud city, 
 with its navies, with its forts, and its columns of 
 marble. And now — how is the mighty fallen ! 
 The ancient acropolis has been degraded to a 
 Turkish guard-house, a solitary hut ; part of the 
 old city serves for the cemetery ; the rest is field 
 after field strewn with the stones of old ruins.
 
 10 KAPETAN GIOEGIS 
 
 Often have I gone there after a shower, to gather 
 wild lettuce or snails, and have returned with whole 
 handfuls of broken antiques and potsherds. 
 
 The village proper we shall find on its flank, 
 climbing the hillside. Open a window up there, 
 and your heart opens too ; for to the right spreads 
 the sea far as the eye can reach ; in front lies the 
 bay ; and the hills are opposite, dotted with ham- 
 lets here and there ; on the left, a plain covered 
 with olive groves, and one stream in the middle — 
 the very plain where once upon a time Orpheus was 
 cast ashore, and hung his lyre upon a willow, and ever 
 since, the nightingales have sung there with a sweet- 
 ness that has nothing like it ; until a year or two 
 ago, when the Turks cut down the willows, and the 
 river was left bare, and away flew the nightingales 
 after thirty centuries of song. 
 
 Now for Kapetan Giorgis. Picture to yourself 
 a middle-aged man of medium height, his features 
 regular, but so sunburnt that you might take him 
 for a Moor. And not his face only, but his whole 
 body was the same, for except rags and tatters, 
 other clothes had he none. Whenever they gave 
 him clothes, down he would sit beside some rock, 
 tearing them up into little shreds, which he pieced 
 together again with string, and wore them so. He 
 never told us why he did that ; but we all knew of
 
 KAPETAN GIORGIS 11 
 
 it ; and between you and me, I may as well say he 
 was daft. 
 
 Kapetan Giorgis used to speak a language all his 
 own ; here and there you might understand a word, 
 but the most of it rattled off his tongue like pebbles 
 falling upon the ground. He seemed altogether 
 serious and wrapt in his thoughts. Even his laugh 
 (and he laughed but seldom) had a strange gravity, 
 as who should say, " All right, Joy my lass, I know 
 thou'rt a trickster, but thou'lt not trick me ! " 
 
 He never entered the village unless he was 
 hungry. And then, of course, people used to 
 give him something. That den of his was away 
 outside, open to the four winds, towards the old 
 city. There he loved to wander about ; and sooth 
 to say, when I saw him at times amid the ruins he 
 seemed, as it were, the spectre of one of our fore- 
 fathers, risen from the dead to bewail the desolation 
 of his native land. 
 
 But who was Kapetan Giorgis ? Tliat I never 
 could learn from the people of the place, and when 
 I asked the man himself, he would turn his face to 
 the sea, mumbling incoherent phrases. Kapetan 
 Giorgis would have remained for ever a mystery, 
 but that one day came one of those long fishing 
 boats, dragging its net into our bay, and I went 
 down to the beach to buy fish.
 
 12 KAPETAN GIORGIS 
 
 It was a great event then if one of these long- 
 boats came in ; as great as the mail-steamer's coming 
 nowadays. And if for nothing else, it is grand 
 simply to see the leaping fish which the fishermen 
 haul up behind them, crying them for sale, and 
 making all the windows rattle with the noise. 
 
 I myself (to make full confession) was fond of 
 fish, but far fonder of watching the fishing-boat. 
 Something always drew me towards it. I used to 
 stand and watch the oars as they beat all together, 
 now rising, now level and still in the air, then 
 plunging again, just as though all the lads that 
 pulled them were worked by a spring. I watched 
 the circle marked out by the net on the quiet sea, 
 and thought of the tragedy that was taking place 
 down in the depths. What dreams they must have 
 had yesterday, those luckless fish ! I seemed to 
 see them dart hither and thither in a frenzy, only 
 to find themselves fast caught. And when I 
 thought that even had they known what a net 
 means, — even had they never stirred from their 
 place, the net would still have got grip of them, 
 I felt an impulse to call out and bid stop the 
 boat, that the fish might have a chance to make 
 their escape. 
 
 In half an hour the boat was moored, and the 
 sons of the sea were on the sand in two lines.
 
 KAPETAN GIOEGIS 13 
 
 hauling in the two cables with short lines wound 
 about their waists, and springing back, one by one, 
 to make fast to the cable in a new place their 
 ropes with the cork at the end, and to join in the 
 haul once more. It was a real delight to look at 
 them. I have never yet been so fortunate as to 
 see a picture of this ; yet what a picture it would 
 make ! Why do not our painters try this subject ? 
 You would see manly forms, full of grace and 
 vigour ; muscles you would see that anyone might 
 envy, breasts of bronze, necks and heads finely 
 modelled, turned towards the sea, while their 
 hands tugged and strained at the cable. 
 
 Another half hour and the haul was landed. 
 The fish trembled and flashed upon the net like 
 stars in the sky. The lads came thronging around, 
 and shaking the net over their baskets : red mullet, 
 barbel, sardines, anchovy, cuttle-fish — all the mani- 
 fold gifts of the sea, Down at the bottom was a 
 fine bream, a five-pounder. Yannis, the skipper 
 (who seemed to know me), strung a bulrush 
 through its gills, and presented it to me with a 
 smile. He would take no payment ; so I invited 
 him to my house to pay him with good wine, and 
 he promised to come.
 
 14 KAPETAN GIOEGIS 
 
 II 
 
 In the evening Kapetan Yannis put in an 
 appearance at our house with the gold ring in 
 his ear, his long fez, and the red kerchief under 
 his vest. He kicked off his shoes at the entrance, 
 and came in. He was a man of some fifty years of 
 age, was Kapetan Yannis, and modest as a maid. 
 After the usual questions in came the tray ; then 
 — " To you, and happy to see you ! " and down 
 went his dram. After this he took a few almonds, 
 which he cracked with his teeth ; and as his 
 knotty fingers picked out the kernels, he began 
 to amuse us with his talk. 
 
 Two or three more drams of mastick and we sat 
 down to our meal. Kapetan Yannis ate like a 
 man, one end of his napkin tucked into his collar. 
 And like the stout seaman that he was, with still 
 greater gusto he drank his wine. When we arose 
 from the table his eyes were sparkling; all that 
 first shyness had passed off, and he entertained us 
 with a flow of tales and quaint pleasantries. 
 
 One thing led to another, and, by-and-bye, men- 
 tion was made of Kapetan Giorgis. At this name 
 our guest looked confused. Seeing that he must 
 know something about our spectre, I tried to draw 
 him out. At first he would not open his lips ;
 
 KAPETAN GIORGIS 15 
 
 but when the women had retired, after much 
 pressing and vows never to tell a soul, he began 
 the following story : 
 
 " He and I come from the same place," said he, 
 after pulling out a handkerchief and mopping his 
 face — " from the same place, and I am his brother- 
 in-law. He was a fisherman's son, but he had a 
 great deal in him, and he was determined to rise 
 in the world. And then he had his eye on a girl 
 who was very well off; and she loved him, too, for 
 he was a fine young fellow, that he was. But 
 before he could propose for the girl he ought to 
 dower and wed his three sisters, and then make a 
 position for himself too. Well, they agreed be- 
 tween them to wait a few years, and then he was 
 to send the match-makers. 
 
 " And so out goes Giorgis into the world ; and, 
 working with all his heart, in one year he managed 
 to get a boat of his own. In another year the 
 boat became a smack. And every year back came 
 the skipper from his voyages, in high spirits, and, 
 look you, each year he married off one sister. 
 What jollifications there were at those weddings ! 
 if there was one blessing for the bride and bride- 
 groom there were two for him, since each wedding 
 brought him a step nearer to his sweetheart. At 
 the third wedding I was the bridegroom, and it's
 
 16 KAPETAN GIOEGIS 
 
 enough to say that the rascals kept me away from 
 my bride a whole day and night with their merry- 
 makings. 
 
 "The poor fellow tried to make his own match 
 that time ; and would to God he had made it ! The 
 dowers had swallowed up all he had, sure enough, 
 but people knew him now for a clever fellow, and that 
 was worth a great deal for Giorgis. But then, you 
 see, even the smack was mortgaged with building 
 house after house for* his sisters. At last we told 
 him, a proud man is the girl's father — go one 
 voyage more, and next year come and woo thy 
 beauty. 
 
 " I well remember the evening when he took 
 the musicians and went serenading beneath her 
 windows, and sang to her as he went by, without 
 stopping, for fear her people might smell a rat 
 (they knew nothing about it) — 
 
 " ' Now fare thee well, my golden dove, I soon shall be 
 departed ; 
 Forth from the window peep above, that I may go light- 
 hearted.' 
 
 And a window half opened in the upper storey. 
 
 " Next day the smack got under weigh, and 
 Kapitan Giorgis was firing farewell salutes to his 
 lady-love. 
 
 " Eleven months went by, and we had heard
 
 KAPETAN GIORGIS 17 
 
 nothing. In the twelfth month a terrible rumour 
 buzzed among us. The lady was said to be 
 betrothed to some rich stranger, who was for 
 marrying with her in hot haste, to carry her off 
 forthwith. And true it was, too. The whole 
 thing was begun and done in a twinkling. The 
 girl protested, wept, besought, threatened ; all in 
 vain. She was lugged off to the priest, and before 
 the week was out the stranger had carried her off 
 to his home, dowry and all, to poison our life with- 
 out blessing his own ; for the poor lass fell into a 
 consumption, and in a few months all was over. 
 
 " The wedding party left one day in the morn- 
 ing, and next evening late brought the caique with 
 Giorgis into our bay. It was a peaceful evening, 
 and once again his gun spoke out, and waked the 
 echoes among the hills. No one came down to the 
 landing-place but myself, for I knew him well, and 
 feared that the rest might drive him mad somehow. 
 Little did I think what was coming ! " 
 
 Again Kapetan Yannis pulled out his handker- 
 chief to mop his face. 
 
 " Ah, sir, that was an awful evening ! The 
 sailors had begun to furl the sails, Giorgis went 
 shooting away and singing all the time, and I must 
 stand all alone upon the landing-stage, and my 
 heart ready to burst ! The caique remained out-
 
 18 KAPETAN GIORGIS 
 
 side the harbour till the entrance should be free 
 from some fishing boats that just then were passing 
 through, so George came ashore in the dinghy, and 
 soon he was before me. When he saw me stand- 
 ing pensive and half stupefied, says he — 
 
 " ' Hullo, Yannis, what's up ? Anybody dead ? 
 Tell me, and have done with it.' 
 
 " As I tried, faltering, to say that there had 
 been no death, he brought me up sharp with — 
 ' Well, what is it then ? Married ? ' 
 
 " I could hold out no longer, but began to sob. 
 He stared hard at me, and turned as yellow as sul- 
 phur, but not a word, only gnawed his moustache 
 in a mad sort of way, then suddenly into the boat, 
 and off. 
 
 " I lost my head, for I should have jumped in 
 with him. I called after him, and adjured him by 
 his father's soul, but he would not hear. By the 
 time I could find another boat to carry me aboard 
 him, he was at the helm of his caique, which now 
 turned seawards again. In a little while she had 
 disappeared over the sea. 
 
 " All this I saw with my own eyes, the rest I 
 will tell in a few words, for time flies, and the lads 
 will overdo it down at the inn. I will tell the 
 story just as I heard it a few days later from the 
 crew.
 
 KAPETAN GIORGIS 19 
 
 " Kapetan Giorgis let his vessel run before the 
 wind, and the north wind carried her straight on 
 what you call the Broad Beach. 'Twas night, and 
 about a league off the land the skipper called his 
 men, and ordered them to get in the boat and go 
 where they would. The men looked at each other 
 in dismay, and hesitated, but the skipper, seizing 
 the gun, showed them he was in grim earnest. 
 The end of it was, they took the boat and headed 
 her for the beach, but they still kept an eye behind, 
 for it seemed as if something was wrong with the 
 skipper. A little while and they saw the caique 
 running full sail upon a headland some half a mile 
 beyond the cape. In a trice the boat's head was 
 round, and straight for the rock, but when they got 
 there the caique had disappeared, and he with her. 
 As soon as ever he came to the surface, half dead, 
 one of them gript him, pulled him into the boat, 
 and got him ashore. His breath came back to him 
 by-and-bye, but neither wit nor speech ever again 
 returned. 
 
 " There, master, you have the whole story," 
 added Kapetan Yannis, with tears in his eyes. 
 
 " One thing morp." I said, " how was it you 
 didn't take him back home again ? " 
 
 " Couldn't be done. He must have lost his wits 
 before ever he sank the vessel. When they had
 
 20 KAPETAN GIORGIS 
 
 saved him and got him ashore, they found him a 
 hopeless imbecile. They tried to keep him in a 
 house till one of us could go over, but he would 
 not stir from the spot. When I came I found him 
 stretched on the shingle by the sea-shore, and pro- 
 posed that we should go home, — 'twas all one as if I 
 spoke to a stone. Gradually he found voice to 
 mutter as he does now, and from his half words I 
 soon perceived that the mischief was past curing. 
 One day I got him aboard a caique by force, and 
 he jumped like a cat and swam away. Now I pay 
 him a visit twice in the year. I find him down 
 yonder among the tombs of the Turkish cemetery ; 
 for mad though he be, he is sane enough to wish 
 no one to know that I am anything to him. He 
 wants to remain unknown here. I take his clothes, 
 and he first tears them to rags and then wears them. 
 He's a living shipwreck himself, poor soul, with his 
 mind stopt short for ever, gone to the bottom as 
 sure as that ship that sank with all he had in the 
 world." 
 
 Yannis' lips were trembling as he spoke. 
 
 "A glass of wine, Kapetan," said I, "to drive 
 dull care away ! Ah, what a sad world this 
 is!" 
 
 " To you, sir, and may we soon meet again ! " 
 And he tossed off the parting glass with a
 
 KAPETAN GIORGIS 21 
 
 dogged air, as though struggling to drown his 
 troubles. 
 
 Next day, as the long-boat was sailing away, I 
 saw Kapetan Giorgis tearing up a new cape, mutter- 
 ing the while and gazing upon the sea.
 
 PAPPA SOPHRONIOS 
 
 It was the month of August. The grapes were 
 ripe, the figs sweet as honey, and the olives had 
 begun to turn yelloAv away up on the topmost 
 twigs. Scent of thyme and marjoram was wafted 
 over the hills, and made it a pure delight to 
 breathe. 
 
 In that country, the most delightful pa.rt of the 
 day was not the dawn, when the hills smiled as the 
 sun looked upon them ; not midday, when the 
 cicala dinned us deaf; not the evening hour, when 
 we came down to the strand, and watched the fish 
 that leapt flashing into the air, as though the sea 
 could not hold them. No ; but there the sweetest 
 of all was night, to sit in the garden around the 
 tower, under the cherry trees by the side of 
 the spring, the ever-babbling spring ; where the 
 croaking frogs, the bells of the flocks ringing and 
 ringing around, the whispering ripple of sea on shore, 
 made the sweetest music that ever was heard by 
 man. And I had almost forgotten the choicest 
 note of all — the chirp of grasshoppers in the
 
 PAPPA SOPHEONIOS 23 
 
 grass, incessant as the cicala, but not so bold : a 
 modest melody, tender, peaceful as those serene 
 nights. 
 
 Yet a little, and the breeze would begin to blow 
 back off the land, — " the valley drew it down," as 
 we used to say ; and bathed us in a delicious cool, 
 enough to make an old man young. The first 
 to announce this change in the wind were the 
 poplars about the spring, with an angry and deep 
 roar. 
 
 There we were used to spend our evenings in 
 summer-time. There we listened to many a story, 
 many a song. There our old men would tell their 
 reminiscences, vying one with another who should 
 give us the oldest tales and the prettiest. And 
 when the old men were weary, lads and lasses began 
 their songs and their music. 
 
 Then came the " gray man " (our name for sleep), 
 and took us captive one after one. 
 
 Not far from that unforgotten garden Avas a 
 little vineyard with a hut in one corner of it. 
 Within that hut, all by himself, sat an old priest, 
 smoking his chibouk \ and this was Pappa 
 Sophronios. 
 
 The old Pappa — God forgive me for saying it — 
 was not exactly a handsome man ; and full of all 
 sorts of oddities he was. " Father Loony " they
 
 24 PAPPA SOPHEONIOS 
 
 called him up in the village. Beaked like a bird, 
 a beard like a goat's beard, white at the ends, and 
 round the mouth yellow with constant smoking, a 
 face all wrinkled and browned, eyes that sparkled, — 
 perhaps from drinking much wine — and there you 
 have Pappa Sophronios. 
 
 When he performed the service in his church, he 
 used to terrify us with his cracked voice. When 
 he read the prayers, you might suppose him to be 
 shouting orders to the labourers in his vineyard. 
 He was always fussing about that little estate of 
 his. Perhaps his being so fond of that bit of a 
 farm was no great sin in the worthy Father. It is 
 a venial fault, not uncommon among our priests, 
 and indeed, more to be imitated than blamed. It 
 was priest's hat in the village, peasant's cap and 
 pruning knife in the fields. After all, orare est 
 Idborare ; and this is a sermon better a thousand 
 times than the high-flown discourses we often hear 
 from a popular pulpit. 
 
 Pappa Sophronios was unlettered, eccentric, and 
 cracked ; he cared not twopence for the world. 
 Now he would go on the spree with some of his 
 lay friends ; then again, St Anthony himself was not 
 so holy a saint. When the whim took him, he made 
 a mock of anybody, and trusted no one. What game 
 I made of him, when some old widow woman, not
 
 PAPPA SOPHliONIOS 25 
 
 remarkable for her faithfulness while her husband 
 lived, begged him to pray for the dead man's 
 soul in the service, and he pulled a malicious 
 grin behind her back, as who should say — " So 
 you have learnt wisdom too ! Well, better late 
 than never ! " 
 
 Well, as we sat one evening in the garden by 
 the watch-tower, all half-asleep, said one of us : 
 
 " Let us call Pappa Sophronios to come and wake 
 us up. One pull of wine, and he'll soon begin to 
 talk ! " 
 
 No sooner said than done ; and we had him 
 cross-legged oa the stone seat which ran along the 
 wall of the tower, with his chibouk, and the wine 
 by his side. He always loved to discourse on 
 things which no one living had seen but himself, 
 and perhaps one or two more ; but on that evening 
 not a word could be got out of him. He seemed 
 to be wrapt up in his own thoughts. 
 
 "What's up, Pappa," said some one, "that you 
 won't talk to us this evening ? The crops promise 
 well." 
 
 "Ah well, my children, I am sadder and wiser 
 than I was yesterday. Poor Aunt^ Daphnoula is 
 gone ! I buried her myself. I tried in vain to 
 
 ' "Aunt " does not imply kinship, but is a kind of pet title for 
 old women. " Uncle " is used in the same way of men.
 
 26 PAPPA SOPHPtONIOS 
 
 see on her face the smile of her younger days, as I 
 remember it in my mind ! " 
 
 This sounded odd to us who knew the old dame. 
 Aunt Daplinoula was the widow of Uncle Lephtdris, 
 the man who was crushed in an earthquake because 
 he was too drunk to get away ; he left her a widow 
 at sixty ; she used to carry the water herself to her 
 melon plot, and sometimes brought us the first 
 ripe fruit, for which we would give her bread, or 
 maybe something to wear. What could we do but 
 burst out laughing, to hear Pappa Sophronios moral- 
 ising in this way about the old woman who had 
 gone that morning to her account ? 
 
 "Ah, my children, you laugh ; but if you knew, 
 if you only knew ! " And he cast a glance towards 
 Aunt Daphnoula's little field. 
 
 Unable to guess what was the matter, we 
 looked significantly at one another. Then I 
 noticed that his eyes were actually full of tears; 
 and thinking this must be some real trouble, I 
 said to him : 
 
 " Tell us all about it. Father, whatever it is that 
 is making you unhappy. Hitherto we have con- 
 fessed to your reverence ; now you shall confess to 
 us. We are friends and neighbours ; no one is 
 here but ourselves, and God." 
 
 He turned to us with a somewhat happier
 
 PAPPA SOPHPtONIOS 27 
 
 look ; and without more ado proceeded to relate 
 his story. 
 
 " Yes, I will tell you, my children ; I should like 
 to tell it to you now, when she is gone, and ere 
 long I shall have gone to follow her. I have no 
 friends but you. Serra is my home, where my 
 people lived. What has become of them, God 
 knows. Fifty years ago ! 
 
 " When I tumbled head over heels into this 
 village, a lad of twenty. Uncle Yannis took me into 
 his shop down there at the Landing ; he married 
 Reginouda, you know, the sister of Hadji ^ Glig(5ris, 
 whom the Turks beheaded for building our church 
 one foot higher than the firman allowed. Uncle 
 Yannis had a fine portion with the girl ; but it 
 soon went, till nothing was left but that little plot 
 of Aunt Daphnoula's. 
 
 " Well, at that time, says Uncle Yannis to 
 me, ' Sotiris ' — that was my name — ' you are no 
 good for the shop ; go and work in the fields.' 
 As for me, what else did I want ? We had 
 always been tillers of the soil, the whole lot of 
 us, from father to son. — In six months I had 
 made the little plot a garden. You remember 
 that old stump down by the spring ? It used to 
 
 1 (< 
 
 Pilgrim " i.e., one who has been to Jenisalem.
 
 28 PAPPA SOPHRONIOS 
 
 be the finest of all the olive trees over there. 
 Now it's a dead stump, like me. 
 
 "Away behind the hill, down by the seaside, 
 there used then to be our old shrine of the Saints 
 Unfeed;^ but at that time it was only a circuit of 
 stones, with an oleaster beside it hung all over with 
 rags, which mothers used to put there to cure their 
 children's diseases ; and the holy table was a stone 
 too. Now the shrine is gone with the rest, for they 
 have built it in. Now you enter a dark hut when 
 you want to worship. 
 
 " It was the thirtieth of the Harvest,^ the vigil of 
 St Cosmas and St Damian. People gathered from 
 far and near to the feast. The feast is held still, but 
 most people don't start till the morning, when they 
 come and pay their worship, some of them going back 
 at once, some staying the day out to return when 
 evening falls. In those days, every one used to be 
 there overnight ; and the gathering for the feast 
 took place on the eve of it, and they kept it up all 
 night long. What a to-do there was, what com- 
 motion ! Every field had a bonfire in the middle, 
 there was a swing in every tree. The lads made 
 merry around the fires, the girls sat on the swings 
 and sang. You could hardly hear the songs, so soft 
 and quiet they used to sing them in those days. 
 
 ' St Cosmas and St Damian, who cured the sick without fee. 
 'June.
 
 PAPPA SOPHEONIOS 29 
 
 " Over yonder, my children, below the great olive 
 tree, which now is a bare stump, there sat Sotiris 
 and listened to Daphnoula, Uncle Yannis' lass, as 
 she sang from her swing in the tree : 
 
 " ' Trembles the fish at fisher's sight, the lamb to see the 
 slayer ; 
 Trembles my heart at yon brave lad, whose coming doth 
 aflfray her.' 
 
 " As for a poor devil like me — I built my castles 
 in the air, and took the words in all earnestness, 
 not thinking what a fright I was to look at, and 
 their servant too ; and how young Lephteris, who 
 had just returned from Anatolia, and had both 
 money and good looks, — how he was the man that 
 Daphnoula had in mind, and her mother too. 
 Women don't look at the heart, my children ; 
 money and fine looks is all they think of, and that 
 was the reason why they failed to understand me 
 that evening. But I didn't know the world then, 
 and I was duped. No one ever had the laugh of 
 me again ; but that time I was fairly duped. 
 
 " But why make a long story of it ? A few days, 
 and they were betrothed ; and when Easter time 
 had passed, there was Daphnoula a bride, for all the 
 village to admire, going to church with her flutters 
 and her downcast eyes, the music in front, and the 
 priests not far away. A week long the festivities
 
 30 PAPPA SOPHRONIOS 
 
 lasted. In those days weddings were not as they 
 are now, done in a twinkling, 'light and dout,' as 
 they say. They lasted a whole week then, and a 
 big feast every day. It's too long to tell you all 
 about it ; there was the day they brought the bride 
 to the bath, the day they boiled the wheat-broth, 
 then the day that the trunks were brought over, 
 next day they sent the milk-cakes round, and the 
 broidered kerchiefs, the next day they drest the 
 bride, and all the girls of the place gathered round 
 her to sing those endless songs of theirs. And the 
 nights again ; a perfect pandemonium it was, what 
 with the drink and the singing. Every one, man 
 and woman, must dance then, the old dames with 
 the rest. And it was something more than lute and 
 viol ; first old Trakos used to sing, his fiddle fas- 
 tened about his waist, then it was up with his bow, 
 and fire away ! How many boards they broke, and 
 how many glasses ! Night after night they went on 
 drinking, the beggars ! But then it was only wine, 
 and hurt nobody. 
 
 " There now — I have gone and forgotten all about 
 
 my story. Forgive me, my children ! Well, it 
 
 was Monday morning, and we had taken the bride- 
 groom out to Cool Springs for the washing. This 
 took place, as it does now, the day after the crown- 
 ing of the pair. So at daybreak we all turned out
 
 PAPPA SOPHRONIOS 31 
 
 to go and give the bridegroom his bath, I went 
 out with the rest, feeling most miserable, and 
 poured the water over his hands that he might 
 go fresh to his Daphnoula. My hand trembled as 
 I poured ; I knew not what I was doing, or what I 
 was thinking. And now I will confess to you, my 
 children, in God's holy presence, what I did in that 
 moment, that afterwards you may pray God to 
 pardon mine offence. I cursed him at that moment 
 and prayed in my heart, ' As this water is poured 
 out and flows away, so may all his joys flow away 
 from him.' The curse took him, curse it ! It took 
 him, and within two years he fell into drunken 
 ways, and made ducks and drakes of all the bride's 
 dower. Only that little plot yonder was left, and 
 was useful to Daphnoula, poor thing, after her man 
 was killed by the drink. 
 
 " After the wedding I was well-nigh bereft of my 
 wits. Day and night I wandered about the hills 
 up yonder, and tried to work off my feelings with 
 groans and love-ditties. That must have been how 
 I cracked my voice. 
 
 " When Lephteris had got his wife's property into 
 his own hands, and had settled down a little after 
 the wedding festivities, the first thing he did was 
 to get rid of me. He must have scented something 
 or other. Something I must have blurted out in
 
 32 PAPrA SOPHRONIOS 
 
 my sleep, which got to his ears. Perhaps it was 
 God's will ; for I went straight to the Cathedral 
 and took holy orders, and came into your parish to 
 stay for the rest of my life. 
 
 " Fifty years have gone by since then. Daph- 
 noula had a thousand poisons to drink ; then she 
 was left a widow, childless and with no means of 
 subsistence but her little plot of land ; and never 
 in all those years has she heard one word from my 
 lips, except ' God's blessing on thee ' when I gave 
 her the Communion bread of a Sunday or Holy 
 Day. As I looked upon her, I called myself the 
 murderer of her Lephteris. It was the curse, that 
 curse that gnawed within me ; I did my best 
 towards it with my prayers, but it was too late. 
 
 " You know now, my children, why I have been 
 an eccentric kind of priest, and why sometimes I 
 kicked over the traces, both in my young days and 
 later. I was not the same as a lad ; life and trouble 
 have made me what I am. How often have I said 
 in my sinful heart, ' Why does God look from above 
 upon all this, and does not stretch forth his holy 
 hand to save us, before the devil catches us with 
 his hook ? ' 
 
 "But it grows late, my children. Receive my 
 blessing, sinner though I be. Give me yours, 
 though you are but children. Good-night to
 
 PAPPA SOPHRONIOS *^''- 
 
 oo 
 
 you ! You are the only ones who know this ; 
 not even your departed grandfather knew it, God 
 rest his soul ! I have seen much and suffered 
 much. Good-night." 
 
 . . • • • 
 
 In a few moments we heard nothing but the 
 spring, the frogs, the grasshoppers, the ripple of the 
 waves. It seemed to us like a dream that had 
 come and gone. We awoke again from those years 
 of long ago, whose story the old men were never 
 tired of telling ; but we awoke pensive and sad. 
 And next morning we awoke from sleep to hear 
 that Pappa Sophronios had been found dead upon 
 his pallet of straw.
 
 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 
 
 Who would ever expect that after a shower would 
 sprout up a story ! Yet such miracles do happen. 
 Had there been no shower up on Mount St Elias, 
 had not the cataracts of heaven burst upon that 
 lofty peak, and if I had not been guided to a certain 
 village to spend the night, I should not now be able 
 to tell you the story of Blind Kostas' wife. 
 
 I was returning from town ; one day's journey, 
 with hills and stones as many as you will : but I 
 had a good guide who knew how to speak to his 
 mule, and a mule which knew how to obey. The 
 poor beast climbed the footpaths amidst thorns and 
 brambles like a goat, and with a movement so 
 gentle that he did not fatigue you. All that 
 irked me was the pack-saddle, with a rope or 
 two at the side holding my luggage. 
 
 It was half an hour after sunset, and we wanted 
 three hours more to get home. But the moon was 
 half full, and we reckoned to climb the hill and get 
 down into our plain by its light. Hardly had we 
 said as much, when the clouds began to gather. 
 
 34
 
 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 35 
 
 We happened to be then in a little wood. One 
 sudden flash, and the ball began. The thunder 
 deafened us ; the bolt must have struck close by, 
 we thought, and said so ; before the words were out 
 of our lips another bombardment greeted us amid 
 the wilderness. Again there were a few moments 
 of silence, and then a deep, incessant uproar began. 
 It was the great drops beating upon the leaves. 
 The storm grew worse moment by moment, until 
 it became a veritable deluge. Now and again it 
 lisfhtened and thundered, and from flash to crash 
 took no longer time than I take to tell it. There 
 was a regular hurricane on that hill. 
 
 When we got out of the wood, we were drenched 
 to the skin, and our clothes were clinging about us. 
 The storm now began to abate, and soon ceased en- 
 tirely ; the black clouds passed, and the moon smiled 
 out again. But I did not feel like smiling just then, 
 for I was shivering ; it was October, too. So I said 
 to the man : " Suppose we take refuge in that village, 
 down on the slope yonder," 
 
 In half an hour my mule's hoofs were striking 
 sparks on the stones in the lane which divided the 
 village into two halves. A coffee-house and two 
 or three little shops, with half-a-dozen sunburnt 
 villagers sitting outside, showed me that we had 
 reached the market-place.
 
 36 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 
 
 We enquired at the coffee-house where we could 
 find a night's lodging. 
 
 " You are welcome," said a man. 
 
 I thought this man was willing to entertain us, 
 so leaping off my mule, I returned his salute, and 
 asked him the way to his house. But I speedily 
 found that his " welcome " was a mere greeting ; 
 for so the village folk use, with a " welcome " and 
 a " good-day " for every stranger, even if they have 
 never set eyes on him before. True good breeding 
 sheds its fragrance among these hills. 
 
 So I asked again where we could have shelter 
 for the night. 
 
 " Why, at Mrs Blindeyes, to be sure ! " says the 
 good fellow. 
 
 I had been thinking, as I passed through the 
 village, that I might chance upon some wild flower 
 born to blush unseen, and on hearing this, I said to 
 myself : " Mrs Blindeyes ! There's my wild flower ! " 
 
 So a boy came with us, bearing a lantern to 
 show us the way to the house of Mrs Blindeyes. 
 
 It seemed as though they must have got wind 
 of coming guests, for awaiting us at the gate stood 
 a lad of sixteen or so, candle in hand, and with him a 
 man got up bravely in a fez just off the block, short 
 jacket and vest of woollen stuff, woollen breeches, 
 hanging evenly and without folds ; a wide girdle,
 
 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 37 
 
 neatly folded ; white stockings, and slippers turned 
 down at the heel, and holding a small string of 
 beads in his hand.^ This last was the village 
 schoolmaster, called (it would appear) to do the 
 honours of the place. 
 
 A vine was trained so as to cover the courtyard, 
 and fallen leaves showed that here, too, a heavy 
 storm must have passed. The lad led off my man 
 to show him the Avay to the stable and the kitchen ; 
 and me the schoolmaster led into the house. There 
 was an inner yard that shone for cleanliness, a stair 
 made of planks yellow as amber, leading up to a 
 kind of balcony or loggia, with a long lounge on 
 one side of it ; opposite to us was the door of the 
 best room ; in the other wall was a door which 
 opened into the " Inner House," the house proper, 
 a sort of holy of holies, about which it may not be 
 out of place to say something, as these are gradually 
 becoming a thing of the past. They have not built 
 one these fifty years. 
 
 The " Inner House " is always built on the same 
 plan. The walls are thick as the walls of a castle, 
 and built of large stones, running the whole length 
 of the house and half its breadth. The room is 
 divided into two parts : one, the lower part, taking 
 
 ^ This is no rosary ; but the Levantine Greeks and Turks usually 
 carry such a string, with Avhich their fingers perpetually fidget.
 
 38 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 
 
 up two-thirds of the whole space ; and the other, 
 being a kind of dais, standing some two or three 
 feet above the floor, with a pair of steps in the 
 middle to mount by. Under this dais is the fig- 
 cellar, which you find full of huge earthen jars, and 
 these, again, full of dried figs, almonds, nuts, con- 
 serves, olives black and olives white, whole olives 
 and broken olives. The dais is surrounded by long 
 couches. In this part are the windows, which look 
 out into the garden. Sometimes a jasmine climbs 
 and twines about the window lattice. 
 
 In the lower portion of this " Inner House," be- 
 sides the shrine for the icon ^ (where must be 
 placed all the patron saints of the village and of 
 the family), all the household treasures are hung 
 on the walls and put on the shelves by way of 
 ornament : large, round trays ; dishes ; pots and 
 pans, all of copper, all burnished and brightened ; 
 then there are the plates and the glasses, and, last 
 of all (if they have nothing else), they arrange rows 
 of quinces, pomegranates, melons, and other kinds 
 of fruit. But the finest of the fruit you will see 
 hanging in nets from the roof, which is black, and 
 sometimes (with the roof-tree) tricked out in patterns 
 of red. The roof outside is flat, and covered with a 
 layer of seaweed and soil on the top ; after a shower 
 ^ A sacred picture of some saint.
 
 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 39 
 
 the soil is always rolled with a stone roller, to keep 
 it flat and to prevent the dripping of the water. 
 
 The floor of this room is spread with carpets in 
 the winter time. Here, instead of long couches, 
 we have low soft seats, a kind of mattress in fact ; 
 and for seats, the wall is lined with chests contain- 
 ing the family heirlooms and the bride's dower 
 hidden within them. The fireplace in the corner 
 no one ever kindles nowadays ; all we have now is 
 a chafing dish. But in times gone by, fires burned 
 bright in the fireplace, and the family used to stretch 
 themselves out and sleep in front of the burning 
 logs. Now it has become an ornament, and white 
 as snow from the everlasting daub, daub, daub with 
 whitewash. Over the fireplace are shelves one above 
 another, holding the best china, and at the end of 
 the lowest shelf a censer for the family shrine. 
 There is no light but what comes from the lamp 
 hanging in the fireplace, and the taper lit in front 
 of the icons. 
 
 This will give you a fair idea of the place. And 
 now, I would ask you, the young generation of our 
 ancient race, who spend your last farthing in travel- 
 ling to Europe, Avhy not make a trip each year 
 amongst our islands, to see all these things, and much 
 else that is even more strange and beautiful, — to 
 learn about them, to love them, these things which
 
 40 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 
 
 are your very own, all without dipping deep into your 
 purse ? Why do you only care to hurry to foreign 
 parts, never perceiving that even in this Europe 
 of yours the greatest peoples are those which prize 
 what is their own, those national customs which you 
 hold so cheap; and that one day the Franks them- 
 selves will come flocking thither, to lounge about 
 and observe that the old-world grace and beauty of 
 the Odyssey has life in it still ! When that happens 
 we shall love these old things too, not from our own 
 taste but because it is the fashion. Go, go, I beg 
 you, and visit one fresh island every year. You 
 will find hospitality and friends, pleasures you will 
 find that no money could buy in Europe ; and you 
 will return to your dusty Athens with heart open 
 and lungs refreshed. 
 
 After I had changed my things in a handsome 
 bedroom, and the maid had poured water over my 
 hands, which I wiped dry on the towel she gave me, 
 I passed into the "Inner House," and saw before 
 me a lady who welcomed me in a quiet and sweet 
 voice, and with a smile half repressed. I had ex- 
 pected to see some old hag with one eye at the 
 most ; and now, here was this beautiful lady, with 
 two eyes, big and black, that had in them still all 
 the fire and all the brilliancy of youth ! She wore 
 a little fez, and twined about it was a kerchief
 
 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 41 
 
 covered with gold coins, with a blue silk tassel 
 spread over the top ; she had on a pearl necklace, 
 from which over her bosom hung a Byzantine gold 
 coin. The wide trousers which she wore could not 
 be seen then, for in those days women used a flow- 
 ing skirt. Dame Despina ^ (this name suited her 
 better than Mrs Blindeyes) had also a dark petticoat, 
 and over her shoulders a fine light pelisse of fur. 
 
 Farther in, upon the low soft couch, was a bene- 
 volent-looking man, handsome like his wife. He 
 half rose, and gave us welcome with a strange sort 
 of smile. This was Blindeyes Kostas, the husband 
 of the angelic Despina. Blindeyes they called him, 
 because sight the poor fellow had none. 
 
 Our talk, when we found ourselves seated, was 
 simple and unrestrained, I told them who I was, 
 and they recognised my name. It was embarrassing 
 not to know anything of them, seeing that I had to 
 do with the most distinguished family in the village ; 
 a family humble once, and plunged in poverty, but 
 now first in fortune and in good name. In a few 
 minutes entered their son, a bright lad with flashing 
 eyes. " A son of true love ! " said I to myself, 
 when I recognised him again ; he it was who had 
 held the light for us in the gate. 
 
 After a chat of some half-hour or so, the table 
 ' The word itself means " Lady."
 
 42 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 
 
 was laid. The maid entered and took down the 
 largest tray from the wall ; this she placed upon a 
 stand inlaid with mother-of-pearl ; all around she 
 arranged pillows, and laid on each one of those long 
 embroidered napkins which they all put over their 
 knees when sitting down to meat ; when this was 
 all ready, the food was brought in. Dame Despina, 
 who had been absent a few moments to see how 
 things were going on in the kitchen, now returned 
 and invited us to fall to. Then leading her hus- 
 band by the hand, she placed him by her own side. 
 
 We made the sign of the cross for a blessing, 
 said our set phrase of thanks, and began. Our 
 host (we had a light on the table by this time, and 
 I could see better) was a man full of life. Every 
 bit of him seemed to talk, all but his eyes ; they 
 alone had nothing to say. He was eager to hear 
 all I had heard and seen during my travels ; and 
 while I told him, forgot his meal, and as though he 
 were striving with all his might to see me, he sat, 
 spoon in hand, his lips playing and trembling with 
 satisfaction and curiosity. 
 
 The lady of the house had not much to say, but 
 that little well-weighed and put in words carefully 
 chosen. She had but to give a glance, to utter 
 one sentence, in order to win respect. There was 
 a dainty grace in her face, her mouth, her neck.
 
 BLIND K(3STAS' WIFE 43 
 
 her small hands, in every feature and every move- 
 ment ; and above this grace sat power enthroned, a 
 character whicli you might think God had formed 
 to show how much blessedness could be sent down 
 into this world of ours. 
 
 The lad said nothing, unless in answer to some 
 question ; he ate with excellent appetite, and cared 
 not at all how they teased him for it. The school- 
 master, too, did his duty, both at cup and trencher. 
 He showed no less curiosity in hearing my adven- 
 tures ; and if I happened to mention some place 
 which they did not know, he was kind enough to 
 explain the geography for their benefit — a little, 
 perhaps, as if he held pointer in hand, yet without 
 over much of the pedagogue in his manner. He 
 too had seen the world ; had he not been as far as 
 Athens ? 
 
 The meal done, the maid brought in a basin and 
 we washed our hands ; then the table was removed, 
 and Dame Despina fetched her needlework ; but 
 we still went on talking. The lad's eyes were 
 ri vetted on my face ; never before, his mother said, 
 had he been known to keep awake after supper. 
 So passed another half-hour, when I asked them 
 to excuse me, as I was tired, and bade them good- 
 night ; and the school-master returned home. 
 
 As I stretched my limbs on the soft and welcome
 
 44 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 
 
 bed, I cast about how I could learn the history of 
 Mrs Blindeyes. A history there must surely be, 
 between such a wife and such a husband. I thought 
 of this and I thought of that, and at last I hit upon 
 a plan. It was Saturday evening ; there was no 
 school next day : well, I would take the school- 
 master in my company, and he should tell me the 
 story. And so it happened. 
 
 • ■ ■ • • 
 
 When I got up in the morning, after the usual 
 spoonful of preserved fruit and cup of coffee, I 
 bade a friendly farewell to my hosts, begging them 
 some day to return my visit ; then mounting my 
 mule, I rode along the market - place. I had 
 intended to seek out the school, and so find the 
 schoolmaster ; but he happened to be in the coflfee- 
 house drinking his morning cup after service. I 
 asked him for the pleasure of his company on my 
 journey home, where he could spend the night and 
 return on Monday morning. Experienced traveller 
 though he was, he thought the journey too long ; 
 however, after much talking, I persuaded him to 
 come with me half-way, so as to return at midday ; 
 and the end of it was he saddled a stout ass and 
 we set out. 
 
 That journey was undiluted pleasure, as we 
 jogged along through the olive groves ; and the
 
 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 45 
 
 pleasantest part of it was to see the lads beating 
 the trees, and the maids gathering the fruit be- 
 neath. It was Sunday, true, but then they had 
 no time to lose, now that winter had come so swift 
 upon them. 
 
 Through scenes like these we proceeded, with 
 many a question as to this property and that ; 
 until we came opposite to the gardens and orchards 
 of Mrs Blindeyes. 
 
 " A large property," said I to the schoolmaster. 
 "They must be rich people." 
 
 " Well, they were poor enough once," was his 
 reply. 
 
 "Anyhow, there's money made here, you can 
 see that. Now tell me, there's a good fellow — 
 how did they get it ? And how came that fine 
 old fellow blind ? and who is that charming wife of 
 his ? Tell me all about her. We have an hour or 
 so before us yet." 
 
 " God sent His blessing upon their doings, 
 and " 
 
 " Now look here, my dear master ; it's Sunday 
 to-day, I know, but I ask you to do me a favour. 
 Leave that Sunday tongue of yours behind in the 
 village, and keep to the one you use on week-days. 
 How do you suppose your donkey is going to carry 
 the other as well, with all its tricks and trappings ?
 
 46 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 
 
 Throw it away, my dear fellow, and think of your 
 young days ; tell me the whole story as your 
 mother, God bless her, told it to you ! " 
 
 The schoolmaster was a man of sense, and took 
 me in a trice. He gave a hearty laugh, thought 
 for a few moments, and then began : 
 
 " I must carry you back some eighteen years or 
 
 so, when Dame Despina was a girl of twenty, and 
 
 so beautiful that all the young fellows in the place 
 
 sang songs in her praise. She was an orphan, and 
 
 lived then in the same house where she lives now. 
 
 She had a little piece of land besides, that little 
 
 corner behind the plane tree yonder. She had 
 
 nothing else belonging to her but an aunt, old 
 
 Aunt Permathoula, the mourning woman, who used 
 
 to crack the very stones with her lamenting as she 
 
 followed the corpse — 
 
 ' Wae's the woof, and wae's the weft, 
 Wae to me, what hae I left ! ' 
 
 — ' Woe to me, what have I left,' she meant. 
 
 " Good luck to you, my dear school msister ; God 
 bless you ! Can't you see that the words are pre- 
 cisely the same ? " 
 
 The schoolmaster smiled and went on. 
 
 " Dame Despina was poor ; but two precious 
 jewels she had, — beauty and honour. Rare, indeed, 
 it is, in that wide world in which you wander, to
 
 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 47 
 
 find these two jewels together. Here in the high- 
 lands we often find those two flowers growing side 
 by side." 
 
 I did not care to contradict him, for fear of losing 
 the story, so I let him run on. 
 
 " She was sitting one evening, a Saturday even- 
 ing it was, on the lounge in the Inner House, with 
 her embroidery before her. She was betrothed to 
 Kostakis, I must tell you, Lampros' son, and all the 
 village was delighted with the lovers. All day long 
 she sang over her embroidery, and all day Kostas 
 sang over his work in the fields ; a fine young 
 fellow he was, and a voice like honey. Well, as I 
 was saying, when the sun set on that Saturday 
 evening, up rose the girl, lit a candle, and swung 
 the incense ; then she made herself tidy, and went 
 to the window to water her flowers. Just then 
 came the sound of a voice, her aunt, the mourning 
 woman, from the courtyard — 
 
 " ' Avaunt ! avaunt ! to the hills, to the moun- 
 tains, to the twigs, to the barren trees ! ^ What is 
 this great evil that has come upon us ? ' 
 
 " It was to Aunt Ivantaxine that these words 
 
 were addressed, when she came and told her the 
 
 black news. And what news it was ! Poor Kostas 
 
 had fired a mine in some piece of ground where 
 
 ^ A cliarm commonly used in Lesbos.
 
 48 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 
 
 they were blasting, and before he could get out of 
 the way the powder caught ; it had singed all his 
 face, and blinded him in both eyes. They carried 
 him home half dead. They laid him upon a couch, 
 and awaited the doctor who had been summoned 
 from another village ; all the wailing women of the 
 neighbourhood flocked in, and when they saw his 
 mother tearing her hair, and Kostas groaning in his 
 pain, such a lamentation they made that it was worse 
 than a death, I was there too, a boy of twelve, 
 and saw it with my own eyes. And that was 
 nothing ; worse followed when that lovely maiden 
 came, along with her aunt, pallid as pale gold, her 
 two great eyes open wide with terror, speechless, 
 and never a tear ! What tears fall in such hours 
 as that ? The tears come afterwards, when the 
 storm has past and the heart has grown soft. 
 
 " I mind how the wretched Kostas perceived that 
 she was beside him, and how he tried to comfort her, 
 saying there was nothing the matter, and he would 
 soon be well. His voice could not be heard for a 
 long time, as Aunt Permathoula, the mourner, had 
 burst out into a lament that terrified the whole 
 neighbourhood, and the other old women too, they 
 sobbed and sobbed with their aprons over their 
 eyes. 
 
 " Amidst all this misery the only one who bore
 
 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 49 
 
 up was the girl. She rose like a queen among 
 them, and bade them hold their peace. And then 
 the strength of this rare woman was shown. All 
 fell silent ; they prepared the bed, and laid the 
 young man in it. And now all the mourners were 
 changed into nurses. One of them brought rose- 
 cakes, another mallows, a third miraculous icons to 
 save his life. About midnight the doctor came, 
 and as soon as he saw Kostas, told us that for the 
 eyes there was no cure. 
 
 " Forty days and forty nights the unhappy 
 Despina sat by her lover's side. They told her it 
 was not modest for a betrothed maid to sit like 
 that, day in day out, by the side of a young man. 
 ' He is my husband ! ' she said, turning upon them. 
 ' No one has a right to call me to account. I will 
 nurse him until he is well, and then I will marry 
 him.' And her voice choked in sobs. 
 
 " People took these for the ravings of sorrow. 
 However, when Kostas rose from his sick bed, she 
 took him one morning by the hand and led him to 
 her house, dressed in her best, and along with the 
 aunt — who had no word in the matter, willy nilly 
 — went to church, all three of them. How people 
 rubbed their eyes then, to be sure, and said, ' Poor 
 girl, what a sad thing for her ! ' 
 
 " ' A sad thing for you that think so,' said she, 
 
 D
 
 50 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 
 
 stretching out her beautiful hand in its sleeve 
 covered with fine lace. 
 
 " Much to her joy the priest made no difficulty 
 about marrying them ; he knew that she had a 
 good dowry from her mother. So in an hour's 
 time Kostas was quit of all his troubles, except that 
 he could not see the treasure which God had given 
 him. Nay, the poor fellow even made merry at 
 his misfortune, saying that blindness had brought 
 him one blessing at least, in marrying him all the 
 sooner. 
 
 " Love — the true love that turns everything into 
 milk and honey — at once began to reign in their 
 home. It was August, and without delay Despina 
 set hard to work. She had large plans in her 
 mind ; she was ambitious and proud, and deter- 
 mined to show the world that pitied her what a 
 blind man's wife can do. 
 
 " All day long she worked on her land, while 
 Kostas carried water to the olives and the figs, feel- 
 ing his way along the walls. Or sometimes he 
 would take the lute, and sing to his beauty as she 
 worked. 
 
 " In this way some two years passed by. Their 
 baby was bom, and people began to wonder at the 
 marvellous luck that attended the house of the 
 blind man. So much so, that many a maid broke
 
 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 51 
 
 her jest upon it, vowing that she would herself look 
 out for a blind husband. Whatever the woman 
 touched turned to gold. Their fruit was the finest, 
 and people were willing to pay extra if they could 
 buy from blind Kosta's fields. Fields, I say, be- 
 cause there were three of them by this time, and 
 afterwards they became as many as you have seen. 
 
 " Two or three years went by, and Despina now 
 no lonsrer need labour with her own hands. She 
 had her man-servants and her maid-servants. She 
 was a lady now, and the part suited her. No one 
 grudged it to her, for her heart was ever the same. 
 All respected her, and they feared her too, for her 
 word was weight and strength. It came to this, 
 that she was asked to be arbiter in other people's 
 disputes, such a man's head was upon those fair 
 shoulders. 
 
 " As for Kostas, he did not wish to be idle, so 
 he joined the church choir. But now he has given 
 up his music ; his delight now is to hear his boy 
 Petros read aloud of an evening. During the day 
 he passes his time partly with the neighbours, 
 partly amid his round of trifles. His lady finds no 
 time to sit still, though Petros looks after the fields. 
 What with housekeeping and what with her neigh- 
 bours' troubles, she is always busy. Every nest of 
 poverty and distress she manages to ferret out.
 
 52 BLIND KOSTAS' WIFE 
 
 She has her help for this one, money for that, gifts 
 in kind for the other ; it is her joy to do good. If 
 a stranger comes into our village, it is to the Mrs 
 Blindeyes' house he must go. That's what hap- 
 pened to you, sir." 
 
 " And a good thing it was for me," said I to the 
 schoolmaster ; " I only wish I had known last night 
 that my entertainer was so true a queen. God 
 knows when I shall pass by your village again ! " 
 
 Here we parted, the schoolmaster turning his 
 face homewards, and I making my way down to 
 our plain, which now began to be visible in the 
 distance.
 
 MAKINGS KONTARAS 
 
 From my boyhood I have been fond of my little 
 pleasure trips. I used to take nets and tackle 
 aboard some boat, and fish or not as I felt inclined. 
 If I did not care to fish, and there was a bit of a 
 breeze, then it was up yard and out sail, and away 
 I sped over the sea, till chance brought me to some 
 anchorage over on the shore opposite. Then I 
 used to go ashore to amuse myself. 
 
 One day a sou'-wester sent me ashore at Nerochori. 
 Where this place is you will find out when you go 
 to visit Chloronisi. 
 
 As I debarked upon the jetty, thought I to my- 
 self, suppose I go and light a taper at St Nicholas' 
 church (St Nicholas was the patron saint of the 
 village, as he is of all sailors and fisher folk). Climb- 
 ing the ascent, what should I see but a funeral ! 
 They were bringing the body out of a cottage on the 
 outskirts of the place, and on their way to church. 
 A bad omen this, thought I. But God be praised, it 
 was an old woman they were burying. The poor 
 old husband followed behind, half-supported by tiie 
 
 53
 
 54 MAEINOS KONTAEAS 
 
 people, since he could not walk by himself. Among 
 the mourners were some other old women, and of 
 men two or three. I joined myself to the company. 
 
 "We entered the church. " A pretty entertain- 
 ment this," thought I. " Ashore for fun, and you 
 find a funeral ! and to-night, when you want to 
 sleep, you'll see the whole thing before your eyes ! " 
 
 St Nicholas' is the only church in the village. 
 It is little and low, dim and dark ; the building- 
 must be at least a hundred years old. Inside 
 are no pillars, and no dome above ; but it is 
 covered with a flat roof like the houses. The 
 windows are small, and the floor nothing but beaten 
 earth. The lattice that parts off the women's 
 place from the men, was very thick and black with 
 age ; and so were the stalls. A rood-screen of 
 walnut wood, beautifully carved, reached nearly to 
 the roof. Upon this you could see the church 
 treasure, of which the sacred picture of St Nicholas 
 had a larger share than our Lady. His sconce was 
 a huge mass of solid silver ; his crowns and other 
 ornaments were innumerable ; there were numbers 
 of little golden ships and anchors of gold. All but 
 the face of the picture was hidden under silver and 
 gold. 
 
 As I cast a few glances around me, they laid the 
 dead in the midst. For one moment the chanting
 
 MAKINGS KONTAItAS 55 
 
 of psalms was hushed, and nothing could be heard 
 but the faint sputter of lamps and tapers. A chill 
 seemed to pass through us. When the priest began 
 to read his part of the service, I made an attempt 
 to see the old husband. A strange old man he 
 looked ; he was trembling from head to foot, and 
 they had to hold him up, as though he had but 
 just arisen from some grievous sickness. He was 
 yellow, and tall for all his stoop, with bushy brows 
 that fell over his eyes, lips all a-tremble, hair and 
 moustache snow-white — a fine old man, but what a 
 wreck ! 
 
 Half an hour later we passed out into the grave- 
 yard which lay beside the church ; yet a few minutes, 
 and the first clods fell into the grave. Here the 
 old man could bear up no longer. He rolled over 
 upon the grass, groaned something, and never 
 another word said he. They sprinkled water 
 upon him, and raised his head, but all in vain. 
 Then they bore him into the priest's cell where he 
 half opened his eyes, cast one look at the icon of 
 St Nicholas, and stiffened. The old man was dead. 
 
 I left the place, and having nothing better to 
 do, bent my steps towards the landing-place. 
 Before I had got there everybody in the place had 
 heard the news, how Gaffer Marines Kontdras was 
 dead for sorrow that he had lost his beloved Lem6ne.
 
 56 MARINOS KONTARAS 
 
 Taking a stool, I sat down by the sea-side ; and 
 as I sat inhaling the smoke of my narghileh, who 
 should come up and bid me good-day, but Kapetan 
 Thanasis. I knew the man well enough, as he 
 often came over to our parts with fish for sale. I 
 ordered a glass of mastick for him, and he took to 
 it kindly, and made himself at home. One glass 
 was nothing for him, I knew, and ordered another. 
 Then the drams already drunk began to gossip, that 
 other drams might follow. 
 
 He was never at a loss for something to say, was 
 Thanasis. This time the subject was not far to 
 seek, in the shape of Gaffer Marines, the sea-gull of 
 Moschonni'si, and once the terror of Anatolia. " Let's 
 begin at the beginning," said the skipper to me, 
 and off he goes. 
 
 "I was a bit of a lad, — cabin-boy aboard the vessel 
 commanded by Skipper Manolis (God rest his soul), 
 when one day up came the lugger of Marines Kon- 
 taras. They were hunting him, God knows where, 
 and he burrowed in here for hiding. He did not 
 know what they wanted him for, and did not care ; 
 if it was not for murder, it was for robbery. He 
 came with five or six cuttle-fish lying at the bottom 
 of his boat, and a few oysters and sea-urchins, and 
 pretended to have business on hand. A most 
 unmanageable fellow he was ; his knife was always
 
 MAKINGS KONTARAS 57 
 
 smeared with blood, very often with his own, for 
 when he got drunk ho used to stick it in the 
 muscles to show his pluck. Plucky the devil 
 certainly was, and handsome too. 
 
 " No sooner had his boat come to anchor down 
 yonder, than out he jumped, and made straight for 
 the vineyard of Gligoris Phys^kis ; ran along the 
 wall, picked his skirt full of grapes, and back again 
 as innocent as a lamb. But on the way Gligoris 
 met him ; this man was at the time the village 
 champion, a terrible brawler. Well, he shouted 
 loud enough when he saw the thief. Kontaras 
 laughed, and made for his boat ; Gligoris was after 
 him ; the neighbours heard the uproar, and one by 
 one a crowd gathered. Marines was by this time 
 sitting unconcerned in his boat, and sharing the 
 grapes with his mates. Our people fired up, leapt 
 aboard, and made as though they would lay hands 
 on the man. But in an instant he was up, and out 
 on the sand, and out flashed his knife, and says he, 
 ' Aha, you devils ! Did you never hear of Marines 
 Kontaras ? ' 
 
 " This was a thunderclap. But Gligoris, however, 
 did not mean to be thwarted so easily, and then 
 have all the village twitting him by-and-bye, so 
 says he : 
 
 '" Well, if you're Marinos Kontaras, I am Gligoris
 
 58 MAEINOS KONTAEAS 
 
 Physekis ; and if you like to measure yourself against 
 me down with your dirk, and let's wrestle a fall 
 here upon the sand ! ' 
 
 " Marines looked the other full in the eyes, and 
 smiled. He doffed his vest and threw it down 
 upon the sand, laid the dirk beside it, and began to 
 strut about, swaying his hands as if he were going 
 to dance. Gligoris did the same. 
 
 "'And whoever is thrown stands treat this evening 
 all round ? ' 
 
 " ' To-morrow, too ! ' says Marines. 
 
 " ' And pays for music ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes, and pays for the music ! ' 
 
 " With fierce looks, they leapt upon each other. 
 The whole thing took no longer than you might 
 say. Amen : Kontaras got Gligoris by the waist, 
 and laid him flat. 
 
 " ' That's enough, Gligoris ! ' cried the bystanders, 
 ' your back has bit the dust ! ' 
 
 " Gligoris got up, shook himself, put on his 
 waistcoat, and began to think it would have been 
 better to put up with the loss of the grapes. 
 
 " That evening, the tavern of mine host Theo- 
 chdres was full of merriment. All the village was 
 assembled outside to see the notorious Kontaras. 
 When it was a case of ' business,' he used to be 
 like a wild beast ; now he seemed like an angel.
 
 MAKINGS KONTARAS 59 
 
 Only the neighbourhood of Moschonnisi produces 
 heroes like that ! Tall as a cypress, and his waist, 
 you might have got it through a ring ; eyes big 
 and beautiful like a girl's, and a black moustache, 
 curled up at the ends. Everyone admired him as 
 he sat upon his stool, and drank to the health of 
 Gligoris. He called him comrade now, and praised 
 the sweetness of his grapes. Gligoris on his part 
 Avas proud of such a friend, the fall notwith- 
 standing. 
 
 " — My throat feels a bit dry, sir," went on Skipper 
 Thanasis ; " I have more to tell, and I see you want 
 to hear it." 
 
 A third glass was brought ; he tossed it off at a 
 gulp, and began again. 
 
 " They sent to Megalochori for fiddlers ; and 
 when they came, the fun grew fast and furious. 
 Games began, songs struck up, the dancers tripped 
 it merrily. Marines made them get up one after 
 another. When midnight had passed, nothing 
 would do but they must go and serenade some- 
 body. Straight to the house of Gligoris they 
 went ; Gligoris at that time lived with his step- 
 mother, and his sister Lemone with him. Nothing 
 would do for Gligoris but she must get up and 
 mix the wine for them. The girl was awaked 
 from her first sleep, and put on her things ; for her
 
 60 MARINOS KONTARAS 
 
 brother's word was law to her. There was some 
 one else in the crowd besides, one whom Gligoris 
 had iu his eye as a husband for her. At last 
 Lemone was ready, and came out with the tray. 
 She was a girl of eighteen, black-eyed and golden- 
 haired. When they saw her, they all forgot their 
 fun ; but the man who was most taken aback was 
 Marinos Kontaras. He twirled and twirled at his 
 moustache, pretended not to see her, but do what 
 he would, his eyes remained fixed upon the girl. 
 Gligoris, good simple fellow, noticed nothing amiss, 
 and besides, he did not fear the devil himself for 
 her. And it may be he was proud of their looking 
 at her so. Away went the girl, back she came again, 
 and once more off ; till morning they kept her on 
 the move, — coming, going, serving. 
 
 " Songs and dances began anew, but no more 
 taste for follies had Marinos. He made as though 
 he had drunk too much and sat in a corner, where 
 he did nothing but twirl his moustache. You 
 might have thought that Satan had come up 
 from hell and whispered to him, so restless did 
 he appear. 
 
 " About dawn of day, Gligoris caught him by 
 the hand and whirled him into the dance again. 
 
 " ' How soon the wine makes you nod, you 
 sailors ! ' said he.
 
 MARINOS KONTARAS 61 
 
 " Marinos did not object ; he wanted a vent for 
 his feelings. He pulled off his scarf, and began 
 dancing like one demented. By-and-bye he broke 
 out into song ; throwing a dollar to the fiddler, he 
 told him what tune he wanted, and then were 
 heard for the first time those verses which we still 
 sing at a wedding : 
 
 " ' Black ;u-e thine ej'-ep, and golden is thy hair ; 
 And for thy cheek — a golden spot is there ! ' 
 
 You know the air ; only think of it, and off you 
 go. — When the song ended, he fell a-thinking 
 once more, and as he sat like this, he turned 
 suddenly to Gligoris, and said : 
 
 " ' Ah, my dear Gligoris, I can't stand it ; one 
 more glass and I'm off.' 
 
 " Gligoris, by this time as drunk as he could be, 
 called to Lemone, and she came. That's Avhere the 
 mischief happened. Up got Marinos, took the 
 glass, and looking straight at the girl, said to her, 
 just as if they two were there alone : 
 
 " ' I entered where the vine grows fair, to iind sweet grapes 
 for eating ; 
 Yet did not meet a thing so sweet as are thy kisses, 
 sweeting ! ' 
 
 and as he said the words, he actually stooped down 
 and kissed her on the lips !
 
 62 MAKINGS KONTAKAS 
 
 " Such an insult was a thing unheard of in our 
 honourable village. The girl blushed red, and dis- 
 appeared from amongst us ; she went out and 
 sobbed like a little child. Then the mother came 
 in for the first time, and spoke her mind to Gligoris. 
 All the company fell silent ; the musicians departed, 
 the rest followed one by one. Gligoris was as 
 though just awakened from a dream ; one moment 
 he looked about him, the next, he threw himself 
 upon Marines. Now the angel became a wild beast 
 again. Out flashed his knife ; he glared at Gligoris 
 with the look of a devil. Two or three rushed upon 
 him, wrenched the dagger from his hand, and 
 dragged him outside the house ; then hustling him 
 along, they made their way towards his boat. On 
 the way, each as he passed his home dropt in, and 
 got pistol, or knife, or hatchet ; then, arrived at the 
 landing-stairs, they formed in line, like soldiers on 
 parade, and shouted to him to be off with his crew, 
 or they would send them all to the bottom. There 
 were only a few men with Marines, and those mostly 
 drunk ; so as needs must, he seized the pole, and in 
 pushing off, said with a grim smile, 'To our next 
 meeting ! ' The boat moved slowly over the water. 
 " After a little while, Gligoris made his appear- 
 ance, gun in hand. Finding that the boat was 
 away, he fell in a passion, and leapt into the water
 
 MAKINGS KONTAliAS 63 
 
 to follow her. It was but a drunkard's folly ; the 
 people fished him out, and got him home again." 
 
 At this point, old Thanasis gave me another hint. 
 When he had wet his whistle, he began once more. 
 
 " So far, master, it's all fun ; now the romance 
 begins. What follows I didn't see with my own 
 eyes, but I have heard it often from the man him- 
 self, who now lies dead up yonder. Marines, as they 
 voyaged onwards, was like a mad lion. An hour he 
 remained silent ; then he called to his men, and 
 said to them : 
 
 " ' My lads, I have saved you from many a tight 
 place before now ; to-day it's your turn to do the 
 same by me. That girl I mean to carry off, and I 
 mean to marry her. I have travelled, look you, 
 through all Anatolia and the islands, looking for a 
 woman who could kindle my heart, and never a one 
 I found. Now I have found her at last, do you 
 suppose I shall let her slip ? Either I'll have her, 
 or by St Nicholas, we'll perish together ! ' 
 
 " The lads knew that their skipper was in earnest. 
 
 " ' But what if the girl won't have you ? ' put in 
 one of them. 
 
 " ' Won't have me, quotha ! Stupid dumpling, 
 didn't you see how she blushed when I gave her a 
 look ? Ai, you pumpkin ! you talk as if you had 
 never seen a woman. — Now we'll make for the
 
 64 MAEINOS KONTARAS 
 
 headland yonder ; by evening we are at Therraa, 
 and there we anchor. I will go ashore by myself, 
 drest like a beggar ; you wait for me by the 
 shore.' 
 
 " And so it happened. Late in the evening, as 
 it began to grow dark, a beggar came knocking at 
 the door of Gligoris' house. Gligoris was making 
 merry at the tavern ; the musicians had not gone 
 away yet. The old dame was gossiping all round 
 the place, and the girl sat in the house alone, and 
 cooked the supper. All that day Lemone had been 
 overwhelmed with shame ; her eyes were red with 
 weeping. The girls of the neighbourhood were very 
 loving, bless their kind hearts, and came one by one 
 and vowed that never by word or song would they 
 throw this in her teeth : it was none of her fault. 
 The girl took their comfort, and by evening she was 
 herself again. And she began to think how much 
 better it would have been to declare his love like a 
 man, poor fellow. A word or two would have per- 
 suaded Gligoris. But now there was an end of it 
 all. She would never see him again, never hear 
 his voice. Just at that moment came the knock. 
 
 " * Who's there ? ' cried the girl, within. 
 
 " ' May the blessed God forgive thy dead, my 
 daughter ; the world I hear, but the world I cannot 
 see ; have pity, and give me an alms of thy charity ! '
 
 MARINOS KONTAEAS 65 
 
 " The door opened ; the girl's hand held out a 
 piece of bread. 
 
 "'God forgive thy dead!' murmured Marines 
 once more, and in he stept. Lemone knew him 
 instantly, and fell in a faint. There was no time 
 to lose. One glance Marines threw around, then 
 whipt off his scarf, and bound it over her mouth ; 
 he lifted her on his shoulders, got across the yard 
 and over the back wall, landing in some rubbish- 
 heaps ; thence he made his way across one field, 
 across a second field, and pausing at length, sat 
 down under a tree. Now he sprinkled her face 
 with some orange-flower water which he had with 
 him. She half opened her eyes, and Marines saw 
 there was no danger. He next fastened the band- 
 age over her mouth again, and then straight away 
 for the boat. 
 
 " The lads were all ready, resting on their oars, 
 and in half an hour they had got as far as Kalo- 
 chori. As they went, the girl came to ; but God 
 knows how she felt. Marines treated her as a 
 mother would treat her first - born child. He 
 spoke to her, made her promises, fondled her, 
 with never a hard word said, and never a hard 
 thing done. By degrees the girl began to 
 breathe easier ; it was as if her heart told her a 
 thing that calmed her mind. Suddenly it all came 
 
 £
 
 66 MARINOS KONTARAS 
 
 over her at once : her home, her brother, her native 
 village, her shame. Ah ! the shameful ditty they 
 would make about her. Again she fainted ; another 
 dose of orange-water, and the same pitiful scene 
 was repeated. When she was more herself. Marines 
 (who knew what was troubling her) began to plead 
 once more, and in sweet words told her that he 
 would not lay a finger upon her until they should 
 be wed ; nor should they be wed until she said yes, 
 and his lads for witness. They had arrived at 
 Kalochori, and still Lemone never opened her lips. 
 Marines now reminded her that there was no time 
 for thinking ; here they were. At this the girl 
 burst into lamentations. However, as the men held 
 fast by the boat-hook while they got out on the beach 
 down behind the harbour, she called out, and said : 
 
 " ' If you will take an oath before the Virgin 
 and St Nicholas, and before the priest, that your 
 life, now and for ever, shall be gentle and sweet as 
 the words you have said to me ; that you will re- 
 nounce the sea and renounce the knife ; and that 
 you will return to our village with the priest, to 
 bear witness that he received me with my honour 
 unstained ; and if you will live with me always, 
 my answer is — Yes.' 
 
 " Marines wanted nothing else ; he was ready to 
 swear anything if he might win her love.
 
 MAKINGS KONTARAS 67 
 
 " So they left the boat, and passing through the 
 dark streets, arrived before the Church. They 
 found the priest's cell, and called up the curate to 
 explain what they required. At first the curate 
 refused to be mixed up in the matter, but when he 
 saw that there were knives ready to enforce the re- 
 quest, how could he help it ? So he got out his 
 stole, and made them one. Before the blessing, 
 the oath was twice taken : once upon the Gospel, 
 and once before St Nicholas, whom Marines 
 feared a great deal more than he feared the 
 Gospel. 
 
 " ' Now,' says Marines, ' back we go, priest and 
 all' And one hour before dawn the vessel came to 
 anchor in our harbour. The sailors were well armed, 
 in case of mischief, if our people got wind of them. 
 First went the priest alone, and he went to the 
 house of Gligoris. Oh, the trouble there had been 
 in the place ! All through the night they had been 
 afoot ; all night long there had been search-parties 
 with lanterns looking for the runaway ; and they 
 were just arranging to send men round to all the 
 villages for them to seek for the lost Lemone. 
 
 " But the priest made it all straight with them. 
 When he got inside, he went straight to the girl's 
 brother, who was at that time sitting with his 
 cheeks in his two hands, and his elbows on his
 
 68 MAEINOS KONTARAS 
 
 knees, staring before him fiercely, like a madman ; 
 and to him said the priest : 
 
 " ' My son, the blessing of God be with thee ; 
 fear nothing. Thy sister is at this hour chaste and 
 pure as the day when she was born. He who 
 carried her off is a changed man. See, here is his 
 oath. If thou canst not read, I will read it to thee : 
 
 " ' I swear by the Gospel and by St Nicholas 
 (great is his grace), that from the hour when I 
 take Lemone, daughter of Mastro-Vasili, of Nero- 
 chori, to be my wife, until the day of my death, I 
 will renounce the sea, I will not touch a knife, I 
 will live with her in Nerochori, I will never say her 
 a bitter word, but I will live and die by her side in 
 peace and love.' 
 
 * Makings Kontaras.' 
 
 Gligoris foamed with rage when he heard this. 
 Then the burly priest, who had seen the world in 
 his day, bade all the others go out and leave them 
 together. A whole hour they remained alone. 
 Gligoris cried aloud, and beat his breast, and the 
 priest gently rebuked him. At last when the dawn 
 came, we who were outside heard the noise grow 
 less, then the sound of voices in talk together ; and 
 finally, as the sun caught the headland over yonder 
 across the bay, out came the priest, Gligoris, and all
 
 MAKINGS KONTARAS 69 
 
 the family, and with some of the neighbours and 
 the musicians in front, marched down to the sea- 
 shore to escort the bride home. 
 
 "When the fiddlers appeared, followed by this 
 wedding procession, Marines and his men began to 
 weep like little children for very joy, Lemone could 
 hold up no longer, and fainted away ; this time it 
 was Gligoris sprinkled the orange-water to revive 
 her, and led her ashore. 
 
 " The whole village was crowding on the beach 
 by this time, and we all struck up the Bride's Song. 
 Never shall I forget that march from the sea- shore 
 up to the village. First of all we went to St 
 Nicholas' Church, and there Marines made a vow 
 to sell his boat, and offer with the money a silver 
 sconce, the same you must have seen up in the 
 church to-day. 
 
 " The service over, they returned home ; the 
 women gathered together and dressed the bride, 
 and then came the wedding feast. A topsy-turvy 
 wedding it was, to be sure — crowning first and feast 
 after ! Half the night the revelry lasted. I was 
 there at the dance myself, a beardless boy, my first 
 wedding dance, so I remember it all the better. 
 But how shall I ever get to the end of my story, 
 sir ? " 
 
 I begged old Thauasis to tell me no more to-day,
 
 70 MAKINGS KONTAEAS 
 
 as it was getting late, and I must be off. I 
 ordered him another dram, and bade good-night. 
 
 " But you haven't heard all yet, sir ! You 
 haven't heard what became of the wild beast when 
 he was turned into an angel ! What bliss he had 
 with his Lemone, and the vineyard Gligoris gave 
 them ! How for years he would not even fish, until 
 the priest of Kalochori, who had married them, 
 came saying that he had seen St Nicholas in a 
 dream, angry because Marinos did no more fishing! 
 And after that he began to take out his drag-net 
 now and again to catch fish for his beloved w^ife. 
 
 "In a word, master, fifty years they lived thus, 
 loving and beloved, and so they have died this day. 
 One sorrow they had, and one only ; and that was 
 that they had no children. But every other joy 
 that life can give was theirs. 'Twas the will of 
 God that his soul should be saved by a girl — a 
 woman ! And yet they do say that women cause 
 our damnation ! But you see, sir, there are women 
 and women. Just look now at that old beldame of 
 mine, and say Avhether I'm right to spend my 
 evenings at the tavern ? " 
 
 " Well, good evening, skipper. I must go light 
 a taper and be off, or I shall catch it, too, from my 
 wife, if I'm very late." 
 
 And so I got up and left him.
 
 MAKINGS KONTARAS 71 
 
 Once more I entered the church. There was an 
 hour or so left ere sunset. In the burial ground 
 all was still. The door was shut, and neither priest 
 nor grave-digger was to be seen. I went in, and 
 walked to the grave of Lemone, There were two 
 graves now, side by side, and upon them lay the 
 pick and shovel, forming a rude cross. Over the 
 graves I bent my head, and prayed to God to fill 
 the world with such couples as these, who begin 
 their life with a loving kiss, and go down into the 
 grave hand in hand.
 
 ZANOS CHARISIS 
 
 ZAnos CHARfsis was a lively boy ; very lively. 
 Komnen6s Vernikis was his inseparable friend, from 
 the time when they used to twist up wisps of hay, 
 and smoke them on the sly down the garden. 
 Zanos was a restless boy ; a " prankish lad," as they 
 say in the island where he lived, about any boy who 
 afterwards makes a figure in the world. 
 
 People noticed these pranks of Zanos, and they 
 were the talk of the place. But that fine widow 
 lady, his mother, who, ever since she had lost her 
 mate after one year of bliss, lavished all her love on 
 this yellow-haired lump of a lad, could see below 
 the surface. She saw that her Zanos had his 
 father's head, all his tastes, his quickness, and his 
 fire. She saw that one day he too would love ; and 
 that love, if it were unhappy, would break his heart, 
 or else, if it were wise and not unrequited, would 
 spring within it like a fountain of living water. 
 
 Another thing that helped Charisena to under- 
 stand her boy was his affection for Komnenos. 
 
 Komnenos was rather bigger than he, a little 
 72
 
 ZANOS CHARISIS 73 
 
 heavy, but wide-awake for all that. He was a 
 deep stream, this doctor's son, and eminently 
 practical. He weighed well all that he said or did. 
 When Zanos proposed some piece of madness or 
 practical joke, Komnenos would carefully deliberate 
 the matter, and then pronounce sentence. These 
 two were the torment and terror of the whole 
 neighbourhood. Once old Aunt Ralou found some 
 of the strings of the warp cut in a piece of work she 
 was doing. Cries and imprecations burst from her 
 lips, and there was a regular row. But she did not 
 need to wonder who did it. Off she ran post- 
 haste to Charisena's yard, and called her with up- 
 lifted hands : not a sound, no one answered. By- 
 and-bye in came Zanos, as innocent as you please, 
 bearing a basket of fruit, as if it was likely he 
 would come back from the garden at that time of 
 day. A question, and the whole thing came out at 
 once. The youngster could not lie, and was not 
 afraid to tell the truth. What could Aunt Raloii 
 do but catch him and give him a kiss ? 
 
 • • • ■ • 
 
 Playtime ended and school began. Our two 
 friends went to school together. Komnenos began 
 to work hard at once ; slow but sure, he learnt 
 everything. The other, rogue that he was, took 
 all his pranks to school with him. The master
 
 74 ZANOS CHAEISIS 
 
 could not help loving a lad so sweet-tempered, and 
 had not the heart to punish him. And then the 
 boy did no harm ; only, keep quiet he could not. 
 His mind swung to and fro like his feet as he sat 
 upon the form. He never knew any lesson 
 thoroughly, and all he learnt was by fits and starts 
 and on the move. 
 
 Yet great and marvellous are the miracles 
 worked by school. After a few years, the lad was 
 promoted to the higher classes, with much pride 
 and complacency ; always in company with Kom- 
 nenos. But what a difference there was now ! 
 One got on at a run, the other at a slow walk. 
 Zanos now and then stopt still by the way and 
 waited for his friend, and so the two schoolboy 
 chums were not separated. 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 Zanos must have grown by this time to the age 
 of fifteen or so ; an awkward age, when a boy 
 becomes a nuisance, neither fish nor flesh, and his 
 voice as much as the rest of him. Someone has 
 said that at this age boys ought to be hidden under 
 a barrel, so that nobody need see them ; but Dame 
 Charisena was not of this opinion. She longed for 
 the day when her boy would be a man. What 
 other hope in the world had she ? And as she saw 
 him develop by slow degrees, joy and hope over-
 
 ZANOS CHARISIS 75 
 
 flowed her heart. She had her own little fortune, 
 more than enough for their needs. All her ambi- 
 tion was for his advancement, that he should come 
 to the front and be a famous man. She wished to 
 hear once more the sweet name of Charisis ringing 
 round her, and to see her lost husband live again in 
 her son. 
 
 Two or three years more, and half her wish was 
 fulfilled ; now she must work for the other half. 
 A budding moustache was not enough ; he must 
 become a personage. For this end she had been 
 striving until now with her love and her sweet 
 words. But she could not carry it through her- 
 self; Zanos had to go abroad, to travel and see the 
 world, and to enter some profession. The only pro- 
 fessions that families of any importance would look 
 at then were medicine and the law. To be a 
 barrister was no wish of his, neither would his 
 mother have allowed it, for she would have lost 
 him then from her village home. So there was 
 nothing for it but to become a doctor. Old Ver- 
 nikis, the father of Komnenos, now cared more for 
 his crops than his patients, and so disgusted was 
 he at being for ever at beck and call, day or night, 
 that he would not hear of the profession of medi- 
 cine for his son. Go to Athens — yes, he might go 
 to Athens, if he liked ; and be what he would, but
 
 76 ZANOS CHARISIS 
 
 not a doctor. Komnenos might become a lawyer, 
 a bishop, a schoolmaster ; but no — he wanted none 
 of them. What he liked was to be out of doors ; 
 his father's son all over. So he decided to give 
 himself to farminsr. 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 It was the end of August. The two families 
 were supping together on the eve of the departure. 
 The boxes were already packed, with lavender and 
 acacia seeds folded away among the clothes to scent 
 them ; a few kerchiefs and little bags full of sou- 
 venirs were all made up. The young folks seemed 
 glad ; the mothers thoughtful. They were on 
 the brink of tears, but weeping was left for the 
 morrow. 
 
 Old Vernikis that night was full of instructions 
 for their benefit. There was no piece of informa- 
 tion he forgot to give, no old friend he did not call 
 to mind, no introduction he failed to offer. 
 
 Supper done, Vernikis' wife had still something 
 to finish, which she was weaving for her Komnenos. 
 And that little birdie of hers, Chrysoula, flitted 
 about, coming and going, each time with some new 
 trifle, this or that, which must go in Xomnenos' box. 
 
 Charisena had nothing left to do. All Zanos' 
 things bad been ready for days and days past. 
 What else had she had to think about all these
 
 ZANOS CHAEISIS 77 
 
 years ? So she lent a hand to the other, and gave 
 her opinion on the ten thousand things the wee 
 lassie had to offer. 
 
 And so the evening passed. Very early in the 
 morning, Charisena strolled round the garden with 
 Komnenos, Avhile Zanos saw after the horses. They 
 talked together, these two, very seriously. Komnenos 
 carried his head like a full-grown man, and Zanos' 
 mother talked and talked, now bright and laughinor, 
 and again in a quiet and confidential fashion : they 
 seemed to be hatching some plan between them. 
 Her expression was unusually knowing, as who 
 should say : " We have business on hand." In 
 a little while came Mistress Yemikena,^ with her 
 husband, and joined in. So it was no new thing, 
 this little plan of theirs. 
 
 Suddenly the horses were heard in the courtyard. 
 They must start at once if they would catch the 
 steamer ; there was no time to lose. Zanos, too, 
 was a sensitive lad ; and though his heart grieved 
 at leaving his dear mother for the first time, he 
 longed to be gone, and the pain of parting over. 
 At last all was ready. They embraced, and for one 
 moment the mothers were locked in their sons' 
 arms, without a word of complaint, only cries and 
 sobs. Even the doctor broke down, and two big 
 * I.e., Vemikis' wife, as Charisis' wife is Charisena.
 
 78 ZANOS CHAEISIS 
 
 drops rolled over his cheeks as he kissed the young 
 fellows. Suddenly they remembered that Chrysoula 
 was not there. Her father called her ; Komnenos 
 called her. At last there she came, running out of 
 the garden, with two bunches of flowers in her hand : 
 one for her brother, one for Zanos. Then followed 
 more tears, more kisses. At length the gates 
 opened, and the horses passed out ; the men pulled 
 them forward, followed by the two travellers, the 
 mothers next, and finally, a procession of friends 
 and neighbours. " Farewell, farewell ! " cried they 
 all ; only the mothers found no voice. However, 
 Charisena managed to control herself so far as to 
 say two words apart to her son. " No fear, no fear ! " 
 he answered, smiling ; then the beasts and travellers 
 turned the corner, and proceeded on their way. 
 
 A few moments more, and nothing was to be 
 seen in the distance but handkerchiefs fluttering in 
 the air. 
 
 • ■ • • • 
 
 A week or so later, Zanos' mother received the 
 following letter : — 
 
 " My Dear Mother, — 
 
 " If we go on as we have begun, we shall do 
 well. Our journey was quiet and sweet as a dream. 
 Only, whenever I thought of you, and but
 
 ZANOS CHAEISIS 79 
 
 didn't I say all would end well ? Then where's the 
 use of sitting down to lament now ? Courage, and 
 the years will fly. 
 
 " What a fine town Athens is ! I only wish you 
 were here to see it. Perhaps even that may come 
 to pass ! Well, never mind that just now. Komnenos 
 is always dinning into my ears that ' we have not 
 come here to make our bed,' and ' there's nothing 
 like a home-made boot, even if it is patched.' You 
 know his proverbs. What amuses me is, that you 
 sent me here to work hard, and then it suddenly 
 comes into your head to talk of wives and weddings ! 
 But there — you mothers will never learn sense. I'll 
 tell you what I mean to do. I'll make up your ad- 
 vice into a neat parcel, and put it carefully away 
 until I am a doctor, and then we'll talk of it again. 
 Is that a bargain ? 
 
 " To-morrow we begin our studies. We have 
 settled down very comfortably in two rooms, 
 Komnenos and I. Give my love to all. — Your 
 
 " Zanos." 
 
 Not twenty-four hours elapsed before Zanos 
 himself was reading a letter, which ran thus — 
 
 " My Darling Zanos, — 
 
 " I can't tell you how dreary the house has been 
 ever since you went away. You will begin to
 
 80 ZANOS CHARISIS 
 
 scold me, I know. . . . You promised me that 
 you would remain faithful to your word. In God's 
 name, my son, do not break that vow ! My dream 
 is that you will come back one day, and take your 
 father's place. I found a wife for you before you 
 left us ; you know who. Don't tell me again that 
 it is too soon yet. There is plenty of time, my 
 boy, for you to work and to love Chrysoula ; and 
 when you have her to love, you will learn all the 
 quicker. The poor little thing seems to have 
 suspected something from our mysterious whispers, 
 and every little while she keeps asking when your 
 letters will come. Perhaps we shall have them to- 
 morrow morning. I am going to bed, after a 
 fervent prayer for my dear son. 
 
 "Your Mother." 
 
 " P.S. — It was lucky that I did not send my 
 letter yesterday. To-day yours has come. Imagine 
 our delight ! Just look at my letter, and be duly 
 astonished that I wrote as though I knew what 
 you were writing to me ! We have made our 
 bargain, then ; God be praised for it. If I lose 
 not thee, my son, the world may come to an end 
 for all I care." 
 
 Six months went by ; twelve months. Zanos by 
 this time was rising twenty, Komnenos was twenty-
 
 ZANOS CHARISIS 81 
 
 one. Komnenos, though, was still as cool as ever ; 
 you must push him if you would move him. 
 Zanos was exactly the opposite. He took fire like 
 powder whenever a petticoat trailed across his path. 
 It was vacation time now, and the two used to go 
 out together for a good walk every evening, when 
 work was done. Their plan was to work right 
 through the vacation, that so they might shorten 
 their exile. So they set their teeth, and stayed 
 away from home those two or three months, cost 
 what it might to poor Charisena. 
 
 To be young and handsome, to be Zanos, and to 
 see, look you, every evening a witch with hazel 
 eyes who passes you with a smile — this methinks 
 were temptation enough to move even St Anthony. 
 This was what happened to Zanos. At first he 
 took the whole thing as a bit of fun, and joked 
 over it with Komnenos. And perhaps it would 
 have stopped there, but that for a few days 
 Komnenos was ill. Then Zanos had to take his 
 walk by himself. That was too much for his 
 blood. At first he was devoured by curiosity. 
 Who could she be ? How well she dressed, and 
 sometimes she was on horseback, too ! " Ah, take 
 care, beware, Zanos ! " he said once to himself, 
 " she's fooling thee ! What pluck, though, to turn 
 the horse right round and make eyes at me ! She
 
 82 ZANOS CHAEISIS 
 
 must be a boy, not a girl. "Who can she be, 
 though ? " 
 
 By hook or by crook, he discovered that she was 
 the only daughter of Siour ^ Pezodlis, who had come 
 last year from Europe to settle in Athens. Then 
 he held up his head with a knowing air, as who 
 should say, let this foreign girl try her game 
 somewhere else. But in his heart of hearts he 
 flattered his hopes, and was proud of the experience. 
 When he got home, he asked Komnenos how he 
 was getting on, and advised him like a good 
 doctor to take care of himself, and not to go out 
 just yet ; then hastened to his room. But now 
 his head began to turn, and he could get no rest. 
 
 " Hang it all ! " he said suddenly, half-aloud, 
 " I'm young, and I must amuse myself. It's not a 
 question of marrying, anyhow, or of being false to 
 mother. Poor mother ! " 
 
 Opening his drawer he drew out one by one all 
 his little treasures ; crosses, dried flowers, handker- 
 chiefs, all came out. He looked at them each one, 
 folded them up again carefully and mechanically, 
 as if in a dream, and went to bed. As he lay in 
 his bed, his heart was groaning, while fancy played 
 her own tune upon it ; yet his mind was awake, 
 exultant. He began to toss from side to side, 
 
 ^ A corruption of Signor.
 
 ZANOS CHARISIS 83 
 
 trying to devise some excuse for calling upon Siour 
 Pezoulis. Was he to deny himself all the pleasures 
 of life ? What sort of man was he then ? And what 
 virtue could there be, if there were no temptations 
 to overcome ? Besides, the world was not learnt 
 from books, and a good doctor must know the world. 
 
 Soothed with sophistries like these, he fell asleep. 
 In the morning he paid his friend another visit. 
 Komnenos regarded him cool as ever, and showed 
 not the slightest curiosity ; but he guessed there 
 was something afoot. And when Zanos again in- 
 sisted that he must not think of going out that 
 day, he was sure of it. 
 
 Late that evening Zanos returned, in hot haste, 
 like a hare before the hunters. That is what high- 
 strung temperaments are like when they catch fire. 
 And why not ? He had been received at Pezoulis' 
 house like one of the family. A fine old fellow he 
 was, to be sure : but his daughter ! How in- 
 telligent she was, how delicately she spoke ! And 
 to think that we boast of our island girls, and say 
 we know something of the world ! What fine 
 manners she had, what wit and grace ! She tells 
 you a mere nothing, and honey trickles from her 
 lips. And she too was an island girl, she said ; 
 from Chios. Now tell me, mother mine ; " what 
 hae ye to say for yoursel' ? "
 
 84 ZANOS CHARISIS 
 
 So he made a joke of it in liis thoughts ; perhaps 
 he really did tliink it a joke still. His laugh, how- 
 ever, as he entered Komnenos' chamber was rather 
 forced ; and when his friend asked him had he seen 
 Hazel-eyes that evening, the laugh grew rigid, life- 
 less, mere mummery, 
 
 Komnenos had no difficulty in dragging the snake 
 from its hole. Two or three questions, and Zanos 
 made a clean breast of it, so that the other saw his 
 heart to the bottom. He perceived that it was grim 
 earnest now. There was no longer time to pretend 
 to feel worse, and say he must go home for a few 
 weeks ; work would soon begin again. Now, he 
 considered, some other antidote must be found, and 
 it was time to put a certain little plot into execu- 
 tion. He passed the matter off as a fine joke, and 
 the evening went by. 
 
 • • • • ■ 
 
 Of course the letters came and went all this time. 
 Zanos wrote every Sunday ; and his mother wrote 
 something every day, sending off the budget as soon 
 as it was full. Like fresh flowers were his mother's 
 letters to Zanos ; like healing balm were his to her : 
 those, sunbeams warming an exiled heart ; these, a 
 mirror that reflected that heart with all its beauties 
 and all its faults. Then how could Zanos help tell- 
 ing his mother his adventure with the brown-eyed
 
 ZANOS CHARISIS 85 
 
 lass ? Tell it he did, as something quite delightful. 
 What else could it be but delightful ? However, 
 Charisena understood it rather better than Kom- 
 nenos. " Time for the ' ruse/ " his letter said, just 
 at the end. 
 
 Five or six days had gone by without Zanos 
 meeting his Dulcinea at Patissia ; and yet he al- 
 ways went at the same hour. Zanos began to feel 
 uneasy. Perhaps she preferred meeting him alone. 
 But how was he to get rid of Komnenos ? It was 
 impossible to look wise, and tell him to stay in- 
 doors. He had not even a cold now. 
 
 One evening, seeing his friend very restless, 
 Komnenos said : 
 
 " Suppose we go to the theatre ? " 
 
 "So we will ! " cried Zanos, at once. He was 
 charmed with the idea. What a fool he had been 
 not to think of that ! His lady-love was sure to be 
 there ; an opera was running such as could not be 
 seen every day. 
 
 In half an hour they were sitting in the theatre 
 side by side. Zanos could not keep his eyes still. 
 One comprehensive glance took in the whole audi- 
 ence ; curse it, there was no sign of Signer Pezoulis. 
 Did but a door open, did anyone come in, Zanos 
 was all eyes : but nothing came of it. " We shan't 
 see her to-night ! " he murmured to himself.
 
 86 ZANOS CHARISIS 
 
 The performance ended, and they made their 
 way home. They talked of the music, of this, that, 
 and the other ; Komnenos was more lively than 
 usual, and even struck up a song, while Zanos sat 
 still and listened. 
 
 " Let us have that again," said he ; it was the 
 air sung by the tenor, which Zanos liked very much. 
 
 All of a sudden, Komnenos went off into one of 
 their island songs. 
 
 " Ugh, you wretch, you haven't a particle of 
 taste," said Zanos. " Your heart is wood, nothing 
 but wood !" and he got up and stalked off to his room. 
 
 Next day all went on as usual ; work, dinner, a 
 short nap, and then their walk. As they walked, 
 suddenly Komnenos called out — 
 
 " There she is ! " 
 
 "Where?" cried Zanos. But this "where?" 
 sharp as a pistol-shot, was heard by other ears as 
 Avell ; she of the hazel eyes heard it ; she turned, 
 and gave him a sweet look. Zanos turned from 
 pale to red, and greeting her with some awkward- 
 ness, began to walk like one possessed. So much 
 had this little incident confused him that he v/ent 
 straight ahead, not looking to the right hand nor to 
 the left. Komnenos had a great mind to tease 
 him, only he knew that it is ill jesting with men in 
 love ; so he let the cloud pass by.
 
 ZANOS CHARISIS 87 
 
 Slowly, by degrees, Zanos recovered, and became 
 quieter and more reasonable. " I'm very glad she 
 heard me," he was thinking. " She must have seen 
 my heart in that word. My heart ! " he went on ; 
 " it's not a question of heart ; of course I must have 
 perceived her beauty ; how could I help it ? " And 
 thus he laid unction to his conscience, that he might 
 have uo need to hide anything from his mother. 
 
 On the way home, Komnenos stayed behind to 
 buy something, and so Zanos went on by himself. 
 He threw down his hat upon the table ; and just as 
 he did so, a large square envelope caught his eye ; 
 the postman had just brought it in, said the land- 
 lady. It was directed in a thin, clear hand. He 
 stood looking at it as he drew off his gloves, and 
 tried to guess who had sent it. Suddenly he heard 
 Komnenos coming ; catching up the letter, he 
 hastened to his own room, and locked the door. 
 Then he opened it and began to read. 
 
 " I have often thought of writing to you. Yes- 
 terday was not the first time I have seen you. 
 And now I am going to forget that I am a girl, a 
 mere school-girl indeed, and that I run a thousand 
 risks in taking this step. Risks ? what do I care 
 for risks ? what do I care for my life ? Mine it is 
 no longer, and alas ! I cannot call it yours. I dare
 
 88 ZANOS CHAEISIS 
 
 not even say who I am. Why should I write a 
 name which I want no longer ? And how can I 
 tell that you will not think me crazy ? Who ever 
 heard of such a thing — that a girl should write to 
 a young man and a stranger, to say, and to be the 
 first to say it, ' I love you ' ! Sweet, sweet word, 
 which I now write for the first time, with such 
 passion ; I feel it in my heart, I know what it 
 means, and I will write it. I shall perish if I write 
 it not. You know not who I am, perhaps never 
 will, — never ! But you shall know that there is a 
 girl who loves you so deeply that she has lost her 
 reason for your sake. 
 
 " Now I have told you : but where is the use ? 
 What man wilJ ever listen to a girl whom he cannot 
 see and does not know ? And who would believe 
 her if she said — no, I will never write it. I have 
 shown you my heart, it is enough. If my heart's 
 cries find an echo in yours — but impossible ! All 
 you need know is that you are loved as never man 
 was loved yet, and that there lives a girl who one 
 day will die for love of you. 
 
 " P.S, — If you care to answer me, it is enough to 
 wear a white flower in your coat," 
 
 Very slowly he folded the letter, and sat down to 
 think. He did not know what to make of it. For a
 
 ZANOS CHARISIS 89 
 
 moment the thought crossed his mind that this was 
 some practical joke. He looked at the letter again ; 
 no, that would not do : the words were a woman's, 
 it was a woman's handwriting ; the very perfume 
 of the paper showed that some woman had sent it. 
 
 " I say, how much longer am I to wait for you ? " 
 called the voice of Komnenos, outside. 
 
 " Don't wait ; I have a headache this evening, 
 and I am not coming. I think I shall go to bed." 
 And to bed he went, cudgelling his brains to think 
 who the girl could be. Hazel-eyes it certainly Avas 
 not ; besides, he had seen her writing in a book, 
 and it was quite different. 
 
 " What a fool I am ! " he cried, suddenly. " It's 
 just what the letter says, some girl who has taken 
 a fancy to me. But I'm not to write to her ! a 
 white flower is enough ! And what would she 
 understand by that ? Perhaps she would write 
 again. What if it's a trap, though, and they 
 will look out for the white flower and laucjh at 
 me ! No, I'll do nothing at all till she writes 
 again. I will wait. But I might tell Komnenos. 
 Happy thought ; he will know if it's a joke. Ah, 
 there's mother ; what would she say about it ? 
 Well, she shall be told too. I can't help it if 
 the girls write me letters. I never saw this poor 
 little girl, and don't know who she is. Certainly I
 
 90 ZANOS CHAEISIS 
 
 will write and tell mother. At least it will give 
 her a laugh ; at most she will give me a warning." 
 
 Accordingly, next morning, as Zanos was drinking 
 his coffee, he handed the letter to Komnenos, with 
 the words, " Read this, and give me your opinion." 
 
 Komnenos read it through. When he had 
 finished, he knit his brows and thought a moment. 
 Then he said : 
 
 " Why, what am I to say ? It's some girl who 
 is in love with you. Is that what made you unwell 
 yesterday ? You are not to blame." 
 
 " What would you do if you were in my place ? " 
 asked Zanos. 
 
 " Why, what can you do ? unless you want to 
 humour the girl, and put a white flower in your 
 button-hole. That means you say yes ; and then, 
 get out of it if you can ! That would make matters 
 serious ; look before you leap," 
 
 " You're quite right ; I will do nothing. Still, 
 I'll send the letter to mother, that she may enjoy 
 the joke ; what do you think ? " 
 
 " No harm in that ; — yes, you had best send it, 
 and show her that you are just the same as ever." 
 
 • ••••• 
 
 As the days passed, Zanos became shy. He fed 
 his mind on study, and his heart on love ; and now 
 that Komnenos knew the secret, his love had to be
 
 ZANOS CHARISIS 91 
 
 kept to himself. So he used to retire very early 
 to his room, to think of his " little girl " (as he 
 called her). As for Hazel-eyes, he never gave her 
 a look now. 
 
 A week or so later, a letter came from his mother. 
 " We had a good laugh," so it began, " over the 
 billet doux of your unknown fair one. If I did not 
 know your heart, I should feel anxious. May all 
 your temptations be no worse than this, my boy, 
 and then I have no fear of losing you." 
 
 " You see she takes it as a trifle," said he, on 
 showing this to his friend. 
 
 " Well, how did you expect her to take it ? you 
 told it her yourself for a bit of fun. That's what 
 we ought to have thought of it all along. A school- 
 girl babbling of love, indeed ! An unfledged chick 
 dreaming of the sky. Don't imagine that this 
 madness has lasted. I assure you that you might 
 wear your white flower to-day, and she would never 
 write you a line ! " 
 
 Zanos, though somewhat shaken, did not feel 
 quite so certain that his friend was right. It 
 seemed to him the best plan to wear a flower, 
 and see whether he would get another letter. 
 So half in fan he bought a white camellia, put 
 it in his button-hole, and went for a walk. 
 
 The evening passed without events ; but Zanos
 
 92 ZANOS CHARISIS 
 
 was conning the girl's letter in his mind, impatient 
 for the morning. 
 
 Early next day, after his first lecture, he came in 
 and saw that the letter had come. It was the same 
 envelope and directed in the same hand. Zanos 
 trembled. His friend was smoking, and looking 
 out of the window. By-and-bye he turned round, 
 and said to Zanos : 
 
 " Come, read it out ; let us hear what she says." 
 Zanos was silent. He read the document through 
 once, and pretended to read it again, while he 
 thought what he should say. The girl had been 
 dying of grief because her dear one did not wear 
 the flower, but she was better now. Yet still no 
 name or address ! She had thought it over, and 
 decided not to make herself known until she was 
 done with school, and Zanos had finished his 
 studies. Meanwhile he should get acquainted 
 with her by degrees from her letters. She 
 would write once a month. One favour alone 
 she asked him ; to send her some little keepsake 
 that she might treasure up ; if he wished for 
 one, he had the letters. Let him direct it to such 
 and such a name at the post office, to be called for. 
 He might write, if he wished, just that once, a 
 word or two ; but this would be the first and last 
 time she meant to go to the post, so he might spare
 
 ZANOS CHARISIS 93 
 
 himself the trouble of writing again. For her the 
 flower was enough, which told her that she was 
 beloved. She had thought long whether she should 
 send him her picture, and had decided not to do so. 
 He had the picture of her heart, and that must do. 
 Never should it be said that he had chosen her for 
 a pretty face. And so it went on. 
 
 " Here," said Zanos at last ; " take it and read 
 it." 
 
 Komnenos read the letter, and turned towards 
 the window. Then he whistled a few notes, and 
 ended by saying : 
 
 " I was wrong in letting you wear that flower. 
 She took it seriously, and you can't get out of it. 
 Your mother little thought that things would go 
 so far." 
 
 At this, Zanos burst out into a torrent of excited 
 words. " I'll tell you what," said he, " I have had 
 enough of it. It's high time my mother should 
 know that I am not tied to her apron-strings any 
 longer. I am a man now, and I mean to go my 
 own way. I dare say I am blind, but I won't be 
 led about by the hand ; I had rather go my own 
 way and fall into the ditch. I'm in love with the 
 girl, so have done. I know that I am speaking to 
 Chrysoula's brother ; but Chrysoula's brother is also 
 my friend. I mean to find out who this is, and if
 
 94 ZANOS CHAHISIS 
 
 I can't find out now, I shall wait until I do. If I 
 like the girl as well as I like her letters, she's mine, 
 and there's an end of it. I will write and tell 
 mother the same." 
 
 ■ • • • • 
 
 " My boy," wrote Charisena, a fortnight later, 
 " I see things have taken a serious turn, and day 
 or night I think of nothing else. What to write 
 to you, I know not. If I refuse my consent, I 
 make you unhappy — you, for whose happiness I 
 have given my whole life. If I agree, I lose you. 
 It is a terrible choice, and may God have pity on 
 me. At least, listen to this one prayer from your 
 mother ; keep your heart your own till you have 
 seen her ; and when you have seen her, and got to 
 know her, if you still care for her and she is a 
 respectable girl, do not let your heart yield until 
 she gives her word that she will come here, and be 
 my daughter before she becomes your wife. If not, 
 I will never, never consent ; and it would be 
 better for me a thousand times to go down alive 
 into the grave," 
 
 This letter nearly drove Zanos wild with delight. 
 He did not know what to do first — whether to 
 adore his mother for raising him to the seventh 
 heaven, when he looked for adjurations and tears ; 
 or to pray God that he would make all work for
 
 ZANOS CHARISIS 95 
 
 the best, and persuade the girl to come to his home 
 and be his own. 
 
 " But the keepsake ! " he said suddenly. " And 
 in the letter I will tell her all. My first love- 
 letter, and perhaps my last ! " 
 
 He sat down, and wrote a long, long letter. 
 Without a picture, he said, he could see her clearly 
 before his eyes ; such a soul needed no pictures ; he 
 loved her for better and for worse ; that he would 
 listen to her advice, he would rest quiet, and 
 work, and with his beloved in his heart Avould 
 await the " fulness of time." He had only one 
 boon to pray. And then he suggested the com- 
 pact of which his mother had written. They must 
 build their nest in his own country, by his mother's 
 side. If her parents would not agree she must 
 persuade them ; and if it was impossible to win 
 their consent, they must do without, and get away 
 as quietly as they could. 
 
 All night long he wrote. Ever and anon he 
 would lie down ; then rise and add something more. 
 At last he folded the letter, and placed his keep- 
 sake in it; a golden cross, one of his mother's 
 treasures. To what better hands could he entrust 
 it! 
 
 Even Komnenos at last began to take him 
 seriously. True it is, that for a time he pretended
 
 96 ZANOS CHARISIS 
 
 to be grieved at losing the hope that Zanos would 
 marry his sister ; but by degrees it grew clear that 
 he loved his friend well enough to forget that. 
 He went so far as to buy the flowers. " Don't 
 forget the flower," he used to say, " you mustn't 
 let the poor girl go and get ill," 
 
 Zanos could not find words to praise him ; he 
 was brother, friend, hero. All his little efforts to 
 give pleasure were pure gold to Zanos, under love's 
 magic. 
 
 The girl's answer came. It was a letter no 
 longer, but a starry heaven that unfolded and shone 
 before him. All his conditions were accepted. She 
 had told her mother all. What scenes there had 
 been ! — all that he should hear some time. Let 
 him rest assured that now her mother was won ; 
 she saw that it was a question of life and death, 
 and took it on herself to make all right with the 
 father. What a blessing that they knew who 
 Zanos was ! The cross she had kissed, and hung 
 it about her neck. She went back to her studies 
 with a light heart, longing for the two or three 
 years to pass. She had not told him how highly 
 he was spoken of in society ; that she had learnt 
 from her mother. Everybody had some kind thing 
 to say of him. What would they say if they 
 knew that Zanos was her own, hers for ever !
 
 ZANOS CHAEISIS 97 
 
 And now he must not forget her first request — 
 diligence, industry, patience : the years would soon 
 
 go by. 
 
 It was odd that on that very day an invitation 
 came from Hazel-eyes ; they were giving a dance. 
 But Zanos cared nothing for such things now ; he 
 sat down and wrote that he was indisposed. 
 
 Quietly and happily the winter went by. Zanos 
 and Komnenos were in great request. " Good 
 stuff in the lads," people said of them, " but they 
 have not been much in society." You see Kom- 
 nenos cared little about society ; give him his roots 
 to grub, and he was happy enough. Zanos again, 
 when he received one letter from his lady-love, 
 began to count how many days must pass before 
 the next came ; and each evening, when work was 
 done, he would open the last letter and read it 
 through again. Sometimes he made a copy of it 
 for his mother, that she too might be proud of the 
 treasure he had found. 
 
 Month by month Zanos saw the writer's mind 
 grow and improve. She changed from girl to 
 woman, and he was very proud of her. 
 
 " Why, look here ! " said he once to Komnenos, 
 "just see how cleverly she writes ! You must read it. 
 Verses now, the silly girl ! and not at all bad verses 
 either. She says she does not like the kind of
 
 98 ZANOS CHARISIS 
 
 poetry they learn in school ; it reminds her of the 
 artificial flowers in her hat ! Real flowers are nicer, 
 says she ! So they are, little one ; we'll pull in the 
 same boat there ! In the last letter she wrote about 
 our language ; she wants to see it fresh, full of the 
 mountain air. Do not the violets smell sweet upon 
 the mountains ? — Yes, my darling ; and so they do 
 in Athens, sometimes ! " ' 
 
 Komnenos listened quietly, and laughed. 
 
 " Ah, you're a lucky dog ! " said he. " But if she 
 turns out to be ugly — what then ? " 
 
 " Ugly ! an ugly woman never had a soul like 
 that ! What she says is enough to show that she 
 is beautiful ! " 
 
 Spring passed pleasantly enough. When summer 
 came, again they discussed the question should they 
 go home or no. Travelling was easier now. But 
 the decision lay with Komnenos, and he decided 
 not to go ; three summers of work would shorten 
 their absence by a year. 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 The third year was passed more slowly, and with 
 some impatience ; the fourth was worse still. Zanos 
 was suffering from mental fever ; the days seemed 
 to drag till he could see his " dear little girl." 
 Little was hardly the word for her now, he thought. 
 All those years he had kept a diary for her ; and in 
 it he told her everything.
 
 ZANOS CHARISIS 99 
 
 At length the last month came. The diary was 
 bound up, and made a beautiful volume ; another 
 volume was made of the love-letters. He passed 
 his examination with flying colours. 
 
 " I saw you," she wrote ; " I saw you come out a 
 full-fledged doctor with your diploma. I felt as 
 proud of you as if I were already your wife. I 
 wonder how I kept myself from running up to kiss 
 you ! My mother gave me strength. Six months 
 more I have to stay at school, and I have been 
 making my trousseau ! What a good wife I shall 
 make you in your island home ! 
 
 " P.S. I kept this letter a day or two, in order 
 to tell you our final plans. We have decided that 
 the meeting shall take place at your home. I wish 
 your mother to see me first, that she may give me 
 to her son. At first I said no, but my father and 
 mother insisted. When I remembered that but for 
 them I should never, never have seen you, I con- 
 strained my heart, and said, So be it, I know this 
 will grieve you. Patience, my love, only a little 
 while, and you will see us in your own house. Wc 
 leave to-night ; the other steamer sails to-morrow. 
 Take care not to lose it. We shall soon meet. 
 Good-bye." 
 
 • • • • « 
 
 The steamer cast anchor in the bay ; and the
 
 100 ZANOS CHARISIS 
 
 first to leap into the boat were our two friends. It 
 was night ; and before taking the news up to the 
 village — an hour's walk from the harbour — the 
 travellers knocked at Charisena's door. She opened 
 it herself ; in a moment Zanos was locked in her 
 arms. 
 
 " How changed you are, my boy ! " she said, when 
 Zanos at length had time to look round. " Why, 
 there's Komnenos. What are you waiting for ? 
 Run, run and go to your mother ! Stay, let us all 
 go together. The bride and her family are all up 
 there. Everybody is charmed with them." 
 
 Zanos gave a sigh of relief His dream was true, 
 then ! The lady-love was no toy of the fancy. No 
 doubt they arrived in the other boat, and now they 
 were spending the evening at the doctor's. 
 
 Their arrival was a veritable triumphal march ; 
 what rejoicings there were, and how happy the 
 people seemed to see them ! They entered the 
 courtyard, and Vernikena was out in a moment, 
 with her arms round her son's neck ; the doctor, 
 who was too feeble to rise, shouted his welcome 
 from within. 
 
 "Why, where's Chrysoula ? " said Zanos ; his 
 tongue refused to utter any other name, so he asked 
 for Chrysoula. He spoke with an air of some 
 impatience, as much as to say — " Just like a
 
 ZANOS CHAEISIS 101 
 
 girl — they always must go and put on their 
 finery ! " 
 
 " Coming, coming ! " cried old Vernikis. And 
 suddenly on the threshold appeared Chrysoula, 
 radiant and graceful, island beauty coupled with the 
 refinement that comes of travel and education. 
 But surely that could not be Chrysoula ? that must 
 be his lady-love ? At the mere thought, a thrill ran 
 through the limbs of Zanos ; at the same moment 
 his mother put her arm about the girl, saying — 
 
 " This is your love, this is the * little one ' ! " 
 
 Zanos could hardly believe his ears ; feeling quite 
 dazed, he came near and kissed her. Then he 
 looked at her face once more, holding her hand and 
 trying to speak ; slowly she pulled out a golden 
 chain that hung round her neck, and from her 
 bosom drew out his mother's golden cross. Zanos 
 could doubt no longer ; it was she, it was she 
 indeed ! He gazed upon her with wide eyes, trying 
 to quench that burning thirst that had racked him 
 four long years ; and he drank in her beauty as a 
 thirsty wayfarer drinks of the spring. 
 
 He would have spoken but could not; he trembled 
 like an aspen leaf; they were all trembling. 
 
 " I say ! " called the old man's voice, " why don't 
 you all come in ? " 
 
 Zanos awoke from his dream, and turning, saw
 
 102 ZANOS CHAEISIS 
 
 his mother in tears, weeping for her great joy. 
 They entered the house ; Komnenos ran up to kiss 
 his father's hand, and then he embraced the beauti- 
 ful girl. 
 
 At last Zanos understood the truth. The dear 
 little girl of his letters was Chrysoula herself! He 
 was speechless, his throat was parched ; a cloud 
 came over him ; he was far, far away, not living 
 upon the earth. 
 
 Charisena broke the spell. " Tell me now, my 
 boy, for the love of God, did you imagine your 
 darling more beautiful than she is ? " 
 
 Then at last Zanos understood his mother, and 
 knew the anxiety that had been preying upon her ; 
 it was done in a moment. No, the unknown fair 
 one could not be fairer than the maiden who there 
 stood smiling at him. But then those letters — who 
 wrote them ? Why, Chrysoula 1 She was the 
 little one, the darling ; it was her sweet soul had 
 enchanted him all these years. " Mother," he 
 murmured, " you are right : she is an angel ! she is 
 my love ! " 
 
 " Well, my children," broke in the old man, " sit 
 down and rest a little. See how happily all has 
 turned out ! You are the happiest couple in all 
 the world. The property is yours ; Komnenos will 
 arrange all that. He says he will bring some more
 
 ZANOS CHAKISIS 103 
 
 for himself. It is good that it should be so ; may 
 we live to see it done. There is only one thing I 
 fear — that you will not be allowed to enjoy your 
 first happiness in peace, as all the village is ill, in 
 fact at death's door ; there's not a doctor in the 
 place, only a quack fellow. We'll have the wedding 
 on Sunday, eh ? what say you, Charisena ? " 
 
 All was arranged, and the wedding took place. 
 The library of Zanos is now adorned by three gilt- 
 bound volumes, two of them full of manuscript, and 
 the third white as their own two hearts. In this 
 will be one day written the history of their true 
 love.
 
 FIRST LOVE 
 
 I MUST have been about twelve years old, and she 
 ■was about eleven. I did not meet her at church, 
 nor on St John's Eve, when the girls look for omens, 
 nor at the spring, nor at the window. Between 
 her mother and mine there was little love lost. 
 
 When I met her we were not alone by ourselves. 
 We were eight hard-working lads, determined to 
 learn what it was to conjugate a verb, and to bring 
 civilisation into our village. And five or six girls 
 used to come for two hours a day, and sit on the 
 other side of our old schoolmaster, and did their 
 parsing with such grace, that willy nilly, you must 
 needs fall in love with grammar. 
 
 This grace came, of course, because they were all 
 little ones, not that they were all pretty — to my 
 taste, pretty was only one, and she was my beloved ! 
 
 What have I said ? Since when my beloved, 
 
 and how long ? I had never said a word to her. 
 
 Never with so much as a finger had I touched her 
 
 plump little hand. No breath of mine could come 
 
 nigh to caress her. The only thing that passed 
 104
 
 FIEST LOVE 105 
 
 from my lips to hers was the word " I love," as we 
 conjugated it tense ,by tense in turn, and it so fell 
 out that I was last in our row and she was first of 
 the little girls. " We had been loved, you had 
 been loved," she began to repeat, then stumbled and 
 smiled, while I, who had been watching day after 
 day for a chance of giving her a smile, even though 
 it might be only half a one, beamed all over my 
 face as I looked upon her, with no fear that the 
 master might spy out our dangerous secret. Down 
 fell her eyes upon her book, red blushed her two 
 cheeks, and the girl beside her began the next 
 tense. 
 
 Eyes, and once more eyes ! Without you, neither 
 first love nor last love could we have had. My 
 looks as she came in to the lesson, her looks as she 
 left to go home, these were our vows, our love- 
 songs, our kisses, these were the only love-letters 
 for us. In course of time, without a word said 
 between us, we elaborated this language of the 
 eyes until it became a science. Our glances were 
 of all sorts and kinds. There was the indifferent 
 glance, that pierced me to the heart ; the angry 
 glance, that seared me as with a flash of lightning. 
 There was the treacherous look given to another, 
 that melted me like wax and destroyed me utterly. 
 Then again would come the gentle and sweet look
 
 106 FIEST LOVE 
 
 of love, that uplifted my soul again into its place, 
 and I was at peace. My own glances, expressive 
 though they were, had none of these terrible 
 changes : there was the same devotion, the same 
 grief, the same mute agony in them all. 
 
 Three months must have gone by thus. I woke 
 each morning at the first call, and was all impa- 
 tience for school-time. My mother was proud of 
 me, and already looked upon me as a future 
 bishop. 
 
 I was always the very first at the school door, 
 and yet I never once had the luck to find her alone, 
 either on the way or on the spot. That was my 
 eager desire, that was my dream : to see her alone, 
 were it for one moment only ; to tell her once for 
 all that I was dying, that I was undone, that other 
 hope for my life was there none unless I could have 
 her love for ever. All this I said with my burn- 
 ing eyes, but my unsatisfied heart longed for 
 speech ; it knew not measure nor reason, but cried 
 to me continually — " Forward ! love has other joys 
 than these ! " 
 
 But how to make her understand that I wanted 
 speech of her ? Looks were not enough for that ; 
 there must be a letter. A thousand times I wrote 
 and re- wrote that letter. I carried it with me, 
 resolved not to let my shyness overmaster me, not
 
 FIRST LOVE 107 
 
 to fear either master or top boy, only to give her 
 the paper secretly in a book, an inkstand, anything 
 that came handy. The hour came, my heart 
 shrank ! I durst not ! And I carried the paper 
 home again, and tore it to shreds, and cursed the 
 day that I was born to be such a useless coward. 
 
 Summer was just beginning when I got up one 
 morning, and went to the shrine of the Holy 
 Virgin, and made a vow that I would that day give 
 her my letter ; and if I did not, I prayed fire might 
 descend and consume me. 
 
 That day I was the first at school again. All 
 the boys and girls came in. My eyes were dim 
 with looking towards the door ; in vain — my little 
 girl was not there. The master called the roll ; 
 when he came to the name of Argyro, there was no 
 answer. 
 
 " Where's Argyro ? " asked the master of one of 
 her little friends. 
 
 " Her mother's ill, and she stayed at home." 
 
 A heavy heart I had within me as I went home 
 that midday ! What could I do, and where could 
 I go, till evening should pass and day should dawn 
 once more ! 
 
 Day came, and I went to school ; it was the 
 same as before. A week went by ; a fortnight ; a 
 month had passed, when one morning a girl told
 
 108 FIEST LOVE 
 
 the master that Argyro's mother was dead, and the 
 little girl was not coming back to school. 
 
 I was somewhere about five-and-twenty when I 
 made my first visit home after my travels. All my 
 old friends, lads and lasses, came to see me. And 
 from the other end of the village came Argyro, now 
 a matron with two children. Then I spoke to her, 
 and she to me, for the first time. We told each 
 other a thousand things ; spoke of her children, how 
 pretty and clever they were ; about my travels, 
 and how glad I was to find my old mother so well. 
 On all these matters our talk ran like a river ; and 
 about that first love of ours, that love never for- 
 gotten, as of old, so now, we said not a single 
 word.
 
 ANGELICA 
 
 Great was the excitement when our village first 
 saw Angelica. People accustomed to the shy and 
 demure village maidens, suddenly saw in their 
 midst a woman who seemed to them a kind of 
 goddess. In the first place, she was snow-white, 
 as if the sun had never seen her ; secondly, she 
 was merry, laughing, lively, drove them all out of 
 their senses when she laughed and showed her fine 
 teeth ; thirdly, she wore no country garb, but all 
 her dresses came from town. But why speak of 
 firstly, secondly, or tenthly ? Such she was that 
 when you looked at her you could not look enough. 
 
 A complete revolution was made in the village 
 by Angelica. The worthy villagers did not reckon 
 upon this bad result ; their aim was quite inno- 
 cent. They were on the look-out for a good school- 
 mistress, to teach the girls their letters. So they 
 wrote to town, and in a little while down came 
 Angelica. 
 
 There was no proper school building as yet. 
 She was given the use of a cottage, and in that 
 
 cottage Angelica began to civilise the little village 
 
 109
 
 110 ANGELICA 
 
 girls. So far so good ; the little girls learnt that 
 in books we do not eat bread, but call it by some 
 fine book-name ^ ; and when they had finished their 
 lessons they began to sew. Then in the evening, 
 when they came home again, they showed their 
 fathers what they had been doing ; some hemming, 
 a pair of slippers, or an embroidered tobacco-pouch. 
 And the fathers looked at these, and were proud to 
 think that at last the girls had seen something of 
 refinement. 
 
 But things did not stop here. The big girls, who 
 could no longer go to school, must not be left in the 
 lurch. It would be a shame if their younger sisters 
 went out into the world better and more polished 
 than they ! So they made a dead set at Angelica, 
 and left her no peace. Not a party gathered of an 
 evening, but she was among them, telling stories, 
 describing town customs, singing the town songs, 
 chatting and gossiping, while they forgot all the 
 village games, songs, and stories, and sat as if 
 bewitched, listening to Angelica. 
 
 It is true that when the school-mistress went to 
 her cottage, the village girls (this was an art they 
 could never forget) made a thousand jokes at the 
 poor creature's expense. One would mimic her 
 
 ' An attempt is being made in Greece to resuscitate classical 
 words where they have fallen out of use.
 
 ANGELICA 111 
 
 voice, another her unfamiliar words, another her 
 roguish looks. Innocent jests they were, with no 
 envy in them and no malice, only made for a piece 
 of fun. And even as they burst out laughing, they 
 would begin again to admire her red lips, her white 
 teeth, her little feet, her gait, her dresses and gew- 
 gaws, all her gracefulness and her beauty. 
 
 And by sheer force of gazing and admiring, the 
 village girls began gradually to change their ways. 
 This change was certainly slow, and only on the 
 surface ; her nature no village maiden can ever 
 change. So they altered a few of their words, some 
 of their manners, oome of their clothes and orna- 
 ments. It was just this that made the village folk 
 look with a less favourable eye on the luxurious 
 witch who had done it. They were no longer con- 
 tent with home-spun stuffs and silks ; they must go 
 to the shop for all manner of ribbons, buttons, and 
 rags. And the worst of it was that the imitation 
 could not be complete ; and you would suddenly see 
 bonnet and gaudy necklaces together, or French 
 furbelows worn along with their short fur jacket, 
 and so forth. The fathers, of course, took no notice 
 of this. Perhaps in their hearts they were proud 
 of it. What troubled them was that it touched 
 their pocket ; new expenses were the revolution 
 which the master of the house saw and dreaded.
 
 112 ANGELICA 
 
 And the more the daughter adorned herself, the 
 more care the father took of his own greasy coat 
 or patched shoon. 
 
 Nor was even this the end. Angelica, as we 
 have said, was lively and fond of talking. So by 
 degrees the village maidens found their tongues 
 wag looser, even in presence of a stranger. Perhaps 
 one or another would even be pert to her own 
 father. The most prominent men of the village 
 loved their village, and wished for its improvement. 
 But they loved their home even more, and ever as 
 they sat in the coffee-house, running their beads 
 through their fingers, they were thinking how to 
 put some check upon that school - mistress. To 
 drive her away would not do ; some school-mistress 
 they must have. Who knows but they might find 
 a worse ? 
 
 " I have it ! " cried one of them one day — Spanos, 
 they called him, the Beardless, though he certainly 
 had a beard, " We must marry the woman. Let 
 her get a home of her own, and live and let live." 
 
 " How can you marry her ? Didn't you hear her 
 say the other evening to my daughter, that it was 
 a shame that she should allow herself to be mated 
 by her parents, instead of choosing her own mate ? " 
 
 " Ah ! well, then, we must let her choose the 
 man herself. A little skill, and the thing is done."
 
 ANGELICA 113 
 
 By good luck it happened that there was in the 
 village a certain gay dog, a headstrong fellow, the 
 master builder, Myzithras.^ One evening Spanos 
 went to the tavern, made straight for Myzithras, 
 and with a few words hatched the plot. 
 
 " Why do you sit there, your youth and good 
 looks going to waste ? " said he to the man, 
 " Where can you find such a Nereid, such a fleck 
 of sea-foam, such a lily ? What do you want 
 prettier than such a woman as this ? You have 
 something of your own ; what does it matter if she 
 has no dower to bring ? Ofi* with you, and get up 
 a serenade for her. If you're afraid of a serenade, 
 then a flower, an excuse, and the thing's done ! 
 Why waste words about it ? Go to her house this 
 evening to see whether the new wall is sinking. 
 Say I sent you. Don't be afraid. You make a 
 beginning ; and as for the end, never mind about 
 that — I am here," 
 
 Myzithras at first took all this for some little 
 joke on the part of our friend Spanos, He knew 
 how fond Spanos was of teasing, and paid little 
 heed. Still, on his way home that evening, 
 Myzithras did not sing as his use was. He was 
 plunged in strange thoughts ; he had no peace, 
 
 ^ The word means cream cheese, 
 H
 
 ]14 ANGELICA 
 
 Why should Spanos try such a joke on him ? Why 
 should it not be truth ? What harm to try ? If 
 he succeeded, what man in all the village would 
 have such a treasure for his wife ? If he failed, 
 and it got about, and they made a song about her, 
 let Spanos look out ; he should smart for it. 
 
 Up the hill he came, and stopped one minute 
 before the school to take breath. One glance he 
 cast at Angelica's windows, and he had an impulse 
 to strike up a song, like fury. However, he 
 refrained and went forward. He reached the door. 
 Now his heart was trembling, his throat was dry, 
 a fine sweat broke out upon his skin. He stooped 
 down, and peeped through the keyhole before 
 knocking. In the middle of the yard stood the 
 maid ; but the door of the room was open, and 
 inside was Angelica, sitting by a little table, and 
 working embroidery. 
 
 "Spanos was quite right," said he, "a Nereid 
 she is, the little devil ! Well, what am I to begin 
 with when I get in ? Eh, I'll just say good 
 evening, and God will manage the rest." 
 
 He knocked at the door. The maid opened it, 
 and in walked our master workman. 
 
 Angelica rose, half frightened. She stood by 
 the lamp, with her black eyes wide open, as who 
 should ask what he might want at such an hour.
 
 ANGELICA 115 
 
 " Good evening to you, and a candle, please," 
 says he ; "I want to give a look at the cellar, as 
 the new wall is sinking, they tell me, and Master 
 Spanos has sent me to see." 
 
 " Maroijla ! " cried Angelica, " light a candle and 
 give it to the builder ; he wants to look round. — I 
 hope there's nothing wrong." 
 
 " I looked at it carefully from outside, and saw 
 nothing. All the same, we'll have a look from 
 within." 
 
 Down he went into the cellar, and after a while 
 came up to say that there was no danger with the 
 wall, but she had better say nothing about it, or 
 people might be afraid to send their children to 
 school. 
 
 Thereupon Myzithras stood still a moment in 
 front of her. Now Myzithras was by no means 
 uncomely. Tall he was, with big brown eyes and a 
 small military moustache, and be had a pleasant 
 address. But you see this time his tongue was 
 tied. What could he find to say, and the maid 
 within hearing too ! 
 
 " Let's take a look inside the school," says he, 
 suddenly, scanning the walls. 
 
 And he took the light, and went by himself into 
 the schoolroom, wondering how he was to begin hia 
 conversation.
 
 IIG ANGELICA 
 
 " See here ! " cried he to her from the school- 
 room. 
 
 Angelica hastened in. 
 
 There was a dim flicker of light from the candle 
 in that great room. Angelica stepped lightly up 
 until she stood before him, like a statue, with her 
 neglige dress, her black eyes, her white neck, and 
 her two little hands pressed together on her bosom 
 as if she felt rather cold. 
 
 " Master Spanos must have seen this crack, 
 and been alarmed. A little mortar is all that 
 it wants. The house is sound, and it has turned 
 out a lucky one too. All our girls are civilised 
 within its walls." 
 
 " Very nice of you to say that ! " laughed 
 Angelica. 
 
 " My dear lady, we country folk call things by 
 simple names. I would tell you another piece 
 of truth, if I were not afraid you might take 
 it ill." 
 
 " What is that ? " asked Angelica, moving a step 
 nearer. 
 
 " That there is one soul in the village who is 
 over head and ears in love with you." 
 
 " Goodness, what do you mean ? and what soul 
 is it, if you will be so good as to tell me ? Tell 
 me now where nobody can hear us."
 
 ANGELICA 117 
 
 " And if you are angry ? " 
 
 " I vow I won't be angry, whoever it may be. 
 Why should I be angry ? " 
 
 " All right, you shall hear the rest. There is a 
 certain man, who is neither old, nor poor. He is 
 not a very good scholar, but he has seen something 
 of the world in his time ; he learnt his trade 
 abroad. A skilled workman is what he is. He 
 does not know how to tell his trouble like a book, 
 but he can sing it like a bird in the bushes. 
 He can't say how d'ye do in French, but he 
 knows how to love and fondle in his native 
 Greek." 
 
 " And his name ? " asked Angelica, stamping 
 her foot. 
 
 " I can't tell you his name, I dare not." And 
 here Myzithras stopped short. 
 
 " Not though he is tall, nice, a fine young 
 fellow, and pleasant-spoken ? " asked Angelica again, 
 laughing. 
 
 " I can't tell you, I can't. My mind is going 
 out like this candle." And he put the candle on a 
 bench, and looked down thoughtfully. 
 
 " What's the matter, lad ? what's up with the 
 poor fellow ? " 
 
 Then Myzithras turned round, looked straight 
 at her and said —
 
 118 ANGELICA 
 
 " Nothing works such deadly ill, 
 Nothing does so surely kill, 
 As when a secret lover 
 His hurt dare not discover." 
 
 The schoolmistress perhaps had some suspicion, 
 and still wished to play him for the fun of it, per- 
 haps she really wished to hear some more ; be it 
 how it may, she put on an innocent air, and said — 
 
 " You are in love, I can see. And who is that 
 unhappy lady-love, who does not know the trouble 
 you are in ? " 
 
 This time Myzithras gave her a burning glance, 
 and murmured, 
 
 " Angelica is sugar sweet, and honey to my thinking ; 
 A fresh, cool spring, whence angels bring the water for their 
 drinking." 
 
 Angelica could not pretend not to understand 
 this. A shiver ran through her. It really was not 
 prudent to stay with this man. He might dare to 
 stoop down and kiss her ! So she withdrew a step 
 or two, put on her usual air at meeting a stranger, 
 and said, 
 
 "Well, so there's nothing wrong with the wall. 
 Many thanks for your trouble." And in she went. 
 
 Myzithras was half dazed. He was under the 
 lash of love and shame. He looked round for 
 some means of getting out, which would not bring
 
 ANGELICA 119 
 
 him near the haughty Angelica. Spying the door 
 by which the little girls came in at schooltime, he 
 opened it and straight out, without letting even a 
 footstep be heard. 
 
 As he left the courtyard and descended the hill, 
 and felt the air upon his brow, he recovered himself 
 and his shame passed off, but the love remained 
 still. And when he came yet further down, and 
 saw the open country before him, and the moon- 
 light playing on the sea, the inspiration awoke in 
 his heart, and he sang for all the world to hear — 
 
 "I bid good-night to one sweet soul, whose name I keep 
 unspoken ; 
 For if I try the name to cry, with tears my voice is broken." 
 
 " Some more, please, some more of those wonder- 
 ful ditties of yours," said Angelica one evening to 
 the girls, as they sat, a happy party, with darning 
 or embroidery around the light. "They are sweet, so 
 sweet and pretty, they have the scent of basil in them ; 
 sing me some more, I am dying for these country 
 flowerets which you despise, you poor creatures, and 
 don't know what a treasure is yours ! Oh, village 
 life for ever ! When could we spend such an 
 evening as this in town ? Where could we hear 
 such songs, sweet as musk ! Let me learn them.
 
 120 ANGELICA 
 
 let me learn your songs too. I can't live without 
 them ! " 
 
 And she began at once to sing to a village air : — 
 
 " My tall and slender cypress tree, stoop down and listen to 
 me ; 
 A word or two I fain would say ; and tlien let death pursue 
 me ! " , 
 
 A ripple of laughter ran round the group of 
 girls. 
 
 " How prettily she sings, as if she had been born 
 in the place ! " 
 
 " Pooh ! where do you suppose I was born ? In 
 a village, to be sure, and they carried me off to 
 town when I was ever so small, and had neither 
 mother nor father. My poor old uncle took me 
 to town and brought me up. I remember my poor 
 mother as if it were yesterday. There ! that's what 
 she was like. Everybody said I was the image of 
 her." 
 
 And she took a kerchief, and bound it about her 
 head, and looked at them with a quiet and thought- 
 ful glance. She was a real picture then. 
 
 The girls sat gazing at her, silent and much 
 moved ; two or three actually felt tears in their 
 eyes. 
 
 " You are one of us, Angelica ! " says one, the
 
 ANGELICA 121 
 
 eldest ; " only don't imagine that you can turn us 
 into Frenchwomen ! " 
 
 " I turn you into Frenchwomen ? God forbid ! 
 Take care you don't make me one, now that I have 
 been changed back again into a village maiden. 
 Another week, and you'll have to sing the bridal 
 song for me ! " 
 
 They were thunderstruck. Down dropt their 
 sewing upon the ground, they looked at each 
 other, they began to titter violently, leapt upon 
 their feet, clustering round Angelica to hear what's 
 in the wind. 
 
 " Let me alone, and I'll tell you. Pooh ! it's 
 simple enough. I'm in love with a young man, 
 and I'm going to have him. Don't be jealous. 
 He's not engaged to any one else. He belongs 
 to the other side of the village. He is not 
 old, he is not poor. He's not a very good 
 scholar, but he knows his business. He can't 
 tell me his love like a book, but he can sing 
 like a bird in the bushes." 
 
 " And his name ? " they all cried. 
 
 " His name ? something that is nice with honey." 
 
 " Myzithras ! cream cheese ! " called out the eldest. 
 
 " Very well, you who guessed it shall be a 
 bridesmaid, and help to adorn the bride. The 
 marriage takes place from Master Spanos' house."
 
 122 ANGELICA 
 
 And so it happened. Spanos took the whole 
 affair on himself, as if he had been her father. 
 
 As for Angelica, she became a regular village 
 bride. The gold tassels were there, and all the 
 thousand and one ornaments and trickeries that 
 make the country folk call a wedding by the name 
 of " rejoicing." 
 
 And as for the bridegroom, his joy knew no bounds. 
 Even during the " crowning " of the pair, he stepped 
 aside and whispered to our good friend Spanos — 
 
 " I am a king, Angelica is my crown, and you 
 are my ' Grand Vizier ! ' " 
 
 And he said the truth. Like a true Grand 
 Vizier Spanos had managed the whole business. 
 He it was who, after that evening, went and fanned 
 the flame in Angelica's heart. He it was arranged 
 the match with Myzithras' mother ; and within the 
 fortnight all was ready, and the good dame settled 
 down with her son and his bride, and resolved to 
 live with them, to take care (as she said) of her 
 grandchildren when Angelica was at school. 
 
 And so the schoolmistress became mistress of a 
 house, dressed and spoke and behaved like the rest 
 of the world, and saved the village girls from their 
 craze when they wanted to become so many French- 
 women.
 
 OLD THANOS 
 
 He was an old man, it's true ; but his heart grew 
 never old. He worked like a lad, thought like a 
 man, loved like a mother. Love cherished the 
 whole life of him. As a young man he worshipt 
 his darling Maro — Maro who stayed with him hardly 
 long enough to give him one dear and only girl. 
 When he followed her to the grave his hair showed 
 a patch of grey ; one terrible night had sprinkled 
 white on those grizzly locks, the night when Maro 
 gave birth to little Phrdso, when Thanos went into 
 her room and suddenly saw a dear little baby girl 
 by the side of its dead mother. 
 
 As he grew older Thanos loved Phroso, his only 
 child. For her he lived, for her he worked in his 
 tiny garden. But for her how could he have borne 
 the loss of his beloved Maro ? 
 
 Time must either heal a sorrow or bury it as in a 
 tomb, be it of the body or of the soul. Those six- 
 teen years, which you could see blooming in Phroso's 
 maiden face, had healed his sorrow for Thanos. 
 Only now and again he felt some hidden depth stir
 
 124 OLD THANOS 
 
 within him as he looked upon her. The little girl 
 was the image of her dead mother. 
 
 Even this secret pain was lost when Phroso was 
 married. He shed tears, it is true ; but tears of 
 
 joy- 
 
 Ah ! if Charon had only taken away this second 
 love of his ! — alas — it was not Charon this time, it 
 was the devil. When Thanos had a grandchild 
 born to him, when he planted a third love in his 
 heart, pretty Phroso went wrong and ran away, her 
 husband went mad with despair, and the old man 
 was left all alone in his cottage with a baby Marc. 
 
 Now his hair went white all over ; and now his 
 lips trembled, and his heart bled with two grievous 
 wounds. The wound that Phroso had dealt opened 
 again the old wound of his first love. If only his 
 good Maro had lived, thought he, this terrible 
 thunderbolt would never have fallen upon his 
 house. 
 
 There were times when he broke down utterly. 
 He would take the little one upon his knees, and 
 watch her as she laughed and tried to catch hold of 
 his beard ; and this was too much for him ; his 
 heart was nigh breaking. He would put the little 
 one down on the ground, and out again into the 
 garden to dig, and dig, and dig. The sweat ran 
 from every pore ; he gave himself no rest. He
 
 OLD THANOS 125 
 
 would come in again worn out and exhausted. He 
 ate with a good appetite, and then slept like lead. 
 
 " How can the man have such an appetite and 
 sleep like that ? " some of the neighbours wished to 
 know. " God must have given him those blessings 
 for the sake of his little Maro." 
 
 Yes, the god whose name is Hard Work.
 
 UNCLE ANASTASIS 
 
 " But for that poor fellow we should be worse off 
 than we are." 
 
 These words were said to me one evening by good 
 Master Aslmis, the headman of the village whither 
 I had come, a couple of months before, to treat the 
 sick there in my capacity as physician. They were 
 caused by the sight of a man some sixty years of 
 age, with a long fez and thick girdle, a stick in one 
 hand and a string of beads in the other, with bushy 
 gray eyebrows, a firm-closed mouth, and a look of 
 determination. 
 
 " How so ? " I asked ; " who is he ? " 
 
 " It's Uncle Anastasis. Did you never hear the 
 name ? 
 
 I felt somewhat embarrassed. Still, I had not 
 been in the village long, and Master Asimis for- 
 gave me for not knowing who Uncle Anastasis was. 
 
 " But for that good fellow, we should not have a 
 drop of water in the place." 
 
 And he began to explain how Uncle Anastasis 
 had set to and made the people bring water into 
 
 za6
 
 UNCLE ANASTASIS 127 
 
 the village, from a distance of five or six miles ; 
 how much money he had contributed, and how 
 much trouble he had taken to make others give ; 
 what a concourse there had been when the water 
 ran from the first duct, where nobody knew what 
 running water was like, except in the spouts which 
 filled the cisterns in the large houses. 
 
 And he sat down, with me near him, and went 
 on to describe what happened each evening in the 
 houses that had cisterns, where everybody used to go 
 and draw water or refresh themselves. 
 
 " They couldn't rest till it was evening, and time 
 for the girls to go to the courtyard, pitcher in hand. 
 They used to put their pitchers by, and forget their 
 thirst for a while, to gossip. After chatting to- 
 gether an hour or so, they began to wind the winch. 
 And then they drank, and called blessings on the 
 dead of that family. And then some giddy wench 
 would give a shove to another, and the other would 
 douse her with water, and chase her right out into 
 the road ; all the rest screeching with laughter." 
 
 " But what has all that to do with Uncle Anas- 
 tasis, who passed by just now ? " 
 
 " I'm coming to that. He was young once, like 
 the rest of us, and as you are now, sir. He had a 
 wife, and he bad a little boy three years old. All 
 his life and joy was in them. His house you see
 
 128 UNCLE ANASTASIS 
 
 yonder by the big sycamines ; that's his garden. 
 There's a spring there too, but the water is brack- 
 ish. The good water was in his well, in the middle 
 of the courtyard. In winter he had it full to the 
 brim. As summer went on, the water got lower 
 and lower, and the well rang to the smallest tap on 
 its metal cover. This echo used to amuse the child. 
 He would run and strike the cover, and then look 
 at his mother and laugh. Next he wanted to see 
 inside. So the mother held him, and let him peep 
 in, and the youngster saw the other little child who 
 was reflected at the bottom in a circle of light. 
 This game was played many a time. It happened 
 once that the child was livelier than usual, and the 
 mother less careful. As the child gazed at the little 
 face in the water, it came into his head to knock 
 with his hand upon the winch, with the rope of the 
 bucket wound round it, to see if there would be an 
 echo. The baby slipt from his mother's hands, and 
 got entangled in the rope ; round went the winch, 
 down went the rope, and the baby was in the water ! 
 "While the mother stooped to catch her child, she 
 got to one side, and as the winch went round like 
 mad, its iron handle struck her head, and left the 
 yooT creature lifeless ! " 
 
 "Enough, enough, thank you. I'm a doctor,
 
 UNCLE ANASTASIS 129 
 
 true, but I don't come here for such stories as 
 that." 
 
 " A good thing if it were nothing more than a 
 story ! Only if it had been a story, we should have 
 no water in the village to-day. All his widowed 
 years were passed by the poor fellow crying for 
 water ! Running water ! They must close in the 
 wells, and make an end of the dreadful echo. And 
 he had his way. He brought us to our senses, 
 and now we have a great blessing on the place." 
 
 " A great blessing out of a great evil," said I to 
 Master Asimis.
 
 THE BOAT 
 
 " Why do you stand gazing in this meditative 
 way at yonder boat ? " asked Marie one evening of 
 Photis, her husband, as they sat together near the 
 window, down by the sea-shore. 
 
 " Oh, I'm looking at the sea, and wondering at 
 its beauty. What else should it be ? " 
 
 " No, you weren't looking at the sea ; you were 
 looking at the boat. What boat is it ? " 
 
 "All right, I was looking at the boat with its 
 white sails." 
 
 "And what were you thinking of?" 
 
 " What luck it might bring for us ! " 
 
 " Christ and Our Lady ! He might at least have 
 the civility to answer a civil question ! " And out 
 went Marie, in a pet. 
 
 Photis remained alone. He cast one glance at 
 the door, smiling, lifted his head, and began talking 
 to himself. 
 
 " I saw, I saw, — what's the use of telling you 
 
 what I saw, my good Marie ? Your fate and mine 
 
 is what I saw. My love and my hope, that's what 
 
 I saw ! " 
 130
 
 THE BOAT 131 
 
 And Pliotis turned again to the sea, and gazed 
 at the little ship. 
 
 " There you are, anchored again. Down with the 
 sails, let go the anchor. Out go the sailors, and 
 straight away to the tavern. Out roll the barrels 
 and their bad smells. There are our sweet hopes. 
 Go down to look at them, and to enjoy them : salted 
 sardines is what you find, and the smell of bilge- 
 water." 
 
 And he stopt again, meditating. 
 
 " It's three years agone since I saw a boat, a long, 
 long way off, on the edge of the horizon. A white 
 speck, nothing more. But how beautiful it looked 
 upon the blue sea ! I gazed at it, and could not 
 gaze enough. Slowly, slowly the speck became a 
 sail, all complete, and a fine sail it was in that un- 
 forgotten bark. And what a butterfly the boat 
 was ! A thing of fairyland ! A year went by, and 
 still the little ship was skimming over the blue sea. 
 Yet another year and you could see its graceful 
 hull as it cut through the waves that came rolling 
 on, ever rolling. Soon you could descry the sailor in 
 the boat ; what an enchanting sight ! a very god 
 he seemed sailing in her. You would have said 
 the bark was playing with the waves as it drew 
 near the shore. You could hardly help going to 
 embrace it, as if it had been a thing alive. Now
 
 132 THE BOAT 
 
 you could hear the soft ripple of the water as it 
 foamed away from her flying prow ; you could hear 
 the sail flapping in the breeze as it came down. 
 Down came the sail ; up rose the sailor and folded 
 it, took the pole and pushed her ashore. I ran 
 down to greet the little bark. And what a sight 
 it was then ! Insufferable ! Bilge- water and fish, 
 old planks and tarry ropes, lying here and there ! 
 And the sailor — a worn-out wizened creature, with 
 never a good-evening for me ! Ah, that was my 
 love and my hope ! A white-winged yacht in the 
 distance, and, when it came to anchor, a fishing 
 smack full of filthy bilge-water ! "
 
 PARASKEVAS AND HIS DAUGHTER 
 
 Paraskevas was a widowed labourer, with one 
 little girl, and an old mother. I know his house 
 well. You enter his courtyard, and darkness over- 
 shadows your soul ; day cannot enter there. You 
 grope your way to the right hand corner, and there 
 you find the door of his kitchen. We will call it 
 kitchen, because there he cooks his food and eats it 
 too ; but they sleep there in winter time, because 
 it is warmer. 
 
 A first-rate worker, and a tender-hearted father 
 was Paraskevas. At dawn he used to rise, and 
 before going out into the fields, he took his little 
 girl, danced her up and down in the air, and rub- 
 bing his rough moustache on her cheeks, kissed her 
 again and again. Then he used to take his basket 
 and out to his work. 
 
 In the evening when he returned, there were 
 other scenes. He never came home straight. 
 Unhappily, Paraskevas was fond of his glass. He 
 would drop in at the tavern, and there quaff away 
 merrily. At home the old dame sat with the child, 
 
 133
 
 134 PAEASKEVAS AND HIS DAUGHTER 
 
 and sang to her or told stories. Until three o'clock 
 or so (Turkish time ^) she would sometimes sit 
 waiting. Then the little one grew drowsy, cuddled 
 up to its grandam, and went to sleep. The old 
 woman would spin, with now and again a sigh. 
 Then her son would come home, blind drunk. 
 The old dame used to carry out the light to keep 
 him from stumbling in the darkness, and lead him 
 in. Then there was scolding and complaining. 
 Everything went wrong ; nothing satisfied him. 
 His mother listened and bore it all; was she not 
 his mother ? 
 
 However, there was one thing our hero never 
 forgot. The child was by this time lying asleep 
 on her little bed ; and the father used to go and lift 
 up the coverlet and look lovingly at her with his 
 drunken eyes, " Bless you, sweetheart ! " he always 
 murmured, in his hoarse voice. The child would 
 turn over on her side, perhaps annoyed by the 
 fumes of the drink from her father's breath. 
 
 Then they sat down to supper, and soon sleep 
 carried them all to a more peaceful world. 
 
 It happened one evening that the old woman was 
 out, having been called to a neighbouring house, to 
 help at a birth. She had put the little girl to bed, 
 and hung the light outside the door of the kitchen, 
 
 ' i. e. , three hours after sunset.
 
 PARASKEVAS AND HIS DAUGHTER 135 
 
 that her son might see his way in ; and went to 
 her neighbour's house to lend her aid to the poor 
 woman. She sent word to Paraskevas at the tavern 
 that he might know. 
 
 Paraskevas returned at the usual time. He 
 opened the outer gate and went in as usual, rolling 
 drunk ; it was all he could do to keep his feet. 
 He took down the light from above the door, and 
 entered the kitchen, staggering this way and that, 
 leaning against the wall with one hand, and with 
 the other holding the light, which he waved to and 
 fro in the air like a censer. 
 
 What happened exactly when he came in nobody 
 ever could find out ; but it seems that he stumbled 
 over something and fell, dropping the lamp right 
 upon his little girl's bed. He shouted like a mad- 
 man ; then he fell silent, and the child began to 
 shriek. He must have spilt all the oil over the 
 bed ; for when the old dame (who had heard the 
 noise) arrived on the spot, the coverlet was one 
 mass of fire, 
 
 " God help us ! " cried the old woman, as she 
 ran up, seized the carpet which was stretched out 
 in the corner, and threw it upon the bed. The 
 flames were put out, and the child was silent. A 
 terrible silence that ! When she took off the 
 carpet, the child was unrecognisable ; her face
 
 136 PAEASKEVAS AND HIS DAUGHTER 
 
 was charred, and red rims of blood about her 
 eyes. 
 
 It was my lot, being a doctor, to see this awful 
 sight. When they called me in, Paraskevas sat 
 weeping like a little child. 
 
 Months and months I visited that house. The 
 child's life was saved ; she is now about thirteen 
 years old. The marks of burning will remain 
 always on her face ; but its sweetness could not be 
 burnt out of it. The poor little thing lives alone, 
 for her grandmother departed this life soon after. 
 But her evenings are now passed in her father's 
 company ; for, after that terrible evening, never 
 again did Paraskevas enter a tavern.
 
 SECRET LOVE 
 
 " Is it true, doctor, that in sickness a man some- 
 times is delirious, and tells secrets in his delirium ? " 
 
 " Well, look here," said I to my friend. " I have 
 more often heard the truth from the sick and crazy, 
 than from anybody else, when they are well. You 
 shall hear what happened to me in the case of a 
 girl of that village yonder, some little time ago. 
 
 " She was ill for six days. One evening she was 
 in a strong fever, and they hastened to bring me 
 word. No one else was present except her mother, 
 a quiet woman and somewhat narrow-minded. The 
 poor soul was crying, and begged me to save her 
 girl. I did what I could, and stayed a little while 
 in the house to see what course the fever would 
 take. I went up to see her again ; she was worse, 
 unconscious, and her mind wandering. From her 
 talk it seemed she saw flowers and thorns. She 
 touched a flower, and she turned to smile at you. 
 Suddenly a thorn pricked her — you could see the 
 pain in her face. Play of fancy, said I to myself. 
 But with one of the flowers that her wandering 
 
 «37
 
 138 SECRET LOVE 
 
 mind was gathering, she turned her face round, as 
 before, and murmured ' loves me, loves me not/ 
 quite low, and incoherently, twitching her fingers 
 as though she pulled off the petals one by- 
 one. 
 
 " A word to the mother, and we went downstairs 
 to wait a little longer. When we got down, the 
 mother sat by the cooking-stove to make me a cup 
 of coffee. And as she made it, she talked and 
 talked of her girl, what an angel she was, a girl of 
 gold, such a housekeeper ! and she spoke the truth. 
 
 " ' But tell me,' I asked her then, ' has your 
 daughter ever had a lover ? ' 
 
 "'God forbid, my dear doctor! Never was a 
 more innocent lamb than my darling Leni6, God 
 save her ! ' 
 
 " The good woman thought that a girl must be 
 a brazen hussy to be in love. That's what she 
 learnt of love in her school. 
 
 " ' But think,' said I, ' hasn't the girl some 
 secret sorrow ? Perhaps it will be easier to cure 
 her, if we know.' 
 
 " ' Sick as she is, doctor, I had rather see her in 
 her grave than that she should stain our honourable 
 name ! ' 
 
 " I saw that my words were thrown away ; so I 
 drank my coffee, took another look at the patient.
 
 SECRET LOVE 139 
 
 gave some medicine for the night, and took my 
 leave. 
 
 " Three days afterwards, the girl died. I do not 
 say she was not ill, but the girl's nerves were a 
 wreck, and a little happiness, a caress, might 
 have saved her. 
 
 " I went to the funeral, for I pitied the poor 
 thing. It broke my heart to see the mother tear- 
 ing her hair over the body, adorned for burial, in 
 which nothing of life was left but a peaceful smile. 
 
 " The moment came for that hymn which calls 
 us to take our last kiss of the dead. Scarce had 
 they drawn away the inconsolable mother from the 
 girl's cold face, when there came near a lad of 
 eighteen or so, wishing to offer a last kiss with the 
 rest. He came from the neighbourhood, and was 
 acquainted with the family ; I think he and the 
 girl had been at school together. So it was no 
 wonder that he too should come up with tears 
 in his eyes. They lifted the body, laid it in 
 the grave, the people dispersed, and I prepared to 
 leave also. But instead of going out by the great 
 door, I wanted to get to the postern leading into 
 the upper path, so as to come by the market-place ; 
 and thus I made a circuit behind the church. Just 
 outside the Sanctuary, in a lonely corner, what 
 should I see but that very lad who kissed the face
 
 140 SECRET LOVE 
 
 of Lenio. He was weeping hot tears, poor fellow, 
 I thought for a moment that I would go up and 
 speak to him, and say what Lenio had done in her 
 fever. But my heart could not bear it. His love 
 had been born in secret ; and in secret it should 
 die."
 
 FIRE 
 
 It was about midnight. A boy of twelve years, 
 Stephanakis, was sleeping like a lamb, when sud- 
 denly his mother came to him, and awoke him with 
 a good shake. The boy half rose, rubbed his big 
 eyes ; and what was that he saw through the open- 
 ing of the window ! A great and terrible fire ! 
 They got him up, put on his clothes, and led hira 
 outside. 
 
 " Down to his uncle's house," said the mother to 
 the maid, who had charge of him ; " and let him 
 get to sleep quickly, or else he'll be ill." 
 
 They stood still a moment in the garden which 
 divided their house from the house that was burn- 
 ing, and looked at the fire. A terrible sight it was. 
 Huge tongues of flame darted up from the pit that 
 was once a roof, as though trying to devour the 
 sky. At a house near by, a man was standing at a 
 window, and throwing into the road tables, chairs, 
 and bedding. The cries of the neighbours well- 
 nigh deafened you. The father of Stephanakis, on 
 the top of his house opposite the fire, was running 
 
 141
 
 142 FIRE 
 
 about, crying for help, throwing buckets of water 
 upon the carpets that hung from his roof, trying to 
 defend his own house, which the greedy flames 
 licked here and there at every gust of wind. All 
 this little Stephanakis saw, and trembled with fear. 
 At last the maid caught him by the hand, and as 
 she was setting out in the direction of his uncle's 
 house, the mother ran up behind them, bidding 
 them wait for Aspasia. Aspasia was the daughter 
 of the man who was throwing his chairs and tables 
 out of the window : a little girl, and an only child. 
 
 They took their way down, and arrived at their 
 destination. As soon as they got inside, they hurried 
 to the window to see a sight which they never could 
 forget. The window looked in the direction opposite 
 to the fire. They saw the sea and the hills beyond 
 it, all illuminated. You might have thought that 
 the day had already dawned, but for the stars. 
 
 The little lad was not very much discomposed ; 
 he rather enjoyed this unusual occurrence. But as 
 for the girl, she was quite upset, and her heart bled. 
 It was for a doll that her heart bled ; she had lost 
 it in some dark corner. What would become of 
 poor dolly if their house should take fire, and who 
 would save her ? The child began to cry, and the 
 boy could not get to sleep again ; the girl's crying 
 made him sorry.
 
 FIRE 143 
 
 All the others went to sleep. The boy got up, 
 and said to his little neighbour : " I'll go and get 
 your doll." And out he went, very quietly. By 
 this time the fire had been got in hand ; still it had 
 not ceased to burn, and before long Stephanakis 
 was close to the little girl's house, and there he 
 stood in front of it, in the midst of all their goods 
 and chattels. 
 
 " Aspasia's doll ! " he said. 
 
 The girl's father turned round, and saw the boy 
 with alarm. 
 
 " What do you want here ? " said he. 
 
 The lad again asked for the doll. 
 
 " Here, take it, and be off, you imp, before your 
 parents see you," said he, and pulled out of his 
 pocket a home - made doll, with eyes, nose, and 
 mouth, all drawn in ink, upon a lump of calico tied 
 into a knot to make its face. 
 
 The child took the doll, and fled. 
 
 When she saw it, the little girl's face beamed 
 with joy. She hugged her dolly, and went to 
 sleep. 
 
 And now, how shall I explain it ? Was it be- 
 cause of the doll's story ? or was it some other reason ? 
 Anyhow, as a matter of fact, Stephanakis and Aspasia 
 are now man and wife.
 
 THE BURIED TREASURE 
 
 " Such a fine man, and dead in five days ! " 
 
 " And such a regular life, too ! " 
 
 " These strong men, it seems, fall at one blow, 
 and then they seldom rise again." 
 
 " Tell us, doctor, and a blessing on your eyes, 
 what made our good schoolmaster die so suddenly?" 
 
 I could not get rid of them : I had to tell the 
 story. Well, it did not much matter. So I lit my 
 cigarette, called for coffee, and began : 
 
 " It is now six days since the evening when we 
 had him among us. You remember how he strode 
 in, fresh and ruddy with walking. You remember 
 his jokes and laughter. A good fellow he was, true 
 gold, God rest him. He went home that evening, 
 quite early, as he always did. It so happened that 
 I went with him. We sat in the verandah ; his 
 cousin joined us, the master of the Parish School ; 
 and being two schoolmasters and a doctor together, 
 of course we talked about books, learning, and 
 such-like. The odd thing was that we got on the 
 subject of religion, and from religion we passed to 
 
 M4
 
 THE BUEIED TEEASUEE 145 
 
 superstition and popular beliefs. The good fellow 
 who now lies dead had no patience with supersti- 
 tion ; you know how stern he was about it. It was 
 late before we separated. In twenty-four hours he 
 was lying upon his bed, and I went to see him, and 
 found he had a severe chill. I prescribed for him, 
 and as I left, I asked his wife how he managed to 
 take that chill. She stood on the threshold out- 
 side the door, and said — 
 
 " ' I am ashamed to tell you, doctor, but I must. 
 I don't know what came over him last night; he 
 began to talk in his sleep, and frightened me by 
 what he said. I pulled his arm, and awoke him. 
 When he became conscious, he told me such a 
 strange dream. To tell the truth, I did not pay 
 much attention to what he said. I turned over, 
 and was half asleep again, when suddenly I heard 
 him get up. "Where are you going?" I asked. 
 " I can't help it," said he, "I must go downstairs. 
 If you want to know, wife, I'm going to do a mad 
 thing. If it succeeds, so much the better ; if not, 
 we lose nothing." 
 
 " ' I thought he must be losing his wits. I got 
 up, and tried to get him into bed again ; not a bit 
 of it. " I've seen it ! " he cried. " I've seen it 
 clear as daylight in the earth, and I'm going to find 
 it and dig it up ! " 
 
 K
 
 146 THE BURIED TREASURE 
 
 " ' " What ? " I asked. 
 
 " ' " Ah, what ! Well, I've seen in a dream 
 that we have a treasure buried in the house. Near 
 the big jar in the cellar." 
 
 " * He struck a light, took the lamp, and down 
 he went in his night clothes, just as he was. I 
 went behind him. We got into the cellar, took 
 pick and shovel, went to the corner by the big 
 earthen jar, and stamping on the ground, cried out, 
 " Here, 1 know it's here." 
 
 " ' What was I to do ? I began half to believe it 
 myself. He dug, and I did the shovelling. Now 
 and then, as he saw what a fool he was making of 
 himself, he gave a laugh in the midst of his 
 digging. Then I laughed too. We passed about 
 two hours in this way. We dug down half a 
 fathom or so ; not even a potsherd did we find ; 
 nothing but solid, sifted earth. The cocks were 
 beginning to crow. 
 
 " ' " That's enough," said I, " let's go back. 
 That dream of yours did not visit you for good." 
 
 " ' He leant on his pick a moment, then said, 
 " You're right. Let's fill up the hole again, and 
 go to bed. It was a mad freak, and no mistake. 
 You go up, and I'll follow soon." 
 
 " ' I went upstairs, and lay down in some distress. 
 Before long he followed, bathed in sweat.'
 
 THE BURIED TREASURE 147 
 
 " ' Now I understand the business,' said I to her. 
 ' Make him perspire as much as ever he can, to 
 keep off pleurisy.' 
 
 " But all in vain. Once Charon got his claws 
 on that manly frame, there was no escape. Each 
 day he grew worse and worse. On the last day, 
 as I stood by his side, he turned and said to me : 
 ' Doctor, haven't I shown what a good teacher I 
 
 am ? I teach one thing, and I practise ' and 
 
 then he died."
 
 IN THEIR DEATHS THEY WERE NOT 
 
 DIVIDED 
 
 " Dear Doctor, a blessing on your eyes, tell me the 
 truth. How is our patient inside there ? I don't 
 hear her moaning now. Tell me, in God's name ! 
 Is she alive, or is she " 
 
 " My good friend, where's your tongue running 
 to ? " said I to the sick man in the other room. 
 " Your wife is alive and doing well. She has had 
 no sleep for three nights, and she's sleeping now. 
 Get a little sleep yourself; you are still feverish, 
 and you must be quiet. I'm going to send you 
 your sister, who has been looking after her bride 
 all this time. Perhaps she is asleep too, after all 
 this anxiety and watching." 
 
 And I left my patient, a young fellow newly 
 married, to go into his wife's room, who had loved 
 him, and had brought him to her own home from 
 another village. A sudden sickness had laid them 
 both low, and not a moment's time even to send 
 word to her relations. The kind-hearted sister did 
 everything, and even looked after the house as well. 
 
 »48
 
 IN DEATH THEY WEEE NOT DIVIDED 149 
 
 I went into the other room, and in one glance 
 saw what had happened. The sister was laying her 
 hands upon the woman's eyes, and closing her 
 mouth, and as I entered she turned and looked at 
 me with her eyes full of tears. 
 
 I stooped to feel the pulse ; that too no longer 
 beat, but had ceased along with her breath and her 
 troubles. 
 
 " You want some woman to help you," said I to 
 the sister. " Go and call some one, and I'll keep 
 an eye on the patient till you return." 
 
 The girl threw a shawl over her head, and went 
 out. 
 
 I remained alone in the house, with the sick man 
 and the dead. I left the dead, and went into the 
 sick man's room. I walked very quietly, so as not 
 to awake the patient if he slept. He was half 
 asleep when I entered ; a moment I stood watching 
 his peaceful face, and hardly knew whether to be 
 glad or sorry that there were signs of recovery upon 
 that face, for all its weakness. Once he gets a good 
 sleep, I thought, there's nothing to fear. But when 
 he awakes from that sleep, what will the poor 
 wretch see, and what will he hear ! I must have a 
 word with the sister before she sees him, lest she let 
 fall some word, or a tear, ere his strength comes 
 back ; for if she does it is all up with him.
 
 150 IN DEATH THEY WERE NOT DIVIDED 
 
 And very quietly I went out again, and descended 
 the stairs, and went to the gate to watch for her 
 coming. I had not long to wait ; she returned with 
 a woman, whose business it was to do that sad task 
 of undressing and laying out, and then to watch the 
 body. 
 
 " We must lay her bridal dress upon the poor 
 thing," said she to the sister, as they stood by me at 
 the gate. 
 
 I told them both as quickly as possible what 
 they were to do, and how to behave, that the sick 
 man might suspect nothing. 
 
 We went up quietly, all three together ; I first, 
 and the women behind me. 
 
 I entered the chamber of death — and there 
 stretched on the ground was the husband, lifeless. 
 I had no time to turn and tell the sister not to come 
 in yet. I could only cover her face with my two 
 hands, and say, " Go into your brother's room a 
 moment." 
 
 The poor girl was alarmed, but did as she was 
 bid. In coming out I made a sign to the woman 
 that she must be silent, and let her in. I led the 
 sister by the hand into the passage, and said to 
 her : 
 
 " Before you go into your brother's room, I must 
 tell you that he isn't there. You will find him side
 
 IN DEATH THEY WEEE NOT DIVIDED 151 
 
 by side with the wife he loved so well. In their 
 death they are not divided. He must have sus- 
 pected the truth, and got up to see for himself. 
 Had he found her alive, he must have died, ill as 
 he was ; it is better that he found her dead, for his 
 death would have killed her." 
 
 I remained one day up there at the village, and 
 was in time to follow their bodies to the grave.
 
 VANGELIS AND HIS NEW YEAR'S 
 
 CAKE 
 
 The north wind was blowing pitilessly ; a few snow- 
 flakes fluttered like butterflies, till they rested upon 
 the dry rocks, to melt there. Down below, the sea 
 was covered with foam, and the sun in the west 
 was red like a fiery ball, in a cleft which there 
 parted the clouds. Vange'lis was just coming up 
 from the harbour, on his way home, " The eve of 
 St Basil," said he, " and New Year's Day to-morrow ; 
 let's go home. Let us begin the year well ; per- 
 haps we shall not quarrel any more. Perhaps God 
 will enlighten the blessed woman, and for once in a 
 way she may spare me those cursed speeches of 
 hers, that cut right to the heart. You'll say that 
 I'm as bad as she ; that I have never a good word 
 for her ; that I sputter like a match at the smallest 
 excuse ; that I insult the poor thing. The woman's 
 not a bad sort. Bah ! A light head and a spice 
 of obstinacy — and the mischief's in it. Then she'll 
 say it is / who should be cool, and not provoke her. 
 
 At least, for the sake of my poor, dear Pipina, this 
 152
 
 VANGELIS* NEW YEAR'S CAKE 153 
 
 squabbling ought to come to an end. Most certainly 
 I will turn over a new leaf this very night ; and if 
 she says anything, I'll just hold my tongue, and so 
 we shall have some quietness. If I do that two 
 or three times, I shall get into the way of it, and 
 so we shall be at peace now and evermore." 
 
 With such thoughts as these in his mind, Vangelis 
 arrived at his own house. It was darker now. He 
 entered, saw a good blaze in the fire-place, and on 
 the fire a baking-pan. Little Pipina in her own 
 comer was watching the cake as it slowly browned, 
 and on the other side her mother, Sosana, was 
 melting honey. Frozen as he was with the cold, 
 he came forward to the fire, and stretched out his 
 hands to warm them. 
 
 " Ah, it's the very devil outside to-night ! " 
 said he, looking at the fire, and trying to look 
 pleasant : no easy matter, with his disagreeable 
 face. " You there, little one ! How's the New 
 Year's cake ? not done yet, eh ? " 
 
 Little Pipina was a charming sight, as the fire 
 shone upon her happy little face. She sat and 
 watched the cake slowly browning, much as a 
 young mother who sees her child begin to crawl. 
 What longing there was in that look, and what 
 love ! And every now and again she just touched 
 the top with her finger-tip, to see if it was burning.
 
 164 VANGELIS' NEW YEAR'S CAKE 
 
 " And what's the matter that you have come to 
 us so early this evening ? " asked Sosana, poking the 
 fire to make it burn up. 
 
 " Ah, what's the matter, yes ! It isn't New Year 
 every day ! " 
 
 And Vangelis looked away, one hand spread to 
 the fire, the other in the child's hair, caressing it. 
 
 " Glory be to God, who heard me when I burnt 
 the incense this evening ! And I told Him all about 
 our misfortune, how we squabble every day and 
 every hour ! as if we couldn't live in any other 
 way ! " 
 
 " Come, never mind that now, but set the table ; 
 we're starving." 
 
 And rather roughly he caught up the child upon 
 his knees, to keep himself from getting angry, and 
 saying something worse. The little girl turned, 
 and looked at him thoughtfully. 
 
 " What's wrong with you, my Pipina ? " said he. 
 
 " What's wrong ! you know what's wrong ! " 
 muttered Sosana, snorting ; and got up to go out 
 of the kitchen. 
 
 " Get thee behind me, Satan !" muttered Vangelis. 
 
 " What did you say ? " Sosana was back in a 
 moment, and called out from the door. Vangelis 
 put the child down, crying by this time, and 
 frightened. He got up, and went towards the
 
 VANGELIS' NEW YEAR'S CAKE 155 
 
 door, yellow as sulphur. He looked at her with 
 eyes wide open, and said : 
 
 " What did I say ? I said that you are always 
 the same, living or dying ; that's what I said ! " 
 
 The little girl cried aloud, but who had eyes for 
 the little girl ? The woman looked the man in the 
 face, and the man looked at the woman, like two 
 wild beasts ready to fly at each other's throats. 
 
 Sosana was the first to shift her gaze. She made 
 the sign of the cross, and calling on the Holy Virgin 
 to give her patience, turned to go out. 
 
 The little girl gave one glance at the cake again. 
 
 At the same moment, before Sosana had well got 
 outside, Vangelis too turned towards the fire-place, 
 murmuring that it was not her fault but his, for 
 coming home so early, as if he did not know her. 
 
 Again the child grew uneasy. She saw her 
 mother going away ; she knew what it all 
 meant, and tried to be herself again, her eyes 
 fixed on the ground in despair ; for her sweet 
 dream would never be fulfilled, the cake in the 
 midst and laughter and happiness all around. 
 
 " If you repent coming home betimes once in a 
 way, there's the door, and there's the tavern ! " So 
 spoke Sosana, all in a tremble, with bitterness on 
 her lips. 
 
 The little girl trembled too.
 
 156 VANGELIS' NEW YEAR'S CAKE 
 
 " Accursed thou and thrice accursed ! " cried 
 Vangelis, beside himself, " that thou'lt not give 
 a good Christian time to breathe, even if he 
 wishes to do right ! Serpent, thy bite is poison ! " 
 
 Sosana stood still beside him ; she seemed sorry 
 to have provoked him, and was considering what to 
 say or to do to smooth him down. But what could 
 smooth down Vangelis now ? Without another 
 word, and still more angry that his wife had 
 softened, he gave a kick to the New Year's 
 cake, and sent it spinning among the coals and 
 ashes, hurried outj and turned his back upon 
 the house. 
 
 Never was that black evening forgotten by Pipina, 
 the unhappy girl who now minds our village church. 
 Never did she forget the tears that she shed then, 
 nor the deep grief that half killed her until she fell 
 asleep. Only she tells the story sometimes when 
 she is better, when she is not lying unconscious 
 with a terrible disease which overcomes her at 
 intervals, and has done so ever since she was quite 
 a little child. The parents have eaten sour grapes, 
 and the children's teeth are set on edge.
 
 THE SHEPHERD BOY 
 
 The spot where stood the lonely shrine of St Try- 
 phonas was not a spot to go into raptures over. 
 There was not a tree near it, no water, and no cul- 
 tivated land. Thorns as many as you like up 
 above, along the hillside ; but down by the sea- 
 shore, round the barren walls of the lonely shrine, 
 cugnus cashis bushes without end. That must be the 
 place where the water from the hillside trickled 
 down, hidden underground, and those bushes flour- 
 ished exceedingly. After that you came to a 
 delightful beach, covered with shingle, and beyond 
 that the sea. 
 
 There was nothing unusual ; only bushes, hills, 
 and sea. And yet, when all the village assembled 
 here to do worship once in the year, how fair and 
 delightful it was ! It was my wont to go down 
 and stand at a little distance to watch that picture 
 which I can never forget ; the thousand hues of our 
 island costumes, inside the roofless enclosure, as 
 many as could get in, and the rest all round. And 
 I used to listen to their chants from afar, and I 
 
 »57
 
 158 THE SHEPHEED BOY 
 
 could see the incense rising and spreading slowly 
 among the branches of the single tree that half 
 overshadowed the little chapel ; at least, let us call 
 it a tree : a wild olive, half withered, the other 
 half incessantly struggling for life, thanks to the 
 brine scattered over it by the north and north-east 
 gales — such was the tree you saw, just a little 
 higher than the bushes. Near me I had other 
 music still, — the song of the larks. 
 
 The sun fell never upon that solitary nook till 
 the mass was over. That sight, too, had a beauty 
 of its own ; to see for one whole hour the headlands 
 at either side of the little bay all golden, while you 
 did worship in the fresh cool of morning. 
 
 As I stood there, drinking in with all my eyes, 
 and with my whole being, those virginal beauties, 
 I espied a lad descending the hillside, and stopping 
 like myself at some little distance away to hear the 
 service. My eyes fixed themselves upon him without 
 any wish of mine. He was drest as poorly as you 
 please, and he was bareheaded and barefoot. A short 
 pair of breeches left his feet and leg bare to the 
 knee ; but those finely modelled limbs, with the 
 soft down upon them, looking in the sunlight like 
 bronze, might in truth have been the envy of a 
 king's son. So, too, his uncovered head, with its 
 clusters of fair curls, and his regular profile, fault-
 
 THE SHEPHERD BOY 159 
 
 less nose, the eyes full of life, the full lips. He 
 stood there like a statue, and in that pose, with his 
 round neck bent a little, he made me think of 
 those old figures which our great masters used to 
 carve, and I saw that the old stock is ever the 
 same. 
 
 I approached the boy, — I could not help it. I 
 asked him where he came from, who his father was. 
 He was the son of Widow Dexeropia, from the 
 hamlet over the other side of the hill, and he watched 
 the goats of some proprietor, I forget who he was. 
 I gave him a halfpenny, which he took shyly, as he 
 talked shyly with me. 
 
 The congregation dispersed, and we went down 
 to the sea-shore. I joined my people ; we found a 
 place under a rock, gathered sticks and lit a fire ; 
 then we boiled some coffee, took out some of our 
 delicate biscuits, and broke our fast. Afterwards, 
 as we sat throwing pebbles into the sea, and talk- 
 ing, I said to one of my friends, who was some- 
 body in our own village — " I saw a lad this morn- 
 ing, on the ridge of that hill, whom you must get 
 away from his goats. It's a pity such a lad should 
 be lost on the hills. You'll find him a little shy, 
 but he is sharp ; take him, and you'll not repent 
 it. Send him to school for two or three years, and 
 then take him into the shop. He'll find his place."
 
 160 THE SHEPHERD BOY 
 
 My friend listened to me, and found a means of 
 getting hold of the lad. 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 Many years afterwards, on my return from 
 abroad, I remained a few hours in town to rest 
 myself, and to find a good horse. As I sat in a 
 friend's shop waiting, in came a fine young fellow, 
 whose handsome build and pleasant look caused me 
 surprise. 
 
 " I am that shepherd boy," said he, " whom you 
 met at St Tryphonas' Chapel." 
 
 Though I had forgotten the story, it all came 
 back to my mind at once, and I rose and embraced 
 him as if he had been my own boy ; and, gripping 
 his hand, I asked what brought him to town. 
 
 " I live here now," said he ; " and here I have 
 been some five years. I came to better myself. 
 Glory be to God, I have not failed. That shop 
 opposite is mine. I import my calicoes straight 
 from England." 
 
 "Ah ! and now you are rich, why won't you 
 come with me to our village ? You see, I'm going 
 there, poor as I am. Let's go together, and make 
 your poor mother happy ! " 
 
 " Ah ! the poor dear is gone ! " said he, with a 
 sad smile. 
 
 " Come, lad, to the place where your mother
 
 THE SHEPHERD BOY 161 
 
 sleeps, and leave this place before they jix, you here," 
 said I, seriously, and casting a glance upon him 
 full of meaning. 
 
 " It is too late now," he answered. " I got mar- 
 ried over here some time ago." 
 
 " All right, bring your wife with you, and come 
 home and let other folks get rich. Remember our 
 sweet home, my boy ; remember that delightful 
 hill, which you might turn into the hill of paradise ! 
 You will find plenty and plenty to do there. 
 Think of the gardens you can lay out, and the 
 houses you can build ! " 
 
 " Oh, I see I must tell you all, to show you that 
 it is impossible. Don't you think I long and crave 
 for it myself? But they won't hear of it, neither 
 my wife nor her mother. They are grand folks ! 
 They belong to the town. They wouldn't even go 
 for a single day to see my humble village home. 
 My wife doesn't care to hear about the place which 
 knew me as a poor and sunburnt shepherd boy, as 
 if it were not that hill that nursed this very heart 
 of mine. . . ." 
 
 And there he stopt, for there was a lump in his 
 throat, and his eyes were full of tears.
 
 CHARON'S VICTIM 
 
 It was not quite an hour's walk from our house to 
 
 the village where I saw Charon's Victim the other 
 
 day for the first time. Her story I knew well. 
 
 I knew her name, and her family. But it so 
 
 happened that in my visits to that village I had 
 
 never seen Charon's Victim with my own eyes. 
 
 It was a Saturday evening, and vespers had just 
 
 ended. I stood one moment at the church door, 
 
 and looked at the women coming out. Then I 
 
 entered the church once more to light my taper 
 
 before the shrine. When I had lit the taper, and 
 
 prayed, I went into the porch, and looked out into 
 
 the graveyard which lay beside the church. And 
 
 there I saw a woman, all drest in black, who lit a 
 
 taper over one of the graves, and wafted incense. 
 
 Then she put down the censer before the taper, made 
 
 the sign of the cross, and moved towards the gate, 
 
 thoughtful, with downcast eyes, pale face, and on 
 
 her lips a bitterness that suited as well with her 
 
 looks now as the sweetness that they once must 
 
 have had. 
 162
 
 CHARON'S VICTIM 163 
 
 " That's our Charon's Victim," said the priest on 
 duty. " What numbers and numbers of women 
 suffer from the same incurable pain, and the name 
 has clung to her out of them all ! It is, a strange 
 world. And so you will find in each village but 
 one ' light-o'-love,' and one ' gossip,' and one acknow- 
 ledged by all as the ' wise woman '." 
 
 And now that we have seen this poor adopted 
 child of Charon's, let us tell her story in a few 
 words. 
 
 She was an orphan girl, and eighteen years of 
 age when her aunt found her a husband. The 
 bride was pretty and good-tempered, the bridegroom 
 a fine young fellow with a house of his own ; what 
 more could you wish ? By-and-bye a little boy was 
 born to them, and with his first smile the plant of 
 their bliss broke into flower. 
 
 But no long time did the little angel stay with 
 them. He took wing ere the year was out, and 
 left them desolate. They would not be comforted. 
 The mother reproached herself that she had left 
 him now and then alone in his cradle while she 
 went to the spring, — and would burst into weeping. 
 And the father would reproach himself that once he 
 frightened the babe to keep him quiet ; and he too 
 wept like a little child. They sat both together of
 
 164 CHARON'S VICTIM 
 
 an evening by the fireside, and all they said was 
 about their darling. 
 
 A whole winter passed in this way. But when 
 the next winter came, they had half forgot their 
 little boy ; and with the spring came a second child 
 to them, a girl this time. There were the same 
 rejoicings, the same caresses, perhaps the same 
 scoldings when baby cried. But the pity of it, 
 their luck was the same as before, and this poor 
 little one stayed no longer than the last. So joy 
 once more took wings and flew from their dwelling, 
 and once more began weeping, and lamentation, 
 and woe. 
 
 It might have been three months after they lost 
 their baby, that Lampros's master (the great man of 
 the place) ordered him to travel over to Roumelia 
 to arrange some business for him, as he was being 
 defrauded by his agents. 
 
 Another misfortune this ! First death, then 
 parting ! Their hearts almost broke. Still they 
 said, " Let us be patient ; it is not for long." 
 So Lampros left his wife in her aunt's charge, 
 and departed. 
 
 The poor fellow did not know how he loved her 
 until he had to part. He was broken-hearted over 
 it all, and he had nothing to console him but his 
 letters and hers, both full of longings and sighs.
 
 CHARON'S VICTIM 165 
 
 " God be praised," she wrote to him once, 
 " that it will not be long before I have my dear 
 lad again." 
 
 And if she had only known ! Lampros on his 
 arrival found everything in confusion. He would 
 have to stay at least one year to gather in the 
 capital of his master's which had been scattered to 
 the four winds. He tried to muster courage — 
 " Courage ! " came out of his heart with a sigh. And 
 how could he write and tell her ? It would kill 
 her, poor thing ; better to keep putting it off from 
 day to day. It was but a year, and a year will 
 have an end. Only he must write to her every 
 week. And every week he wrote, and his wife 
 answered with half-suppressed impatience, which 
 would have become a hearty fit of passion if she 
 could have spoken to him. Thanks to the master, 
 who pitied them, one day she learned the truth, 
 and he quieted her, and took her promise to be 
 patient for a few months yet. 
 
 All months pass away, and so did these. It 
 was a spring day, St George's Feast, and all the 
 village Avas starting out for the feast. Her good 
 neighbours pitied the poor woman, and did their 
 best to persuade her to come along with them. 
 Why not go out and enjoy herself a little ? Lam- 
 pros must find her well and strong, not pale as she
 
 166 CHARON'S VICTIM 
 
 was then. Her aunt said the same, and much 
 against her will, she went to join the throng. 
 
 • • • ■ • 
 
 '' Hurry up, Mitro, hurry up, let's get in before 
 dark ; an hour more, and there we are ! " 
 
 It was Lampros addressing his muleteer on the 
 evening of the feast of St George. He had got 
 away from Roumelia a fortnight earlier than he 
 expected, perhaps wishing to give his wife a little 
 surprise. 
 
 He was almost beside himself as he rode over the 
 hills and through the woods. He talked to himself, 
 he called out greetings, he laughed ; he could see 
 her before him already, his beloved wife in their 
 peaceful home, sitting in a corner beside her aunt ; 
 perhaps she was writing to him her last letter. 
 
 Another half hour, and they got up to St 
 George's. There was a regular pandemonium over 
 there ; all the field echoed with songs. 
 
 " See my luck ! " said he to himself, " too late to 
 take the poor dear to the feast ! Never mind, 
 darling, we have the Feast of our Saviour, and then 
 you shall see ! " 
 
 Scarce had the words left his lips when he met a 
 procession of men and girls returning to the village, 
 and singing as they went. The sun had not quite 
 set, so he could still see them. He knew them
 
 CHARON'S VICTIM 167 
 
 all, and greeted them with a voice that trembled 
 with his great joy. Before one fair form he was 
 brought up short. Who could it be ? How re- 
 markably like his wife ! As he looked at her thus, 
 she heard her husband's name running from lip to 
 lip, cried out — " My husband ! " and fell swooning. 
 
 Lampros remained on bis horse still as a stone, 
 and could not find a word to say. A terrible 
 thought, like a sword-thrust, ran through his mind. 
 His wife at the feast, in a crowd of girls and men ! 
 And he had thought of her shut up in her home. 
 
 His mind could bear no more. He pulled the 
 dagger from his belt, and at the moment when the 
 women were trying to arouse the fainting woman 
 to life, he fell to the ground, bathed in his own 
 blood.
 
 DIAMANTO 
 
 The north wind that night had done its work well ; 
 and when day dawned, and Diamdnto looked from 
 her window upon the world outside, when at last 
 she could distinguish sea from mountain, and nearer, 
 could make out the roofs of her friends' dwellings, 
 her eye saw nothing but icicles hanging from tile 
 or spout, signs of the rainy southern gale of 
 yestereen, all frozen, ere dawned at last the morn 
 of Epiphany. 
 
 Diamanto, being only a girl, did not think it 
 necessary to get up in time to go to church. Get 
 up she did, however, before sunrise. She lit the fire 
 and put the house tidy, and by the time that the deep 
 blue of heaven grew more open and more clear, 
 she took her stand near the window, with the fire- 
 pan beside her, and there, each wing of the window 
 closed, turned her gaze churchwards. 
 
 It was the hour when the congregation goes forth 
 to the river for the casting of the cross. It was 
 impossible to see the people as they emerged from 
 the church, even though (for the distance was not 
 
 i68
 
 DIAMANTO 169 
 
 great) Diamanto could hear the pathetic sound of 
 their psalmody. But it was not long ere the pro- 
 cession came full in view : first the priests, in their 
 gold embroidered vestments, gospel in hand, chant- 
 ing the Baptism of our Lord ; behind them the 
 acolytes, two and two, bearing each a banner, or the 
 glittering pictures of the cherubim ; then the singers 
 and the intoning choir ; and lastly, the never-end- 
 ing crowd of men and women, the people of three 
 parishes, all joined for this solemn ceremony, and 
 so many that the cherubim already sparkled on the 
 sands ere the last of the crowd were seen. They 
 looked like a swarm of human ants. When all were 
 arrived, the solemn rite was to begin. The waters 
 were to be blest, and then a golden cross cast in, for 
 which the boldest and hardiest were ready to dive 
 and fetch it out again. 
 
 This scene Diamanto watched with great emotion 
 and eagerness ; not so much because of the beauty 
 of the picture — and beautiful it was, with the sun 
 now slowly rising as the procession halted at the 
 mouth of the river, a mile or so from the village — 
 but she knew that somewhere in that crowd was 
 her lover, the brave young Yaunaros, who had passed 
 all his youth and manhood on the foam of the sea. 
 He knew not the meaning of fear or cold. Only 
 the evening before, the eve of the Epiphany, he had
 
 170 DIAMANTO 
 
 come with some friends to his lover's house to drink 
 a dram of mastick ; and as they drank, she herself 
 pouring the liquor for them, he had told her that 
 on the morrow he himself meant to dive in and 
 bring up the cross. Diamanto knew him, her 
 mother knew, and so did Mistress Barbara, all 
 knew how determined he was. God forbid that 
 they should say him nay ! For their hearts went 
 out to him ; and a better husband than he could 
 none be found. 
 
 That is the reason why Diamanto was watching, 
 with desire and a beating heart. 
 
 " How bitter cold ! " said she to herself, watching 
 the steam that rose from the troubled waves out at 
 sea. 
 
 But she looked again at the sun ; she looked at 
 the cherubim flashing in its rays ; and marked the 
 ice on the house-roofs, now beginning to melt and 
 drip ; and consoled herself by thinking, that when 
 the time came to cast in the cross, it would not be 
 quite so cold. 
 
 Thus passed half an hour or so. And now her 
 eyes were fixed more firmly than ever upon the 
 river. But so far away, and with a crowd so thick 
 thronging about the stream, what could she see ? 
 She could see nothing at all, and could distinguish 
 nothing except the wild throbbing of her own heart.
 
 DIAMANTO 171 
 
 A little while and the people began to return. 
 Now she arose, and crossed herself, praying our 
 Lady to forgive her that all this time she had 
 neglected the burning of the incense, sitting and 
 gazing as if it were only some common feast day. 
 And as now she Avaved the censer before the shrine, 
 she gave thanks to our Lady that at last that mad 
 and unreasonable diving was over and done. A 
 sudden thought came that perhaps he was drowned ! 
 Then once more she fell to eager prayers. 
 
 " Now for the fire," said she, when this was done. 
 She heaped on the fuel, poking it up, to make all 
 ready for her old mother, who was sure to come in 
 whatever happened, and bring perhaps a neighbour 
 or two, to soak a biscuit in their coffee, and have a 
 chat. 
 
 It was broad day by now. The sunshine was 
 everywhere, and everywhere could be heard talking 
 and the sound of voices. And now the girl's heart 
 was at rest, and she sang softly to herself as she 
 went to and fro putting things to rights. 
 
 All of a sudden, she drew herself up stiff, her 
 eyes wide open, one hand resting against the wall 
 and the other to her cheek, her ear turned to the 
 door, that she might hear the better. There was 
 no mistake, poor girl ; that sound was the sound of 
 mourning.
 
 172 DIAMANTO 
 
 Just as she moved towards the door, her unhappy 
 mother entered, a kerchief wrapped about her face, 
 and pale as death, panting, like one demented. 
 
 " My child, my child ! He is gone, our dear 
 one, our laddie, he is swallowed up in the swollen 
 river ! " She cried aloud, and fell upon the ground, 
 and not another word. 
 
 After her came the women of the neighbourhood, 
 and came their friends, in came the comrades of 
 Yannaros ; what they could they did, saying what 
 the heart bids at the time of such calamities ; and 
 the old parish priest came with them, and told 
 poor Diamanto that it was the Almighty that had 
 taken her own dear one to his arms ; but all in 
 vain. From that day lip never smiled within that 
 house.
 
 KOUTOZAPHIRIS 
 
 " Here is another specimen — Koutozaphiris ! And 
 
 it's not so long since it happened to him. Speak to 
 
 him, he looks at you with eyes dim as if in a 
 
 dream. Wait for his answer, and he gives you 
 
 never a word. The fact is, it runs in the family. 
 
 His father, too, was always a muddle-head, but 
 
 only up to a certain point ; with this poor fellow 
 
 there's no limit, and it's all up with him. As for 
 
 that only son of his, that pretty boy — what a pity ! 
 
 and what a misfortune for his mother ! " 
 
 " You are mistaken," said I to my friend, who 
 
 made these remarks to me the other day as the 
 
 man in question passed slowly by outside, basket in 
 
 hand. " In this case the madness, if madness it be, 
 
 has not passed from father to son, but from son to 
 
 father. The poor fellow came and told me when first 
 
 he perceived that he was not quite in his right mind. 
 
 It is a sad story, but you ought to hear it ; perhaps 
 
 it may do you good, as you are yourself fond of 
 
 flying in a passion. 
 
 " It is now five years since Koutozaphiris married. 
 
 173
 
 174 KOUTOZAPHIRIS 
 
 You remember how bright he was during his first year 
 of wedded life. It was in the second that misfortune 
 came ; then it was he told me about it. That 
 little lad was the joy of both of them. His wife, 
 Vasillna, was accustomed every morning to put 
 away the bedding and make the room tidy ; then 
 she gave the child in charge of his father, who took 
 him down into the kitchen, sometimes singing him 
 songs, sometimes fondling him. That became quite 
 a part of the round of household duties. Then he 
 would sit by his child's side, feed him, and prattle 
 to him. One morning Koutozaphiris was not quite 
 well, and as ill luck would have it, the child was 
 not well either. The child began to cry. It cried, 
 and the more its father soothed it as he went down- 
 stairs, the more the boy screamed. He was cutting 
 his teeth, and it hurt him, he couldn't say what 
 the matter was, so he cried. Zaphiris entered the 
 kitchen, got ready the baby's food, took him up 
 gently. But it was of no use ; keep still the child 
 would not. Just as he began to sip his coffee, and 
 perhaps get a little patience, the child began to 
 scream louder than ever. Zaphiris grew wild. He 
 set down his cup, up went his hand, and down it 
 came with a tremendous slap on the child's right 
 ear, which silenced the poor little fellow. In a 
 moment he saw what he had doue, but it was too
 
 KOUTOZAPHIRIS 175 
 
 late. He caught him up, kissed him, fondled him, 
 hugged him to his breast. The child was trembling 
 slightly, and blue in the face. Zaphiris was mad 
 with grief, and fear that his wife might find out 
 what he had done. He sprinkled the child with 
 water, dandled him up and down, held him this 
 way and that way, and brought him half back to 
 consciousness, then the poor little one began to cry 
 again. He cried, but not with a full healthy sound 
 as before ; this was a kind of low choking murmur. 
 In this pitiful way the child has cried ever since, 
 and so he talks, and laughs, and always will. The 
 box on the ear has made him an idiot. 
 
 " His mother did not find out, and I hope she 
 never may, what happened on that ill-omened 
 morning. One called it the evil eye, another I 
 know not what, but the truth she never heard. 
 They brought the unhappy child to me for my 
 opinion. I asked them if it had fallen down and 
 had a blow, if it had been frightened, but no, there 
 was nothing of the sort. I did what I could, but 
 it remained incurable, and will always be so, 
 incurable as the sorrow of the poor mother. 
 
 " Well, as to Zaphiris. What torment he suffered 
 when he came to see me some months later, and 
 confessed all to relieve his mind, as he could no 
 longer keep his terrible secret to himself. At
 
 176 KOUTOZAPHIRIS 
 
 times, he told me, lie became as one mad. He 
 lay awake of nights, and as he thought how he 
 had had such a little angel in the house, and 
 for one innocent cry had put out the light of 
 reason with a savage blow, he, the child's own 
 father, who loved him as the apple of his eye, 
 who was so proud of him, who fondled him and 
 fed him morning by morning like a little bird 
 — for him (said he) to go and kill the child, 
 kill three lives at one fell blow — he could stay 
 in bed no longer. He would rise, telling his 
 wife that he had lost his sleep again, and go 
 out into the garden, where he stalked up and 
 down like a ghost. His wife kept her eye on 
 him, and saw how he suffered ; and thinking 
 that he was distressed because of the incom- 
 prehensible illness of the child, forgot the child, 
 and began to think of the father. 
 
 " In the daytime again, Zaphiris, in dire despair, 
 kept far away from everybody ; and there felt the 
 same torments and misery. He walked he knew 
 not whither, and sometimes found himself at 
 another village. Then he would return at the 
 top of his speed, to get home before evening, 
 for fear his wife should be alarmed. He would 
 enter the house to take another look at the 
 child, which lay subdued, shrinking, pale, with
 
 KOUTOZAPHIRIS 177 
 
 little to say and ever those low groans, without 
 appetite, without life, with ill-luck in its glances ; 
 and he would watch the mother tending it, gazing 
 upon it with grief and yearning, crooning lullabies, 
 turning her tearful eyes towards her husband as he 
 came in, restless, outwearied, despairing ! How 
 could a heart bear all that ? The heart of 
 Zaphiris broke ; he became like the boy, an 
 idiot, shrinking, subdued ; his conscience smote 
 him upon the head harder far than that un- 
 forgotten blow which he had dealt to his son ; 
 and now no one lives in that deserted home, 
 except the true-hearted wife who cares for him, 
 and bears the burdens of them all ! "
 
 UNCLE YANNIS AND HIS DONKEY 
 
 If Uncle Yannis has his story, he owes it to that 
 donkey of his. That donkey — Grizzle they called 
 him, and we will call him Grizzle too — that donkey 
 worked well for his living, from the first hoar that 
 his back knew the pack-saddle. That donkey 
 Grizzle was a lucky donkey, in spite of all the 
 hard work he did for a livelihood. Grizzle was 
 a donkey of character, and he showed his character 
 when Uncle Yannis had kept him six months har- 
 nessed at the winch by his well, six hot summer 
 months that might have taken the heart out of 
 a lion ; and for all that Grizzle never lost his 
 strength in that yoke, nor his great voice, — nor 
 the zest with which he enjoyed himself, when 
 from time to time the master loosed him to get 
 a whiff of air in the fields, to refresh himself with 
 the young grass. 
 
 When Uncle Yannis lost his garden, nothing was 
 left to him but Grizzle. Grizzle was his friend, his 
 fortune, his mainstay. With Grizzle he worked, to 
 
 Grizzle he talked. Up and down the hill where 
 178
 
 UNCLE YANNIS AND HIS DONKEY 179 
 
 the village was he went with his Grizzle, and there 
 was no kind of merchandise, no fodder, fruit, or 
 firewood, that did not go by way of Grizzle's 
 crossed back, before it came into the neighbour- 
 hood where Uncle Yannis lived. 
 
 It was as though Uncle Yannis and his Grizzle 
 were one and indivisible. Together they ate, together 
 they walked, and they slept together. Right away 
 on the outskirts of the village was Uncle Yannis in 
 a hut all by himself, and Grizzle in the yard. Early 
 in the morning out came Uncle Yannis to the 
 door, and his first good-morning was for Grizzle. 
 Then Grizzle would turn his head towards his 
 master, then pricked up his ears with affection and 
 joy, and looked at him with a roguish twinkle 
 in deep black eyes that any young maiden might 
 have envied. 
 
 At other times again, when at work, if the heat 
 was great and the load very heavy, and if Grizzle 
 chanced to be in a bad temper, or annoyed beyond 
 endurance, and so was not so eager as might be for 
 the climb. Uncle Yannis would lose patience with 
 him, and speak to him in words that no man could 
 have endured ; and yet Grizzle did endure it, and 
 took no offence ; for he knew that Yannis had a 
 stick, though he never used that stick until he saw 
 that words were of no use. The donkey was more
 
 180 UNCLE YANNIS AND HIS DONKEY 
 
 sensible than many men, who never think of giving 
 way to you, or agreeing with anything, no matter 
 how reasonable, unless they see and feel your power, 
 either on their backs or elsewhere. 
 
 A heroic donkey was Grizzle, a discreet master 
 was Uncle Yannis. And that was the reason that 
 Grizzle lived for many years, and helped his master 
 as never donkey helped master before. 
 
 But everything in this world comes to an end, 
 and there came an end to the inseparable friendship 
 of Uncle Yannis and Grizzle. 
 
 The loving pair were climbing the hill, one mid- 
 day, in the month of August, with a load of grapes. 
 It was the vintage, and they had no time to lose ; 
 the clusters of fruit lay about in the vineyards, cut 
 ready to carry off and press, and to be made into 
 treacle, and must, and wine. This was their third trip. 
 Three trips more must be made, and no time had 
 they either to stop half-way or to refresh themselves. 
 Uncle Yannis was an old man by now, but Grizzle 
 was older. Grizzle was no longer fresh and skittish 
 as of yore. 
 
 " Quick, you rascal ! " cried Uncle Yannis hoarsely 
 to him. " Quick ! we have three more loads to 
 carry, and then you shall have melon-rind with 
 your feed this evening. Hi ! let's get on, you 
 brute ! "
 
 UNCLE YANNIS AND HIS DONKEY 181 
 
 And Grizzle tried to trot ; but his legs trembled, 
 his ears were down, he gasped. With a gasp he 
 stopped stock still ; his knees gave way, and down 
 he went, his white belly upturned to the sun, his 
 feet in the air, and the baskets of grapes behind 
 him. 
 
 Uncle Yannis ran up in distress ; never before 
 had such a thing happened to Grizzle. He began 
 to unloose the fastenings of the load, which was 
 tight round Grizzle's girth, and hindered his breath- 
 ing. With his knife he cut the fastenings, eased 
 the load as much as he could, then took hold of the 
 halter and tried to pull Grizzle up. 
 
 " Come, old boy, get up ; poor fellow, get up, we 
 have three journeys more ! Get up ; you shall 
 have a feed of barley to-night ! You deserve it, 
 poor old chap ! Up with you, my Grizzle ! " 
 
 But Grizzle could not get up. 
 
 Uncle Yannis stooped, and patted his back, his 
 neck, his snout, and then another pull. But no 
 result ; Grizzle did not get up. 
 
 Then a fear came into his mind that something 
 was the matter with Grizzle ; perhaps — and the 
 mere fear made him sit down, to lean against some- 
 thing and take time to recover, to get strong enough 
 to look at his eyes, and see whether he breathed ; 
 to see if his Grizzle were still alive.
 
 182 UNCLE YANNIS AND HIS DONKEY 
 
 He sat panting, overwhelmed with grief, and 
 with the effort of loosening the load, and easing the 
 baskets, with pulling away at the halter to get 
 Grizzle up, with the terrible heat of the sun that 
 blistered him as it beat upon his head. 
 
 He sat down ; and get up again he could not. 
 He had only come as far as a rock, half way up 
 the hill, with never a soul in sight to come and 
 pour him a drop of water to help him. 
 
 Suddenly he again thought of his poor Grizzle, 
 and tried to crawl to the place where he lay on his 
 side, to coax him and make him get up ; to get on 
 his back then and go to his little hut, Avhere they 
 might both rest and let the grapes look after them- 
 selves. 
 
 But Uncle Yannis could not get up. The more 
 he thought about getting up the deeper he sank in 
 that faintness that had come over him ; deeper and 
 ever deeper ; and now not a thought was left in his 
 mind except the wish to stretch his hand out upon 
 Grizzle, and give him to know that he was near 
 him, that he was tired out too, and that he would 
 lie by his side till they recovered. 
 
 The old man gathered all his remaining strength 
 and stretched out his hand. 
 
 Heavily fell the hand upon the lifeless neck of 
 Grizzle. As the hand fell, so it lay ; and so lay
 
 UNCLE YANNIS AND HIS DONKEY 183 
 
 the old man, motionless, speechless, insensible. 
 Not a gleam of light shone now in his exhausted 
 mind, and not even the ants and the flies could 
 torment him now. Only the sun beat upon him 
 as he slept his everlasting sleep, close by his 
 Grizzle's side — his heroic Grizzle, who died in har- 
 ness, like a soldier at his post. 
 
 The next day you could see nothing in that 
 spot but a few grapes scattered about. The 
 old man. Uncle Yannis, had been buried at St 
 Marina's, a little way above, and poor Grizzle had 
 been thrown over the precipice below. 
 
 Grizzle was not buried, even though he had 
 worked all his life long. But the birds had pity on 
 him, and bared all his white bones, and the sun 
 warmed them, and the rain washed them clean, 
 until they too disappeared, and nothing at all was 
 left of poor Grizzle but this little story.
 
 LOVE IN THE TRAIN 
 
 A DAY or two since we were in Father Nicodemus' 
 
 cell, four monks, and round the fire-pan we talked. 
 
 Outside bellowed the storm, and the clearer we 
 
 heard it, we huddled all the closer around the fire. 
 
 But, apart from the fire, apart from our rum, we 
 
 had the summer in our hearts. And even if there 
 
 were white hairs in our beards, they only served 
 
 the better to set off the ruddy brightness in the 
 
 cheek. Our eyes flashed, and on our lips — all that 
 
 could be seen of them when we laughed through 
 
 the bushy beards — was vivid fun, shrewdness, and 
 
 innocent roguery. 
 
 We had an hour or two before us ere we need 
 
 retire for the night. One of us said, " Lads, we see 
 
 little of the world here. We have neither town nor 
 
 village, only a hill, with four-and-twenty Brethren 
 
 and a few beasts. Of psalms and hymns we have 
 
 enough and to spare in church. But a man wants 
 
 to see the world sometimes, and I propose, brothers, 
 
 that we see the world to-night ; and see it with the 
 
 eyes of our mind, since we cannot see it in the flesh. 
 184
 
 LOVE IN THE TRAIN 185 
 
 Come, let one of us tell us the best story of his 
 experience in the world ; bashfulness and lies 
 avaunt ! Let's see how he enjoyed life before he 
 came under the yoke. There's no wrong in it, so 
 don't be afraid. He that doesn't do it talks about 
 it ; and he that says nothing thinks the more. 
 And for us, better than doing or thinking is to talk, 
 and get it off our minds, and it will serve to pass 
 the time pleasantly." 
 
 This little sermon pleased us all, and we at once 
 agreed to the proposal. And we agreed that the 
 proposer himself should tell the story. Father 
 Timotheos. 
 
 So Father Timotheos began as follows : 
 " My brethren, the story I am about to tell you 
 is no great affair, but it has remained in my mind, 
 and nothing could ever remove it. It is now some 
 fourteen years ago, when I was Deacon to my dear 
 old Bishop. The poor fellow suffered from a chest 
 complaint, and at the time travelled to Paris for 
 the doctors to see it. The doctors saw it, and we 
 saw Paris with all its glories. After a week's stay, 
 we took our tickets for Marseilles. As we journeyed 
 to Marseilles, somewhere about midnight, three or 
 four hours after the start, the train stopped at a 
 station ; I forgot to tell you that we two had the 
 carriage to ourselves, the old Bishop and I. The
 
 186 LOVE IN THE TRAIN 
 
 Bishop was asleep in one corner, and I was sitting 
 in the other corner and trying to sleep; but the 
 stoppage of the train awoke me, and t got up to see 
 where we were. As I looked out, the door opened, 
 and in got an old gentleman and a damsel with 
 him. And another man, as old as the first, stood 
 outside with baskets, bags, bottles, and all that sort 
 of thing, which he handed in one by one to his 
 friend, talking all the while in French. What he 
 was saying I don't know ; but it seemed to me that 
 the old gentleman outside was the father of the 
 girl, and the old man who had got in was some 
 kind of relation, or protector, or guardian. Then 
 the girl stooped forward and kissed the old gentle- 
 man outside, the door closed, and the train was off 
 again. 
 
 " Now, my boys, I must tell you that I was not 
 a very handsome deacon. But this beard of mine " 
 — Father Timotheos stroked it as he said the words 
 — " was black then, and my face was bright with 
 youth, under my brand-new priest's hat. 
 
 " ' But the girl,' you will cry, ' we want to hear 
 about the girl's looks, not yours ! ' 
 
 " Well, now for the girl. Have you ever opened 
 a casket and suddenly beheld a fine diamond ? Do 
 you remember how your eyes were dazzled by its 
 brilliant rays ? Even so did that angel shed radi-
 
 LOVE IN THE TRAIN 1S7 
 
 ance around, as she sat in the corner opposite me, 
 in a crimson mantle, and drew up the black veil 
 which covered her lovely face. What eyes she had ! 
 what great blue eyes ! what lips ! — like a rosebud 
 trying to open ! Her face was rounded, with a fine 
 contour. And as for colour, you would have called 
 hers the colour of dawn's first blush, 
 
 " The girl took her seat, and glanced at us each 
 in turn, the Bishop and me. The old man was 
 still standing before her, and making her comfort- 
 able. He must arrange the dark rug over her 
 knees, relieve her of the hat which she took off, 
 showing her golden hair, put a kind of cover about 
 her head, something of blue silk, with patterns in 
 gold embroidered upon it, enough to bewitch you, 
 even if you were a bishop,^ The Bishop all this 
 while was fast asleep opposite, lying at full length 
 with his head muffled up. And I was the only one 
 who saw it, 
 
 " Then the old man took a place beside her, 
 rolled up his own feet in another rug, took off his 
 hat, put on a black travelling-cap, and with a glance 
 at me, and a few words to the girl that might have 
 meant how oddly I was dressed, turned away and 
 closed his eyes. Now and again he half opened 
 them, to see if the girl wanted anything, but she 
 
 ^ Bishops are always celibate in the Greek Church.
 
 188 LOVE IN THE TKAIN 
 
 too was by this time trying to sleep herself. She 
 was a divine image of beauty, as she lay with her 
 head inclined to one side, and her eyes closed. 
 
 " I pretended to sleep too, and I wanted to sleep. 
 ' What's the use of watching her ? ' said I to myself. 
 ' She must be a girl just set free from school. Her 
 eyes are the eyes of a child. She will never set foot 
 in our Cathedral ; and that Cathedral I will never 
 leave. So good night to her, and sweet sleep. All 
 the same, I'll open my eyes and see if she is asleep.' 
 
 " I opened my eyes ; the old man was really 
 asleep now, and my Bishop the same. But as for 
 the girl, my eyes seemed to catch a glance of hers. 
 
 "Again I closed my eyes. What shall I do now ? 
 open them again ? And if she sees me, I shall put 
 myself to shame. Why shame, however ? If she 
 sees me, she will be looking too. Well, let's open 
 them and try. 
 
 " I opened my eyes once more, and suddenly. 
 The fair one could not stand it ; she shut hers very 
 quickly, but not before I could see she had been 
 watching me. Well, what was I to do now I had 
 made her angry ? I must shut mine again, and go 
 to sleep, and let us all rest. 
 
 " Sleep and rest, indeed ! The devil himself had 
 got into me, and poured an unseen fire through my 
 blood. My head went round, and on trying to re-
 
 LOVE IN THE TRAIN 189 
 
 peat some prayer to myself. I could not remember a 
 single word. Against my will I fell thinking again 
 of those blue eyes. One more glance, I thought, and 
 then to sleep. 
 
 " And once again I opened my eyes : hers were 
 shut ; I might gaze at my ease. My gaze drank in 
 all her maiden beauty. I tried to exert a magnetic 
 influence over her, to awake her, that she might 
 open her eyes and look upon me, now that my 
 mind had no shame left, only longing indescribable. 
 
 " And now it was her turn, and all of a sudden 
 she opened her eyes upon me. She saw I was 
 watching her, the witch ! She opened them, and 
 fixed them upon me. This acted as a charm upon 
 me, and I kept mine open too. I beheld her 
 tenderly and calmly, so as to cause no alarm. Her 
 look was full of innocence and of sympathy ; no ill 
 thing could lurk in such a mind as hers. We looked 
 upon each other thus a long time. We gazed, and 
 by degrees the eyes of each began to shine with love 
 and sweetness. We had no reserve left now ; we 
 felt full trust, for each had seen the other's heart. 
 Then even the thought that we were perfect 
 strangers, that after the morrow we should never 
 meet again, this too gave us greater confidence. We 
 gazed, and never felt that we had enough of this 
 blessedness. We fell into a golden dream amid
 
 190 LOVE IN THE TRAIN 
 
 those long, never-ending looks. Her soul entered 
 within me, and my soul entered her, and embracing 
 with our eyes we plunged in depths unfathomable. 
 Our hearts knew that for us the eye was all, and 
 other bliss impossible ; and with that skill and 
 power which the heart alone knows, concentrated 
 all the joy of love into that union from eye to 
 eye. 
 
 " An hour passed by thus, and the old men still 
 slept ; but her friend did not seem to sleep very 
 heavily ; if he had, God knows whether I should not 
 have risen to approach her side. Indeed, without 
 thinking, I actually made a movement ; like light- 
 ning she checked me, with a significant look at her 
 sleeping friend. I understood, and made as though 
 to turn over on the other side, to sleep the easier. 
 Then we closed our eyes again, both of us ; we 
 closed our eyes, and when I thought once more to 
 open them, one loud, long shriek of the engine 
 awoke us all. 
 
 " The old man leaped to his feet ; the Bishop 
 moved, and began to cough. The girl got up too 
 (by this time the train was at a standstill), and 
 exchanged her embroidered head-cover for the hat ; 
 the old man collected their traps, and they prepared 
 to descend. The man went first ; the girl, as she 
 followed, threw me a handkerchief."
 
 LOVE IN THE TRAIN 191 
 
 " Where's the handkerchief now ? " asked Father 
 Parthenios, impatiently. 
 
 " Gone ! I dropt it in the sea on our voyage 
 from Marseilles. Why should I keep the handker- 
 chief? Brethren, that love was a whole lifetime 
 to me, though it lasted but an hour. And the 
 memory of it has remained deep within my heart, 
 where no handkerchiefs can be hidden, yet there is 
 room to hide a whole heaven."
 
 LOVE ON THE HILLS 
 
 When Father Timotheos had made aD end of his 
 tale, we were all sorry that it was so short, and 
 that there was no second chapter to that story of 
 the train. 
 
 " If that's the kind of story you want," said 
 Father Paisios, turning a little, " I could tell you 
 another ; only it's rather late, and we ought to go 
 to bed early to-day." 
 
 "My dear fellow, what's that?" cried Father 
 Kallinikos ; " a winter night, and you're afraid of 
 losing one hour's sleep ? Come, tell us your story, 
 and while you talk I'll roast you some chestnuts." 
 
 So Paisios began. 
 
 "This love in the train, which Father Timotheos 
 has just been describing, puts me in mind of a trip 
 I made from one island to another, selling crucifixes 
 from Mount Athos. I was travelling on one occa- 
 sion from Imbros to Lemnos, in order to get a 
 passage across here ; not much of a journey that. 
 A little journey, but a big storm ! I had as fellow- 
 travellers a certain family, father, mother, two boys 
 192
 
 LOVE ON THE HILLS 103 
 
 and one girl, They were going to be present at a 
 wedding. 
 
 " Hardly had we left the harbour when the dance 
 began. The caique Avas tossed up and down like a 
 bit of melon-peel on those maddened waves, the 
 tackle creaked, the sails flapped in the wind, and 
 the water dashed up on us and poured over the 
 gunwale like a river. Not a soul was on deck, 
 except the sailors ; everybody else was down below, 
 and imagine how happy we were ! As if the 
 trouble outside Avas not enough, there were the 
 women shrieking. And the vows they made to the 
 Holy Mountain ! I am always quite comfortable at 
 sea, so I thought I would go on deck, to huddle 
 down in some quiet corner, come what would ; but 
 I was rather afraid that the sailors might lay the 
 storm on my shoulders, and say I had brought it ^ ! 
 So I stayed below after all, and spent the time in 
 watching these poor folk from Imbros. Sometimes 
 I brought them Avater, sometimes I arranged their 
 pilloAvs, and so the hours passed. At last night 
 came on, and Ave Avent to sleep. 
 
 "Towards daAvn the caique suddenly became quiet. 
 We heard shouts up on deck, ' hurry up ' and ' look 
 alive there,' talking, the captain's orders, and last 
 
 1 It is a common superstition of sailors tliat a priest on board 
 brings ill-luck. 
 
 N
 
 194 LOVE ON THE HILLS 
 
 of all the anchor. We could not have arrived so soon, 
 with such a tempest, and the wind from the north ; 
 we must have cast anchor somewhere until the 
 storm should pass. I hurried up on deck, and 
 what should I see but the coast of the mainland 
 somewhere over against Tenedos ! We had gone 
 back instead of forwards. 
 
 " We all went up on deck. All around was a 
 wilderness, wild mountains covered with trees, in 
 which were birds whose song reached us by the 
 strand, and what a strand ! There was not a print 
 of human foot on that virgin shore, nothing but 
 long lines one above the other, made by the waves 
 on the white sand. 
 
 " We got out our provisions, the women lighted 
 a fire behind a rock a little further inland, and then 
 we sat and breakfasted. Then our skipper told us 
 we should stay there till midday, when the wind 
 would change. Well, we did what we could to fill 
 up the time ; one went this way, one the other, 
 until midday should come. 
 
 " The skipper and the old Imbriote went off to the 
 right with a gun, as there was said to be good sport 
 there. The boys with their sister, who was about 
 sixteen, went straight inland, where there were said 
 to be flowers. The mother, a woman who could 
 not yet have past her fortieth year, — so much said
 
 LOVE ON THE HILLS 195 
 
 her bright eye and ruddy lip, apart from other signs 
 which there is no need to mention in such a com- 
 pany as this, — she stayed behind to collect her 
 belongings and give them to the cabin-boy to put 
 on board. I thought I would follow the others 
 towards the right, and stroll after the hunters. 
 But down to the left something caught my eye on 
 the top of a little hill, something that might be a 
 chapel, or a shepherd's hut, or anything of that 
 sort. Well, I thought I would go and find out 
 what it was ; and thither I wended my way. In 
 half an hour I was at the spot. It was neither 
 shepherd's hut nor deserted chapel ; a heap of 
 stones piled one upon another, a rock with a wild 
 olive tree on the other side, and in the middle a 
 trench with musk and other such plants growing in 
 it. There I took my seat and looked around me, 
 mightily refreshed by those virgin beauties, inimit- 
 able, innumerable. About this time the wind had 
 fallen, and the sea below was a picture of happiness. 
 And there, as I sat, what should I see before me 
 but the Imbriote woman ! 
 
 " ' God bless you, my good woman, what do you 
 want here ? ' said I. ' Don't you see that here we 
 are together alone, and your husband may come 
 and throw us both into the sea ? Back with you 
 if you love your children ; back, ma'am, and pluck
 
 196 LOVE ON THE HILLS 
 
 flowers with them ; and I'll stay here till midday, 
 for such beauty as this one does not see every day 
 in the year ! ' 
 
 " ' Tut, tut, why shouldn't I stay, too, Father ! 
 Haven't I got a pair of eyes as well as you ? As 
 for my husband, you needn't be afraid. I lost my 
 way, and I didn't know where I was coming. Your 
 holiness will go down this way, and I'll go that ; 
 one of us will start half an hour before the other ; 
 and there you are. Not a soul can see us here." 
 
 "And down she sat close beside me and gave 
 me a mischievous look. 
 
 " And God above ? " said I. 
 
 " God never told us not to have a little love 
 now and again." 
 
 " And she leant against me as she spoke, panting 
 from the climb, with cheeks red as a rose, it might 
 have been from the exercise, it might have been 
 for some other reason — and eyes brighter than 
 ever. 
 
 " I recognised that here was a terrible temptation ; 
 for I was still young ; and although I had weathered 
 some of these delightful tempests in my young 
 days, now that I wore this black hat, brethren, I 
 had no intention of disgracing it for the sake of a 
 woman's momentary whim. So up I got from the 
 rock on which I was sitting, turned to look in the
 
 LOVE ON THE HILLS 197 
 
 opposite direction, when all of a sudden a notion 
 came into my head which I felt I must put in 
 practice immediately, if I was to save myself. To 
 turn and look at her, or address her again, was 
 destruction ; well, to avoid seeing her, I must just 
 go straight down the hill that way. " I must go 
 aboard the boat, take my bag, and make the best 
 of my way to Nioch(5ri, which was about three 
 hours' walk away, as one of the sailors had told 
 me. Thus I would get off once for all from the 
 enchantress. 
 
 "No sooner thought than done. The fair one 
 hadn't time even to call me back ; I had got well 
 rid of her, and took the downward road. 
 
 " The children were still gathering flowers, the 
 sailors were mending the rents in their sails, the 
 hunters were firing away inland, and I, bag on 
 shoulder, tramped alongshore to Nioch6ri ; and I 
 recollect how I sang the hymn ' From my youth, O 
 Lord,' as a kind of triumphal chant, as though 
 telling our Saviour that he had saved me again, 
 glory be to Him. 
 
 " From Nioch^ri I found means of crossing to 
 Tenedos, and there I was rewarded for my virtue 
 with the generous wine which they gave me there 
 to drink."
 
 AUNT YANNOULA 
 
 It is now many years since the old serving woman 
 
 whom you see came into this house from a village 
 
 on the opposite shore. She must have seen much 
 
 and suffered much in her day. Look at her great 
 
 bright eyes, like two withered pansies, brows thick 
 
 and black as a leech, a firm and decided mouth, 
 
 pale face which not even the bright reflection of 
 
 the fire can redden. She looks a real witch with 
 
 that kerchief over her head and the yellow apron. 
 
 She cuts up the meat with a look of bitterness on 
 
 her face ; you could easily imagine her to be 
 
 concocting a poison. 
 
 Very different is the young girl slicing quinces 
 
 beside her. She is the darling of her father, 
 
 because she is supposed to be like him. She has 
 
 his gray eyes and rounded chin ; but her father 
 
 has not the same beauty, I imagine. When he 
 
 tucks up his sleeves, and his darling daughter pours 
 
 water for him to wa.sh, you do not see a fine pair 
 
 of white arms twinkling over the silver bowl. The 
 
 girl has her mother's beauty, they say. Such pure 
 198
 
 AUNT YANNOULA 199 
 
 beauty is the only true ornament of a girl's face. 
 She is very fond of the old servant Aunt Yannoula. 
 When the others are playing or singing, off she 
 runs to the kitchen and helps Yannoula. And 
 Yannoula lets the girl do it, in order that the 
 master may hear of it afterwards, and be glad that 
 his dear daughter has made the quince marmalade 
 again. 
 
 Now they have put on the pot, and the dinner 
 is boiling. The old dame sits down on her cushion, 
 and takes up her distaff; the girl is beside her. 
 The old woman has something to say ; let us hear 
 what it is. 
 
 " This is not the first time, nor the second, 
 that you have plagued me to tell my story. You 
 are only a little girl, and why should I pain you ? 
 But you will insist upon hearing it. Well, you 
 shall hear it, only be sure you never breathe a 
 word to any one, or my curse will consume you. 
 No one knows of it but your parents. 
 
 " The village I come from lies many a long league 
 away. Ah, my poor home ! I have never seen it 
 since I left. Our cottage was not in the village 
 itself; it stood outside, in a thick grove of trees. 
 The pasture was up on the hill, and there my 
 uncle Nic61es tended his flock of goats. He it was
 
 200 AUNT YANNOULA 
 
 gave me a dower and found a husband for me. I 
 had been an orphan for years, when he took to me, 
 and gave me my dear Giorgis. My wedding 
 portion was the hut where we lived, one plot of 
 land, and half the old man's goods. The old man 
 lived along with as. God did not see fit to bless 
 us with children, but we had all other blessings. 
 Ah, the Almighty knew what he was doing ; may 
 He continue to bless us ! 
 
 " One evening, the old man had gone up to his 
 fold — it was springtime then, just as it is now — to 
 see if Giorgis had got the flock under shelter, as a 
 violent shower of rain was coming on. As for me, 
 that was not the first time I had been left alone in 
 the house; I got dinner ready, and sat spinning 
 just as I am doing now. The old man had hardly 
 left when all was uproar ; thunder and lightning, 
 flash on flash ; I made the sign of the cross, and 
 huddled over the fire. Quicker than I can tell 
 you, the rain came in torrents ; and no sooner had 
 it begun to fall, than who should come tumbling 
 into the cottage but a couple of Turks ! One look 
 at them, and a kind of madness came over me ; 
 their cruel laugh at seeing me alone in the place 
 was more terrible even than their faces or the 
 weapons they wore. At first I thought they had 
 iust come in for shelter until the rain ceased ; but
 
 AUNT YANNOULA 201 
 
 that was uot what they wanted. Whether they 
 struck out the idea on the instant, or whether they 
 had planned it out all before, God alone knows. 
 The first thing they did was to shut the door ; 
 when I noticed this, I would have risen, but I felt 
 a faintness which made me fall back, distaff in 
 hand ; I could not utter a word. But I was strong 
 and healthy, and the faintness soon passed. When 
 I began to recover consciousness, I observed that 
 they were trying to pull me up and get away. 
 They were afraid, as it seemed, that some one 
 might surprise them and prevent their design, and 
 so they thought it best to carry me off to some more 
 solitary place. The rain had now nearly ceased. 
 The first thing I can dimly remember is how one 
 of them lifted me, while the other opened the 
 door. When they had done this, and dragged me 
 over the threshold, I heard a pistol-shot. Ah, and 
 the heart-rending cry I heard next, ' Yannoula ! 
 Yannoula ! ' Never shall I forget that bitter cry 
 of woe as my husband called me. He must have 
 run down, poor fellow, and got to the cottage 
 without meeting the old man. — He never spoke 
 
 agam. 
 
 Now that I was more awake, I began to realise 
 the awful thing that had happened to me, like a 
 bolt from the blue. You must not suppose,
 
 202 AUNT YANNOULA 
 
 though, that I uttered a cry or crooned a lament. 
 For my heart had grown hard and fierce, and 
 made the woman into the man. I became 
 suddenly strong, and turned away. Such a fire 
 blazed up within me, that I felt as if I could 
 shake them off, and seize and throttle them. 
 Shake them off I did, and threw myself down 
 upon my poor dear, my darling husband. It 
 seemed to me that he still trembled a little. 
 For a moment I forgot those brutes beside me ; 
 my heart softened, I stooped down and touched 
 his face, that I might kiss him, and speak to 
 him, ask where the wound was — a thousand 
 things I wanted to do in that one instant, 
 and I had not time to do one ! One of the 
 men seized me by the waist, the other grasped 
 my arm, and with curses and threats they dragged 
 me through the outer gate. I thought of crying 
 out, on the chance that some one might hear 
 and save me ; but I was afraid the old man 
 should be near, and if he appeared they might 
 kill him too. There were no other neighbours 
 in that lonely place. Then again I feared they 
 might gag me. So I saw that my only chance 
 lay in a trick. 
 
 " ' Where are you taking me now," I asked them, 
 " in all this hurricane ? Wait a bit till the weather
 
 AUNT YANNOULA 208 
 
 clears, and then you may do what you like. My 
 husband lies there with a bullet in him ; who is 
 there to be afraid of ? ' 
 
 " Well, child, they carried me in again, and like 
 a pair of wolves they fell on the food I had cooked. 
 I left them to their meal alone, and with a light in 
 my hand went to the door for another look at my 
 George. He was quite still now, and his chest all 
 over blood : my darling was dead. As I stood 
 looking at him, senseless as a stone, out came those 
 dogs again and dragged me in ; they were afraid I 
 might give them the slip. 
 
 " Two thoughts were tormenting me just then ; 
 the first, how I could save the old man ; the other, 
 how to kill the murderers of my husband. 
 
 " The Turks were strangers, and did not know 
 us. They must have been travelling by way of our 
 village, and lost their way ; and when they were 
 caught in the storm they ran for refuge to our 
 cottage. There were no such devils as those 
 in our neidibourhood. As for our Turks, the 
 worst they did was to lift a goat now and 
 again. 
 
 " I closed the door, and tried to look as though 
 they had nothing to fear now. They began to grow 
 confident, and set about enjoying themselves in good 
 earnest. I got out wine for them (our jar was never
 
 204 AUNT YANNOULA 
 
 empty) ; but before I gave it to them, I added some 
 spirit. The wine must act quickly, before the old 
 man should return, and there was no other way. 
 My heart went pit-a-pat, for fear his knock should 
 come before they were drunk. It was soon done ; 
 one dropt forward, the other let his head fall back, 
 and stared at the ceiling, mumbling incoherently. 
 Taking the chopper, I hit one over the nape of the 
 neck, the other full on the throat. I never trembled. 
 I did the job as coolly as if I had been a butcher. 
 My heart was a stone. I stood looking at them, 
 and feeling as happy as a queen, forgetting that I 
 was a miserable widow. Just at that moment, 
 there came Uncle Nicoles to the door with a 
 dripping sack over his shoulders. He stood stock 
 still, petrified, as though he was in a dream. 
 When I turned about and saw him, I was a 
 woman again in a moment, and burst out 
 weeping. The poor fellow nearly went mad 
 when I told my story. 
 
 " ' What are you doing there ? ' says he. ' We 
 must get away, or we are lost ! ' 
 
 " ' Where can we go to ? ' I asked. ' How can 
 we leave my poor Giorgis ? ' 
 
 " We went out and carried him indoors. Ah, 
 how can I ever forget his bitter smile ? It 
 must have remained upon his face ever since I
 
 AUNT YANNOULA 205 
 
 fell beside him, and felt to see whether he still 
 lived ! 
 
 " I cannot describe to you that awful night, 
 child ! We decided to stay, and not to run 
 away. We went out to the furthest corner of 
 our little field, where a tall sycamine grew ; it 
 was dark as pitch, by good luck there was no 
 moon. For hours the old man dug, while I 
 shovelled away the earth. And our terror ! if 
 a leaf fell, we trembled. When the pit was as 
 deep as my waist, we returned to the cottage 
 and carried out the bodies just as they were, 
 with their arms and all. Another half hour, 
 and those two butchered beasts were buried, 
 and the new-dug earth covered over with twigs 
 and brushwood. 
 
 " And now only my dead husband's body was 
 left in the house. We washed his breast, and 
 threw the bloody clothes into the fire ; we laid 
 him out, and arrayed him in his shroud for 
 burial. 
 
 " The dawn was breaking as we began to wash 
 away the blood-stains, the old man cleaning the 
 stones outside, and I the floor of the cottage. 
 And as the sun looked over the storm-beat hills, 
 and the world began again to smile, we sat down 
 for the first time after all those terrible hours, wide
 
 206 AUNT YANNOULA 
 
 awake though utterly weary, trembling, broken- 
 hearted. 
 
 " There is no need to say much more ; besides, 
 master ma}^ come in any moment. No one had the 
 least suspicion of the truth. My husband had been 
 struck by lightning, and killed ; that was our story. 
 In the afternoon we buried him. When I returned 
 home I found that I could not remain in the cottage 
 by night. I saw their ghosts all around me. I 
 wanted to get away out of their sight. The old 
 man was afraid of me ; he threw a pair of 
 saddle-bags over his shoulders, and we departed 
 together ; he brought me straight over here, as 
 he knew the master. He went back himself, as 
 he feared no ghosts, and in that same cottage 
 he lived until the year before last, when he 
 passed away. I have never been there since, 
 nor shall I ever go again. I shall die here 
 with you. — Don't cry, child, don't tremble. I 
 have done wrong, and I am a wicked woman 
 to frighten you." 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 It had grown late as this awful tale was told. 
 The poor girl was terrified and in tears ; her heart 
 scarcely beat. Why torment the poor thing with 
 such stories ? Must the innocent and the young 
 learn of the hell in which their grandmothers lived ?
 
 AUNT YANNOULA 207 
 
 Of all that hear, who profits thereby ? At most 
 they are glad that such things do not happen in 
 their day, and that now the Turks, do what they 
 may elsewhere, no longer spread such liavoc amid 
 our conquered homes.
 
 PANAYIS KALOYANNIS 
 
 Panayis Kaloyannis was a good worker in the 
 "War of Independence. I have sought his name 
 in history, but in vain ; I have never seen it in 
 any book. 
 
 Panayis was nephew to a certain Abbot, and to 
 this Abbot he owes his chief peculiarity, which, as 
 we shall see later, became his chiefest claim to 
 remembrance. This peculiarity was that, in season 
 and out of season, his mind held one sole idea, and 
 he never said anything but this : "One day our Con- 
 stantine will sprout up again." At last every one 
 used to look at him, and sing in their turn : " Con- 
 stantino shall sprout up again." 
 
 He was an orphan, and must have been about 
 twelve years old when the Abbot took him to his 
 monastery to educate him. Father Paisios was a 
 monk, true, but he knew something of life. He 
 had been to Russia in his young days ; after that 
 he had been travelling, and ' fishing for friends." ^ 
 Now he and his gout were resting in the cloister, 
 
 1 i.e., enrolling members of the Friendly Society. 
 208
 
 PANAYIS KALOYANNIS 209 
 
 and he kept his hands busy with letters and pam- 
 phlets ; and in the evening he used to settle him- 
 self comfortably on his couch, and tell Panayis the 
 tales of our national history. He did not even 
 forget Pelopidas and Timoleon. The lad heard all 
 this with delight. From ancient times the old 
 Abbot came down by degrees to Byzantium, and 
 one evening he told him of the fall of Constanti- 
 nople. And when he had told him all, he went on : 
 " Do you remember, my boy, those grand deeds 
 I told you about last year ? Many and many an 
 evening has passed since then, and never again 
 have we been able to find a Codrus or a Leonidas. 
 Now and again the nation has produced some wild 
 spirit ; but where are the terrible lions of the 
 old days ? You might well have imagined that the 
 brave old Grecian blood was exhausted and dead. 
 Yet all of a sudden, in the year 1453, on May 29th, 
 one Tuesday morning, down drops a hero among us, 
 and holding a rusty sword in his hand, see him 
 scatter the Janissaries as he dashes through one of 
 the gates into the city, like a ravening monster ! 
 See him fall upon them alone, obscure as Codrus, 
 but desperate as Leonidas ! What does that tell 
 you, my boy ? Why, that our race has as many 
 lives as a cat, and if there's only one drop of the 
 blood left, it will grow to a deluge, and overflow 
 
 o
 
 210 PANAYIS KALOYANNIS 
 
 the land. And if it had been written in our fate 
 that this divine blessing should have been granted 
 us a few years before Urbanus placed his cannon 
 outside the city, he would never have been able to 
 crush it ; but he would have been crushed to pieces 
 himself along with Mahomet's head. But it came 
 too late for us ; too late came the inspiration, my 
 son, and it fell into that infinite sea of blood, and 
 was lost ! " 
 
 As he said the words, Paisios sobbed. The 
 lad looked him in the eyes, and remained silent. 
 When he had looked at him earnestly a little while, 
 he suddenly said : 
 
 " Never mind, uncle, one day our Constantino 
 will sprout up again ! " 
 
 That is the end of the first chapter of the story ; 
 and now, with your good leave, we will proceed to 
 the second. 
 
 Six years later we find Panayis a well-grown 
 young fellow, sailing about from island to island in 
 a little schooner. Old Paisios, a year before his 
 death, had made him partner with a certain 
 Kapetan Vaglis, and they used to take in a cargo 
 at one island to sell it at the next. But the mind 
 of Panayis was always away at Constantinople. His 
 great delight was to sit down with the men, and 
 tell them about Constantine's end. And after it
 
 PANAYIS KALOYANNIS 211 
 
 was all done, he would tell them his prophecy, that 
 one day Constantino would sprout up again. 
 
 On one of these trips, it so happened that a man 
 from Psara was on board — Karathaniisis, they called 
 him. He was not a sailor, but a passenger from 
 Samos to Psara. It was just at the time when the 
 smoke of that seven years' fire was beginning to 
 rise. 
 
 When this man heard Panayis' story, instead of 
 laughing with the rest, he took Panayis aside, and 
 said : 
 
 " I say, will you join with me in a little job ? 
 Split partnership with Kapetan Vaglis, and come 
 along with me. I follow the same business, but 
 just now my schooner is hired out to the lylouglt- 
 men." 
 
 " Ploughmen ? " Panayis was puzzled. 
 
 " Those who are going to sow the seed of your 
 Constantine, silly cuckoo ! Do you suppose a 
 prince will ever sprout up unless you sow 
 blood ? " 
 
 Heaven opened, and revealed the truth to Panayis 
 Kaloyannis. For years he had prophesied the sprout- 
 ing of a Constantine, and his mind had never gone 
 a step further. 
 
 " I will ! " was his answer. 
 
 When they arrived in Psara, Panayis separated
 
 212 PANAYIS KALOYANNIS 
 
 from his skipper, and joined hands with Kara- 
 thanasis. 
 
 There were two things in the world that this 
 man loved : his country and his daughter. His 
 plan was to betroth Panayis to both, and he 
 did it. 
 
 At the beginning it seemed as though of the two 
 loves which Panayis had, the dearer was Mari6, the 
 beautiful maid of Psara ; and he was eager for 
 marriage. 
 
 " Not yet," said her father. " First let us take 
 the schooner, and work her by ourselves, and then 
 we shall come back with a blessing to a free 
 Psara. Our freedom will not wait long. Have 
 you forgotten what we did the other day in 
 Eressos ? " 
 
 So Mario stayed behind with her mother, 
 and the two skippers sailed off together in their 
 ship. 
 
 This is the end of the second chapter ; and now 
 we shall begin the third. 
 
 Twelve months the schooner plied upon the sea, 
 and they sailed to and fro, now with powder, again 
 with biscuit. When the ships sailed, they went 
 round with their vessel ; and after she had come to 
 anchor, and her cargo was out, Panayis would find 
 some excuse for going aboard a warship, and there
 
 PANAYIS KALOYANNIS 213 
 
 he would gather the men about him to tell them 
 his stories. " Here he is with us now, our Con- 
 stantine ! " said he once, near Psara, when Kanaris 
 was returning from Chios. " This Constantine will 
 will brinsT the other to life ! " And the sailors lifted 
 him on their shoulders in their joy. 
 
 That trip they ran in and anchored at Psara 
 after a twelvemonth's cruise. Panayis had some 
 hope that Karathanasis would let him marry now ; 
 and one day he told his desire. 
 
 " You will say we have our Constantine safe 
 now," said the old man ; " well — but let us make 
 one more journey, and then we'll see." 
 
 Panayis, talking to the mother about this, said to 
 her, " I knew what he meant ; he wants me to 
 smell powder first. So I kiss thy hand, and good- 
 bye ! " He longed for a few words with his lover ; 
 but how durst he ? In those days love had neither 
 words nor kisses ; at most there was a glance of the 
 eyes in secret. 
 
 It was evening when this conversation took place, 
 and in the morning Karathanasis saw Panayis ready 
 to set out. 
 
 " Whither away ? " asked he. 
 
 " This time," answered Panayis, " you must take 
 the schooner out by yourself; T am going with 
 Kanaris."
 
 214 PANAYIS KALOYANNIS 
 
 " Silly boy, talk sense ! " replied the old man. 
 " Do you want to go and fall in the fire ? " 
 
 " Why not, father ? You won't allow me to 
 marry Mario yet, so let me marry the fire." 
 
 So he strutted along with Kanaris' brave boys, 
 dressed Turkish fashion like the rest of them ; and 
 off they went to Tenedos. 
 
 When he came back from that trip he was wild 
 with joy. He was never tired of telling that 
 famous stratagem — how the KapetanPasha^ received 
 them with open arms ; how he recognised them 
 when one of my brigs took fire, and slipped his 
 cables to get away to Stamboul. And happen what 
 would, he always came back to Constantino. 
 
 Like the beast that has had a taste of human 
 blood, that takes to the hills and the woods to find 
 another such meal, so Panayis could not keep away 
 from the sea. No one knew where he was to be 
 found ; he turned up everywhere, he fought every- 
 where. For fourteen months he was lost, and never 
 came near his bride's father or his house. 
 
 One evening — it was New Year's Eve, the last 
 day of '23 — there he was, like a corpse risen from 
 the tomb. His head was bandaged, and one arm 
 in a sling hung about his neck ; his face yellow. 
 He had been brought over by a ferry from Moschon- 
 1 The Turkish Admiral.
 
 PANAYIS KALOYANNIS 215 
 
 nisi. They had found him lying somewhere on the 
 coast of the mainland, almost dead ; indeed he had 
 been left there for dead by his comrades, though 
 luckily for him there had not been time to bury 
 him. 
 
 " Now I have become such a hideous object," 
 said he, with a bitter smile, " you won't want me 
 to marry into your family." His knees almost gave 
 way beneath him as he spoke. " Come, lay some- 
 thing for me to fall on, and let me wish you a 
 happy new year, I doubt whether I shall see the 
 morrow." Three days in the boat, and the blood 
 dripping all the while. The whole way from Mos- 
 chonnisi here is marked by the drops. Ah ! how I 
 wish Constantino might be able to see that red line 
 when he comes one day travelling over his seas ' " 
 
 Then Panayis Kaloyannis lay down and became 
 unconscious ; by-and-bye he began to rave in deli- 
 rium. All night long his friends were on the move. 
 Now and again he came to himself, with a glance 
 at Mario, and then a glance at her father, as if ask- 
 ing whether he ought to look at the girl in such a 
 state. 
 
 With the morning Panayis began to recover a 
 little. Then Karathanasis sent at once for the 
 priest, who came, and after seeing the sick man, 
 prepared the Communion.
 
 216 PANAYIS KALOYANNIS 
 
 " Marriage service first, if you please," says the 
 old man ; " you can give him the Communion after. 
 We have no time to lose. 
 
 The priest stared at him in amazement. 
 
 " Marry them, father," says he again, " and be 
 quick about it." 
 
 So the priest donned his stole, and crowned the 
 pair. 
 
 From that moment Panayis began to get better. 
 
 One more chapter, and my story is done. 
 
 Six months passed before Panayis was able to get 
 about. It was a summer morning, the twenty-first 
 of the harvest, when he found himself able for the 
 first time to cross the threshold with Mario, and to 
 sit down and watch the sun rise. The old man had 
 been absent overnight at Palidkastro in company 
 with many others. His dame was doing the house- 
 hold work, and the newly married pair were chat- 
 ting with the neighbours. Suddenly they heard the 
 sound of a cannonade from the sea : it was the guns 
 of Hosref Pasha which greeted Psara on that unfor- 
 gotten morning. 
 
 They all leapt to their feet, all but poor Panayis ; 
 running here, there, and everywhere to see what 
 was afoot. Before long they could discern Turkish 
 standards on the hills over by Ftelio. Then the 
 eyes of the poor Psariots were opened.
 
 PANAYIS KALOYANNIS 21 7 
 
 Like a flock of goats down they ran helter-skelter 
 to the sea for safety ; and in the midst of that ter- 
 rified drove you might have seen poor Mario with 
 her husband on her shoulders, and her old mother 
 behind. In vain their eyes searched high and low 
 for the old father ; he could not get near them. 
 
 The Janissaries had taken them completely by 
 surprise ; no one could understand how they came ; 
 they seemed to have sprung up out of the ground. 
 In a very short time they were upon them. 
 
 " Down to the sea ! " cried Panayis : " straight to 
 the sea ! Perhaps we may find a boat." 
 
 To the beach they came ; wherever a boat could 
 be found there was a mass of people, treading each 
 other down, struggling to get it. Their cries rang 
 to the heavens. 
 
 " Look here," says Panayis to Mario, " this kind 
 of thing won't do. Drop me down, and run off 
 with your mother ; don't be afraid about me, I have 
 been in their clutches before. Put me down, d'ye 
 hear ? Either you drop me, or I will strangle you ! " 
 
 " Strangle me if you like, so long as you are 
 saved," said Mario, under her breath. 
 
 " Eun into the sea, then ! There's no boat ; see, 
 they are all gone. Straight into the sea, or they 
 have us ! They will make you a slave, poor dear, 
 and then woe to you ! Into the sea with you !
 
 218 PANAYIS KALOYANNIS 
 
 That's right; into deep Avater. Stop one moment 
 — your brooch with that coin of Constantino, 
 Where's your brooch ? Put it in my hands. Kiss 
 it first, then let me kiss it. Mother ! where's your 
 mother ? Ah, they have her, poor thing ! That 
 comes of looking behind to find her man, and the 
 dogs have caught her ! They will not spare her 
 life, not they. Never mind, mother dear, we are 
 coming too, don't worry. Now for the plunge, 
 Mario mine, my love ! Thou too, my golden 
 Constantino, hide thyself in the sea. Thy day is 
 not yet come, but it will come, it will . . ." 
 
 His voice was drowned in the waves. 
 
 The old father was not long in following, but by 
 another and more cruel way. He passed with 
 thousands of others through smoke and flames, and 
 winged his way on high, to find there the liberty 
 which earth denied him.
 
 IBRAHIM 
 
 The most part of those who changed faith in the 
 dark days of Greece, did so for fear of roasting on 
 the spit. I do not speak of the poor little ones, 
 who were innocent enough. The parents, of 
 course were not innocent ; and their mistake lay 
 in preferring the sword's point to the hilt. For 
 centuries Greece was all but dead. It was not all 
 fate ; there was a lack of manliness in the nation, 
 and we paid for it. But that story may be left for 
 another time ; now let us come to Ibrahim. 
 
 Ibrahim was a Greek who embraced Islaraism 
 without compulsion. He did it of his own free 
 will. Perhaps you may think he was a child. No. 
 he was not a child, but he was in love, which is 
 the same thing. 
 
 His real name was Elias. He was the beloved 
 son of a village chief ; the most handsome lording in 
 the village was he, and a scapegrace to boot. Who 
 is the one is generally the other, be it lad or lass. 
 So Ibrahim dealt havoc throughout the whole village. 
 
 But perhaps the village liked it. If a girl does not 
 
 219
 
 220 IBRAHIM 
 
 want to be teased she is left alone ; and so with si 
 village. 
 
 His father was rich, and even the Turks had a 
 wholesome awe of him. He was one of those 
 chieftains who could speak Turkish, ate their food 
 Turkish fashion, and took their pleasure like Turks ; 
 but there were in him many points of the true 
 Greek, things which are not seen like the turban 
 or the fez. 
 
 Men like this were wise in their generation. 
 Times came when they gave help to the country, 
 saved some one from the pit, or defended our price- 
 less privileges. And thus, protecting these and 
 saving those, in their old age they became true 
 Greeks in all points. 
 
 The chief once had occasion to visit a certain 
 Hassan Aga, and he took his son with him. This 
 was not the first time that the Aga had seen Elias, 
 but it would seem he had not taken much notice of 
 him before ; for this time he killed a lamb for them, 
 and did the honours as an Aga should do. After- 
 wards he persuaded Elias to sing. A sweet voice 
 had Elias, and a good heart; and as he sang to 
 them the Aga was enchanted. " No one," said he, 
 turning to the lad's father, " no one but a Greek 
 lad could sing so sweetly and so cleverly." On 
 their departure, he escorted his guests to the gate.
 
 IBEAHIM 221 
 
 As they went out, the boy turned once more to 
 do obeisance to his Excellency : and, as ill luck 
 would have it, his eye fell on the lattice of the 
 harem in one corner of the court. This lattice did 
 not quite fill the window ; on one side was an opening 
 of some size, and from this opening peeped a face, 
 bright as a sunbeam, and disappeared like a flash 
 of lightning. It was the beauteous Melek, only 
 daughter of Hassan Aga. 
 
 From that hour Elias knew no peace. Not a 
 moment could he rest quiet indoors. He listlessly 
 roamed about the fields, as near as he durst to the 
 Aga's grand house. What he wanted he did not 
 know himself. To break through the walls and get 
 into the harem without being seen of eunuch or 
 slave, and to fall at Melek's feet and cry " I love 
 thee ! " would be about as easy as to take Stamboul 
 by storm. 
 
 Now the Aga too had his own pangs ; he too had 
 a trouble to eat his heart. that he might become 
 an eagle, and fly away to Olympus with the lad ! 
 From the chibouk to the Koran, from the Koran 
 to a governorship — step by step the Greek lad 
 might become an Aga. For his Excellency this 
 would be no difficult task. But the old chief had 
 teeth, and the plan required tact. At last the Aga 
 hit on the device of sending for the lad to teach
 
 222 IBRAHIM 
 
 him Greek. He wished to learn Greek because he 
 liked the Greek people ; he wished them well, and 
 he ought to understand their grievances. 
 
 When the old chief came home and heard all 
 this, he seemed ten years older. He told it to his 
 wife, and she with tears told her Elias. Elias 
 listened, and knit his brows ; then without a word 
 he set out for the Aga's house. 
 
 The Aga was out at Council at the moment ; so 
 Elias waited him in the courtyard. And as he 
 waited in the courtyard, he softly sang, with a 
 glance now and then at the enchanted casement. 
 It was not long before the sun rose once more, and 
 shed its beams through that aperture in the lattice. 
 Elias looked round him ; there was no one but a 
 single eunuch, and he stretched on the stone seat, 
 and snoring, with his face turned towards the door. 
 Not another soul was to be seen, nor a sign of life 
 at any of the windows, save only in that one corner, 
 where he caught glimpses of a lock of hair, or a 
 white hand, and now and again the corner of an 
 eye which made the blood run madly in the veins 
 of Elias. 
 
 There was no time to lose ; he must make it 
 clear that he had lost his heart to her, and that for 
 her he was ready to lay down his life. Speak to 
 her ? — God forbid ! Write ? — the prophet had
 
 IBEAHIM 22 
 
 q 
 
 made that hope vain, in forbidding a Turkish maid 
 
 to touch pen or paper. There was nothing left for 
 
 it but song ; and he sang to her in Turkish, softly, 
 
 softly, and clear, that she might understand. These 
 
 were the last words of the song : 
 
 " What time the Pleiades set over the hill, let the houri of 
 the morning come to the clump of willows, to sprinkle with 
 dew the wings of the nightingale which longs for her." 
 
 There were no willows near but a few that grew 
 by the brook, not many paces from the Aga's door. 
 
 The sonof ceased, and Elias waited to hear 
 whether the answer would be life or death. It 
 was life. 
 
 " Beki ex, Kouzoum, held e'i," murmured a sweet 
 voice behind the lattice. " Take care, take care, 
 the Aga is coming ! " 
 
 Elias turned, and saw the Aga walking along the 
 shore. He went forth to meet him. The Aga was 
 much pleased when he saw him. 
 
 "And where are your books ?" he asked. 
 
 " Books, Effendim," said Elias ; " from our books 
 you will learn nothing at all. I learnt Turkish by 
 talking with our neighbour Latif ; and Latif learnt 
 Greek by singing songs with me. But to sing with 
 your honour would hardly be fitting. So we can 
 talk together of an afternoon as you return from 
 the Council. In that way you will learn our lan- 
 guage beautifully."
 
 224 IBEAHIM 
 
 " Good," said the Agca, stroking his beard, " very 
 good, so we will. And you will come in afterwards 
 with me, and have a drink of sherbet." 
 
 " Effendim, if I do they will be all saying that I 
 have turned Turk. For my part, I do not care if I 
 do change my religion if it will please you ; but I 
 am thinking of my poor old mother, who would go 
 down with sorrow to the grave," 
 
 " No, my son," said the Aga, " I will never bid 
 you become one of us against your will. But one 
 thing I will tell you, and hide it deep in your 
 heart : if ever you do decide upon it, you need fear 
 no one, so long as I am alive." 
 
 Elias looked at him with a serious air, greatly 
 moved, and made him a low salaam. 
 
 The cunning Aga quite understood with whom he 
 had to deal. "His father's son," he thought to 
 himself ; " patience and time will be necessary 
 here." 
 
 " Very good, ogloum" said he ; " my son ; 
 
 we begin to-morrow." 
 
 And the Aga went indoors, while Elias took the 
 path by the seashore, singing as he went : 
 
 " GMderim, ghiderim, yoloom deskenmez, 
 
 Ardima bakarim sevdaim ghurenmez !" 
 " Onward and onward for ever I fare : 
 
 Mine eye looks behind me, my love is not there ! "
 
 IBRAHIM 225 
 
 His love was not to be seen, true ; but for all 
 that, his love saw him. Melek saw that he did not 
 go towards the village, where his mother was wait- 
 ing for him, but to the brook and the willows. 
 There he turned and sighed ; walked up and down, 
 to and fro, sat down and uprose again, until the 
 sun sank to rest and the stars were sprinkled about 
 the sky. He watched the setting of the Pleiades, and 
 counted each moment of the never-ending hours. It 
 seemed to him like a dream ; was he not mad, he 
 asked himself, to wait all these hours for an Aga's 
 daughter to come and meet him among the wil- 
 lows ? Melek, who had never been seen by sun or 
 moon ? 
 
 And then as these thoughts were passing through 
 his mind, he heard a quiet footfall among the dead 
 leaves. Elias trembled. He began to quiver with 
 longing because of his hidden joy. Then she had 
 understood his song, and her " Beki e'i " was not an 
 idle word ! The steps came nearer and nearer, until 
 he saw before him the form of a woman covered 
 with a cloak. He essayed to speak, but his tongue 
 clove to the roof of his mouth. He ran to catch her 
 in his arms, that he might sit by her side and 
 smother her with his kisses ; but the girl stretched 
 out her hand with a gesture of fear, and bade him 
 keep his distance : she had a message to give, and 
 
 p
 
 22G IBEAHIM 
 
 for that she had come. She was the faithful and 
 well-beloved slave of the all-beautiful Melek, sent 
 to say that the girl's heart craved no night-shadowed 
 passion, but the love of a whole life ; her life, she 
 said, was in his hands ; but there was only one way 
 to win her — he must become a follower of the 
 Prophet, and then she would be his own. 
 
 The maid departed, and Elias was left dumb and 
 desolate. How long he remained there, I know 
 not ; but I know that when he came home, his 
 father and the men were returning with torches 
 quenched after a night's search for the missing son. 
 He found some explanation, half truth, half false- 
 hood, and no more of it at that time. 
 
 But his mother was not satisfied. She questioned 
 her son again and again, where he had been all 
 night. 
 
 " I went to a tryst, if you must have it, with 
 the fairest fair of all the village, fairest and 
 wealthiest ! All night I waited, and she came not. 
 Now I am going to seek her father, to ask for his 
 daughter's hand. Your son needs no match- 
 makers ! He will carry the matter through by 
 himself. As for your fears of yesterday, be at rest 
 — I am not a child." 
 
 His mother, had she heard a word of such loves 
 at another time, would have rent her clothes that
 
 IBKAHIM 227 
 
 he would not allow her to find him a bride of her 
 own choosing : but now said nothing : only crossed 
 herself, thankful that her fear had been wide of the 
 mark, and that her son had not fallen into the hands 
 of the Turks. And before she had time to ask who 
 was this enchantress, Elias disappeared. 
 
 Straight to the great house he went. The Aga 
 had just ended his ablutions, and was drinking his 
 cup of coffee. At first he looked on the lad with 
 no friendly eye, for the opium fumes were still about 
 his wits ; however, he bade him be seated and 
 ordered coffee for him. 
 
 "Effendi mine!" said the bright youth, "it 
 will seem strange to you that I pay visits so early ; 
 but this will show that my business is of importance. 
 My life is in your hands ! " 
 
 " What is it janoum — my soul ? " asked the 
 Aga. 
 
 " You remember what you promised me yester- 
 day — when I was resolved, I was to inform you ? " 
 
 The Aga knit his brows in a frown, 
 
 " And your mother ? " said he. " Who wants to 
 have her misery on his conscience ? And your 
 father, too ? " 
 
 " Pardon me, EfFendi mine ! My father is him- 
 self half a Moslem ; my mother will weep and wait, 
 and in the end she will gTow calm. Suppose I
 
 228 IBRAHIM 
 
 were dead — What could she do then? Here 
 there is a choice betwixt two — the Prophet, or 
 death ! " 
 
 The Aga stood still, and looked him fuU in the 
 eyes. 
 
 "And who will kill you if you do not change 
 your faith?" 
 
 " Love ! Yesterday I entered your courtyard. 
 Up at the lattice of the window in the corner was a 
 white kitten that played with the sprays of jasmine. 
 Suddenly the kitten slipped, and fell into the 
 court, A face peeped out, a glance, a voice — it 
 was gone ! " 
 
 At this the Aga turned and strode in fury 
 towards the harem. 
 
 " Mercy ! Effendi mine ! stop ! If some one 
 must be punished, you must punish me, because I 
 had eyes and saw her ; and not a creature whom 
 the sun has never seen ! Plunge your dagger in 
 my bowels, that you may never need say that a 
 man has seen your daughter, and lives ! " 
 
 The Aga stood still, and looked angi'ily upon 
 him. 
 
 " Have you no dagger with you ? Here is mine ; 
 plunge it into my heart ! — Yet, remember your 
 promise of yesterday : remember what I shall be if 
 I become your son ! Remember that you have no
 
 IBEAHIM 229 
 
 son of your own ! Think what a terror is the 
 Greek who becomes a Moslem ; think in what 
 hands you will leave your power when Allah shall 
 one day call you to himself ! " 
 
 Now the Aga softened, and ere long he was 
 sitting again on his couch. Elias said no more. 
 He bowed his head, and awaited the Aga's 
 word. 
 
 " My son," said the Aga at last, " be well 
 advised in this matter. Think of your mother, and 
 your mother's curse. What blessing can you 
 expect after such a curse as that ? It will con- 
 sume you to ashes, both you and us ! " 
 
 " A thousand curses will fall harmless before the 
 power of your Prophet ! The Prophet wishes that 
 I should be his ! It was the Prophet made that 
 kitten fall ! " 
 
 To this, of course, the Aga had nothing to 
 answer. He rose and embraced the young man, 
 and sent for the tambourines. 
 
 An hour or two later, tambours and pistol-shots 
 woke the echoes in the village. It was the signal 
 of the circumcision of Ibrahim. 
 
 What happened in the house of Elias' parents 
 when the news came, not that their son was 
 about to apostatise, but that he had done so 
 already, and that he was to wed the daughter of
 
 , / 
 
 230 II3EAHIM 
 
 4 
 
 Hassan Aga ? That is another tale in itself, a long 
 and a miserable tale. 
 
 Ten days lasted the wedding festivities of Ibrahim 
 and Melek. Ten days the physicians came and 
 went at the house of the ill-starred chief. Ibrahim, 
 intoxicated with the love of his far-famed beauty, 
 neither asked nor bid any one tell him news of 
 his home. On the day when the tambours ceased 
 to sound in the Aga's house, that very day a 
 funeral procession came forth from the house of 
 the chief. The unhappy father could not bear up 
 under this thunderbolt which fell on his grey 
 head. His wife lived after him a few months, to 
 give time, as it would seem, for her to curse her 
 son root and branch. 
 
 Say what you will, you must believe sometimes 
 in the power of the curse. If there be nothing in 
 it, tell me how it came about that in three 
 months Melek lay dead ? Why did the Aga go 
 mad, so that they bound him hand and foot, and 
 scourged him mercilessly for a cure, but never a 
 cure was for him ? Why did Ibrahim himself come 
 nigh to losing his senses, and sold his houses, got 
 rid of his fields, and built that rocky eyrie up on 
 the castle rock, living like a cuckoo, and caring to 
 see neither Christian nor Turk, imtil some years 
 later he died, and in his will left a blessing.
 
 ;kVh 
 
 IBKJ^HIM 231 
 
 for it bade the people use his money to supply 
 the village with water, so that now his soul is 
 blessed by priests and imams alike ? What 
 was it brought all this woe upon him, if not 
 his mother's curse ?
 
 PBINTED Br 
 
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