v 

 
 A DEMIGOD 
 
 "Eicropa friov 
 
 ILIAD, xx., 210 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE 
 1 887
 
 Copyright, 1880, by HARPER & BROTHERS. 
 
 All rights reserved.
 
 TO 
 
 IHn iHtfe 
 
 2061823
 
 THE THEME. 
 
 Tin: Demigod s name was Hector Yyr. 
 
 He was evolved from ordinary humanity by a long- 
 continued process of artificial selection, aided by au 
 spicious fortune. 
 
 The natural pear is a wretched little rose-hip: art 
 has developed it into a Duchcsse d AngOuldme. 
 
 The wild horse can scarcely trot a mile in four min 
 utes: artificial selection has produced a Maud S. 
 
 The evolution of the Demigod and certain passages 
 from his history are herein recounted thus, I regret 
 to add, helping to frustrate one of the most cherished 
 purposes of his life. But what secret purpose so noble, 
 what precinct of the heart so sacred, as to be safe from 
 man s profane scrutiny? The general s plans of battle 
 arc known to his enemy almost as soon as to his own 
 officers, and the "President reads the secret counsels of 
 his Cabinet in his evening paper. 
 
 That the publication of this narrative is not the act 
 of perfidy to its hero it may for a while appear, will 
 be proved in due time, I trust, to everybody s satis 
 faction.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CIIAI-. PAOB 
 
 I. A MAD DOCTOU 7 
 
 II. AT THE PARTHENON 9 
 
 III. Tin: I KOIKSSOR 24 
 
 IV. Tin: TAYCKTUS 36 
 
 V. Tin; I!I:K;ANI>S 50 
 
 VI. "WrriHHT TIIK GATES 66 
 
 VII. Tin: Iv.jnsrnoN 81 
 
 VIII. Tin: " ANTIIKOI-ODAIMON " 96 
 
 IX. Tin: KKTKKAT Ill 
 
 X. Tin: VYKS AT HOME 127 
 
 XI. .Jr.Ai.orsY 143 
 
 XII. Tin: TKADITI-.N \i. OATII 159 
 
 XIII. THE REASON YA iiY-i-oKE" 178 
 
 XIV. MA.IOK I AII. ASTONISHES HIMSEI.K 193 
 
 XV. (UMKIIN Kl.ilKNS 203 
 
 XVI. IN r iin: STAUI.ICIIT 215 
 
 XVII. Tin: LAI-.UKATOKY 230 
 
 XVIII. Tin: SKKIM.NT IIi-i:< 2:5!) 
 
 XIX. Tin: SI;HI>KNT STIN(;S 254 
 
 XX. Tin: M.uou s KIDI; 267 
 
 XXI. Tin: OKDKAL 273 
 
 XXII. A NIGHT ov FEYEH 286 
 
 XXIII. ON Tin: \ LUANDA 294 
 
 XXIV. HKITOK VYU VISITS PKSI IIIXO 304 
 
 XX\". How THIS ST<>KY CAME TO BE AVuiTTEN . . . 311 
 
 XXVI. Ai IJi. .om 325 
 
 XXVII. A COUBT Kixia-TK.N . . 328
 
 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 I. 
 
 A MAD DOCTOR. 
 
 KKXKI.M VKUK, the great-great-great-great-grand 
 father of our hero, was a wealthy English physician, 
 who lived in Amsterdam in the very height of the 
 famous tulipomania. He became infected with the 
 prevailing madness, which in his case soon changed 
 to an entirely different form. Instead of attempting 
 to evolve new varieties of tulips, his thoughts ran on 
 the improvement of his own race. Failing to divert 
 the general enthusiasm into this new channel, he 
 suddenly disappeared, and nothing was ever after 
 wards seen or heard of him. One of his letters is 
 still extant, however, in which he declares his inten 
 tion to make a home for himself in the purest at 
 mosphere of Greece, to take to wife the handsomest 
 and wholesomest barbarian that money can buy, and 
 to enforce among his children the strictest code of 
 
 o 
 
 mental and physical health. 
 
 u Xatur," he writes, "hath not desyned Man to be 
 a beaste of prey. Y e devouring of flesh is but little 
 better than Caribalism [cannibalism]. It planteth 
 foul humours in the blood and lewde lusts in y e
 
 S A DEMIGOD. 
 
 heart. My children slial not be of this sorto, I 
 promise thee. Neither shal they cherisli ambitions, 
 the which burn vp tlic powers ofy c minde and bodyc 
 like a consuming fyre. Natur, lyke water, doth seckc 
 her own level. Genius doth seldome beget genius. 
 Wherefor they shall be trayned vp to voyde all 
 maner and degree of notorietie. Nay, my yonge 
 Impes shal sware to giue their lyves and powers to 
 harmonious self-nourture, to the ende y l they may 
 leaiie a goodlie heretage of mental and phisikal 
 health to their descendents, as y e master of an en- 
 tayled estate doth sware to transmit it with en- 
 c-reased seigniories to his heirs. 
 
 "Moreouer, they shal sware to impose a lyke oblK 
 gation vpon their children. So shall futur genera 
 tions see whether a Man be as good as a Tulype or 
 no. Did not the lawes of auncient Sparta breed vp 
 a race of gyantes? What hath ben don, can it not 
 be don agen ? Aye, and better yette." 
 
 For several years after Dr. Yere s disappearance 
 his friends tried to reopen communication with him, 
 but no clew to his hiding-place could be obtained, 
 and he was at last given up for dead. 
 
 Two centuries have buried him deeper than the 
 nethermost Troy.
 
 AT Till-: PARTHENON. 
 
 II. 
 
 AT THE 1 Aia II KXON. 
 
 IT is one of those clays in Athens when the faint 
 est cloud would be but a blemish on the blue vault 
 of the sky. Every shrub on Ilymettus and Penteli- 
 cus shows sharp and distinct through the crystalline 
 air. Even Panics and Cithreron seem an easy walk, 
 while Parnassus, seventy miles away, cuts the horizon 
 like a knife of pearl. 
 
 Among the ruins of the propyhva arc lounging a 
 little party of American tourists, whom we will pre 
 sent in due order. 
 
 On one of the broad marble steps sits Major War 
 ren Paul, a robust man of iifty, with closely cropped 
 hair, which shows only a sprinkling of its original 
 black, ruddy face flanked by full, granite- colored 
 whiskers, and the general forceful air of a political 
 demagogue or of a railroad manager. lie would 
 
 o o o 
 
 make but an indifferent specimen of either, how 
 ever, except in the haranguing of a mob of com 
 munists or strikers ; for though he possesses energy 
 enough, it usually expends itself so entirely in words 
 that it is followed by an inglorious reaction, and thus 
 his acts are apt to be whimsically inconsistent with 
 his speech. At home he will abuse a political can 
 didate in terms that even a campaign editor would
 
 10 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 hesitate to use, and then go straight to the polls and 
 vote for him. In his family he will storm like a 
 madman over their extravagance, and then make up 
 for his brutality by buying them luxuries they would 
 never dream of buying for themselves. But this 
 foible of his had its peculiar advantages. Without 
 it a far less unruly tongue would have cost him all 
 his friends ; few men, however, were more popular 
 than the loud -mouthed Major Paul. It was even 
 the cause of one of the proudest triumphs of his 
 life. 
 
 He had entered the army with the rank of captain. 
 For a while his company was a proverb of discipline ; 
 but the men soon discovered that his verbal car 
 tridges were always without ball, and then his com 
 pany was a proverb of anarchy. What was to be 
 done? Have him put on the general s staff? have 
 him detailed for special duty? Not for worlds his 
 colonel and fellow-officers would not lose so good a 
 fellow r from the regiment. Happy thought pro 
 mote him to the majorship ! 
 
 He has an ear for round, ringing words, like a mu 
 sician s for the concord of sweet sounds, and I half 
 think this is the true explanation of his frequent 
 philippics. A sonorous polysyllable or phrase will 
 always catch his attention, often at the expense of 
 the connected thought, and you will soon hear him 
 rolling it over his tongue as an expletive, in ludicrous 
 defiance of its meaning. " Boswell s Life of John 
 son !" he will say, for instance, as any one else would 
 say "Good gracious!" Time was when he swore,
 
 AT THE PARTHENON. 11 
 
 not for the wickedness of the habit, nor often to give 
 vent to his less amiable emotions, but simply on ac 
 count of the rousing resonance which unfortunately 
 belongs to most of the more common " swear words." 
 Since his wife s death, however, which had by some 
 persons been attributed to Divine indignation at his 
 fearful blasphemies as if Providence would hesi 
 tate to visit his transgressions directly upon his own 
 head ! he had tried to break himself of the habit, 
 and now swore big, but for the most part innocent 
 words, as a man chews gentian or slippery elm in 
 lieu of tobacco. 
 
 A little below the stair-way, on a battered plinth, 
 in the shadow of the pedestal of Agrippa, that with 
 its ugly height dwarfs the mutilated beauties of the 
 marbles around it, half reclines a tall, graceful young 
 lady, in whom a casual glance scarcely discovers the 
 daughter of the gallant major. Closer observation 
 reveals certain turns of the eye and tricks of gesture 
 so curiously like his that you almost wonder why 
 they do not make him as enchanting as they make 
 her. There is, too, an occasional vigor, perhaps I 
 should say luxuriance, in her speech even more strik 
 ingly suggesting the relationship between them. She 
 is in a state of sound health, which, in the good old 
 times, would have been unpardonably vulgar, but 
 which, in these bad new times, is more than offset 
 by rich color of cheek and lip, clear light of happy 
 eyes, and firm roundness of figure. 
 
 A young man is seated cross-legged on the ground 
 near her, playing a solitaire game of "jack-stones"
 
 12 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 with chips of marble, which, for aught lie knew, may 
 have been fragments of the famous Athene of the 
 Inner Temple. His face is a curious jumble of in 
 consistencies. The general cast is that of the con 
 ventional pirate low, heavy brows, eyes dark and 
 deep -set, nose strongly aquiline, lower jaw square 
 and firm, and, as if the owner aimed at completing 
 the picture, a long, drooping black mustache. But 
 the effect is spoiled, or rather redeemed, by an ex 
 pression of jocular good-nature, in strange contrast 
 with the forbidding form and color of the features. 
 You miss the skull and cross-bones from the black 
 flag, and see only a cap and bells in their stead. For 
 the rest, he has a long, athletic, though slightly round- 
 shouldered figure, and slender, shapely hands, dis 
 played to peculiar advantage in their present idle 
 employment. 
 
 Both he and his fair companion wear garments of 
 those coarse, neutral-tinted materials so curiously be 
 coming to people who can wear satin and broadcloth 
 when they choose, and which conduce so inevitably 
 to ease of speech and demeanor, just as satin and 
 broadcloth conduce to stateliness and formality. 
 There is little enough of stateliness or formality be 
 tween these two, at all events, for they are engaged 
 in a more than half serious quarrel ; though, for that 
 matter, they would be as likely to quarrel in satin 
 and broadcloth as in tweed and serge. Happily, 
 their quarrels never last long, and leave no more 
 clouds than a summer shower. 
 
 She has entered upon the propylsea with her shoes
 
 AT T1IE PARTHENON. 13 
 
 removed. This must not be understood to mean 
 that her little feet are actually nude, like those of 
 old Cecrops and his daughter a few rods distant, but 
 must be interpreted as simply describing her mental 
 condition. He, on the other hand, has tramped in 
 upon that consecrated ground like an irreverent Mos 
 lem. She has been trying to inspire him with some 
 thing of her own awe and admiration of the ruined 
 glories around them, while he has been profaning 
 them and exasperating her with stale puns and other 
 witless nonsense. 
 
 "Bobert Griffin!" she exclaims, at last, "I really 
 didn t know you were such a shallow, soulless creat 
 ure 1 / 
 
 "Oh, Madeline," he drawls, catching three stones 
 on the back of his hand and then in his palm, "I m 
 afraid you mean to insinuate something deroga 
 tory." 
 
 " Ugh ! you poor, miserable " 
 
 "Poor! By Jove, that s too much! I ve some 
 feelings, you heartless traducer !" 
 
 " I wish I could touch them," she retorted, through 
 her white teeth. "I wish anybody or anything 
 could." 
 
 Well, if you can t, you may be sure nothing else 
 can. "NY hat do you mean (toss), you little frump, by 
 calling me poor, when you know I ve got (toss) East 
 ern Pacific enough to buy that old knock-kneed, 
 broken -backed (toss) church that you admire so 
 much ?" 
 
 " You dare to speak so of the Parthenon ?"
 
 14 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 "Pooh! what is thereto dare? where s the dan- 
 ger?" 
 
 " Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. : 
 
 " Plucky fools ! It seems, however, that one angel 
 dares to tread here as well as one fool There, by 
 George, I ve missed it again ! Just hand me that 
 jack-stone behind your heel, will you ?" 
 
 " You talk of buying the Parthenon ! You ought 
 to be ashamed to mention your disgusting bonds in 
 its presence you sordid, blasphemous wretch !" 
 
 " Come, I say! /can call names as well as yon. 
 You snaky-haired Medusa ! You blood-thirsty can 
 nibal! Oh, for breath to tell thec what thou art! 
 But consider a little, my darling cousin, my sweet- 
 brier-rose you won t find those same bonds so dis 
 gusting in a year or so." 
 
 "Yes, I shall and their proprietor, too, unless he 
 changes in a great many respects. And, by-the-way, 
 I don t wish you to speak to me or look at me in 
 that way, Robert. You know very well you have 
 no right." 
 
 " Haven t I, indeed ?" cried Griffin, throwing away 
 his jack-stones, and leaping up in mock fun-. "We 
 haven t been promised to each other almost from our 
 infancy, have we?" 
 
 " Most certainly not," she answered, looking him 
 squarely in the face. "Whatever papa may have 
 said, / have made no promises, and I don t think I 
 ever shall." 
 
 "What treason is this? Wasn t it for that very 
 purpose we took this tour together? Wasn t this
 
 AT THE PARTHENON. 15 
 
 close and constant association to knit our souls in- 
 M-purably together? Mine is already knit; isn t 
 yours? 
 
 "I o\\\y wish you knew how utterly distasteful 
 such speeches are to me. You turn everything into 
 nonsense, even your professed love for me. How 
 can I believe in your professions, or place any value 
 upon them ? This close and constant association is 
 producing exactly the opposite effect to that which 
 you and papa pretend to hope from it. I am really 
 serious, Robert." 
 
 Her looks and tones confirmed her words. 
 
 Would you be better pleased with me," Griffin 
 asked, "if I were like young JSpooner, whose fond 
 est hopes you so mercilessly nipped in the bud ?" 
 
 "I should be immensely better pleased with you," 
 she replied, with an angry flush, "if you sometimes 
 showed that you had one-tenth of Dr. Spooner s heart 
 and soul." 
 
 " Pity he hasn t a head to match," sneered Griffin. 
 
 "Well," the little vixen darted back, in her high 
 key, " no one can accuse you of any such want of 
 symmetry. But," she added, as an instant but need 
 less antidote, " we were not talking of Dr. Spooner, 
 we were discussing a much more interesting subject 
 we were discussing you" 
 
 "Oh, me. Why will you always be lugging in 
 such deep and abstruse subjects, when I am trying 
 to rest my mind by a little light conversation ?" 
 
 "I don t know where we could find a lighter sub 
 ject," she answered, laughing in spite of herself.
 
 16 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 "Nonsense. You know I am full of heart and 
 soul, Madge." 
 
 " Take care, sir. You may really wish to use those 
 sacred words seriously some time, and iind yourself 
 like the soldier in battle who has broken his weap 
 ons in reckless play." 
 
 She said this with an air of solemn warning that 
 impressed even him. 
 
 " Words are never weapons, Madeline," he replied, 
 with a sudden accession of gravity and even dignity. 
 " Weapons are solid facts. No amount of play can 
 harm facts. You know my heart what more is 
 necessary? What do words amount to, anyway? 
 They re nothing but nitrogen and carbonic acid 
 gas." 
 
 " I know that s your valuation of them, yet I know 
 of no one who uses them more volubly than you do." 
 
 " Well," he returned, with a portentous sigh, " I ve 
 got to breathe" I may as well breathe through my 
 glottis as through my nose." 
 
 "You forget that you are not the only one con 
 cerned." 
 
 "Oh, I lore you? That s terrible. I thought I 
 only shocked you." 
 
 " Words must have some meaning to possess even 
 that power." 
 
 "So I haven t even the power to shock anybody ?" 
 threateningly. 
 
 "You needn t try" in alarm. 
 
 "You should have seen Aunt Eliza this morning. 
 I had blundered into some of my imprudent speeches,
 
 AT THE PARTHENON. 17 
 
 and she went so far as to say no gentleman would 
 speak like that. I told her I didn t profess to be a 
 gentleman, that it was only another name for imbe 
 cile. She said I was not only no gentleman, but no 
 Christian. I replied that I made no pretensions to 
 either title, that Christians were cither hypocrites or 
 fanatics. I thought the poor old virgin would go 
 mad. W/tct are youf she shrieked. A laughing 
 philosopher, said I; a mere animal with senses to 
 enjoy, and with just prudence enough to avoid crime 
 and disaster. : 
 
 Madeline listened to his story without a smile. 
 "I am more than half convinced," she said, "that 
 you gave her your true genus and species." 
 
 "Course I did Homo Pcrditus" 
 
 "Then, of course, you cannot reasonably expect 
 me to have anything more to say or do with j ouf" 
 
 "I suppose not" with a sigh of resignation. 
 "Henceforth we must be as if we had never met." 
 
 "Good-by." 
 
 "(iood-by. Try to think of me as I was in the 
 innocent days of my childhood." 
 
 "I shall try not to think of you at all." 
 
 She rose and walked leisurely towards the stair 
 way of the propylfea. The major had by this time 
 left his seat on the steps, and had disappeared on the 
 plateau of the akropolis. Griffin sprang up and over 
 took Madeline. 
 
 " Where are you going?" he asked. 
 
 " I m going to find papa." 
 
 " May^I go, too T
 
 18 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 "If you ll stop your abominable, tiresome non 
 sense." 
 
 "Now, isn t that rather hard on a poor fellow who 
 has only been doing his best to entertain you?" 
 
 " Can t you see, you poor, dear boy, that you have 
 been going about it in exactly the wrong way? 
 Can t you get rid of the absurd idea that what you 
 call fun is entitled to precedence over everything 
 else, and at all times? Can t you realize that there 
 are some things too sacred to be trifled with ? In 
 stead of increasing by your sympathy the pleasure 
 we might both enjoy here, you only I confess I 
 cannot understand your insensibility to this wonder 
 ful scene, with all its associations. How can you look 
 upon those ruins, and desecrate them with evcry-day 
 chatter, especially every-day puns? I should think 
 their very names would make some impression upon 
 you." 
 
 She had stopped walking during this appeal, and 
 now seated herself on one of the steps. Griffin was 
 absently tracing the figures in the sculptured rubbish 
 which lay around them with the end of his walking- 
 stick. 
 
 "Hang it, Madeline!" he said, bringing the stick 
 down with a whack upon one of the marble blocks, 
 "you must remember I m not made of such refined 
 clay as you are. I m only an every-day sort of fel 
 low, and can talk only every-day talk. If I -were 
 promoted to a regular member s seat on High Olym 
 pus, I should probably forfeit it the very first day by 
 some vile pun. I suppose it only shows the coarse-
 
 AT THE PARTHENON. 19 
 
 of my nature, but, to tell you the honest truth, 
 I never believed that people who talk classical rhap 
 sodies really fed as they talk. They only want to 
 show how exquisitely aesthetic they are. I I 
 don t mean you, of course." 
 
 " I don t profess to be made of finer clay than you 
 are, 1 returned Madeline, well pleased that he was at 
 last reduced to seriousness, " but as to saying what I 
 don t feel well, if you choose to think me such a 
 hypocrite " 
 
 "Didn t I jnst say I didn t mean you?" 
 
 " I really do feel a great deal more than I can ex 
 press. I don t see how any one can help it here. I 
 never was in any other place that affected me as this 
 does. Kowhere else have I ever felt such a glow of 
 tender emotions. Don t interrupt me, please. Let 
 me talk to you, for once, as I would to any one else. 
 The Parthenon, especially, seems to me like a vast, 
 noble intelligence clothed in a form of perfect beau 
 ty, lamenting its own downfall. I have no words to 
 express the exquisite sorrow that fills me the long 
 ing to see it restored in all its symmetry and gran 
 deur and to think that only two centuries ago it 
 was almost uninjured ! I feel like speaking with 
 bated breath in that sublime presence. It seems as 
 if the great shade of Phidias hovered in the blue air 
 over it." 
 
 "Like the Spectre of the Brocken," interposed 
 Robert, his face lighting up with self-appreciation, 
 " big only because it is so far off. Come, now, I call 
 that a mighty good comparison. I don t suppose
 
 20 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 Phidias was much ahead of some of the great artists 
 of to-day, do you ?" 
 
 "Well," returned Madeline, impatiently, "if that 
 is your real judgment, I abandon you as an incorri 
 gible." 
 
 Griffin s brow contracted a little. "I suppose I 
 am a lamentable specimen of ignorance and vulgari 
 ty. I don t understand how you can condescend to 
 associate with such a peasant." 
 
 "Oh, fudge! I know very well you don t really 
 feel as you talk, as you say about classical rhapso- 
 dists. You only talk as you do for the sake of exas 
 perating me." 
 
 Griffin reflectively poked the stones with his stick 
 a few moments, and then said, 
 
 " Perhaps you are right. I don t pretend to under 
 stand myself very well. As I said a little while ago, 
 the subject is altogether too profound for me. Uncle 
 Warren talks just as I do, only a great deal more so." 
 
 " Oh, papa ! I don t mind his sneers any more than 
 I do his scolding. Everybody knows the more he 
 abuses a thing the more he really respects it. There s 
 nothing he berates more than the classics and the 
 classic countries, yet you know he wanted you to go 
 to Harvard, and here we ve been in Greece longer 
 than in any other country since we left Boston. He 
 spent a long time yesterday at the Theseum, and I 
 have no doubt we shall presently find him worship 
 ping the Parthenon. Let s go up and see." 
 
 So saying, she sprung up again, and led the way 
 through terraced colonnades, an avenue of beautiful
 
 AT THE PARTHENON. 21 
 
 (Isolation, past great monoliths prone and stained 
 Avith the mellow gold of centuries, until they stood 
 within the ramparts of the akropolis. Close at hand 
 rose the rocky tower of Lycabettus. A little farther 
 on, the silver of vast olive-groves gleamed in the sun 
 light, threaded by the white line of the Piraeus rail 
 way. Away in the horizon waved the mountains of 
 "Morea, and the blue ^Kgean lay around its islands. 
 AVithin the parapet lay scattered everywhere shat 
 tered columns, friezes, drums, fragments of the en 
 tablature, and sculptured marble in every stage of 
 mutilation. From the midst of all this the Tem 
 ple of the Virgin soared into the vivid blue, like the 
 palace of a dream. 
 
 u What did I tell you?" exclaimed Madeline, with 
 a laugh, waving her hand towards a portly figure 
 with its back towards them, motionless as the Colos 
 sus of llhodes, and in a similar attitude. "Now will 
 you pretend you don t admire classical ruins f she 
 cried, startling her father from his reverie. 
 
 " Great Thomas Jefferson, how you scared me ! I 
 thought you were one of those old she-gods come to 
 
 / O 
 
 life again !" 
 
 " Not a very strange mistake," said Robert Grif- 
 h n. u I ve often thought so myself." 
 
 " Thank you both," laughed Madeline, " particu 
 larly for the old. Papa, dear, I beseech you not to 
 say she-gods again; it s altogether too Saxon an 
 expression for this place, which you know you rev 
 erence in your heart. Didn t we just catch }*ou wor 
 shipping at the shrine of Athene?"
 
 22 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " Il. m pli ! you may call it worshipping if yon like. 
 It s the way a good many worship at our modern 
 shrines. I was estimating the outrageous waste of 
 material and skilled labor here. That building alone 
 must have cost half a million dollars, and what, in 
 the name of the Young Men s Christian Association, 
 was it ever good for but to look at? But that s all 
 those old Greeks lived for. They were a set of pre 
 posterous, effeminate coxcombs. They ate pickles 
 and chalk to tone down their muscles into smoother 
 outlines. They thought it was vulgar to have the 
 muscles of men, and so only the statues of barbarians 
 and satyrs show anything like real manhood. Talk 
 about their being a noble type of humanity! Bax 
 ter s Saints Rest ! your true Greek athlete was a 
 pretty, rose -water -suck ing monstrosity. l Athlete T 
 Head of Ileliogabalus ! I d bet on Madge in a fair 
 fight with one of em !" 
 
 Her father s coarseness afflicted poor Madeline even 
 more than her cousin s frivolity. As far as she was 
 concerned, their ravages were worse than those the 
 classic precincts around her had already suffered \ for 
 while Time and Turk had mutilated and defaced 
 only the marbles, her companions seemed bent on an 
 nihilating the very soul of poetry and romance that 
 other iconoclasts Lord Elgin and all had left in- 
 
 o 
 
 tact. 
 
 " I don t know why you brought me here," she 
 said, turning away with a grief and anger she rarely 
 felt towards her father. She walked slowly towards 
 the eastern parapet, complaining to herself : " Why
 
 AT THE PARTHENON". 23 
 
 couldn t they lot me enjoy it as T wanted to? Men 
 have no more feeling or sense than a stone. I never 
 will go anywhere with either of them again ! v But 
 soon her thoughts were diverted by the glories of the 
 eastern landscape, which the sun was painting in a 
 thousand brilliant lines. It was not long before she 
 was descanting, with all her wonted enthusiasm, to 
 the two penitent delinquents upon the mysterious, 
 ragged relics of the Pelasgic "Walls, the stately ruin 
 of the Temple of Olympian Zens, the decrepit old 
 llissus tottering along at the foot of llymettus, and 
 the proud Lycabettus, with skirts of green velvet 
 and long, soft train of shadow. 
 
 In an hour or two the party descended. Pacing 
 the inspection of a bright-eyed soldier, whose duty it 
 was to see that no relic was carried away, they wound 
 through the grove of huge aloes beneath the .south 
 ern wall of the akropolis, thus avoiding the; miserable 
 lints, built of mud, stones, and many a sculptured 
 fragment once precious, that skirt the western base. 
 They found the narrow, horribly -paved streets 
 thronged; for, as usual, all Athens was out-of-doors. 
 AVhatever they see, Athenians must lie seen rich or 
 poor, young or old. beautiful or ugly, in embroidered 
 silk or dirty linen, they must be seen. So they 
 were all there gay /w/V/w/-.* in their crimson jack- 
 ami snow-white/ 7 /.v; black-eyed ladies in 
 jaunty gold-tasselled fez ; beggars in their rags, and 
 Franks and (i reeks, dressed like Franks in sober black 
 and gray. 
 
 The picturesque (Jreek costume is fast giving place
 
 24 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 to the unromantic coat and trousers of Western Eu 
 rope ; but there are certain classes who will, for 
 many years to come, proudly wear the scarlet jacket 
 and white fustanelli, as we still find, here and there 
 in our own country, the blue swallow-tail and bright 
 buttons of a past generation. 
 
 As our friends drove past long rows of one-storied, 
 tumble-down shops and dwellings, towards their great 
 hotel in the Square of the Constitution, Major Paul 
 told, with much satisfaction and many congratula 
 tions, of a new guide and interpreter whose services 
 he had secured, Professor Markos Tsiiras a real pro 
 fessor, mind you late of L Arvarion, formerly of 
 the island of Corfu, " where Greek and English are 
 spoken in equal purity/ 
 
 III. 
 
 THE PROFESSOR. 
 
 PROFESSOR TSARAS, or Daskalomarkotsaras, as lie 
 was called for short in his own language, was a thin, 
 nervous little man, with a suggestion of the typical 
 Greek beauty in his straight nose, dark eyes, and olive 
 cheeks. lie was impulsive, inquisitive, cunning, 
 polite, keen at a bargain, and intensely patriotic at 
 least in words. Living in a country totally unable 
 to support its large proportion of professional citizens 
 in a state befitting their occupations, he was as poor 
 in purse as he was rich in education. There were no
 
 THE PROFESSOR. o-> 
 
 subjects upon which his nimble tongue ran more nn- 
 iiiii lv than his own attainments and the injustice 
 of Fortune, who lavished her favors upon the igno 
 rant and the stupid, and withheld them from those 
 who, like himself, had the brains to appreciate them. 
 Like most of his countrymen, he was quite ready to 
 turn an honest <// <>c/t//i in almost any way that offered, 
 from translating a hook to running of errands; so, 
 when Major Paul applied to him for a trustworthy 
 dragoman, he immediately proposed himself, with 
 the most flattering recommendations. 
 
 When Greek meets Yankee in the way of trade, 
 then comes the tug of war. It was a good-natured 
 warfare in this case, however, and at last the terms 
 were satisfactorily arranged. Tsaras agreed to act as 
 interpreter and guide, and to provide food, lodging, 
 and transportation for the party at ten dollars j / 
 <l iii, not including lak*/tr<H/t to servants, dri\ 
 etc. by no means an unimportant item. 
 
 "Monsieur Paul," he said, shaking his head with 
 most impressive meaning, "I congratulate you for 
 the excellent contract you have maiike. I shall saiife 
 you more as my remuneraiition each days. You are 
 ver acute, Moi^u-ur Paul, but you know not how 
 terrible you shall be cheat if you shall try to maiike 
 the contract with Greek oticodespfaai and ayo(j idt<ii /: 
 yotfself." 
 
 The party made several short excursions to Eleu- 
 sis, Marathon, Sunium, the summits of Ilymettus 
 
 * Landlords and muleteers.
 
 2G A DEMIGOD. 
 
 and Pentelicus and then tlic major signified liis 
 desire to visit Sjmrtu, and that most magnificent of 
 all the Greek ranges, the Taygetus. 
 
 "I want to see the people who live among those 
 mountains," lie said. " I have heard that they are 
 the direct descendants of the ancient Spartans, and 
 that they have inherited the strength and hardihood 
 of their ancestors. If that is true, they must be a 
 most remarkable people, sir, and I want to make their 
 acquaintance." 
 
 They were seated in a cafe in the Square of the 
 Constitution, smoking nargiles and sipping Cretan 
 wine. A Bavarian band, just outside, was playing 
 Greek and German airs, to the great annoyance of 
 some palikars, who, with true Greek inquisitiveness, 
 were vainly trying to divine what the distinguished- 
 looking Frank was saying. AVhat to them were the 
 tuneful strains of the Hymn of the Revolution 
 
 " Atvrt Traict rwv K 
 
 H 7rarpi aa irpofficaXil " 
 
 but a cover to some possible treason on the part of 
 their learned countryman or of the foreigner? They 
 could hear the "Asurs " at any other time. 
 
 " Yeas," replied Tsaras, highly pleased. " I can 
 tell to you wond ful stoaries of the Mainotes. They 
 perrformed prodigee of valor in the Revolution. You 
 shall faind glorious examples of the Greek raa ce 
 among them, and you shall be convince that we are 
 not the degeneraate pipple the worrld thing we are. 
 Aah yeas, we have gret many heroes in Greece to-
 
 THE PROFESSOR. 27 
 
 dnv, gret many unknown Lconidas. Mbotzaris was 
 
 > / 
 
 not the las no, Monsieur Paul \vc have grot many 
 more hero as brail ve laike Mbotzaris. Have not you 
 heaiTcl the naiime VyrT 
 
 Vere -Verel Oh yes. It s an English name." 
 
 "Engleesh! O d nl^ol.^ ! no; Greek. It is the 
 naiime of a wond ful familee among the Mainotes. 
 P raps we inns not belief all those stoaries which 
 comes to us of the familee Yyr, becose some of those 
 stoaries be laike aah miracle. For instanz : one 
 young man is call the infirm Ilerakles. His rilly 
 naiime is Hector Vyr, and it shall not be udithYultec 
 to aah arraiinge Twelf Laiibors of his exploit which 
 shall resemble those lailbors of the old Ilerakles. One 
 taime, it says, he purrsned a band of klephts ten 
 kilometres, and he knock them down this all distan/ 
 with the bodee of a klepht which he have kill with 
 his onlee hands!" 
 
 "Pooh! 1 can beat that." said the major, con 
 temptuously. Haven t you ever heard of the Amer 
 ican Ilerakles, I);r:y Crockett, and how he used to 
 kill Indians with llashes of lightning from his eyes ." 
 
 >% Aah, you maiike the joke with me, Monsieur 
 Paul; but 1 tell to you the only truth, laike as it is 
 tell to me. No klepht have the braiivery to come 
 near to his iilds or to his orrchards. Hector Yyr 
 shall never lose sheeps, and he pays not aah what 
 you call " 
 
 -I .lack-mail ?" 
 
 " Yeas. Hector Yyr never pays black-mails !" 
 
 "Why, then, in the name of Uunyan s Pilgrim s
 
 28 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 Progress, " asked Major Paul, " doesn t lie come forth 
 and drive the cussed venomous vermin from your 
 country altogether ?" 
 
 "Aah, Monsieur Paul, that is the mos sti-ai ingr.- 
 thing. Yeas. He shall not be induce to leave his 
 home. With all his power and his braiivery, he have 
 not the ainbection. The Hellenic Gov munt have 
 n make to him the offer to command in the arrinec, 
 but he shall not accept not any offices in the urrmee, 
 not in the Boulc" 
 
 "But I should think patriotism would call him 
 out, if ambition didn t." 
 
 " Aah," replied Tstiras, shaking his head, " not any 
 man find stands Hector Yyr. He is wond ful mod 
 est, laike he is wond ful strong. It is difficultee to 
 even see him ; for, although he have not the fear to 
 faiice a arrmee of cnemee, he shall run from a visitor 
 laike as he shall run from the didbolou /" 
 
 " Then we shall stand rather a slim chance of see 
 ing this demigod of yours," suggested the major. 
 
 " Slim ? Aah, you min little chance. Yeas. If 
 we shall see him we shall be fortunaiite more as any 
 man at all." 
 
 " Except the klephts." 
 
 " Yeas, except the klephts. They shall be more 
 fortunaiite if they do not see him." 
 
 " He has a very convenient habit for a d innjod in 
 these days," remarked the major, in a somewhat sar 
 castic tone. " We have sharper eyes and more criti 
 cal tests than they had in the time of Homer." 
 
 " You do not belive ? Well, we shall see. You
 
 THE PROFESSOR. 09 
 
 shall leave my conntroe with different thoughts as 
 when you have came here. Monsieur Paul." 
 
 Very probable, professor. By-the-way, speaking 
 of klephts, I suppose you mean briyanilxC 
 
 Yeas. T-iit all the klephts are not necessaiiry 
 brigands. The naame klepht min rillce n\<> nnf,i nicer, 
 which mos often are wandering shepherds, !>I<icho- 
 poimenes. They live in the stronghold of the mount 
 ains unt l they have exhaust the grass for their 
 lierds, and too friquent the booty for thcyself. Then 
 they go way very <piee<-k to other stronghold. The 
 principal rizzon that it is difficultee to exterrminaatc 
 them is becose they are BO acquaint with the countreo 
 that they easily escaape from those purrsuit. Whaile 
 their enemee climb toilfully upon one mountain, they 
 iiv ea>v away laikc tlie birds to other. They shall 
 go liftee, .-ixtee kilometres in one naight, over mount 
 ains which other men shall faind impassable. The 
 Hellenic Gov mnnt is aah asperse mos unjustlcc 
 for rizzon of the klephts. The nailtions inns have 
 the sympathee fr us, but they have not the sympa- 
 thec. They say the mos terrible -lander agains us. 
 Thev say, CJreece is the (, aave of Adullam, and the 
 (i reeks are a naiitioii of assassin. Listen. Monsieur 
 Paul!" 
 
 lie took from his pocket a scrap of newspaper, 
 and read, " Greece is geograapbioallee a part of 
 Turkey; moraallee a continuaiition of Hades; social- 
 lee an offshoot of Soho Square. The land is in the 
 hands of brigands; the only law observed is the law 
 of pillage ; the only king recognaized is King Death !
 
 30 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 "Those, Monsieur Paul, is the senti iiu -nt of a 
 countryman of the Kngleesh hero, Loml P.<vn>n. who 
 was our brailve friend one gret philhellene. What 
 you thing of me if I shall say New York is a con- 
 tinuaiition of Hades, becose multitude of thiefs haide 
 in her had strita, which laugh and wag their head at 
 the gov mimt ? We inns not be censure beeose 
 Engleesh and American travellers are robbed in our 
 mountains, no more as you inns be censure becose 
 Greek travellers are robbed in your bad strits, Mon 
 sieur Paul/ 
 
 " That is hardly a fair comparison, professor," re 
 plied Major Paul, with a frown. " We have no or 
 ganized bands of cutthroats roaming over the length 
 and breadth of our land. If we had, by the Infernal 
 Blacksmith, we should declare war, and sweep them 
 into the Atlantic Ocean !" 
 
 " Declare war !" almost shrieked Tsaras. "Do not 
 we, too, also declare war? It is war without be 
 gin and without end. But Greece is not all over- 
 weave with railway laike your countrce. We have 
 all only mountain and valley. Our only roads are 
 ah ravines in the mountains, and the channel of 
 rivers which have dry up. Every plaiices have caiives 
 and thickets which cannot be ah penetraiite, where 
 the klephts hide theyself in one little moment. 
 Some taime we have draive them away farr to the 
 north ; but the Turk skijlloi (dogs) they recive them 
 with open arms, and when we have come to our 
 homes, the klephts they come -too, also. 
 
 " Also we are not strong laike your countree,
 
 T11K I ROFKSSOR. 31 
 
 M .-:> nr Paul. AVe ha\ rec>\vrr ourself of 
 
 the Turkish oppiv-si.>n. We are braiive and patriot, 
 but we are link* number. The naiition.s inu.s no; 
 slander us. they mil* hellup us. .Monsieur Paul, th> <j 
 Iull}> 
 
 Ts&raa -; -kc with much show of feeling. His 
 ;res were numerous, and in the most impassioned 
 lie amse from his seat and walked back and 
 forth by liis side 1 of the table. 
 
 "But I have heard," said the major, after a rellect- 
 ive silence on both sides, "that you do not always 
 punish your robbers, even when you catch them." 
 
 "Punish our robbers? aah, we are too sof in our 
 heart. The (Jreek pipple be heroes, and they love 
 heroes. The klephts are not laike the En^leesh 
 thiefs they be laike hero. They were force to 
 liaid- they self in the mountains from the Turkish 
 tl nllnlu i. They were saiifo tlierc, .Monsieur Paul, and 
 they fly away down upon their oppressors laike the 
 B fly down upon the jackal. Kadi klepht were 
 laike the Swit/. hero, Willuni Tell. Thcv wei e the 
 mos* braiive in all the arnnee of the revolution ; and 
 when the war finish, they faind their homes all ^oiie, 
 they faind their bee/ness all irone. What inns they 
 do what mus they </<>. Monsieur Paul ( They inns 
 hey mils have hou>e, they inns have garment. 
 They have learrn to love braiivery in the mountains, 
 and they st:iy in the mountains. They were her 
 which fai^ht for liberrty they are klephts which 
 fai^ht for meat. Is ir not the ju-: 
 
 Major Paul felt but little admiration for the flarn- 
 3
 
 83 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 ing eye, the erect figure, the ringing tones, and the 
 impassioned gestures of the speaker. His prevail 
 ing feeling was one of disgust and irritation at the 
 abominable cause the little professor was pleading. 
 Controlling himself, lie said as quietly as possible, 
 
 "So your people admire the rubbers, and are even 
 said to feed and shelter them, and help them to es 
 cape from their pursuers, when they have any." 
 
 " Aah, Monsieur Paul, are not we a unhappee pip- 
 pie ? The otkodeaptie* knows if he tell the gov munt, 
 or if he refuse meat and hellup, his sheeps shall be 
 robbed away, and his house shall be burn with faire. 
 It is better he pay ah black -mails than he be 
 ruin." 
 
 " What do you say to the charges against your 
 government of being in collusion with the rascals?" 
 
 "Pardon. I do not und stand." 
 
 " Why, your government, or at least prominent 
 members of it, are accused of secretly helping the 
 brigands and sharing in their plunder. What do you 
 say to that, professor?" 
 
 Tsaras s cheek flushed darkly. 
 
 " Monsieur Paul, all those is black lies of the En<r- 
 
 7 o 
 
 leesh goddams! The Hellenic gov munt does all 
 what he is able. And he has done gooddill, Monsieur 
 Paul. He has swip away the piraiite from the tsea, 
 and many taime he has draive the klephts to the top 
 of the mountains. lie gives protections all which 
 lie is able ; lie sends soldiers with the traveller,, and 
 he demands no recompense for the protections. We 
 are not rich laike to you, Monsieur Paul, but wo
 
 TIIK I KoFKSdOK. :{:j 
 
 liavc hellupcd to pay the ransom of foreign capti 
 although it is not our obligaiiti.m. Wlu-ii Lorrd Mun- 
 
 ter and liis friends were captive. King Georgia* 
 oll ered his royal bodee for the ho>ta;ige. AY hat can 
 we do more ( Hut it is not enough. The naiitions 
 he eaame black lies as if his Majestee and all the 
 Greeks are klephts. Oh, Monsieur Paul, shall you 
 not have the compassion with us ? Is it not one gret 
 infaniee C 
 
 Major Paul had no disposition to tempt further 
 the little Hellenist s patriotic ardor, particularly as 
 the inquisitive palikars had moved their chairs near 
 er, and had evidently gathered some inkling of the 
 nature of the discu.-sioii, although probably not one 
 of them understood a word of Knglish. He readily 
 nted to the injustice done to the Greek nation, 
 and in characteristic language e.xpre.-sed his sym 
 pathy. 
 
 nut," he added, his thoughts taking a more prac 
 tical turn. "I must say, professor, this talk has not 
 stimulated my appetite for an excursion to the Tay- 
 getus. To tell the truth, I feel a little How do 
 I know that I sha ift be gobbled up, as Muncaster 
 was r 
 
 ( )h, my friend, have not fear. You shall be saiife 
 there laike as you are saiife in Athens. The klephts 
 never come into the J eloponnc.-e. They are all in the 
 North. The Mainotes are a rude pipple, but they 
 are honest and also they are hospitaiiMe. No tra 
 ler takes the esetirt when he goes among them. JJut 
 the Hellenic gov munt shall give to you the escort, if
 
 34 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 you shall ask him, as I have said to yon." Then, 
 drawing his little figure up to its full height, he con 
 cluded with the reassuring reminder : " / shall be 
 your guide, Monsieur Paul !" 
 
 When the subject of the excursion came up in the 
 family circle, no one was more enthusiastic in its fa 
 vor than Madeline. The country of the old Spartans ! 
 The mountains where they left their sickly babies to 
 perish ! The rocky, pathless wilderness ! The Morea 
 and the .^Egcan spread out before them like a pano 
 rama! The mules and the pack-saddles, and a thou 
 sand romantic adventures! The brigands, too, the 
 brigands ! " Oh, papa, when shall we start C y 
 
 " When shall we start !" cried her father, when he 
 could recover his breath ; " who said anything about 
 your going?" 
 
 " But I am going, am I not ?" 
 
 " Great Blue Dragon ! I should as soon think of 
 your going for a soldier ! No, no, my pet ; you and 
 your aunt Eliza will study art and architecture in 
 Athens, while Robert and I take this little trip by 
 ourselves." 
 
 " Professor Tsaras assures us it is perfectly safe," 
 timidly ventured Aunt Eliza. 
 
 " What ! you want to go, too ?" 
 
 " I should like to very much, if it w r ould be agree 
 able." 
 
 " You, a sensible American woman of forty !" 
 
 " I beg your pardon thirty-nine." 
 
 "A\ r ell, that s too old for such insane nonsense. 
 One would suppose twenty-one ought to be," with
 
 THE PROFESSOR. 33 
 
 an indignant glance at his daughter. "* Males and 
 pack-saddles! 1 vh<<l<l You two have persuaded 
 me to do a great many silly things, but you won t 
 make a fool of me this time. Do you think I m such 
 a stark, staring idiot as to take you on a journey you 
 couldn t endure for a day ( Il m pli! I should be as 
 bad as your Spartans with their babies!" 
 
 "May we go, papa?" Madeline asked, with her 
 ino-r seductive- smile. She knew the opposition 
 would soon be exhausted at this rate. 
 
 " Xo /* thundered the major; " of course you 
 won t go. .Mules and pack -saddles! You d look 
 well on a park -saddle, /////. would! and your aunt 
 Eliza (irandmother of John the T.apti^t! she d 
 tumble off more than forty tinus a minute!" 
 
 "Oh no. Warren, I think not. I m considered a 
 very respectable horsewoman." 
 
 1 say you tcii!<l ! What do you know about it? 
 Do you think the (ireek mountains are like .Icpson s 
 riding -school? You talk about brigands!" turn 
 ing fiercely bark to his daughter k I suppose you 
 think they re the fascinating gentlemen that sing in 
 the opera lonched hats with plumes, silk, and gold 
 lace, and slashed BleeVtt, OllendoriT s (ireek ( i ram- 
 mar ! You d like an introduction, wouldn t you? 
 You d find their etiquette a little different from New- 
 bury Street. You wouldn t fall in love with any of 
 em, I ll swear though they might fall in love with 
 you -to your everlasting sorro\v T 
 
 " Ladies haw gone plenty of times, and got back 
 safely, urged Aunt Kli/a.
 
 30 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 This brought on another peal. It thundered and 
 lightened and hailed, until the meteorological maga 
 zine gave out, when the usual and expected result 
 followed : 
 
 The ladies went. 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE TAYGETU8. 
 
 THE American Minister obtained from the Hellenic 
 Government a circular letter addressed to the various 
 demarchs through whose domains the party was to 
 pass, bespeaking their kindly offices. The Govern 
 ment also sent despatches to the same officials, advis 
 ing them of the honor in store for them. If there 
 were any brigands on or near the projected route, 
 therefore, their game was pointed out to them in 
 ample season. 
 
 During the weeks which Major Paul had spent in 
 Athene, he had become friendly with the American 
 Minister, who very gladly showed his friendship by 
 offering his yacht to transport the party from the 
 Piraeus to Gytheion, whence they were to proceed 
 on horseback to Sparta. 
 
 Notwithstanding repeated assurances that there 
 was not the slightest occasion for a military escort 
 anywhere south of the Isthmus, Major Paul had per 
 sistently asked for one. So, on reaching Sparta he 
 found a lieutenant and six gens-d" 1 armes awaiting him.
 
 THE TAYGETTS. 37 
 
 Apart from its associations, the renowned city of 
 Lvcurgus presented hut few attraction..-. Very little 
 of the old city remains. The Americans inspected 
 the ruins of a tomb, alleged probably falsely to be 
 that of Leonidas, and an amphitheatre where the 
 Spartans were assembled when the news came of the 
 disastrous defeat at Sellasia. 
 
 "They recived the intelligence," said Tsaras, 
 with indifference, although it maiide them subject 
 to the Macedonians. They sit still uiit l the trajcdee 
 was iinish." 
 
 Beside these two objects and a temple or two, they 
 saw little except a collection of poor dwellings, whose 
 inhabitants resembled their remote predecessors only 
 in the extreme simplicity of their fare. It is true 
 the modern city has, within the last few years, made 
 a considerable advance in prosperity and civilixation; 
 still the prophecy of Thncydides, that from the re 
 mains of the two cities posterity would have reason 
 to nnder-estimate Sparta as much as to over-estimate 
 Athens, ha.; been amply fuliilled. 
 
 I Jut when our travellers looked beyond the city 
 they saw enough to admire. Along the west were 
 ranged the live grand, snow-capped peaks of thu 
 Pentedactylon. In the east towered Mts. Parnon 
 and Tarax. Between these the fertile valley of the 
 Eurotas stretched up and down as far as the eye could 
 see. The mountains form huge natural bulwarks, 
 and show why no artiiicial defences have ever been 
 constructed. The strength of the Spartan hege 
 mony, which lived on and on while everywhere else
 
 38 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 aristocracy was tottering to the ground, was due not 
 more to the laws of Lycurgus than to the topography 
 of Laconia. Sparta, with her river, her garden-like 
 environs, and her gigantic natural walls of defence, 
 formed a stronghold impregnable alike by assault or 
 siege. Her perioeci starved among the mountains, 
 while, within her own little area, it was easy to keep 
 her foot upon the necks of the helots. 
 
 From Sparta Major Paul and his party took up 
 their line of march for the Taygetus. The path led 
 through magnificent groves of olives, mulberry and 
 fig trees, and plane-trees planted in the beginning of 
 the Turkish rule. They soon reached the village of 
 St. John, whose houses were almost hidden in foli 
 age a very romantic little town. Continuing farther 
 among the mountains, they came to the great rock of 
 Mistra, at the very base of the Taygetus, from which 
 it is separated by deep gorges. Upon this rock is 
 built a city whose paved streets rise, one above an 
 other, in the most picturesque irregularity a dense 
 ly populated city in the heart of the wildest solitude! 
 Here they spent the night so comfortably that Made 
 line was quite disappointed. 
 
 Early the next morning they found, a little beyond 
 Mistra, several curious old churches, one of which, 
 dedicated to St. Nicholas, was so hidden among rocks, 
 trees, and shrubbery that it was with the greatest 
 difficulty that they penetrated into the interior. 
 
 "Well," said Griffin, surveying the scene with un 
 disguised disgust, "we ve made a gallant fight, my 
 brave comrades, and here we are in the citadel. Now
 
 Till-: TAVGEI 39 
 
 let us count the spoils. They certainly are 
 enough to satisfy even Madge. Item, one ruine<l 
 stain-use. You ought to admire tliat, coz, for it is in 
 worse repair than the Parthenon itself. Item, three 
 broken candlesticks. Item, a decayed painting of an 
 angel or is it a tish C 
 
 "That s a fair example of your artistic discrimina 
 tion," retorted Madeline. "Those areas good wings 
 as I ever saw. Did yon take them for h ns ." 
 
 "I didn t know but it might be a ilying-iish, you 
 know. Item, a mouldy portrait of an old duffer with 
 one eye, a fragment of a nose, and no chin." 
 
 " Pardon, broke in Ts;iras : that is not a duiYer, 
 Monsieur (triflm; he is a emperor, lie is the Em 
 peror Alexius Commenus. who builted the church." 
 
 "Robert is nothing, if not irreverent, said Made 
 line. 
 
 " Now for a lecture." 
 
 Don t Hatter yourself. I shall \vait until 1 have 
 a more appreciative audience." 
 
 Then she lectured him roundly. 
 
 Monsieur Paul," said Tsaras, after they had fin 
 ished their inspection of the Church of St. Nicholas, 
 k what way shall you go? The way to the north is 
 four day journey ; the other, across the mountains, is 
 onlee three day journey, but he is much more difH- 
 cultee." 
 
 " I >o you know both routes ." 
 
 " Aah, yeas. I know all (J recce." 
 
 " Well, then, we ll go the shortest way.
 
 40 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 The rest of the party voted unanimously in favor 
 of the route across the mountains. They had already 
 become somewhat accustomed to the difficulties of 
 mountain travel, and felt equal to any effort or ad 
 venture. 
 
 As they entered upon the steep, scrambling, rocky 
 path, the cavalcade proceeded in the following order : 
 
 Lieutenant and three gcns-d* armes. 
 
 Major Paul and Tsdras. 
 
 The two women. 
 
 Cook and assistant cook. 
 
 Mules with baggage, including beds and a good 
 supply of comestibles, it being wisely resolved not to 
 trust to the boasted hospitality of the JVIainotes. 
 
 Three gcm-d? armcs. 
 
 Griffin was not confined to any one position. He 
 constituted himself a sort of chief-marshal, and was, 
 by turns, in front and rear, jabbering broken Greek 
 with the escort, calling out diatribes from the major, 
 quarrelling with Madeline, and joking with Tstiras, 
 whose superficial dignity had long since given way to 
 the jaunty young fellow s good-natured impudence. 
 
 Everybody was well armed. Even the women car 
 ried little revolvers in their belts, which furnished 
 Griffin with the theme for endless witticisms. 
 
 For an hour they passed through the wildest glories 
 of nature, rendered doubly magnificent by the pur 
 ple and gold of morning. At length a wide valley 
 suddenly spread out before them, checkered with 
 olive, mulberry, and orange groves, patches of pop 
 lars, willows, and open fields, which ploughs were at
 
 TI1K TAYGETUS. 41 
 
 that moment gradually turning from green to dark 
 red. Thickly wooded hills stood around the valley, 
 their summits swimming like islands in lakes of rosy 
 mist. Ilelow these were grassy slopes tinted with 
 anemones of every shade, among which groups of 
 peasant children were playing in the sunsliinc. Here 
 and there on the hills could he seen the tall white 
 fortresses of the Mainotes, among whom a sort of 
 feudal system is still in force, while in the distance 
 gaped the huge black jaws of the Taygetus gorge. 
 
 "Xiiw. then, Madeline/ said Major Paul, after 
 they had gazed a while in silence, "give us the 
 jesthetic points of this view." 
 
 You nid no better guide as Miss Paul," inter 
 posed Tsuras. partly in piipie. partly because he would 
 low no opportunity to compliment the beautiful and 
 sprightly young American. 
 
 " Interpreter, you mean, ( harles," said Griffin, us 
 ing one of the numerous English names which he 
 had bestowed on the little Greek. " As a guide to 
 our feet and a lamp to our path. Miss Paul would be 
 a disastrous failure. Your labor is fairly divided. 
 You guide our mules ; she guides us. You interpret 
 the language of man ; she the language of nature. 
 You are Greek ; she is Saxon. You are of the earth, 
 earthy; she is of the Leavings, heavingly. Don t be 
 jealous." 
 
 " Jealous, Monsieur Griffin it is not jealous : it is 
 admira&tion. Miss Paul is more your guide as I am." 
 
 "Dear me!" cried Madeline,"! beg Monsieur 
 Tsaras s pardon for trespassing on his province. I
 
 !. A DEMIGOD. 
 
 shall do So no more, I assure you, monsieur. In 
 i aet, I couldn t if I would. I am literally talked 
 
 out." 
 
 "While Charles is as fresh as ever," added Grill m. 
 "At the start I would have laid two to one on you. 
 You can use the biggest words, but he can wind you, 
 Madge. Let me try my hand. Look at that view 
 now. Isn t it glorious? "With M hat calcareous 
 majesty those cerulean 
 
 " Oh, for the sake of" 
 
 "Look at that ploughman. How his red breeches 
 creep along the furrowed field, like a gigantic lady- 
 bug along a blade of grass !" 
 
 "Oh, come, come!" put in the major. "Have 
 done with your nonsense. That s too fine a view 
 I don t blame Madge for being disgusted with you. 
 Go ahead, Madge, tell us about it." 
 
 " Yeas," added Tsaras, " we are attention to Miss 
 Paul s views of the view." 
 
 " Impressions, you mean, Charlie," corrected Grif 
 fin. " Views of the view is not good enough for a 
 pun, and it is bad rhetoric." 
 
 " I wish that you shall spik Greek, Monsieur Grif 
 fin," retorted the nettled Tsaras; "then I shall be 
 so kaind to correct your little mistaiike too, also." 
 
 " Thank you, professor ; English is good enough 
 for me." 
 
 " Order !" shouted the major. " Madeline has the 
 floor." 
 
 " Calling a mule s back a floor," began the irre 
 pressible Griffin, "reminds me of the Irishman s
 
 Tin-; TAY:K; 43 
 
 "V>y tin- SulTerin<r .Tol>! if you interrupt her airain 
 I ll pitch you into tlio middle of the valley ! Do you 
 hear ( <io on, Madeline." 
 
 " Really, papa, I am so overwhelmed l>y the irrace- 
 ful and elal>oratc introduction you p utlemen have 
 </iven inc. that 1 feel altogether inadequate to the 
 occasion, i I am already talked out, and I m 
 
 afraid I am/)// out, too. I ve plowed and thrilled, 
 and thrilled and plowed, in spite of Robert s fool- 
 erics, till I can irlow and thrill no longer, even at 
 such a scene as this. It seems to me less modern 
 than almost anything else we ve seen. Tho>e odd, 
 warlike little castles bristling on those rocks, scowl 
 ing so anirrily down on that Arcadian valley, carry 
 UK; back to the Dark A;. 
 
 The word "Arcadian" roused her father s ire. 
 " Arcadian! " he snarled, "of all the swindling - 
 
 "Order!" .-limited (irillin. 
 
 "Papa i- ]> ri ectly in order," raid Madeline, "I ve 
 finished my addr 
 
 "Of all swindling, classical humbug, that word is 
 the meanest ! AVhat is Arcadia but a miserable mias 
 matic swamp . What are the Arcadian shepherd- 
 that so much line poetry is written about but a : 
 of lyin^, thievinir, laxy, squalid scoundrels, that ou^ht 
 to be guillotined without mercv . Oh, / / , seen 
 em!" 
 
 " Aah," ])rotest(Ml Tsiiras. "you spik {injustice, 
 Monsieur Paul. You have sin onlee the Ka.-t, which 
 is mar.-h. You mils visit the AVestern Arcadia. It 
 is no JStymphaalian marsh there. .Monsieur Paul, but
 
 44 
 
 mountains ami noble forest. It is laike the S \vitz - 
 land. In tlio Western Arcadia a rude but manly 
 raiice keeped tlicir lienl of sheeps, and they hunted 
 the bears, too, also. Arcadia have dernive his naiiine 
 from tho>e bears. You remember the stoary, Mon 
 sieur Paul ( 
 
 " Catti-i<!>> . 1 rr<nlix i ///// rut ursa per agrosS " 
 
 "No, I don t recall it at this moment," replied the 
 major, winking at Madeline. 
 
 " The Arcadian pipple," resumed Tsaras, " were a 
 hardee pipple. They lived upon the acorns and the 
 flesh of the pig, and although they haved not the cn- 
 t rgee and the enterpraise, they were ver strong in 
 their bodee. They were ver tempcraiite, too, also. 
 A fountain was at Kleitor which maiikc them to haiite 
 the wines." 
 
 "I shall be careful how I drink at Arcadian fount 
 ains," muttered Griffin. 
 
 " Their bes young men refused to dwell in Arca 
 dia in so simple laife but they went way to other 
 Htailte, and they faighted with the both saides when it 
 was war." 
 
 " Are those little castles the former strongholds of 
 the klephts f asked Madeline, "or were they to pro 
 tect honest people from them ?" 
 
 "No, Miss Paul. The klephts were never in per 
 manent dwelling, and they never caame ver mooch 
 down here. Those castles were builted in those un 
 settle taimes when every man look upon every man 
 laikc the assassin. You see each of those castles are
 
 THK TA : .j:, 
 
 rock elevaate lie is on a akropolis by his own 
 i perfect illustraation of the media-- 
 val feudal systems. Kach of those little white cas 
 tles are baronial castles in the miniaature. 
 I low romantic !" 
 
 And those," said Griffin, nodding towards a party 
 of dirty, ra^jvd urchins, who had been jratherin^ 
 let anemones by the way-side, and were now star 
 ing open-mouthed at tin- pawing cavalcade those, I 
 
 suppose, are some of the Imrun* in miniature." 
 " \ ea<; I tiling it is, Monsieur (Jrilliu." 
 I- there no need of Hich stroiiirholds nowadays C 
 puivued .Madeline. "Are tin ill feuds anioii^ 
 
 muL r h people ?" 
 
 M No more feud than it is feud in your coun- 
 tree." 
 
 me handy, thoiiirh," d Major 
 
 I aul, "if i: ;ill be an inva-ioii of northern 
 
 klephts, wouldn t they ." 
 " F do not know * hand 
 I "-ei ul, convenient." 
 Aah. yeafl. They would be ver useful." 
 Here Aunt Kli/.a bu-tled up, and irave ^i^ns that 
 .^lie had something to say, T.-;ira> turned to her with 
 
 ctful inquiry. 
 
 " You really think, Profcssov T-iiras, that there i< 
 
 no probability of our meeting any brigands, do you ;" 
 
 " JJri^ands . No. 1cut-<if~ii ; no brigands are in the 
 
 18. If they are here, they would be afraaid 
 
 La with the e .re than we would be afraaid 
 
 at them."
 
 46 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " One sight of aunty s seven-shooter would scatter 
 era," said Griffin, with an exasperating grin. 
 
 "I sincerely hope there will be no test of the 
 courage of any of us," retorted Aunt Eliza, with a 
 scornful sniff. 
 
 "I don t know. I believe I should rather like the 
 chance of bagging a brace or two of such game." 
 
 " It does not occur to you," put in Madeline, u that 
 yon might possibly be bagged yourself." 
 
 " Well, I should die in a, noble cause. I should 
 make a handsome corpus, shouldn t I ? Imagine me 
 with my marble features turned up to the stars, like a 
 dismantled Greek statue. How would this style do ?" 
 
 He threw his head back and closed his eyes, purs 
 ing his lips into a cupid s bow. 
 
 " Robert !" cried Madeline, angrily. 
 
 "And you would shed a silent tear or two over 
 my grave, wouldn t you, cousin dear ?" 
 
 " I suppose you expect me to be overwhelmed with 
 horror and admiration, but I m not in the least. 
 You think your talk sounds brave, but it doesn t it 
 only sounds brutal and disgustingly shallow. I know 
 very well you don t want to die any more than the 
 rest of us. You wouldn t joke much if the brigands 
 should really come. I ll warrant you d be the very 
 first to run." 
 
 To tell the truth, I am a little ashamed of my her 
 oine s sharpness of tongue. But what can I do? 
 She s a true daughter of her father, and everybody 
 knows lie has the best, warmest heart in the world, 
 rave he or storm he never so fiercely.
 
 THE TAYGETUS. 47 
 
 Griffin s good-nature was usually imperturbable ; 
 but this tirade, particularly the closing taunt, ap 
 peared to penetrate his thick armor. Without a 
 word in reply, he rode forward and joined the gens- 
 <r<trines, with whom he remained for hours. Made 
 line gradually became pensive. Her answers to 
 Aunt Eliza became more and more short and irrele 
 vant. Finally she said, in a low voice, " I m very 
 sorry I called him a coward. We women don t real 
 ize how sensitive they are on that point." 
 
 " Oh, my dear, don t fret your heart about that. 
 He ll be back here soon, frivolous as ever. To tell 
 the truth, I shouldn t be sorry if you had given him 
 his quietus for a while. I m tired of his twitter- 
 twatter." 
 
 "Don t be ungrateful," returned Madeline, blazing 
 up. " We should all have been stupid enough with 
 out him." 
 
 The progress of the cavalcade through the valley 
 created an intense excitement among its rural deni 
 zens. The farmer left his plough, which, judged 
 from its appearance, might have been the very one 
 left by Cincinnatus in its furrow ; the housewife left 
 her loaves, the washer-woman left her linen by the 
 riverside, and one and all came running to see the 
 strangers, to ask who and what they were, whence 
 they came, whither they were going, and wherefore. 
 Among the men there were some of magnificent 
 physique. It would not have been difficult to fancy 
 these the lineal descendants of the famous Three 
 4
 
 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 Hundred, had it not been for their speech, which was 
 the exact reverse of " Laconic." 
 
 "Do you suppose your famous Hector Vyr, that 
 we ve heard so much about, is any liner follow than 
 one of these i" 1 asked Madeline of Professor Tsjira-. 
 
 "Oh yeas, Miss Paul. Hector Vyr is a Ixixlliax 
 in compare to them. lie is a maighty bodee ; he is 
 a maighty intellects ; he is ver gret beautee, laiko 
 to those statues of old (I recce." 
 
 " Dear me ! We must not fail to find him, on any 
 consideration whatever." 
 
 " Aah, we shall not faind him. He would run away 
 from ns, laike as he is a waild man of the forest." 
 
 Then we must run after him, and capture him 
 for the Zoological Museum at Central Park." 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! I thing you capture him, Miss Paul. 
 Not any other shall capture him." 
 
 The women in the crowd, as a rule, looked stunted 
 and labor-worn ; but no amount of oppression and 
 fatigue could mitigate their ceaseless chatter. 
 
 AVhen they halted for supper in a valley bright 
 with oleanders, Griffin had evidently forgotten his 
 pique. He seasoned, with his usual amount of fun, 
 the luxurious meal of bread, fresh goat s milk, and 
 new cheese curd. In the cool of the evening he and 
 Madeline strolled up the side of a savage hill, furred 
 with little pines and bristling armies of thistles. 
 The great, ugly blossoms of tall hollyhocks, growing 
 wild, stared at them from the way-side. Here and 
 there on the naked rocks they found the flowers of 
 the caper-vine.
 
 4!) 
 
 "Did you enjoy yur talk with the guards this 
 .noun, Robert ?" Madeline asked, critically exam 
 ining one of the wonderful ilowers last named, which 
 lie had plucked for her. 
 
 " Very much. We found each other quite enter 
 taining." 1 
 
 " What could you lind to say for so lon^ a time ?" 
 
 "<>h, there were ]>K n!y of tiling to talk about. 
 They told me all about the discipline in the (I reek 
 army, and their scrimmages with the klephi . A" 
 cording to their account of themselves, we have some 
 of the greatest heroes in the world for our escort. I 
 wasn t pi ne so very lonir, was I . " 
 
 " Nearly three hour.-." 1 
 
 "Oh no: impossible. It couldn t have been more 
 than two. You ou- ht to be thankful for even that 
 relief. There was a sliirhi perceptible tremor in his 
 voice. 
 
 Robert, ".burst out Madeline, patting her hand 
 
 oil his arm, " 1 want you to forgive me for bein^ so 
 unkind and unjust to you to-day." 
 
 "Nonsense. .Madp-. Who said you we re unkind 
 or unjust ?" 
 
 " Not you. Y.;i arc only too indulgent. It is my 
 own conscience that upbraids me." 
 
 "Tell your conscience to keep the peace. What 
 business is it of hers, anyway? If you and I can t 
 have a comfortable, friendly little spat without her 
 interference, it s time she packed up and went 
 home." 
 
 "Well, that s like vou, Robert. With all my
 
 50 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 fa tilt -finding of you, you have one great, admi 
 rable virtue which far outweighs all my lesser 
 ones." 
 
 " Oh, come now, none of that. I know what I 
 am as well as you. I know I m a coarse-grained, 
 irreverent chap, without a particle of poetry or sen 
 timent in my composition. I know how I ride 
 rough-shod over all your finest fancies, and continu 
 ally break up your poetic rhapsodies with my ill- 
 timed nonsense. But what can I do, Madge? I 
 can t very well change my nature. You may have 
 heard a recondite remark in reference to the leopard 
 and the Ethiopian, which applies to my case. If it 
 were not for you, I don t know as I would care to 
 change my spots. As far as I am concerned, I am 
 happy enough as I am. There s an awful lot of 
 drudgery in becoming what you call highly culti 
 vated, and I am essentially and congenitally lazy. 
 As I have often told you, I hate work of all kinds. 
 Why shouldn t I ? Doesn t Sir William Hamilton 
 call work pain? What s the nigger s I beg your 
 pardon what s the negro s ideal of paradise? A 
 place from whence all kinds of labor are banished, 
 like foul fiends from the Christian s paradise. And, 
 by the same token, is the Christian s ideal very dif 
 ferent ? He has gone to his eternal rest? I believe, 
 is the favorite epitaph." 
 
 " Oh, Robert, can t you talk a single hour without 
 being sacrilegious ?" 
 
 " I assure you nothing was farther from my inten 
 tion. Isn t what I say true? Don t they say, His
 
 THE TAYGETUS. 51 
 
 labors arc over? Haven t you always been taught 
 that heaven is an eternal Sabbath of rest ?" 
 
 " Rest from trials and sufferings, that means not 
 rest from labors that is, occupations." 
 
 " Well, labors and sufferings are synonymous terms 
 with me. It has always been so, and I am afraid it 
 always will. I was always at the very foot of my 
 class in college not, I flatter myself, from any 
 marked deficiency in natural parts, but from sheer, 
 dogged laziness. How in the world I picked up the 
 smattering I have of Greek and Latin is really a 
 mystery, for I do not remember ever studying a 
 lesson in my life." 
 
 "Exaggeration always weakens," interrupted Mad 
 eline. 
 
 " I used the word study in its true sense. I say 
 I always hated work and always shall. And of all 
 kinds of work, self-cultivation" is, by all odds, the 
 hardest. I suppose, if I could only make up my 
 mind to the effort, I might in time be able to work 
 myself up to the pitch of appreciating the Parthe 
 non and that old decayed Church of St. Nicholas as 
 you do. But heavens! think of the labor. Imagine 
 the subtle, endless pain Phidias must have endured 
 before he was able to design his statues and his tem 
 ples, with their Ionic curves and their aerial perspec 
 tive! Imagine the mental tortures which have spun 
 out the Concord Philosophy, whatever that may be!" 
 
 "It is all a mistake, Robert," replied Madeline, 
 earnestly, "a tremendous mistake. It is not true 
 that all kinds of labor are painful. There is a vast
 
 52 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 difference between the labor of the negro slave and 
 that of Phidias and the Concord philosophers, 
 though I don t profess to know anything of them 
 except by reputation." 
 
 Robert laughed. 
 
 " "Well, what amuses you ?" 
 
 " Nobody seems ashamed of his ignorance on that 
 subject. Even you hastened to assure me of your 
 ignorance, as if you were afraid I should think you 
 did understand them." 
 
 "Why do you say even I? Have I impressed 
 you as a Blue Stocking?" asked Madeline, quickly. 
 
 " Not in the least, my dear cousin ; that is, not 
 disagreeably. I have always been a humble admirer 
 of your accomplishments your musical skill, your 
 knack at verse-making, your exquisite appreciation 
 of art and nature, and all that sort of thing." 
 
 " I am afraid your admiration has been cheaply 
 earned. But I want to tell you that whatever of 
 such things I have has been acquired without any 
 thing like what you call painful drudgery. I have 
 been conscious only of pleasure." 
 
 " Oh, well," rejoined Robert, as he carelessly sent 
 a flat stone skimming over the low trees down the 
 slope, "you -were born so, I wasn t. That s the dif 
 ference." 
 
 " No," protested Madeline ; " the difference is not 
 so much a natural one as it is a different way of 
 looking at things. It is more a difference of opinion 
 than of nature. You and I have conceived different 
 notions of the values of things, that s all. But I say
 
 TIIK FAYGETCS. 53 
 
 again to yon, Robert, and most solemnly, that you 
 have made a great mistake. You don t know how 
 much you lose of the best and sweetest things in 
 life by your habit of viewing everything in either 
 a ludicrous or what you are pleased to call a sensi 
 ble light. If I could only change your opinions, I 
 should have no fears for the result." 
 
 "Well," 1 sighed Robert, violently switching off a 
 big thistle-top with his walking-stick, "perhaps you 
 are right. As T have told yon several times, I don t, 
 pretend to understand myself very well the subject 
 is too deep for my limited comprehension." 
 
 And so our talk must end in a stupid old joke! 
 cried Madeline, provoked and disappointed. 
 
 Heigh-ho, didn t 1 tell you 1 was incorrigible? 
 You can t carve a marble statue out of a block of 
 pumice-stone. But tell me, Madge," he said, his 
 whole manner suddenly changing, " is it going to 
 make any difference in our in your Sha n t you 
 me just as well C 
 
 Madeline clasped his arm affectionately with both 
 her hands. You are my own dear cousin Robert," 
 she said ; " and I love you for your good heart, your 
 inexhaustible good-nature, your patience under my 
 numerous provocations. But, as for it is as I have 
 always told you, Robert." 
 
 He shook off her hands angrily. " And so, because 
 I can t go into raptures over a rotten old church, or 
 write idiotic sonnets to the moon, you can t return 
 as true a love as a man ever offered!" 
 
 "No, Robert, it is not that. Can t you believe
 
 54 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 me a sensible woman ? I know how little poetry and 
 all that have to do with real life but i><>< ti ij is not 
 the only thing you have just acknowledged that you 
 have no taste for. You 
 
 She was about to say a very pertinent but humili 
 ating thing, but her good heart forbade, at that time, 
 at least. " If I could feel towards you as you wish," 
 she went on, after a moment s hesitation, " I solemnly 
 assure you that our differences of opinion on any sub 
 ject would not make the least real difference." 
 
 "Jfyou. could but it is those very differences that 
 prevent you, is it not ?" 
 
 " I don t know. Your peculiar tastes and inclina 
 tions you can hardly expect me to sympathize with 
 the ) n, can you?" 
 
 " I understand you perfectly," he answered, bitter 
 ly. " You could trust your future to an unrornantic 
 man, but not to a lazy one. You are right. Adver 
 sity might come. Riches have wings. Yes, you are 
 sensible, Madeline Paul, eminently sensible. Oh, 
 what a fool I have been ! what a consummate fool !" 
 
 " You read me with your own sordid mind," re 
 torted Madeline, turning pale in the twilight. "If 
 your riches were multiplied tenfold, and I knew with 
 positive certainty that they would increase hour by 
 hour to the day of your death, I would not trust you 
 with my future !" 
 
 She stepped haughtily in advance. Griffin fol 
 lowed, silently and dejectedly whipping off the this 
 tle-tops with his stick. Thus they walked on till 
 they came to the steep, rocky bed of a cataract, now
 
 THE TAYGETUS. 55 
 
 dry, lying directly in tlicir patli. lie sprung to her 
 -tance. As lie did so, she caught the mournful 
 pathos in his face and mien, and her heart swelled. 
 
 "Oh, liobert !" she burst forth, "I love you dcar- 
 Iv. and we might be so happv together, if you only 
 would." 
 
 "It isn t the kind of love I want," lie replied, 
 hoarsely. "Give me time, Madge. I will change. 
 I promise it. You ll see a dill erent man in me 
 only give me time and hope." 
 
 She shook her head sadly, pityingly. 
 
 " Then I " he began in a loud, fierce tone, but 
 instantly checked himself. They returned without 
 another word to the encampment. 
 
 This consisted of a humble <;ni/,<t built of stones, 
 and partly covered by an awning of black goat s-hair 
 cloth, in which Miss Wellington (Aunt Klixa) and 
 -Madeline were quartered. A few feet distant from 
 the ctijimt a large lire was kindled, fresh boughs of 
 spruce-fir were brought as an under-matt ress for the 
 beds, and on these the men of the party stretched 
 themselves, iu the pure, dewless air, cooled by the 
 snows of the mountains and perfumed by the fra 
 grance of the valley, under a sky so clear that the 
 stars scarcely twinkled. The only sounds that broke 
 the stillness of evening were the tinkling of distant 
 sheep-bells, the reeds of shepherds, the soft, clear 
 notes of the cuckoo, and the " br< k> k< /.< ./ 000, 
 of the frogs in the depth of the valley.
 
 50 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 V. 
 
 THE BRIGANDS. 
 
 WHAT unhappy wight is that who hath never 
 breathed the air of morning in the mountains, hav 
 ing slept in the open air? Let him not die until he 
 hath tasted this most dainty tidbit at the banquet of 
 nature. Till then, he shall not know the full extent 
 of his own capacity for the enjoyment of his physi 
 cal senses. Till then, he shall never know how blue 
 and purple and golden is the sky, how green is the 
 grass, how white is the snow, how sparkling are the 
 waters nor how clear are his own eyes, how keen 
 his ears, how elastic his lungs, how resounding his 
 
 t O i O 
 
 voice, how bounding his step. 
 
 Till they had experienced this rare pleasure, our 
 travellers certainly had never known what an ex 
 quisite flavor there is to crisp toast and broiled lamb, 
 or what an utterly insignificant task it is to break 
 camp and resume a difficult, dangerous journey. 
 
 They passed through a succession of olive orchards, 
 currant plantations, vineyards, and wheat-fields whose 
 dark-red loam was just beginning to turn green. In 
 the glens were little groves of oleander and myrtle. 
 Sage, wild thyme, and mastic shrub thinly covered 
 the "stony shoulders of the hills." At short inter-
 
 THK J;I;I<;A\I>S. .-,7 
 
 vals they halted by tlie side of little streams to rest 
 and water their animals,, while Aunt Eliza and Made 
 line plucked bouquets of crocuses and violets, and 
 listened to the loud song of the nightingale and the 
 softer, more musical notes of the blackbird. 
 
 (Jradually the country became wilder. Cultivated 
 fields disappeared, and only an occasional hut of 
 stones and mud gave evidence of human occupation, 
 far from noon they came to a village of twenty- 
 five or thirty of these huts. From his gestures and 
 manner with certain of their tenants Tsaras appeared 
 to be inquiring his route. The fact that the answer 
 ing hands pointed in different directions was not re- 
 iring, and, although Major Paul and his party had 
 bv this time become somewhat inured to the prevail 
 ing (livek custom of misdirecting and misstating dis 
 tances, they began to be seriously alarmed. In reply 
 to the major s questions, however, the guide said 
 there was no cause for anxiety ; he knew perfectly 
 well what he was about. Jjut the path grew still 
 narrower and more obstructed by branches and un 
 dergrowth, and finally divided into two branches 
 equally worn, or rather ///Avorn, by travel. Tsaras. 
 and he commander of the escort began to wrangle 
 on the question which of these branches to take. 
 Major Paul promptly ordered, Kight about, march. 
 
 Tsa ras remonstrated. 
 
 The major repeated his order more peremptorily. 
 
 Tsaras entreated. 
 
 The major got thoroughly angry, and stormed the 
 little guide into silence and acquiescence.
 
 58 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 r>u t it proved easier to order a return than to exe 
 cute the order. After a while they failed to recog 
 nize objects which they passed. The path became 
 more and more difficult, and at last merged into a 
 Hume of blue limestone, which led no one knew 
 whither. A little distance at one side of the flume 
 was the sharp edge of a precipice overhanging a 
 frightful chasm, to glance into which took the breath 
 away and made the heart stand still, No one guide, 
 escort, or tourist could longer doubt the trutli 
 
 They were lost in the mountains! 
 
 The rich color faded from Madeline s cheek ; but 
 her mind was soon diverted from her own situation 
 by the greater, or at least more demonstrative, terror 
 of Aunt Eliza. Griffin, who had all day been sullen 
 and taciturn, was the only one who remained cool 
 and collected. Major Paul bore down upon the woe 
 begone guide like a centaur charging in battle. 
 
 "You infernal scoundrel!" he roared, "what do 
 you mean by getting us into this scrape? Didn t 
 you tell me you had been over the route C 
 
 " Oh, Monsieur Paul, I beseech you not spik so 
 loud. I have been over the route but but but 
 it have been changes. The path is no more laike as 
 lie was. I tzwear to you, Monsieur Paul, I have 
 done the ver bes that I was aiible by my honor, 
 Monsieur Paul, I tzwear !" 
 
 "Done the best you were able! Idiot! Why 
 didn t you stay at home? That would have been the 
 best you were able, you gesticulating, speech-making, 
 Homer-quoting ass !"
 
 THE BRIGANDS. OU 
 
 r>ut fury and resonant reproaches promised no 
 help. A council was held, in which it was decided 
 that two of the fjcns-<I <ii in> * should ride pos 
 
 sible up the flume, then dismount and make their 
 way on foot until they could command the widest 
 ";>lc view of the surrounding country. 
 
 The scouts had scarcely disappeared, and the rest 
 of the party were disposing themselves as comfort 
 ably as possible to await their return, when a tall 
 figure stepped forth from the bushes and advanced 
 leisurely towards them. 
 
 It was a man of thirty-five or forty, dressed in the 
 Albanian costume jacket and i ustanelli of coarse 
 white woollen stuiT, and leggings of leather. From 
 his bare head hung two heavy braids of shining black 
 hair. His face was swarthy, and ornamented with a 
 jetty musta -he. lie was armed with a pair of silver- 
 mounted pistols and a yataghan. As he advanced 
 he extended his arms and called out in a clear, ring 
 ing voice, 
 
 ]\ <il, x orizeU /" 
 
 "!! Bays 4 \\ r clcome, " explained Tsaras, in a low, 
 trembling tone. 
 
 The four gen+4l?<HnMl nnslung their carbines and 
 brought them to their shoulders. 
 
 " Alt !" (halt), ordered the lieutenant. 
 
 M h i/fl.i.i-,* pfoo sou!" (look behind you), replied 
 the strangi-r. 
 
 .X.t thirty yards distant the gcns-(]\trmes and their 
 party saw a score of dark faces glaring over the thick 
 bushes, each behind a long black tube.
 
 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 "Robbers, by gorry P ejaculated Major Paul, 
 springing to his feet and drawing his revo! 
 "Madeline, my girl, conic lierc." 
 
 But the more alert (Jrillin was already beside the 
 t\vo women, whom lie was apparently trying to form 
 into a hollow square. 
 
 The brigand, coming still nearer, spoke a few 
 words, which Tsiiras translated as follows: 
 
 "Throw down your arms, and you shall not be 
 harmed. Attempt to fire, and that instant every 
 man dies, and the women are our prisoners." 
 
 The order was sullenly obeyed. 
 
 The brigand stood motionless a few seconds, then 
 made an impatient gesture. 
 
 What are your commands?" asked the lieuten 
 ant. 
 
 "Make the woman give up that pistol, or take it 
 from her." 
 
 Aunt Eliza still grasped her tiny weapon, her 
 white lips pressed together in desperate determina 
 tion. 
 
 "It s of no use," said Madeline, wonder-struck at 
 her own calmness. " They have us at their mercy." 
 She disengaged the pistol from the thin, nervous 
 hand, which yielded mechanically to her gentle force, 
 and threw it on the ground with the rest of the sur 
 rendered arms. 
 
 In the mean time the brigands, twenty strong, 
 closed in around their prisoners, shouting, " Zito /" 
 (huzzah), and manifesting in a hundred ways exul 
 tation over their bloodless victory.
 
 Till-: UKIt!A> 61 
 
 They were. f<>r tlir most part, vigorous youn^ ras 
 cals, dressed like their leader, save that some of them 
 Wore r-ha^iry capotes. They speedily relieved their 
 prisoners <>f their watches and purses, ordered them 
 to ivmount, and hurried them alon<^ the rocky path 
 way formed by the tlnme, five or six brigands bein^ 
 in advance to intercept the two gtns-d arm** wiio 
 were acting as scouts. 
 
 The chief soon opened a conversation with Major 
 Paul, with the aid of Tsaras. 
 
 " You BOO," lie h -iraii, "that we are well acquaint 
 ed with your movrmrnts. We had the good-fortune 
 to hi ar of your intended viVit." 
 
 "Through the (Greek < iovernment, no doubt," rc- 
 ])lied the major, blazing with unutterable scorn and 
 fury. 
 
 "Oh no, my good friend. Yon must not blame 
 the (iovernment. It was one of the (Government s 
 metscngen that informed us and he not < t!lin<fly, 
 bv anv means. The poor </,/</<r.",,* could not help 
 
 himself." 
 
 The major uttered an inarticulate <^ro\vl. 
 
 "We have been following you for the last four 
 hours, the brigand went on. " You, I prc>ume, arc 
 liis nobility, the American /i*/y//V // Paulf 
 
 " Miijor, damn your impudence!" (It is hardly 
 necessary to state that the less conciliatory pa>sauvs 
 in the major s remarks were translated with coii-id- 
 vrable freedom by the less impetuous, more politic 
 interpreter, i "And now perhaps you will condescend 
 to tell me what ou are oinir to do with us .
 
 C3 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " Oh, you will know in good time, your nobility. 
 But don t be uneasy. Make yourselves perfectly 
 happy ; we shall treat you like princes." 
 
 " That s the very thing we are afraid of," inter 
 posed Griffin, who rode immediately behind. " But 
 tell him, Charley, that we are no princes. We are 
 simple American citizens in extremely humble cir 
 cumstances." 
 
 " Yes," added the major, with majestic anger, "and 
 they will have to answer to the American Govern 
 ment tell him that, too, Tsaras a government that 
 can depopulate this whole worm-eaten frontier of 
 hell in a week !" 
 
 " Ah, you refer us to the American Government. 
 We shall be happy to negotiate with so noble and 
 famous a nation. I am sure they will show a liber 
 ality worthy of their wealth and glory. England, 
 France, Germany all the great nations are always 
 ready to pay our price for the sake of relieving their 
 valuable citizens from embarrassment. But I beg 
 your pardon. I have not introduced myself. I am 
 the Kapitdn Peschino, of whom you have doubtless 
 heard. No ? Alas, such is glory ! I supposed ev 
 erybody knew the exploits of the Kapitdn Peschino." 
 
 He spoke with honest chagrin. 
 
 "Peschino?" asked Griffin, as if suddenly recol 
 lecting. 
 
 "Ah yes; you have heard of me, Appente?" 
 
 "Are you not sometimes called his Reverence, 
 Father Peschino ?" 
 
 " No. It is my brother you arc thinking of. He
 
 THE BRIGANDS. G3 
 
 is a priest at MikroMaina. It is not strange, how 
 ever, that YOU should make the mistake we are said 
 to be very much alike." 
 
 Poor (.Trillin s face fell. His American jokes would 
 all be lost on that complacent scoundrel. 
 
 The procession rapidly ascended the rocky path 
 way, a brigand at each bridle, until the report of fire 
 arms brought them to a sudden halt. 
 
 " It is nothing," shouted Peschino to his men. 
 " They have found the two soldiers. Forward !" 
 
 They soon came up with the detachment. Both 
 g6ti&d*armes and one brigand were wounded, one of 
 the former badly. Peschino dressed their wounds 
 with considerable surgical skill, graciously accepting 
 Madeline s help. He then called up two of the un- 
 woimded soldiers. 
 
 "Take four of the mules, with rations for tlvree 
 days, and conduct your comrades home. Ivemind 
 your commandant that he has not yet sent the three 
 thousand drachmas to the demarch of Mikro-Mainn, 
 as he promised, and that I shall hold these two sol 
 diers till he does. When you reach the base of the 
 Hume take the path to your right keep always to 
 your right, and you will easily find the road to Mara- 
 thonisi. KaUm kdt&vodion (farewell); remember to 
 bathe the wounds with cold water every hour and 
 may (iod send speedy healing!" 
 
 The march was then resumed. On reaching the 
 upper end of the Hume, they struck into a rough, 
 stony path, which, with many windings, up natural 
 stair-ways, over narrow bridges, along the brink of
 
 G4 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 frightful precipices, finally brought them to a level 
 open space. Here they found a large flat rock, above 
 which rose an inaccessible cliff, divided through the 
 middle by a fissure just wide enough to admit of the 
 passage of one mounted man at a time. 
 
 This was evidently the gate-way to the robbers 
 stronghold. Within they were absolutely safe. The 
 heaviest artillery would be powerless against that 
 eternal masonry, and a little band of resolute men 
 could hold that narrow Thermopylae against any num 
 ber of enemies, whom it would be but sport to top 
 ple over the precipices as they filed slowly up, one 
 by one. Should the garrison weary of the sport, or 
 should provisions become scanty, their enemies would 
 find their stronghold like a last year s bird s -nest. 
 They, with their prisoners, should the latter live so 
 long, would be with the birds. 
 
 The brigands now busied themselves in the prep 
 aration of a sumptuous meal, obtained chiefly from 
 the contents of their captives panniers. Their own 
 contribution consisted of three or four fine pheasants 
 and sundry bottles of wine (recmato\ which would 
 have been good but for the villanous resin with 
 which it was abundantly spiced. The flat rock 
 formed an excellent dining-table, to which the con 
 fiscated dishes and napkins imparted a wonderfully 
 civilized air, in strange contrast with its wild sur 
 roundings. The stimulating mountain air, together 
 with the excitement and fatigue they had undergone, 
 gave the whole party a sharp appetite. Hungry and 
 exhausted soldiers will eat voraciouslv on the eve of
 
 THE BRIGANDS. 05 
 
 the bloodiest battle. So our unhappy friends, not 
 withstanding their situation, did full justice to the 
 banquet. 
 
 The captors were exceedingly jubilant over their 
 ea.-y and complete success, and they took the utmost 
 pains to entertain their " guests," and to make them 
 forget their uncomfortable predicament. 
 
 The meal over, the brigands sung hilarious songs 
 in rough but not unmusical voices. Then they per 
 formed a wild Romaic dance, which their prisoners 
 witnessed with something akin, at least, to interest. 
 
 " "Well, your nobility," said Peschino, approaching 
 with the interpreter,"! trust you are not so unhap 
 py as you expected to be." 
 
 " I could answer you better," replied the major, 
 stiffly, "if I knew what you intended to do with us." 
 
 "Ilavc a little patience. You shall know all in 
 good time. In the mean time, neither you nor your 
 friends shall receive anything but kindness from us. 
 Cannot you judge my intentions from that? For 
 example, I am going to allow you to be together as 
 if you were at your own houses. Xo one shall in 
 trude upon your privacy. Is not that a comfort to 
 you? How do I know what plots and conspiracies 
 you will hatch out among yourselves ? Is not that a 
 favor and a great comfort to you ?" 
 
 "It is indeed, Peschino," replied the major, with 
 a long breath of relief. "I thank you for that with 
 my whole heart, whatever else you may do. But 
 you have little to fear from the plots and conspiracies 
 of two weak women and two unarmed men."
 
 66 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 Three unarmed men," corrected Tsaras, with a 
 look of grieved reproach that would have melted a 
 stone. 
 
 " Of course, of course three unarmed men." But 
 there was a mental reservation. There should be no 
 interpreter of "plots and conspiracies" admitted to 
 the family councils. 
 
 As if to prove his good faith at once, Peschino 
 ordered his men away from the prisoners, bidding 
 them keep their distance on peril of his severe dis 
 pleasure. 
 
 " Now, your nobility," he said, with a magnani 
 mous wave of his hand, " you will have the goodness 
 to excuse me for a time. Should you desire any 
 thing, it will be easy to find me." lie turned to the 
 women, placed his hand on his heart, bowed pro 
 foundly, and departed. 
 
 VI. 
 
 WITHOUT THE GATES. 
 
 TSARAS, too, although he yearned for a share in 
 their mutual condolence, was considerate enough to 
 leave the family by themselves around the flat rock. 
 Madeline was the least downcast of the little group. 
 The specious courtesy and kindne&s with which they 
 had been treated thus far made her comparatively 
 cheerful and hopeful. She spoke enthusiastically of 
 the inestimable privilege they were then enjoying,
 
 WITHOUT TUK GATES. 67 
 
 none of the brigands being in sight, with the excep 
 tion of a solitary .sentinel at a very respectful dis 
 tance. 
 
 "That is the only thing that surprises me," an 
 swered her father. "I expected the rascal would 
 keep us apart, of course, until after the examina 
 tion he has promised. Madeline, have you any idea 
 what I am worth 2" 
 
 " Ten times your weight in diamonds !" answered 
 the impulsive girl, in whom the transition from de 
 spair to hopefulness, however slight, produced a 
 reaction no less surprising to herself than to the 
 others. 
 
 "I m afraid you d find it hard to realize that amount 
 on the property in the market. Come here and kiss 
 me, you little Zouave. Now answer my question 
 properly, yon good-for-nothing rubbish. Do you 
 know how much I m worth C 
 
 "I haven t the slightest idea, papa. I only know 
 that we have everything that money can buy." 
 
 "Eliza, what do you know f 
 
 ".No more than Aladeline does," sobbed the poor 
 lady, raising her tear- disfigured countenance. "I 
 wish, with all my heart, I didn t know as much." 
 
 " Well, I suppose I can trust to your discretion if 
 you should be questioned. You don t know any 
 thing, of course, Robert." 
 
 " Thank you, uncle, you are pleased to be compli 
 mentary. 
 
 " "Well, I am glad you people can joke, I am sure," 
 gaid Aunt Eliza, in a tone of the deepest reproach.
 
 68 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " I have always thought those who cannot feel are 
 the happiest." 
 
 "Feel!" cried Robert, "what s the use of feeling? 
 We re all in a tremendous scrape, I ll admit. You 
 and Madge ought to have taken Uncle Warren s and 
 my advice. I suppose you realize that now. But 
 crying and taking on forever isn t going to get us 
 out of the scrape, is it ? Come, aunty, be a man ! 
 See how plucky Madge is. She believes, as I do, 
 that we are coming out all right. What do I know, 
 uncle ? Why, you have lately failed, haven t you ? 
 You are reduced to the most abject beggary." 
 
 " Not too strong, my dear boy," replied the major, 
 with a meagre smile. " Beggars don t travel all over 
 Europe with their families for pleasure. These vil 
 lains are not fools." 
 
 " They are fools enough to leave us to concoct our 
 lies in private, and make them hang together," re 
 torted Robert, airily. 
 
 " Oh, don t call them by that name," piped Aunt 
 Eliza. "There is no occasion for We can say 
 everything that is required for our own advantage 
 and still adhere to the strict truth. I wouldn t tell 
 a falsehood even to save my life !" 
 
 "How about the rest of us?" insisted Robert. 
 "Wouldn t you prevaricate a little to save our 
 lives?" 
 
 " No good ever comes from evil." 
 
 " You hear her !" Robert exclaimed, turning indig 
 nantly to the other two. " Shall we let this woman 
 sacrifice us all to her fanaticism ?"
 
 WITHOUT THE GATES. 69 
 
 " You do your own duty, and trust me to do mine, 
 ^\Ir. (.irillin !" retorted Aunt Kli/u, forgetting her de 
 spair in her wrath. 
 
 " Didn t you just say that you wouldn t tell a 
 
 "Neither shall I. I m not obliged to utter either 
 truth or falsehood, am 1 ? All the robbers in Greece 
 can t make me speak if I won t /" 
 
 "Brava! I apologize most humbly. If you only 
 won t spoil the effect of my lies, I shall be satisfied. 
 Remember all : I am a poor devil of a student not 
 worth a continental, and in debt for my education 
 a precious small debt that would be, based on its true 
 value." 
 
 " I don t suppose it will make the slightest differ 
 ence what any of us say," said the major, musingly. 
 "They probably don t expect to get anything out of 
 us by their examination. If they did they certain 
 ly wouldn t be idiotic enough to leave us together 
 like this. They ll set their own ransom, without 
 much reference to us." 
 
 A gloomy silence followed. 
 
 "I don t believe they intend us any very great 
 harm, after all," said Madeline, brightening up at 
 length. " Their leader laughs a great deal, and I 
 never was very much afraid of a man who laughs." 
 
 "Harm !" snarled her father. "All they want is 
 our money, of course. They ll rob me and all my 
 friends of every dollar we ve got, cash or credit, and 
 then they ll let me go, I suppose, to begin life over 
 again." 
 
 " When we do get away," he went on, his passion
 
 70 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 rising, "I ll sec whether there s any virtue in the 
 law of nations! This miserable little government 
 has incurred a mighty responsibility, let me tell em. 
 
 " Oh dear !" sighed Aunt Eliza. " Don t you be 
 lieve those soldiers will bring any one to rescue 
 us ?" 
 
 The major laughed with bitter contempt. " It s 
 my belief that the army, government, and all are in 
 collusion with the devils pestilence rot their filthy 
 bodies ! Yes," he cried, his passion rising higher 
 and higher, "pestilence, consumption, palsy, small 
 pox, cholera leprosy, carbuncles, cancers, boils, pim 
 ples" 
 
 This feeble anticlimax brought out a general 
 laugh, in which, after a while, the major himself was 
 forced to join. Even Aunt Eliza smiled, so potent 
 an anodyne Avas her recent anger at her graceless 
 nephew. 
 
 "Besides being absurd, yon are terribly unjust, 
 papa," said Madeline. " You forget those poor sol 
 diers who shed their blood in our defence." 
 
 "Heh?" 
 
 " What better pledge of good faith can you ask 
 than their Mood ?" 
 
 "Well, perl laps I was a little hard on the army. 
 But suppose the whole army should come to rescue 
 us, what could it do in this wilderness ? Look at 
 that rock ! Besides, lon^ before the advanced cruard 
 
 O O 
 
 could scale the mountain, the infernal rascals would 
 have us miles away. I don t want to dampen your 
 good spirits, my darling girl, but we mustn t enter-
 
 WITHOUT THE GATES. 71 
 
 tain any nonsensical hopes, for they will make our 
 only the hardrr to hear when it COOK 
 
 "Kate! What do you mean? They don t want 
 anything but our ii>n< y, do they " 
 
 " Isn t that enough, for Heaven s sake ?" 
 
 "I can work, you know, dear papa. I can teach 
 and paint and embroider and " 
 
 "Wadi and scrub," put in Robert, "and sell apples 
 and peanuts, and do the professional Long-haired 
 Lady, ami " 
 
 " Robert can help, too." 
 
 However Madeline had been annoyed by her cous 
 in s "ill-timed facetiousncss in days gone by, it was 
 peculiarly welcome to her now. Ever since their 
 stroll together the evening before which now seem- 
 
 o o 
 
 ed so long ago she had felt a tender pity for him 
 that made her resolve never to scold him again, what 
 ever he might do or say. She was deeply grateful 
 to him for having since made no allusion to the mo 
 mentous conversation that had occurred. To all this 
 was added admiration for the coolness, courage, and 
 wonderful buoyancy of spirits he had displayed all 
 through the trying ordeal they had been undergoing. 
 
 "Robert can help, too," she retorted, giving him a 
 beaming smile from her eyes. "lie can dig, and 
 carry a hod, and exhibit as the Bearded Lady, and 
 
 "To me" broke in Aunt Eliza, with gloomy as- 
 prrity, "the extraordinary levity of you two seems 
 absolutely Jttrtl> NX, when we re all in such a horrible 
 situation." 
 
 "Horrible? I think it is suMf /,/< " replied Hob-
 
 72 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 crt, gayly. " You re always saying How romantic ! 
 what do you want more romantic than this ? Ural 
 brigands, aunty, real brigands ! None o your su 
 pers, with false eyebrows and tin daggers. Then 
 look at that scenery did you ever see anything 
 equal to that at the Boston Theatre? It would eotft 
 the management a cool fifty thousand, at least, to 
 match it ! Then look at the company what could 
 be better? Besides a chorus of genuine brigands, 
 with genuine eyebrows, and genuine calves to their 
 legs, here is a picturesque group of real prisoners in 
 real distress " 
 
 "Yes," moaned Aunt Eliza, "that s true enough. 
 Oh, if it were only a play !" 
 
 " Well, we can make believe it is, can t we ?" re 
 plied the undaunted Griffin. "We ve made real 
 evils of imaginary ones often enough ; now let us 
 make imaginary evils of real ones. There s Uncle 
 Warren: we ll suppose his vigorous cursing is only 
 a specimen of matchless elocution it won t be the 
 first time such a supposition has been made. Mad 
 eline is the heroine, whose beautiful distress is soon 
 to be rewarded with a thousand dollars and a cham 
 pagne supper." 
 
 "Thousand dollars! That s an unfortunate re 
 minder, Robert," groaned the major. 
 
 "Never mind. For out read in, and it s all 
 right. Then there s Aunt Eliza she s the second 
 lady, in love with the bucolic Professor Tsaras." 
 
 "You aren t you ashamed of yourself?" exclaim 
 ed Miss Wellington, in crimson indignation.
 
 WITHOUT THE GATES. 73 
 
 " It s only the play, I tell you, aunty," laughed 
 Griflin, gleefully. u I m reading the cast, that s all. 
 Professor Tsarns, an impecunious but high-souled 
 Argive, with a romantic attachment to the lovely 
 and equally high-souled Heloise." 
 
 " "Warren, will you tell him to stop ?" 
 
 " Stop !" said the major, with a tremendous effort 
 at severity. 
 
 "And I order you to stop, too," added Madeline, 
 still more authoritatively. 
 
 " To hear is to obey. Next is Roberto Grifino, 
 an" 
 
 "Impudent clown, with a romantic attachment to 
 himself! breaks in Aunt Eliza, stticntto. (Applause, 
 in which Griffin himself takes the lead.) 
 
 Thus their talk went on, now light and anjmated, 
 now melancholy, prophetic of the worst, now filled 
 with bitter denunciation of their rapacious enemies. 
 The full realization of their position came upon them 
 only at intervals, in throes. Upon Griffin it seemed 
 to come scarcely at all. 
 
 At length Peschino reappeared, issuing from the 
 narrow passage in the cliff. Like an ambitious and 
 hospitable landlord, he had been busy directing the 
 preparations fora reception of his "guests" befitting 
 their supposed station in life. 
 
 lie was accompanied by the interpreter, through 
 whom he announced to Major Paul that, if agreeable 
 to "his nobility," he would like a private interview 
 before conducting him and his party to their quar 
 ters. He led the way to a sort of wild promenade
 
 74 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 at the base of the cliff, bordered by wild thyme and 
 myrtle. 
 
 " Before establishing yon," he began, " in what I 
 hope will prove not altogether an unpleasant resi 
 dence among us, it is well that you should know 
 something of our rules." 
 
 The major bowed in haughty disdain. 
 
 " As you have already seen, we treat our prisoners 
 with the utmost kindness. We care for their com 
 fort, health, even pleasure. Don t be concerned 
 about the ladies of your party. I swear to you, on 
 the honor of a klepht, that they shall not suffer the 
 slightest indignity, nor more discomfort than our rude 
 life renders unavoidable." 
 
 " That will be best for you," answered the major, 
 savagely; "for I swear to you, on the honor of a 
 free American citizen, and soldier of the greatest 
 power on earth, that if any harm comes to them 
 their friends will not rest till they are terribly re 
 venged, if it takes twenty years." 
 
 Softened as this speech was in the translation, it 
 brought a fierce, momentary scowl to Pescliino s 
 face. He said, however, with a sinister smile, 
 "Speak freely, your nobility. We always allow 
 our visitors to say what they will. It does us no 
 harm, and it adds to their comfort. We welcome 
 anything which will do that. But we digress. I be 
 gan to tell you about our rules. As I said, we treat 
 our guests with all due courtesy, and we expect sim 
 ilar treatment in return." This was said with an air 
 of gentle rebuke that to a disinterested spectator
 
 WITHOUT THE GATES. 75 
 
 would have been irresistibly comical. " You see that 
 makes it pleasanter for all parties. We advise their 
 friends of the terms upon which they may be re 
 leased. These terms we make as reasonable as we can 
 afford. 
 
 Major Paul gave vent to his feelings in a snort 
 like that of a locomotive. It made the brigand start 
 back as if in alarm. 
 
 " Your nobility is very demonstrative," he said, 
 recovering himself. " Permit me to go on. If the 
 friends are sensible enough to come to our terms, we 
 restore the little trifles which have been deposited 
 with us, and take an affectionate farewell of our 
 guests, to whom, I assure you, we often become 
 strongly attached." 
 
 " There is not the slightest doubt of that," grunted 
 the major. 
 
 The brigand smiled, showing a row of even, white 
 teeth under his jetty mustache. " You appreciate 
 humor, I see. We shall be good friends in a little 
 while. But" and the smile gave place to an ap 
 palling look "if, on the other hand, the friends 
 prove to be fools, our guests meet with misfortune." 
 
 The captive glared at the villain for a few seconds. 
 Then, with an effort at coolness which proved an ig 
 noble failure, he replied, Look here. Yon seem to 
 have some of the elements of civility about you 
 what do you think of your treatment of honest peo 
 ple that never harmed you, and on whom you have 
 not the shadow of a claim P 
 
 " It is &?/*//.**, your brilliancy honorable, brave
 
 76 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 business. You call it crime. It is not crime ; it is 
 bravery." * 
 
 " H m ! and what sort of terms do you propose ?" 
 
 " Pardon me. Your question is premature. We 
 cannot decide so important a point without careful 
 consideration. As I have already told you, you must 
 pass an examination before our committee on finance. 
 We have a regular form of interrogatories which you 
 must answer on your oath." 
 
 " Oh, you have ! But suppose I should refuse to 
 answer ?" 
 
 " I think you will not refuse, your brilliancy. We 
 have means of persuading that rarely fail." 
 
 "You include that in the kind, courteous treat 
 ment you promise, I suppose. That is one of the 
 ways you take to make your guests, as you call 
 them, comfortable and happy." 
 
 " Business is business, your nobility. We must 
 go through with our forms, you know, although we 
 do so as gently and courteously as is consistent with 
 efficiency." 
 
 Major Paul drew a long, deep breath. "]S"ow, 
 Captain Peschino, I think you said you would allow 
 me perfect freedom of speech ?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Well, then, give me your attention, if you please 
 and you, Tsaras, give him every word just as I say 
 it : Of all the insolent, cold-blooded, cowardly, ven- 
 
 * The identical remark made by one of Arvanitaki s brigands 
 on a similar occasion, " Aiv ilvai KctKta, tlvai iraXXrjKapia."
 
 WITHOUT THE GATES. 77 
 
 omous, slimy reptiles that ever crawled, you are the 
 vilest and the slimiest!" 
 
 It was of no use for Tsuras to paraphrase. The 
 speakers face, tone, manner, and gesture were a 
 sufficient and perfectly literal translation of his 
 words. 
 
 Peschino paled, and for the third time his eye was 
 lurid with a fiendish light. But his voice was as 
 smooth and mellow as ever as he replied, " We al 
 low perfect liberty of speech, but we always charge 
 for it. You will find it, as the innkeeper says, in 
 the account. But pardon me, your brilliancy, you 
 surely do not mean to intimate that we are deficient 
 in manly courage * 
 
 "None but cowards would have sneaked up to us 
 as you did. If you had given us a fair chance, few 
 as we were, we would have beaten you and driven 
 you to your holes ! 
 
 "Do you think so? It was fortunate, then, that 
 we did not. Bloodshed would have been very disa 
 greeable. And now, with your kind approval, we 
 will return to your friends, that I may have an oj>- 
 portunity of entertaining the charming young lady 
 whose superior for beauty and spirit, I ll swear, will 
 not be found in all Greece." 
 
 The major s clinched hand flew up ; but before it 
 fell, the consciousness of his utter helplessness swept 
 over him. His hand and his face sunk together. 
 
 It was no part of Peschino s policy to exasperate 
 his captives. Jle was sincere in his desire to render 
 them as comfortable as the circumstances would per-
 
 78 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 mit. lie wanted all their money, and with it as 
 much of their good-will as he could get. 
 
 " My friend," he said, reproachfully, " you do me 
 injustice. I feel only the most profound respect for 
 your admirable daughter, and nothing shall tempt 
 me to alarm or annoy her in the slightest degree. I 
 mean simply to quiet any fear she may feel as to 
 the safety of herself and her friends." 
 
 He approached Madeline and her aunt with the 
 grace of a courtier. " Mesdames, is there anything 
 that can be done to give you pleasure ?" 
 
 " Oh yes," moaned Aunt Eliza ; " let us go home !" 
 
 " You shall go very soon, kurdtza. A day more 
 or less in this mountain air, among this sublime sce 
 nery, can be only a pleasure and a benefit to you 
 especially while you are with friends whose chief de 
 light it will be to supply all your wants, protect you 
 from all harm in short, devote themselves to your 
 comfort and pleasure. You will find the Kapitdn 
 Peschino no such ogre as you imagine. Has the 0- 
 pclouda [dear young lady] observed the expansive- 
 ness of the view? That gray peak that towers so 
 proudly above the rest is Mount Taleton ; that oth 
 er, nearly as lofty, but not so pointed, is Belvidere. 
 You should ascend Belvidere, Jcurd. You would see 
 all Peloponne se spread before you like a chart, with 
 the sea and its islands stretching beyond to the sky." 
 
 " We have no fault to find with Grecian scenery," 
 responded Madeline, determined not to be charmed 
 by the gallant villain ; "it is the inhabitants that we 
 complain of."
 
 WITHOUT THE GATES. 7 J 
 
 "All, you will think better of usby-and-by" ten 
 derly. MYhen the time of parting comes, you will 
 not execrate us us you do now; and when you are 
 once more in your happy homes, surrounded by the 
 elegancies of civilization, you will think of the poor 
 wanderers in the wilderness with feelings of compas 
 sion instead of hatred." 
 
 " Provided you leave us any homes to be happy 
 in," retorted Madeline, with icy indignation. 
 
 " Wii shall be the poor wanderers," wailed Aunt 
 Eli/a. 
 
 Ah, mesdames, why will you allow your minds to 
 dwell on that embarrassing subject? Fortune lias 
 been bountiful to you, while she has driven us to the 
 mountains, where we should starve if we did not 
 tight against her cruelty. What are a few thousand 
 drachmas to his nobility He will soon recover 
 them, and be glad, perhaps, that he lias shared his 
 good things with his unhappy brothers." 
 
 ""Would you be willing to advance him a small 
 capital to begin business on f asked Griffin. 
 
 There was no sarcasm to Peschino in this question. 
 
 " That shall be fully considered, young man," he 
 said, reflectively, toying with a huge diamond on his 
 little linger. "I sometimes loan money at reasona 
 ble usury on good security. That is a matter, how 
 ever, that rests between the J\<ij>!ti ni Paul and my 
 self." lie turned again to .Madeline. "Have you 
 ever seen such scenery as this in America-. " 
 
 " I can t think of such things now. I can think 
 of nothing but my pour father. You will not ruin 
 6
 
 80 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 him utterly, will you? He is not young, you see. It 
 will break his heart it will break his heart! Oh," 
 she cried, clasping her hands in pathetic appeal, "will 
 you not let us go? You have wealth enough, and 
 the recollection of your goodness will be a life-long 
 joy to you. Think what a blessed thing it will be 
 to you when you stand in the presence of your Mak 
 er! You cannot take our gold with you there, Pes- 
 chino you can take only our blessings for your for 
 bearance, and our prayers for His mercy to your 
 guilty soul, or our tears for your cruelty !" 
 
 As her tall form stood erect on the rock, her hand 
 pointing upward, her pure, white face looking down 
 on the dark -faced miscreant, she seemed an angel 
 from heaven menacing a fiend. 
 
 She needed no interpreter. Before her face and 
 voice, her accusing hand, Peschino s hardened ef 
 frontery failed ; his eyes fell to the ground, and, mut 
 tering unintelligibly, he slunk away. 
 
 It was not alone the mesmeric power of Madeline s 
 appeal that overmastered him. Incredible as it may 
 appear, he had what he called a conscience! .11 is 
 blood-stained hands were often clasped in prayer be 
 fore the image of the Virgin, and a tithe of his booty 
 was always scrupulously set apart for his brother, 
 the priest of the little church at Mikro-Maina. 
 
 Madeline s victory, however, was short-lived. It 
 modified not a whit the destiny of herself and her 
 friends. Its only fruit was the promise to the priest 
 at Mikro-Maina of a generous percentage of the 
 American plousios s fortune.
 
 THE INQUISITION. 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE INQUISITION. 
 
 As the sun sank towards the horizon, the brigands 
 gathered together their effects and those of their 
 prisoners, and conveyed them through the narrow 
 pass in the cliff. The mules were tethered to the 
 tough stems of the mastic and of other shrubs which 
 grew sparsely around. The prisoners were then 
 filed through the pass. They found it at least a 
 hundred and fifty yards in length, and from two to 
 fifteen or twenty in width. The sides formed nearly 
 perpendicular walls of solid rock, varying from up 
 ward of two hundred and fifty feet at the entrance 
 to less than one-tenth of that height at the other ex 
 tremity. A rivulet coursed along its entire length, 
 breaking into numerous little cascades and pools, and 
 rendering the passage slow and difficult. 
 
 On emerging they saw a cluster of little huts, with 
 chimneys, glass windows, and other conveniences of 
 civilization, by no means an unwelcome sight. They 
 had supposed that they were already at the summit 
 of the mountain ; but now they saw still another as 
 cent stretching up before them, and terminating in a 
 long, impassable ridge. In the deep valley between 
 them and this ascent they naw a flock of sheep quiet 
 ly grazing.
 
 83 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 Major Paul gazed around in hopeless wonder. 
 "This is a mountain fastness, indeed !" he exclaimed. 
 "No hope of a rescue here. We may as well resign 
 ourselves to our fate. Nature seems to have de 
 signed it expressly for such incarnate fiends as you 
 are !" 
 
 " What does he say, Tsdras ?" asked Peschino, ex- 
 ultingly. 
 
 " lie says, This is, indeed, a mountain fastness. 
 There is no hope of rescue. We must resign our 
 selves to our fate. Nature has designed it expressly 
 for your safety against your enemies. You have 
 chosen very judiciously. " 
 
 "No starving here, you see," said the delighted 
 brigand, pointing to the herd and the rivulet. " Good 
 shelter, plenty of arms and ammunition, books, pens, 
 and paper, cards, chess You play chess, your no 
 bility ?" 
 
 In spite of himself, the major s face broadened, 
 lie was passionately fond of the game. 
 
 "I see that you do; so do I. That will help to 
 kill a few clays." 
 
 "Till the other killing begins," muttered Griffin 
 to himself. 
 
 "Now," said Peschino, "come and see how you 
 like your quarters." 
 
 The cleanest and most comfortable cabin was al 
 lotted to Miss Wellington and Madeline; the next 
 best to Major Paul, Tstiras, and Griffin. They were 
 allowed the use of their own beds, on which they 
 slept soundly, notwithstanding the fatigues and ex-
 
 THE INQUISITION. 83 
 
 citcments of the day, their present anxiety, and, al 
 most the worst of all, the boisterous hilarity of the 
 brigands, which lasted half the night. 
 
 At dawn they were aroused by loud explosions 
 close at hand. 
 
 " The soldiers ! the soldiers !" exclaimed Aunt 
 Eliza, springing out of bed, running to the door in 
 her robe de nuit, and throwing it wide open. A 
 couple of brigands happening to pass at that mo 
 ment, modestly turned their faces away, one of them 
 pointing to an invisible object in the horizon. In 
 spite of this delicate and highly respectful conduct, 
 however, the scandalized lady, forgetting that a 
 mountain hut was not u built upon honor," like her 
 mansion on Commonwealth Avenue, slammed the 
 door together with such violent indignation that it 
 fell from its hinges. The innocent but now wicked 
 ly-laughing objects of her wrath were constrained to 
 come and make the necessary repairs, the two fail- 
 tenants meanwhile hiding behind the high -posted 
 bedstead which had been provided as an especial 
 luxury for them. Every little while, for hours after 
 wards, Madeline shook with laughter at the recollec 
 tion of the embarrassing but comical incident. 
 
 The explosions which had caused the excitement 
 proved to be only the customary discharge of fire 
 arms after an expedition, preparatory to cleansing 
 and reloading them. 
 
 After a breakfast of toast, broiled lamb, and ex 
 cellent coffee, Peschino invited his "guests" to as 
 cend the cliff through which they had passed and
 
 84 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 witness the glories of sunrise in the Taygetus. In 
 admiring the magnificent spectacle they almost for 
 got their troubles. 
 
 " Is there anything to report ?" Peschino asked of 
 the stalwart sentinel who stood on the apex of the 
 cliff. 
 
 " Nothing, Jcapitdn" replied the man, hesitatingly ; 
 "that is nothing of importance." 
 
 "What does that mean, you dog?" 
 
 " I thought I saw something at early dawn, down 
 there," pointing to a narrow opening among the. 
 stunted trees below. 
 
 " What was it ?" 
 
 " I thought " deprecatingly " perhaps it might 
 be the" 
 
 " Out with it, stupid !" 
 
 " The the Antliropoda nnon " (man-devil). 
 
 Peschino s swarthy face turned livid. " Listen !" 
 he said to the cowering sentinel. " If I ever hear 
 that fool s-word again, I will order the tongue that 
 dares to utter it torn out by the roots ! Do you hear 
 me?" 
 
 The fellow glanced shamefacedly at the strangers, 
 and muttered a sullen affirmative. 
 
 " These superstitious idiots," said Peschino, turn 
 ing to Tsaras, " have a child s terror of a certain be 
 ing that is said to haunt these regions. They think 
 lie is something more than mortal, bears a charmed 
 life, kills with a glance from his eye, and all that pre 
 posterous, cursed nonsense. But I ll cure them of it, 
 if I have to hang every man of them by his thumbs !"
 
 THE INQUISITION. 80 
 
 "Have you ever seen this mysterious being f 7 
 Tsuras asked, eagerly. 
 
 >% He is not a mysterious being," answered Pes- 
 cliino, with ineffable disgust. " He is nothing but a 
 man like you or me. It was only three years ago 
 that his father just such another Anthropodaunon 
 was caught and disposed of as he deserved. But 
 that s nothing to these numskulls ! Seen him ? Yes ; 
 and once I nearly captured him. O T/tee mou ! if 
 I had been one minute quicker! But never mind, 
 I ll track him to his den yet." 
 
 " Has he any other name than Antkropodaimoji ?" 
 
 "Of course he has Hector Vyr." 
 
 " I knew it ! I knew it !" cried Tsiiras, in uncon 
 trollable delight. " I have heard of him before." 
 
 " Well, and what then ? Do you think he can help 
 you to cheat me out of the game you have brought 
 me? How intently they are listening! Can they 
 understand a word of what we are saying?" 
 
 " No ; but they will expect me to translate it all 
 to them when we are alone/ 
 
 "Which you will, of course, do," significantly. 
 
 " I shall use dixci-ftioji. But remember, Peschino, 
 no bodily harm is to come to them, whatever else 
 happens." 
 
 "I haven t promised that yet. Why didn t you 
 make your bargain before you delivered me the 
 goods ?" 
 
 Let not Tsiiras hoodwink the innocent reader as 
 he has already partially succeeded in doing with the 
 brigand chief. His crafty brain has devised a scheme
 
 86 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 which promises absolute safety to himself perhaps 
 even more and at least life to the unfortunate for 
 eigners whom his recklessness, not his treachery, has 
 betrayed. 
 
 "Let us talk of this at another time," he said, 
 uneasily. " My brain is not fertile enough to invent 
 a translation for so much emphasis. What of this 
 Hector Yyr?" 
 
 " Oh, he s a good fighter, that s all. lie s a sly dev 
 il, though, and shoots little steel arrows from a noise 
 less, smokeless rifle, instead of bullets; so it is hard 
 to see where lie hides himself. My fellows are urg 
 ing me to leave these snug quarters ; but I am go 
 ing to stay here, if for no other reason than to show 
 them how foolish is their terror. Perhaps I shall 
 catch him yet, who knows ?" 
 
 " Well, well !" interposed Major Paul, losing his 
 patience at last, "if you have finished your private 
 confab with this bloody cutthroat, Tsuras, perhaps you 
 will condescend to give us a little of your attention." 
 
 "Certainlec, Monsieur Paul. He was explaiiin to 
 me the little difficultee which he have with the sen 
 tinel. I shall tell him to you when it is your wishes. 
 It is all about the wond ful Hector Yyr, Monsieur 
 Paul. Aah, you shall faind those stoaries which I 
 have tell to you is the truth." 
 
 " Oh, no doubt, no doubt," answered the major, 
 indifferently. In Madeline s heart, however, there 
 sprang up a sudden wild hope which even her sensi 
 ble, practical reasoning the next moment could not 
 entirely dispel.
 
 THE INQUISITION. 87 
 
 Peschino now handed his field-glass to Major Paul, 
 directing his attention to a wide-open space appar 
 ently only a few rods distant. "Do you recognize 
 that place f he asked. 
 
 " The flume ?" 
 
 "Right. It is a kilometre off as the crow flies. 
 Any one coming to us must pass that point, and can 
 not escape the vigilant eye of our sentry. We should 
 have ample warning, therefore, to prepare for a de 
 fence, or, if we thought best, to withdraw to one of 
 our other retreats. We have others, your brilliancy, 
 nearly as good as this." 
 
 " What are those stones for ?" asked Miss Welling 
 ton, pointing to two rows of bowlders arranged with 
 such regularity as to indicate design. 
 
 " Let us go and look at them," anwered Peschino. 
 
 The bowlders were poised upon the very edges 
 of the fissure through which the captives had passed 
 the day before. Peschino asked Miss Wellington to 
 try her strength upon one of them. She did so, and 
 was astonished at the ease with which she sent it 
 crashing down the precipice. 
 
 " Imagine a file of soldiers trying to make their 
 way down there !" said Peschino, with a smile that 
 eent shudders of horror through his listeners. 
 
 In the course of the forenoon Major Paul and 
 Tstiras were summoned to the brigand chieftain s 
 "office" for a " business interview." Hitherto the 
 tension of the major s wrath had been so relieved by 
 frequent liftings of the escape- valve that he had al-
 
 $8 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 most got to looking upon liimsclf as the "gncst" liis 
 captor called him. This summons, however, was like 
 pouring a can of turpentine upon a smouldering fire. 
 lie obeyed with set teeth, Hashing eye, and a tremen 
 dous boiling within. 
 
 At a rude table half covered with papers sat the 
 irresponsible mountain despot, supported by two of. 
 his swarthy satellites. lie motioned his prisoners to 
 seats, and immediately began a grandiloquent pane 
 gyric on his "profession." This finished, he pro 
 ceeded, with all the stateliness of a judicial magnate, 
 to the inquisition. 
 
 The major, when asked if he were willing to be 
 sworn, answered with an explosive 
 
 "NO!!" 
 
 " Yery well, then," smiled the inquisitor, " we 
 will dismiss you temporarily and summon the young 
 kurd." 
 
 This brought the father to terms. 
 
 When he had sullenly given his full name, resi 
 dence, and occupation, he was required to state tho 
 total value of his estate, real and personal. 
 
 " What reason have you for supposing that I shall 
 state it correctly ?" 
 
 " Because you are a gentleman, and are on your 
 oath," placidly replied the brigand-judge. 
 
 " Hear, then, the answer of a gentleman on his 
 oath. I solemnly swear to you, Peschino, that I do 
 not look upon you as entitled to the truth, even un 
 der oath ! I believe that I should be justified, in the 
 eyes of God and man, in using any means within my
 
 THE INQUISITION. 89 
 
 power even the commission of perjury to thwart 
 your diabolical villain , and I should violate neither 
 my conscience nor my sense of honor in doing so! 
 With this understanding, do you still insist on my 
 giving you an inventory of my property f 
 
 This was what Major Paul actually said; as ren 
 dered by Tsaras it became 
 
 " Hear the answer of a gentleman on his oath. * I 
 belong to a peculiar religious sect, Peschino, which, 
 among other progressive tenets, does not recognize 
 the sanctity of an oath. We look upon all swearing 
 as blasphemy, and, even if it were not so, I regret to 
 say that my financial affairs are in such an unsettled 
 state that I am utterly unable to give you the infor 
 mation you require. Under these circumstances, will 
 you l)e so unjust as to insist upon an impossibility C v 
 
 " That is not all he said," said Peschino, glaring 
 threateningly at poor Tsaras. 
 
 "It is xuhxtiintinlli/, upon my honor," protested 
 the interpreter, with convincing earnestness. " I have 
 omitted only certain angry exclamations that do not 
 essentially modify the ideas." 
 
 k> Why, then, " said Peschino, continuing the exam 
 ination, "is your nobility here, wasting your time? 
 AVhy are you not at home arranging your aifairs C 
 
 " He ask," interpreted Tsaras, " Why you put 
 youself into sooch a perilous situaation ? Why have 
 you not thwart his " diabolical villany " by staying at 
 home? " 
 
 I Because I thought a citizen of a friendly power 
 could trust himself in a country that professed to be
 
 90 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 civilized. I thought Greece was a civilized country, 
 sir. I didn t know it was a province of hell." 
 
 Translation : " I left my affairs in good hands, and 
 came away to recuperate my exhausted energies. I 
 trusted that Greece would welcome a citizen of a 
 friendly power as a guest, sir I expected that you 
 would treat him as such. " 
 
 " We are wasting time," said Peschino, losing pa 
 tience at last. " Once for all, will you make the es 
 timate, or shall 1 3" 
 
 "I decline to pronounce my own sentence. The 
 power is in your hands. I suppose you will do as 
 you please." 
 
 The brigand ground his teeth with rage for an in 
 stant ; but immediately controlling himself, he said, 
 calmly, "You are dismissed for the present. Zout- 
 zo, conduct him to his quarters, and bring the young 
 man." 
 
 Griffin was detained but a few minutes. It would 
 be futile to represent him as utterly unconcerned ; 
 he was mortal, and capable of suffering from finan 
 cial ruin or a worse fate, when it came, as sensibly as 
 others. But probably no one was ever less affected 
 by the mere anticipation of evil than he. For him, 
 amply sufficient unto the day was the evil thereof. 
 lie entered the dread presence with an air of gay in 
 difference extremely annoying to the brigand chief, 
 who at the same time felt it beneath his dignity to 
 betray his irritation. 
 
 " What do you know of your friend s circum 
 stances ?" was asked, after the usual preliminaries.
 
 THE INQUISITION. 91 
 
 " Major Paul ha* enjoyed the reputation of being 
 one of the wealthiest merehants of Boston," was the 
 unexpected answer. 
 
 " Ah, that is good." Eagerly" Go on." 
 
 " But, alas ! tlie war ruined him. The crash was 
 
 tremendous. His great fortune floated away from 
 
 him like the fragments of a shipwreck. He reserved 
 
 nothing, and even then could only pay twelve per 
 
 "A likely story, indeed! Why is he here, travel 
 ling with his family, like a prince of the blood ?" 
 
 t% You compel me, then, to reveal his disgrace? 
 The unfortunate but really innocent man is simply 
 hiding from his infuriated creditors." 
 
 " Didltolos ! You think me an imbecile ! My 
 time is too precious to waste on such a rattle-pate. 
 If I did my duty I should wipe that shallow simper 
 off your face with fifty lashes. Take him away, 
 Zoutzo. I will see the elder of the women." 
 
 But he could make nothing of Miss "Wellington. 
 Ordinarily excitable, she had nerved herself up to 
 preternatural coolness for the ordeal before her. She 
 had thought better of her first resolution to be abso 
 lutely dumb, and had outlined a course of testimony 
 which subjected her tender conscience to little or no 
 strain. She was only a woman, she said, and could 
 not be expected to know anything of business. She 
 knew only that her brother-in-law had suffered losses 
 during the war. On her oath she knew nothing defi 
 nite of his financial condition. 
 
 "But you know his manner of living?"
 
 93 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 "That is no criterion in America. Men often live 
 recklessly to conceal their real poverty." 
 
 " They must have resources to do even that." 
 
 " Oh, people trust as recklessly as they spend. 
 He may be living entirely on his credit, for all that I 
 know." 
 
 " For all that you know ? Do you believe he is 
 doing that ?" 
 
 " My belief can be of no value to you." 
 
 "Nevertheless, I desire to know your belief." 
 
 " I shall not answer you." 
 
 " I wish no better answer than that, kurdtza. 
 The young man says your brother s real poverty is 
 no secret." 
 
 " I don t know, I don t know. I have never asked, 
 and nobody has ever told me." 
 
 "What is to prevent my levying on his credit?" 
 
 " You would gain very little by doing so. Keck- 
 less as our people are, they know better than to trust 
 a man in his unhappy situation." 
 
 "Surely they will risk something to release him 
 from it 2" 
 
 "I am afraid not. They will sympathize deeply, 
 but when it comes to giving money they are like the 
 rest of the world." 
 
 " You are the lady that knows nothing of business. 
 How much would your brother and his friends be 
 willing to pay to release you all from captivity per 
 haps worse 2" 
 
 " I cannot, and I will not answer." 
 
 "Four hundred thousand drachmas?"
 
 THE INQUISITION. 93 
 
 Miss Wellingtdfi fl lips shut tightly together. 
 
 ^ 2^o/i r In/ nil ml tli<tx<t)i<l /" 
 
 The lips closed still more tightly. 
 
 " IIo\v much do you think you can endure before 
 giving me an answer f 
 
 "All that you can inflict." 
 
 " I may put you to the test. This is sufficient for 
 the present, madame." 
 
 When Madeline s turn came she drew a deep 
 breath to quiet her furiously leaping heart, and came 
 before the brigand chief with outward composure. 
 The starry light in her brown eyes, however, and the 
 vivid Hush on her cheek betrayed her inward agita 
 tion, while they greatly enhanced her marvellous 
 beauty. 
 
 IVschino gazed upon her with undisguised admi 
 ration. He motioned his attendants to withdraw. 
 
 They scowled and muttered. 
 
 "I am the J\n]>!l<ii>. IVschino," fiercely growled 
 their chief. "You know both my honor and my 
 discipline. Don t you see, your savage faces fright 
 en the lady { She will say nothing while you are 
 here. Leave me and this gentleman to deal with 
 her. Go !" 
 
 AVhen they had gone, a look of intelligence was 
 exchanged between the brigand chief and Tsaras 
 which did not escape Madeline. 
 
 "Is it possible?" she murmured, as she gazed at 
 the smooth-faced interpreter. Then a deathly faint- 
 ness came over her.
 
 94 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 "Have no fears, beautiful lady," Peschino said, in 
 his softest tones; "I would cut my heart out rather 
 than harm you. It is of your father that I wish to 
 speak, and I do not wish those rough, greedy fellows 
 to hear the generous terms I am about to propose. 
 They have no sentiments of humanity in their breasts 
 they would never consent." 
 
 " Why do you not propose your terms to my fa 
 ther himself?" Madeline faltered. 
 
 " You must hear them first, kopclouda. You are 
 fond of adventure, of romance, are you not ? Yours 
 is a poetic soul ; it is thrilled with the spectacle of 
 heroic life among these glorious mountains. It is a 
 wild life, but not a hard one, believe me. It is full 
 of grand excitements, without discomforts that the 
 noble soul feels. We know nothing of poverty. Pes 
 chino is a king, kopelouda a king that Georgias him 
 self is afraid of. His willing subjects populate a hun 
 dred villages, and pour their treasures into his lap." 
 
 " Oh, then," cried Madeline, her voice coming forth 
 in a flood of passionate entreaty, " if you are so rich 
 and powerful let us go ! Do not rob my poor father 
 to add to your riches, which are already so great." 
 
 Peschino interrupted her with a gracious wave of 
 his hand. " ]S r o, lovely girl ; your father shall not 
 lose a drachma. Peschino lias no need of his treas 
 ures. He is a king, with a kingly heart which is 
 not satisfied with riches and grandeur alone. It 
 craves something more love. Oh, beautiful kurd, 
 be my queen." 
 
 Poor Madeline had known too well how his speech
 
 THE INQUISITION. 95 
 
 would end ; but when the last words fell on her ears 
 she seemed turned to marble. Her lips were open, 
 but no sound came from them. Suddenly her arms 
 ilew up convulsively, and her voice returned to her 
 with a horrified, u Xever ! O, merciful Father in 
 heaven !" 
 
 The brigand s face flushed, then turned almost as 
 white as her own. lie uttered some words in a low, 
 harsh voice, which were not repeated to Madeline. 
 Then he said, with comparative calmness, I will 
 give you time to decide. Only one word more now. 
 If you love your father, you will breathe no word 
 of this matter. Say that you have been questioned 
 as the rest were about your father s circumstances 
 no more. In the mean time fear nothing from 
 this interview ; you, as well as the rest, shall be treat 
 ed as before." 
 
 An hour or two afterwards Major Paul was re 
 called. Without preface or ceremony he was in 
 formed that the ransom for himself and family had 
 been iixed at four hundred thousand drachmas a 
 sum equal to about seventy thousand dollars. GrilHn 
 would be released on parole, and could be employed 
 as his agent. One month would be allowed for the 
 ransom to be collected and paid in. If it came safe 
 ly, and no trouble followed, either from his own gov 
 ernment or that of Greece, Major Paul and his party 
 would be immediately set at liberty, and escorted to 
 a place from which they could return to Athens in 
 pert ect security. 
 
 The penahv of failure was death. 
 7
 
 90 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE "ANTIIROPODAIMON. 
 
 U 
 
 Now seventy thousand dollars may seem insignifi 
 cant to yon, the " unearned increment " of whose 
 property on the Back Bay lias been more than that 
 amount within a year ; but to Major Paul it was ter 
 ribly large. Entre nous, Robert Griffin s testimony 
 was not so absurd as it sounded to himself as well as 
 to Peschino. It was true that while Major Paul had 
 been risking life and limb on the field, his wealth 
 had been rapidly diminishing at home. Not that his 
 absence at the seat of war had aught to do with its 
 diminution ; on the contrary, it was probably one of 
 the best things that could have happened both for 
 his bleeding country and for his bleeding pocket. It 
 was also true that he \vas now travelling with his 
 family, not, indeed, to " escape from his infuriated 
 creditors," but in obedience to the demands of his 
 much-enduring partners, who had pledged themselves 
 to redeem his fortunes if he would only consent to 
 the status of silent partner for one year. As will be 
 readily understood, the only possible way for him to 
 fulfil such a condition was to be where neither his 
 big voice could be heard nor his letters and telegrams 
 especially troublesome.
 
 THE "ANTimOrODAiMON." 97 
 
 ( JritHn, too, for reasons best known to himself, had 
 been willing to be supposed far more forehanded 
 than he actually was, and the fearful, naked truth 
 was that, as matters stood, it was next to impossible 
 for all the prisoners combined to raise the amount 
 required for their ransom, save through disinterested 
 benevolence a forlorn resort, indeed ! 
 
 But remonstrances, prayers, tears, threats to Pes- 
 chino were like rain, snow, and hail to Gibraltar. 
 (Iriffin set forth upon his well-nigh hopeless errand, 
 bearing letters from his three companions to Amer 
 ica, and another from Peschino to the Greek Gov 
 ernment insolently demanding a decree of pardon 
 and amnesty for life, with the most atrocious alter 
 nate 
 
 After (JriiliiTs departure the brigands seemed to 
 try in every possible way to make the remaining cap 
 tives forget their captivity. They allowed them to 
 wander almost at will on both sides of the pass, al 
 ways, however, within sight of a strong guard ; the 
 slightest show of rudeness to them was promptly and 
 .-eveivly punished ; the best of everything obtainable 
 was freely placed at their disposal ; and had it not 
 been for the dark, uncertain future, their life would 
 have been far from unpleasant. The first day or 
 two seemed an age. But terror, apprehension, indig 
 nation cannot last forever at extreme tension. What 
 ever might betide the captives, their consciences were 
 unscathed, and gradually health of mind and body, 
 sustained by the purest and most exhilarating of 
 mountain air, and by a never-ceasing chain of novel
 
 98 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 experiences, brought back something like hope and 
 cheerfulness. 
 
 As no attempt was made to escape, the vigilance 
 of the brigands relaxed, and they made more persist 
 ent overtures towards comradeship. So far from 
 apprehending efforts on the part of the Hellenic 
 Government or of others to rescue the prisoners, they 
 manifested only contempt for the combined force of 
 all civilization against them. Even the superstitious 
 fear of the terrible Hector Yyr which prevailed 
 among the less intelligent of them, gradually died 
 out as no new rumors of his exploits came to their 
 ears. "Whatever precautions they might take for 
 their own safety when empty-handed, with such hos 
 tages as they held they felt perfectly secure. Every 
 two or three days one or more of their number went 
 to the neighboring villages, and on one occasion even 
 to Athens, for necessaries and luxuries for themselves 
 and their captives. 
 
 Incredible as it may appear, as time went on a 
 curious kind of familiarity grew up between Major 
 Paul and Peschino. True to his old habit, the major 
 had expended the vitality of his indignation in a 
 succession of terrific tirades, which at first had mad 
 dened the brigand chief, but afterwards only amused 
 him. Less and less was said of the anomalous " busi 
 ness " relation between them ; they played chess for 
 hours together ; they gave each other language les 
 sons until they could converse, after a fashion, in both 
 English and Greek ; they went hunting together, 
 and once, when a violent storm imprisoned them
 
 THE "ANTHBOPODAIMON. 99 
 
 over-night in a cave, they kept each other warm by 
 Iving close together un their heel of thorn-hush, like 
 a pair of brother 
 
 Much to her relief, Madeline was not annoyed by 
 a direct renewal of Peschino s love advances. No 
 rejected suitor in civilized life could have maintained 
 a more delicate or self-respecting reserve. lie seem 
 ed bent on disarming her repugnance and winning 
 her gratitude by intruding himself upon her as little 
 as possible, at the same time that he displayed a 
 never-ceasing solicitude for her comfort and pleasure. 
 I>ut she, of all the party, remained the most implaca 
 ble. Pescliino s artful policy was the more horrible 
 to her from its very subtlety. She witnessed the in 
 creasing communicativeness, if not friendliness, be 
 tween her companions and the robbers, as she per 
 sistently styled them, with growing abhorrence. 
 Whatever may have been her feelings towards her 
 cousin, she now looked for his return as that of a 
 delivering angel. 
 
 At last he came, bringing with him an agent of the 
 Greek Government. A conference of several hours 
 was held at headquarters. 
 
 The letters which (Jriilin brought characterized 
 the ransom demanded as utterly beyond the bounds 
 of reason or possibility. After a stormy discussion 
 IVschino consented to reduce it to three hundred 
 thousand drachmas (about lifty thousand dollars) a 
 sum which, Major Paul declared, was equally out of 
 
 * An actual occurrence.
 
 100 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 the question ; but not a drachma less would Peschino 
 take it must be that or death. 
 
 One of the letters, from a zealous young debtor of 
 the major s, occasioned a gloomy sort of amusement, 
 if such a thing were possible, among the prisoners. 
 It threatened the vengeance of the whole American 
 nation. A squadron of iron-clads would invest the 
 peninsula, an army corps would scour the mountains 
 and pursue the villains through Turkey to the deserts 
 of Arabia, but they would avenge every drop of blood 
 and reclaim every dollar of ransom with terrible in 
 terest a great satisfaction to ears forever deaf to the 
 thunder of iron-clads, and to eyes forever blind to 
 the glitter of gold! 
 
 The negotiations with his Majesty s Government 
 were, if possible, still more unsatisfactory. While, 
 for the sake of the unfortunate captives, citizens of 
 a powerful nation with whom the Hellenic Govern 
 ment was anxious to remain at peace, a most humili 
 ating concession would be made, to wit : that neither 
 the Kapitdn Peschino nor his command would be mo 
 lested on account of their present offence, provided 
 the prisoners were set at liberty on reasonable terms 
 it was out of the power of the Government to grant 
 pardon and an amnesty for life. By so doing they 
 would bring down upon themselves the execration 
 and hostility of the civilized world. It was believed 
 that on reflection the Kapitdn Peschino would rec 
 ognize the unreasonableness of his demand, and sub 
 stitute one that could be entertained. 
 
 But while the insignificant little tyrant was will-
 
 THE "ANTHROPODAIMON." 101 
 
 ing to make some concession to his prisoners, for 
 whom he professed a strong personal regard, with 
 his government he was scornfully inexorable. From 
 his inaccessible mountain throne lie issued a still 
 more insolent and defiant decree, and the conference 
 broke np. 
 
 Efforts were still to be made in America to raise 
 the reduced sum demanded by Peschino, and as the 
 time of grace was growing short, the result of the 
 efforts was to be announced by the Atlantic cable. 
 But the prisoners no longer indulged hope. From 
 the moment the brigand chief declared his ultima 
 tum. Major Paul looked upon himself and his com 
 panions as doomed. All comradeship with his ene 
 mies was forthwith dropped, and he sank into the 
 gloom of despair. " Oh, my daughter !" he groaned, 
 as his massive iron-gray head fell upon her shoulder, 
 and his arms wound around her neck "my great, 
 grown -up, handsome daughter! Oh, my girl, my 
 baby ! If it were only I, but J/<?</< Hue ! Oh, what 
 shall I do, what shall I do /" 
 
 "Don t cry, papa," sobbed Madeline, her own tears 
 moistening his hair. "Thank Heaven I am with 
 you ! I m not afraid, papa. I feel in my soul that 
 we shall be saved. I have prayed to God, and I 
 know he will not let them harm us. There, there, 
 papa darling, don t cry so. I know the robbers will 
 be satisfied ; they will accept what we can give, rath 
 er than lose everything and have our blood upon 
 their souls." 
 
 " Oh, you poor little kitten ! you do not under-
 
 102 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 stand. The devils have their rules ; they will not 
 allow such a precedent. They believe I can pay the 
 full ransom, and they will carry out their threats as 
 a warning to future captives contamination seize 
 the poisonous cusses !" 
 
 " But the full ransom will be paid, if it must. 
 Our friends will not let us die here for the sake 
 of" 
 
 "Who will pay it, my child? who will pay it? 
 Jobling & Ilotchkiss wouldn t advance me ten thou 
 sand dollars beyond my credit to save us all from 
 fire and brimstone. But that is not all ; there s an 
 other demand which leaves no hope not a red cent s 
 worth of hope; may the black dragon scorch, roast, 
 fry, \>YQ\\,fricasee their filthy giblets to cinders!" 
 
 "Then," said Madeline, her tears suddenly ceas 
 ing and her face turning to marble, " we will meet 
 our fate bravely we will go hand-in-hand to mother" 
 
 Thus the heroic girl tried to sustain her despairing 
 father, who but for her would have been as brave as 
 he had been on many a bloody field. 
 
 All at once his face lighted up. His own despair 
 ing question, "Who will pay it?" had suggested a 
 thought which promised salvation, at least to his idol 
 ized daughter. If she could be persuaded that, by 
 her superior tact and the pathos of a beautiful wom 
 an s appeal, she could best raise the ransom-money, 
 she could not refuse to go back to America instead 
 of Griffin. The prospect of her success would easily 
 gain Peschino s consent. Then, she once safely out 
 of their hands, the brigands might do their worst.
 
 THE "ANTUROPODAIMON. 103 
 
 1 erhaps Miss Wellington might ho allowed to go, 
 too, to hasten matters who knew? AVith a torrent 
 of eager argument and entreaty he told her of the 
 plan. She listened in silence, and when he had fin 
 ished she replied, in a low, calm voice, 
 
 "If they will let me, and if Robert and Aunt 
 Eliza think as you do, I will go." 
 
 " That s my own good girl !" he cried, catching 
 her in his arms. 
 
 " But, father, don t misunderstand me. Whether 
 I succeed or not, I sJudl come fh />-. " 
 
 "Great Polyphemus! \\-]is\t for ? Isn t it better 
 that three should perish than t /fow/ M 
 
 " Dear papa, think for one moment. I should be 
 on my parole, shouldn t I ? just as Robert was." 
 
 "Hell ?" he asked, staring stupidly at her. 
 
 " Didn t Robert come back ( Wouldn t you ?" 
 
 " I ? but but you are a woman, you know." 
 
 "And therefore have no Junior. No, no, papa; 
 that will not do. If Robert should consent to such 
 an act, what would you think of him? what would 
 you say of him C 
 
 " I hit," he faltered, piteously, "you are going, you 
 know, because you can do so much better than he 
 can; you can persuade them, you know, while he 
 couldn t. That s reason enough, isn t it?" 
 
 " It s a reason, perhaps, why I should go and try, 
 but not why I shouldn t come back." 
 
 Madeline," he said, bravely, but with the hope 
 gone from his face, " you heroine, you plucky little 
 tiger, you are r njJit . r
 
 104 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 An hour later the four prisoners were seated on 
 the flat rock on the outer side of the pass, talking 
 over the plan which the major had proposed, and 
 talcing what comfort they could from it. A guard 
 of four brigands were lying at full length on the 
 grassless ground near them, while the sentinel on the 
 cliff was lazily sitting a la Turk, his mind probably 
 as little occupied with his duties as was his body. 
 Within the pass Peschino, with several brigands, was 
 in the valley, exhibiting his herds to the Government 
 agent. The residue of his force were scattered here 
 and there about camp, some with their muskets in 
 pieces to be polished and oiled. If a government 
 force could have surprised the guard at this time, 
 they might have effected a rescue and capture with 
 out the least difficulty. Tstiras, who, since the exam 
 ination of Madeline, had studiously avoided his fel 
 low-prisoners, was swinging in a hammock within a 
 clump of trees. 
 
 It was a perfect day ; but the beautiful smile of 
 Nature was to the prisoners a smile of bitter irony. 
 The celestial blue seemed serenely taunting them 
 with their dismal plight ; the brooklets giggled glee 
 fully at their misery ; the careless abandon of the 
 guard kindly enough designed, no doubt was an 
 insult to their helplessness which stung the major to 
 one of his sudden outbursts. 
 
 " See the lazy, basking reptiles ! They d spring 
 up quick enough if Peschino should show himself. 
 Perdition seize their insolence ! don t they know the 
 difference between a field-officer and a scrubby little
 
 THE "ANTHROPODAIMON. 105 
 
 captain without a commission, except what the devil 
 lias given him! I wish I had my sword for three 
 mini. 
 
 "I wish you had, papa," said his daughter, mourn- 
 fully. 
 
 /y prod the filthy camp scullions ! I I d make 
 em stand in the position of the soldier, if I had to 
 roast for it !" 
 
 "I wish you had not only your sword but the 
 whole th regiment at your back !" added Madeline, 
 with gleaming e_\ 
 
 ".I//-/--/ 1 -/ . " The major s growl was like that of 
 a mammoth terrier in the act of shaking the life out 
 of a rat. It even attracted the attention of one of the 
 victims of the imaginary charge, who opened one eye 
 in sleepy wonder, and immediately closed it again. 
 
 Oh!" cried "Madeline, clasping her hands, while 
 her bosom swelled with the agony of her prayer, 
 "why will not just and merciful Heaven send a le 
 gion of angels to deliver us!" 
 
 " Don t call on Heaven/ Griffin broke in, fiercely. 
 His gay light -heartedncss had at last failed him. 
 "Heaven smiles only on robbers and murderer.-! 
 Heaven delights in martyrs ! The smoke of their 
 torment arises as sweet incense to the pearly gates !" 
 
 "Hush!" said Madeline, terrified at his bitter 
 blasphemy, "or we shall deserve our fate! 
 
 "Come, "Robert," added her father, with unwonted 
 solemnity, " this is no time for such talk as that. No 
 sailor swears when his ship is sinking. You d better 
 be paying your prayers, man."
 
 100 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 A little while after tins the party were startled l>y 
 a wild shriek from the sentinel on the cliff, who, 
 springing to his feet, fired his musket, and went hop 
 ping away on one leg. This aroused the guard of 
 four, who frantically seized their pieces and aimed 
 them down the path with shouts of "Antliropodai- 
 mon ! Antliropodaimon /" 
 
 Looking in the direction in which the muskets 
 were pointed, the prisoners saw a figure with bare 
 head, shoulders, arms, and legs, darting from side to 
 side with prodigious agility, at the same time that it 
 advanced rapidly towards them. 
 
 The four brigands discharged their muskets almost 
 simultaneously, and the next moment were frantically 
 scrambling towards the pass, within which they disap 
 peared with loud cries of terror, the last one barely 
 escaping the grasp of the stranger. The latter, whose 
 pursuit had been like that of a tiger leaping upon its 
 prey, now turned towards the party at the rock, and 
 burst into a long, loud peal of laughter. lie held his 
 sides, and bent forward and back like a huge rollick 
 ing school-boy. The deep, round, clear ha! ha! ha! 
 rang out, echoing and re-echoing until all the majes 
 tic mountains around seemed to have lapsed into a 
 Titanic frolic. 
 
 The captives forgot their captivity and their ap 
 parent sudden release in stupefied amazement. They 
 could only gaze with open mouths and wide eyes -at 
 the marvellous spectacle. 
 
 In a few seconds the stranger s mirth ceased as ab 
 ruptly as it had begun. He bounded towards the
 
 THE "ANTHROPODAfMON." 107 
 
 rescued party before they could collect their senses, 
 and hustled them without ceremony into the path, 
 down which they found themselves the next moment 
 running with might and main. Miss Wellington s 
 pace not satisfying him, he caught her in his arms 
 as if she were an infant, and ran on with undimin- 
 ished speed, urging the rest before him with cries of 
 " Greyor . <jrl<jr*i /" ( I lurry ! hurry !) 
 
 His haste and solicitude were none too great. The 
 half-dozen brigands within call ran yelling to the top 
 of the cliff, and their bullets came zippiny viciously 
 down the hill. No one of the fugitives was struck, 
 however, and presently they were hidden from their 
 enemies by the rocks and foliage. 
 
 They had descended perhaps a quarter of a mile 
 down the path when the rescuer shouted "Alt/" 
 
 They stopped running, and pantingly awaited fur 
 ther orders. They were motioned into a by-path 
 leading into a thicket, where they were brought to a 
 halt. To their increased astonishment and delight, 
 their mysterious deliverer now addressed them in 
 English, scarcely marred by an alien accent. 
 
 " They will soon rally their force and pursue after 
 us. I shall shoot one, two, three the rest shall re 
 treat away." 
 
 A- he said this in a peculiarly deep, resonant 
 voice, he unslung a brass tube about a yard in length, 
 which turned out to be a spring-gun of enormous 
 power. Pressing down the spring with little appar 
 ent effort, he raised his hand to his shoulder, drew 
 one from a great number of slender, feathered steel
 
 108 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 shafts, and dropped it into the bore. Then aiming 
 at the tough, thick stem of a stunted tree at a con 
 siderable distance, he released the spring. There was 
 a sharp zip, like that of a rifle-ball. 
 
 " Go and see," he said to Major Paul. 
 
 The tree had been pierced through ; the shaft had 
 passed beyond, and was not to be found. 
 
 "My televodon kills silently," the marksman said, 
 in his wonderful, thrilling voice, " and it makes no 
 smoking. They have no opportune to return my 
 shoot. They cannot endure, and they soon retreat 
 away, like it is from a malaria invisible, irresistible." 
 
 He had scarcely finished speaking when the report 
 of a musket was heard. Aunt Eliza uttered a sup 
 pressed shriek. Madeline turned pale. 
 
 " Hide in these bush ; be perfectly quiet," ordered 
 the stranger, sternly. "I will soon return. The 
 womans shall make no screams." 
 
 "Let us go with you," urged Major Paul, speak 
 ing for himself and Griffin. 
 
 "No. You have not arms. You shall only be 
 obstacle. You shall draw their guns to me like to 
 yourself." 
 
 " But if anything happened to you we could 
 
 " Have I not said NO ?" 
 
 Before they could recover from the paralyzing ef 
 fect of the word, the speaker had noiselessly disap 
 peared in the thicket towards the pass. 
 
 " I m going to follow him," said Griffin, recklessly. 
 " Come along, uncle." 
 
 "No, sir! Always obey orders from a superior,
 
 THE "ANTHRQPODAIMON." 109 
 
 especially in active service. It s hard, I know, devil 
 ish hard, but we can t help it. Stay where you are." 
 
 They lay, as it seemed, for hours, listening with 
 strained ears to every sound. At length there came 
 the report of a musket another a volley. Then 
 they heard loud voices, among which they thought 
 they recognized that of Peschino. The noises grad 
 ually receded until they became inaudible. 
 
 " Well, I ll be consigned !" ejaculated the major, 
 "if he hasn t driven the whole darned crowd into 
 their old school-house again !" 
 
 " God bless him ! God bless him !" cried Made 
 line, fervently, and the rest as fervently echoed the 
 benediction not excepting Griffin, whose eyes the 
 next moment met those of Madeline fixed upon him 
 with a look of pity mingled with awe. 
 
 "Pray" she said, in a scarcely audible voice 
 " pray for the forgiveness of the Heaven you so 
 wickedly slandered the Heaven that heard the 
 prayer instead of the blasphemy !" 
 
 His eyes fell, and a dark ilush covered his face. 
 
 "Madeline," said the major. 
 
 She turned to him. 
 
 " I heard what you two were saying just before 
 He paused and looked up into the sky with a dazed 
 expression. "Strange, wasn t it? You don t really 
 believe that that 
 
 " That God heard my prayer and answered it ? 
 Yes, papa, I <Jo. How can any of us be so ungrate 
 ful as to doubt it ? How can we </<(/ . " 
 
 " It was a remarkable coincidence wonderful. It
 
 HO A DEMIGOD. 
 
 does seem as if - I have heard of such things happen 
 ing; but then, after all, there s nothing so very mys 
 terious in a mere coincidence. 1 can t really believe 
 that" 
 
 "Oh, papa!" she entreated, "don t say it. Who 
 knows but there may be another coincidence ?" 
 
 Her words struck him with a sudden awe. " "Well," 
 he said, presently, " I confess I shouldn t have the 
 hardihood to say what Robert said." 
 
 At this moment their champion appeared boldly 
 walking down the path. It is impossible to convey an 
 adequate idea of the free, springing elasticity of his 
 stride. It was as if he were the proud, unquestioned 
 monarch of the mountains. As he came nearer, their 
 attention was attracted to another and a very differ 
 ent matter his left arm was bound with a ligature, 
 and was covered with blood. 
 
 " Oh, sir, your arm !" cried Madeline, running to 
 meet him ; but her swift step was suddenly checked 
 by his impatient answer : 
 
 " Make not fuss, young woman ! It is a random 
 gun. No bodies have saw me. It is in the flesh 
 only, and the ball have gone out. You shall put a 
 more better band on the arm." 
 
 All eagerly pressed forward with offers of assist 
 ance, tearing their handkerchiefs into strips. As 
 Madeline readjusted the ligature and tenderly wiped 
 away the blood, she was struck with admiration at 
 the magnificently formed limb. While she is deftly 
 performing her grateful office, let us look leisurely 
 at her patient.
 
 THE RETREAT. Ill 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE RETEEAT. 
 
 THE prevailing impression the stranger makes is 
 that of supreme virile power, an abounding vitality 
 that pervades the whole man like an inward fire. A 
 mighty soul looks out from large, dark eyes clear 
 and luminous as those of a child. He is nearly sev 
 en feet in height, but formed with such symmetry 
 that he seems tall only because he is standing beside 
 others. Then, indeed, he seems colossal. His head 
 is the ideal Caucasian ovoid, thickly covered with 
 short, crisp brown curls. His massive shoulders, 
 deep chest, and powerful limbs tell of ability for 
 mighty achievement, while bright intellectual vigor, 
 such as in all its freshness accompanies only the har 
 monious play of all the functions, is manifest in his 
 countenance. In short, with a somewhat less pro 
 nounced muscular development, he would present in 
 form and feature a model such as Phidias might have 
 chosen for a Hermes. His dress consists of a sleeve 
 less jacket, low in. the neck and curiously embroid 
 ered, fustanelli of linen reaching only to the knee, 
 and stout shoes of goat-skin. From a narrow leath 
 ern waist-belt is suspended a richly mounted dagger, 
 while two cross-belts of the same material and width 
 sustain the brazen spring-gun and the quiver of steel 
 shafts which have served so good a purpose.
 
 113 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 "Be quick, Madeline," said her father. "We 
 must get away from here, or those wolves will be 
 after us again." 
 
 "No," said the champion; "they will dare not to 
 come if they shall not see us in the path. They are 
 too afraid for the silent bullet which comes from the 
 wind. We shall stay here a little more time." 
 
 " You are English peoples ?" he asked, presently. 
 
 " No, your excellency," replied the major, with the 
 greatest possible deference ; " we are Americans." 
 
 " It is no difference. But you must not say to me 
 your excellence. I am not excellence." 
 
 " I beg your pardon. I won t again." 
 
 "Pardon! Why-fore? Have you commit some 
 crimes ?" 
 
 " No, your Excuse me, I " 
 
 " Excuse you ! What do you mean ? I do not 
 understand." 
 
 " I mean, I ask your pardon for my mistake." 
 
 "Why-fore shall I pardon you for you make mis 
 take ? Is it some wickedness 2" 
 
 The major colored up and began to flounder again, 
 when Madeline came to his relief. " It is a custom 
 with us," she said, with a smile, " to ask pardon for 
 an innocent mistake as if it were a real offence." 
 
 He turned his great, inquiring eyes upon her. 
 " Then what shall you say when you do the real of 
 fence ? Shall you ask the pardon then, too ?" 
 
 " Of course. There is all the more occasion for it 
 then." 
 
 " But that what you say it is no different ?"
 
 TilE RETREAT. 113 
 
 " Oli, wo say it with a great deal more feeling 
 more earnestness, you know." 
 
 Why-fore do you say I know? I do not know 
 until you shall tell me." 
 
 At this they all indulged in a tenderly good-nat 
 ured, highly respectful laugh. "We use a good 
 many forms in our speech," Madeline explained, 
 " which have no real meaning, but which serve to 
 smooth and round out our sentences." 
 
 " I understand him now. How long time have 
 you been at captivity ?" 
 
 "Twenty -seven days," answered Major Paul, 
 promptly. 
 
 "It is a long time. It was tcllcd to me this morn 
 ing. I came to you so quickly as I could come." 
 
 " You came in good time," replied Madeline, with 
 deep feeling, and her father added, 
 
 " Heaven must have sent you, indeed, as my daugh 
 ter says! 1 .-lioiild be a cursed Judas to doubt it." 
 
 "Our poor thanks," continued Madeline, k> are so 
 utterly inadequate, that, indeed, we are almost 
 ashamed to offer them. But we can at least pray 
 God to shower his richest blessings on you." 
 
 " Allow me to say, general," put in the major, 
 his face growing red and his breath coming noisily, 
 " that you have done alone, and almost unarmed, what 
 that infernal villain boasted the whole Greek Gov 
 ernment couldn t do. You are a wonderful man, 
 your excel 13eg pardon, sir. There isn t your equal 
 in the world no, sir, not by a thousand per cent. ! 
 You can be no other than the famous personage of
 
 114 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 whom sucli wonderful stories are told. I beg your 
 pard Excuse me, I didn t mean but but isn t 
 your name Yyr Hector Yyr?" 
 
 The stranger smiled, displaying two rows of teeth, 
 even, strong, and white as those of a savage. 
 
 " My name is Hector Yyr," he answered. " Your 
 name is Mr. Fowl ?" 
 
 " Paul, sir ; not Fowl. The young lady who is 
 dressing your arm is my .daughter, Miss Madeline 
 Paul ; this lady is my sister-in-law, Miss Eliza Well 
 ington ; this young gentleman is my nephew, Mr. 
 Robert L. Griffin ; and we are all your grateful serv 
 ants for life, Mr. Yyr." 
 
 " There," said Madeline, with a sigh of satisfaction, 
 " that is the best I can do for your arm until we can 
 find some water. I hope I did not hurt you very 
 much, Mr. Yyr?" 
 
 " You did hurt me very much, Miss Paul ; but I 
 did know you could not prevent it. I did not think 
 of the pain. I give to you thanks for your helps to 
 me." 
 
 " Oh," she cried, " I beg you not to speak of such 
 a trifle. If there were only something a thousand 
 times greater we could do for you, we should all be 
 so glad to do it! Is there not something more we 
 can do, Mr. Yyr?" 
 
 The amazing reply was : 
 
 "Let me to see your tectlis" 
 
 As soon as her friends had finished staring at one 
 another, and she was sure she had heard aright, she 
 uttered an embarrassed " Certainly," and at once ex-
 
 THE IlETREAT. 115 
 
 hibited two sets of pearl as perfect as his own, though 
 on a very different scale. 
 
 "It is good," he said, as if to himself; "yet I 
 thinks you do eat the confection and drink the hot 
 teas and the coffees, like to your other peoples." 
 
 "Are you a a dentist?" asked Aunt Eliza, tim 
 idly. 
 
 What is dentist, Miss Wellington ? Ah, I know 
 that what it is : dens, dentis. Do you mean teeth- 
 doctor 2" 
 
 Aunt Eliza bowed assent. 
 
 "Not more than I am all kinds of doctors. I 
 think I am that what you can name health-monoma 
 niac. My father was one of those, and his father, 
 and his father and away behind for great many of 
 generation. I asked Miss Paul that she shall show 
 to me her teeths, because she is so perfect in all oth 
 er thing that I was inquisitive how she shall endure 
 the test so delicate." Turning to Madeline. "I 
 think you do breathe the bacteria in the cities, and 
 the dirt of the carpet, and you do dance all the nights 
 in the gas-lights like everybodies C 
 
 k Indeed," rejoined .Madeline, trying to cover her 
 confusion by laughing, " I am not nearly so dissi 
 pated as you think me, Mr. Vyr. Have I not lived 
 a very sensible life, papa :" 
 
 " Oh yes ; of course, of course some of the time." 
 
 " Oh, you tr<tditore! Well, at all events I ve had 
 little enough chance for dissipation lately. I ve 
 breathed nothing but mountain air, and haven t even 
 seen a gas-light for a month at least."
 
 116 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 Vyr electrified the party again by turning abrupt 
 ly to her father with, " Your daughter is the most 
 beautifulest young woman I have ever saw." 
 
 Poor Madeline blushed to the very roots of her 
 hair, Miss Wellington uttered an astounded "Why !" 
 Eobert Griffin s lower jaw dropped, and the major 
 coughed an embarrassed, " Il m, li m thank you, sir 
 a very great honor, I m sure." 
 
 "Honor?" echoed Vyr, glancing curiously at each 
 face in turn. " ~No. Why-fore is it honor ? She 
 did not make herself to be beautiful like to the paint 
 ed actress ; she should not feel shame and be red be 
 cause I say truth ; she should say, Yes, I am beau 
 tiful like to the anemone, I am happy like to the 
 singing-bird, I am bright like to the sparkling cas 
 cade, I am well and strong like to the young chamois 
 yet, not like to all those, I am educate and culti 
 vate like to the pale, ill lady of the cities ; and she 
 should fall down on her knees, and pray to the Great 
 One who gives all those good things, and say to him, 
 I am only a little, little flower, infinitely below those 
 majestic mountains, those vast blue skies, those mul 
 titude of glorious stars yet my little heart is full 
 with thank and adorations because for my beautiful- 
 ness and my sweet fragrance, and it is compassionate 
 for those peoples which are weak and ill and ugly. " 
 
 That Hector Vyr has already made progress in the 
 use of English, even in the short time we have known 
 him, cannot, of course, have escaped our notice. It 
 appears less, however, in his words than in his im 
 proved modulation and diminished hesitancy. The
 
 THE RETUEAT. 117 
 
 last long speech was delivered with scarcely a break, 
 and with perfect self-possession. lie seemed utterly 
 unconscious of having expressed any but the most 
 conventional of commonplaces. lie quickly saw, 
 however, the awkward constraint he had produced 
 among his auditors, and went on, with the evident 
 intention of restoring them to equanimity : 
 
 " You are not accustomed to words like those ? 
 You say truth of all things except yourselves and 
 those peoples to which you speak ? If I say truth of 
 you, it is the flattery ? if I say truth of myself, it is 
 the vanity ? Is it so as 1 say i" addressing Madeline. 
 
 "It is apt to be so regarded," she replied, fast re 
 gaining her self-poise. 
 
 " But why-fore C he persisted, earnestly. " That 
 mountain, is he not lofty and grand i and do I not 
 say it? It is not flattery to the mountain. Do you 
 not know you are beautiful, Miss Paul f 
 
 The poor girl, suffused again with blushes, looked 
 appealingly from him to her friends. 
 
 " \Vc know it, if she doesn t!" Griffin answered for 
 her. There was a certain metallic ring in his voice, 
 and a hard, enduring look in his face, as he spoke. 
 
 "And Miss Paul knows it she does not dare to 
 say no. So it is not the flattery, which is only lies. 
 Is not the vanity lies, too . lies to himself? You 
 know, for instance, that I am strong and brave, do 
 not you " 
 
 " We have had the most ample evidence of that," 
 answered Madeline, with alacrity. 
 
 "Then, if I, too, know it, why-fore shall I not say
 
 118 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 it? It would he boasts, it would be pomposity, 
 egotism would it ?" 
 
 "An ordinary person might, perhaps, be open to 
 those charges," said Madeline, her features now re 
 laxing into an amused smile. 
 
 I5ut Mr. Vyr is not an ordinary person, inter 
 posed Miss Wellington, with decision. " I am sure 
 it would he perfectly proper for him to say all this 
 of himself, and much more, too, if he chose." 
 
 " Well, I should say so !" assented the major, with 
 an emphatic blow of his open hand on his knee. 
 
 No one could say that Vyr frowned at this broad 
 compliment. What right had he to express displeas 
 ure ? Had he not himself been still more outspoken? 
 Had he not invited the free expression of their in 
 most thoughts by his own example ? There was not 
 the slightest perceptible knitting of his brows; he 
 did not assume a sudden air of offended dignity ; his 
 head was not a hairVbreadth more erect than before. 
 He simply looked at the speakers an instant without 
 replying. Nevertheless, Miss Wellington could not 
 have blushed more painfully if she had unwittingly 
 offended a monarch on his throne. Vyr perceived 
 her uncalled for embarrassment, and immediately a 
 gracious smile broke out over his face. 
 
 " I suppose I must grow red at Miss Wellington s 
 words," he said, " like Madeline. Ah, you are of 
 fended, Miss Paul, because I speak your own name ; 
 your beautiful upward smile of amusement is change 
 to a downward smile of proud ness ; you lift up your 
 head like to a queen. Why-fore ? I have broke the
 
 THE KETREAT. 119 
 
 law of etiquette \ AVell, all the laws have penalties. 
 Js it so aa i say ." 
 
 no one vouchsafed a ready answer, he went on : 
 " You will punish me you will say to me, Mr.Vyr, 
 you have done to us a service, and for that we give 
 to you great thanks, and we will also do you a service 
 when we can ; hut you are a great savage, and we 
 must not associate. " 
 
 " Thunder of great waters, no !" blurted out the 
 major. i% AVe are not such ungrateful fools as that, 
 I hope. Call her or any of the rest of us what you 
 please. Madeline, why don t you speak?" 
 
 "Indeed, papa, I We are all under too great ob 
 ligations to Mr.Vyr to take offence at any little un- 
 conventionalities he may indulge in. He meant no 
 offence, I am sure, and I am not so silly as to take 
 offence." 
 
 "You make a mistake, Miss Paul; I <Ii<1 mean 
 offence." 
 
 Another general stare. 
 
 "Not great offence, my friends. J have heard 
 that in the civilixed country it is more worse to 
 break the law of etiquette than to break the law of 
 the Government, and so I have make the little ex 
 periment. 1 wish to know if you will forget the 
 .ice which I have render to you because I am 
 rude a little. I wish to get to myself knowledge of 
 different kind of peoples. I respect the young wom 
 an and her friends, and i make to them honorable 
 apology because I speak her real name, and because I 
 say she is beautiful. Have I done that what is right ?"
 
 120 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 Madeline walked bravely up to bim and extended 
 her hand. "Please say no more about it, Mr. Vyr. 
 You make us feel very insignificant. If it will give 
 you amusement or information to try experiments 
 upon us, I am sure we ought to submit with thank 
 fulness that it is in our power to afford you any grat 
 ification whatever." 
 
 lie took her firm little hand with evident pleas 
 ure. An indescribable sensation of vital warmth 
 shot up her arm to her heart like an electric shock. 
 
 "No, Miss Paul," he returned. "You shall tdl 
 to me that what I wish to know of the custom and 
 feeling in the polite society." 
 
 " Perhaps we can tell you something of the cus 
 toms" she rejoined, with an " upward smile." " As 
 to feelings, the more polite the society the less we 
 know on that subject." 
 
 " And is it true that it is more worse to be igno 
 rant of the polite customs than it is to commit some 
 crimes ? If it is true, Hector Vyr must be a terrible 
 criminal in London and Boston. Would he be hang 
 from his neck ?" 
 
 "Rather a dangerous thing to try that would 
 be!" said Major Paul. "No, sir. You would be the 
 greatest lion that over condescended to favor those 
 cities with his presence." 
 
 " Ah, put in the strong cage and exhibit with the 
 tigers and the bears. It would be very good. I am 
 a wild man of the mountains ; I have never gone to 
 the cities except two times to Athens." 
 
 "How, then, did you learn to speak English so
 
 THE RETREAT. 12j 
 
 well ?" asked Griffin, who had been remarkably reti 
 cent for him. 
 
 " My mother is an English lady, and a good many 
 years ago she talked to me in her own language." 
 
 "Is she living now :"* 
 
 " Yes, I thank God that she is living; but we have 
 not talked English for long, long time. She loves 
 my father s language better. But we have English 
 books and magazine which I read. And last vear I 
 saved three captivated Englishmen from the klcphts, 
 like you, and they lived with ns in our house three 
 weeks. You will all come to my house, too, and 
 stay a long time. Yon will teach me more English, 
 and tell mo such things that my books and papers 
 do not say. * 
 
 Major Paul accepted the invitation with the warm 
 est thanks, but could not think of remaining more 
 than a day or two at the longest. 
 
 "I ut have you not said that you would do all 
 what you could for me?" asked Yyr, with a look of 
 surprise. " You are not hastened ; you have not 
 great businesses to do; you arc making a travel of 
 observation and pleasure. I offer you much observa 
 tion, and is it egotism. Miss Paul? I think I can 
 oiler you much pleasure also." 
 
 "There is no doubt of that, sir," replied the ma 
 jor. "It would ill become us to decline an invita 
 tion so generously and cordially given, especially by 
 one whom we are so anxious to please." 
 
 Why-fore did not you say that before?" Vyr 
 asked, with simple frankness. " Did you think I did
 
 122 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 not wish that you should stay a long time at my 
 house ?" 
 
 " I I " The great, clear, questioning eyes threw 
 the major into a kind of stage fright. lie turned 
 appealingly to his daughter ; but before she could 
 speak, Aunt Eliza volunteered the explanation : 
 
 "My brother was afraid we should trespass too 
 long upon your hospitality." 
 
 "Then why-fore did you think I asked you? Ah, 
 I understand, it was one of the forms of your speech 
 that Miss Paul tolled me to smooth and round out 
 your sentences. " lie smiled again. " I am afraid 
 that I shall not know when you say that what you 
 mean." 
 
 "We must be very careful," said Madeline, "and 
 be entirely frank when we are speaking to Mr. Vyr." 
 
 " Oh, I shall learn in a little time more. You shall 
 be patient and teach me." 
 
 " Well," said Major Paul, rallying, " we will visit 
 you as long as you want us to, I guess. And I hope 
 that we may have an opportunity to reciprocate the 
 favor in our own country." 
 
 " Yes, indeed !" added his daughter ; " that is no 
 mere form of speech, I assure you. Papa and I, 
 and all of us, mean exactly what he says." 
 
 Hector Vyr shook his head. " I must not do that. 
 I seldom go far away from my own house. I like a 
 few guests not many of them, and not many times 
 but I wish not that I shall be the object of ob 
 servation. I tell to you now, like as I tell to my 
 other guests, that I have made the oath, like to my
 
 THE HETHEAT. 120 
 
 father, and like to Ms father, to avoid all notori 
 eties." 
 
 " You wish to know others, without being known 
 yourself," said Madeline. "Do you think that is 
 (juite/ /// , Mr. Vyr f 
 
 "Fair?" 
 
 "Do you think it is quite just to others?" 
 
 " Ah, just. No, Miss Paul ; it is unjustice. It is 
 like to the detective which hides himself and looks 
 very .slyly through the little holes in the walls. But 
 the world has no necessity for Hector Vyr, although 
 he has great necessity for the world. It is infinity 
 for me to see and know in the mountains, the trees, 
 the birds, the beasts, the little insects, the rocks, and 
 the uncnltivate peoples which live here with me ; 
 but I wish to know every things. It is only a few 
 sides of me which grow here ; I wish that all sides 
 of my heart and my intellects shall grow. I wish 
 not to tie up one little finger-joint in my body or 
 my heart or my intellects." 
 
 Here Griffin once more broke his moody silence : 
 "I shohld think the best way to accomplish your 
 purpose would be to go over the world and see for 
 yourself." 
 
 The formidable eyes rested for a moment on the 
 young man before the answer came: "Do you not 
 understand ? Have not I tolled you ? Why-fore do 
 not you listen, if you shall talk too ? Shall 1 be ego 
 tist, and say that peoples will not let me to be in 
 peace ? They will run to look at me, like as I am a 
 big hippopotamus; they will importune to make me
 
 124 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 to be generals and councillors and lecturers. I have 
 swore not to be those things, and I like not so great 
 troubles." 
 
 " But," said Madeline, " have you never considered 
 how much good you might be the means of doing in 
 the world ? Don t you think you ought to give your 
 fellow-men the benefit of your abilities ?" 
 
 She and her friends eagerly listened for his answer. 
 
 " It is not good for me to talk to you ; you do not 
 listen to me. Forgive me I am not gentle. I am 
 not accustom to talk to peoples which live in the civ 
 ilized country. But you shall teach me to be gentle. 
 I have said to you that the world has not the neces 
 sity for Hector Yyr. They have too much already 
 too much generals, too much councillors, too much 
 talkers, too much writers of books and magazine 
 too much to see, to hear, to read, to eat too much 
 everything. Why-fore shall they wish more of those 
 things ? No, my friends, men should not wish more 
 outside, but more inside ; not more to see, but better 
 eyes ; not more to hear, but better ears ; not more to 
 read, but better brains ; not more to eat, but better 
 bodies." 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Yyr," replied Madeline, "I fear you do 
 not know the world very well yet. There are count 
 less thousands who sadly need more to cat" 
 
 " The world is better, the race of men is better, 
 that the feeble shall not eat." 
 
 This inhuman sentiment was received with uncon 
 cealed disapprobation. 
 
 " I am a monster," Vcrc continued, smiling. " I
 
 THE RETREAT. 125 
 
 have not a heart. Well, Xature is herself a monster, 
 too. She lias not a heart ; she permits all the little, 
 weak, sick lions to starve for million years, until it is 
 none but great, mighty lions ; and if greater, mighti 
 er men do not kill them, the world would be full 
 with great, mighty lions. To-day is not all the time, 
 Miss Paul. I have heart for the million thousand 
 men which will live million years hereafter, and I 
 like them not to be the posterity from w r eak little 
 peoples which must be fed like to the babies. I have 
 heart for the w r hole race of men, in all the time, not 
 only to-day. So I say to yon, it is more better for 
 mankind that those peoples which are not strong and 
 skilful to get meat for themselves shall not eat." 
 
 "You forget that it is not the feeble only who 
 suffer destitution," replied Madeline, her heart throb 
 bing with mingled indignation and apprehension at 
 the consciousness of having actually entered into an 
 argument with him. u Many are unfortunate through 
 no fault or deficiency of their own." 
 
 " Xature do not turn away from her great laws 
 because of every little exceptions, Miss Paul," he an 
 swered, smiling indulgently. 
 
 " But you are not Nature, Mr. Yyr. You have a 
 will of your own, which Xature has not." 
 
 " Do not you think that lie which has made Nat 
 ure, and which governs Xature, has a will of His 
 own ? Do you think that He wishes that the feeble 
 and the undevelop shall be perpetuate to the future?" 
 
 " I suppose nut. lint but I have no doubt it is 
 His will that we you as well as the rest, Mr. Yyr
 
 126 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 to whom He has given wills of our own, should do 
 everything in our power to help the weak and the 
 unfortunate, to feed the hungry, clothe the naked " 
 
 " Yes, yes, Miss Paul, burst in Hector Vyr, " your 
 heart is noble like as your face is beautiful ! / wish, 
 too, to feed the hungry and to clothe the naked which 
 come in my path, because my Jieart has pity for them. 
 I wish to rescue the unfortunate in every place which 
 I find them, if it is my power." 
 
 This with a gentle significance impossible to mis 
 understand. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," Madeline replied, with sudiVn re 
 vulsion of feeling, " your acts have shown that you 
 have a heart, in spite of what you say, Mr. Vyr." 
 
 " I have my mission, I think, like everybodies ; but 
 I think it is not that I shall go through the world to 
 keep alive all the weak peoples which I can find, 
 that they can transmit their feeble bodies and intel 
 lects to future generation." 
 
 " Madeline ! Madeline !" ejaculated the major, 
 " what are you talking about ? Isn t it mission 
 enough to stand guard over these mountain devils? 
 Talk about keeping folks alive! Sun, moon, and 
 stars ! hasn t he kept us alive ?" 
 
 "You speak too much of that what I have done, 
 Mr. Paul," said Vyr, with the slightest possible shade 
 of annoyance. " The young woman asks me why-fore 
 I do not go out over the world and do some great 
 things which she thinks I can do. I say to her that 
 men do not have necessity to see great things ; they 
 see too much already. It is necessity that there shall
 
 THE VYUS AT HOME. 137 
 
 be a more perfect race of men, not that there shall 
 be more great tilings to make them open wide their 
 eves and their mouths/ 
 
 " Well," said Griffin, "may I ask, Mr. Vyr, how 
 you propose to bring it about 2" 
 
 " I cannot bring it about, Mr. Griffin ; but every 
 one can make himself better and stronger if he shall 
 choose, and that can help the generations which shall 
 come." 
 
 This was the reply in words ; but the magnificent 
 figure drawn up to its full height, dwarfing the rest 
 by comparison, the glorious countenance serene with 
 conscious superiority, were a far more forcible and 
 a sufficient answer. 
 
 "Now," said Vyr, a little later, " I know that the 
 klephts are no more watching at us. They think 
 that we have gone away. You shall creep through 
 those bush. Go not near to the path till I shall tell. 
 I will come after you behind." 
 
 X. 
 
 THE VYUS AT IIoMK. 
 
 TWILIGHT was just beginning to soften the nearer 
 outlines of the landscape and to sharpen those more 
 distant, when the rescued party and their rescuer 
 came to a dee]), wide chasm cutting directly across 
 their path one of the very pits, perhaps, into which 

 
 128 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 the old Spartans used to throw their criminals. Be 
 yond arose a forest-covered mountain of very irregular 
 outline. 
 
 "We have come near to my house, now," said 
 Hector Vyr. " You can see it up there. It gleams 
 whitely among the trees." 
 
 " But how in the world are we to get there ?" asked 
 Madeline, as she gazed shrinkingly into the fearful 
 abyss. 
 
 " It will be very easy, Miss Paul," replied Vyr, 
 " when I shall make my bridge across." He seized 
 the long, branchless trunk of a fallen tree with his 
 right hand, and holding down one end with his foot, 
 raised it to a perpendicular, and allowed it to fall 
 across the chasm. Then, after trying it to see that 
 it did not roll, he said, " Now I will carry one across, 
 and then I will come back and carry another. I 
 could carry two at one time if my arm is not sore. 
 Who shall go at the first ?" 
 
 As no one responded, he walked over alone and 
 returned, with as much apparent unconcern as if he 
 were crossing London Bridge. " You see how that 
 it is easy and safe. Will you go across alone by 
 yourselves ? It is no toll to pay." 
 
 Griffin walked about half-way across, often stop 
 ping to make sure of his balance, when, happening 
 to glance downward, his head gave way, and he was 
 obliged to finish the transit on all fours. 
 
 "Now, then, Eliza," said the major, "it s your 
 turn next." 
 
 "Oh, I can t. I shall be dashed in pieces. I
 
 THE VYES AT HOME. 129 
 
 wouldn t trust myself on that log for a thousand 
 worlds." 
 
 " Shall I carry you ?" asked Vyr, persuasively. 
 
 " Indeed I haven t the courage, Mr. Vyr. I m 
 afraid I should not only sacrifice my own life but 
 yours also." 
 
 "1 am not afraid, Miss Wellington. It is no dan 
 ger if you shall keep yourself still on my arm." 
 
 After much more persuasion she consented, and 
 was safely deposited on the other side, notwithstand 
 ing her feeble little clutches and small shrieks. 
 
 Madeline proposed to try to walk over if Mr. Yyr 
 would go first, giving her his hand ; but on being as 
 sured that such a method would involve the almost 
 certain destruction of both, she followed Aunt Eliza s 
 example. With closed eyes and suspended breath, 
 seated on his powerful arm, her own clasped around 
 his neck, she felt as if she were riding over in an 
 iron chair. 
 
 Major Paul went last, hitching along astride, and 
 helping himself with his hands, to the great merri 
 ment of the spectators. 
 
 "Now" said Vyr, as he pulled in his natural draw 
 bridge, u all you are //>// prisoner!" His manner was 
 that of menacing triumph. 
 
 They looked at one another with curiously different 
 expressions on their faces. Miss Wellington s was 
 pallid with alarm ; Griffin set his teeth and scowled ; 
 the major lifted his brows and whistled; Madeline 
 smiled in placid fearlessness. 
 
 "A faithful sentinel sees ns now from yonder
 
 130 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 thicket," continued Yyr. "My command is to him 
 that he shall fire when one tries to go across without 
 my permission." 
 
 Still Madeline only smiled. 
 
 Yyr looked upon her and upon the rest with keen 
 scrutiny. Then his face softened, and in a tone of 
 tender reproach he said, "Miss Paul lias not fear. 
 She trusts the wild man which has saved her from 
 the klepht. Cannot you have trust, too ? Do you 
 so easily lose your faith in Hector Yyr because he 
 plays a little with you, like a boy ? Is a voice and 
 a look from the eyes a greater thing to you than a 
 deed ? Is it a greater thing to you than this blood ?" 
 lifting his wounded arm. 
 
 For a moment there was a distressed silence. Then 
 the major stepped boldly forward. " General," he 
 said, "you must not be too hard on us. We haven t 
 said anything, have we ? You told us we were your 
 prisoners, and that you had a sentinel posted with 
 his gun cocked ready to fire on us. How did you 
 expect us to take that from a man who had never 
 condescended to joke with us before, especially after 
 the experience we ve had ? Yet we never yipped. 
 Excuse me, but you mustn t see too much in a look 
 from the eyes, either." 
 
 With undisturbed serenity Yyr replied, "It is 
 right, what you have said, Mr. Paul. It was not 
 generosity when I try to frighten you a little it was 
 not a just trial for your faith. You shall forgive 
 me 2" 
 
 The major seized his hand with delighted ardor.
 
 THE VYRS AT HOME. 131 
 
 " Say no more about it, genera^ say no more about 
 it. We re all glad that we ve had the chance to ex 
 cuse something, even a trifling mistake like that." 
 
 "But it was not all a mistake,- my friends," re 
 joined Vyr. " It was good, too, that you shall be a 
 little frightened, because I show to you how that you 
 are safe from your enemies. They do not know the 
 path to my home, if no friend shall be traitor ; but 
 even if they shall find the path, they cannot come 
 over this great gulf but one at a time, and my senti 
 nel shrill shoot them, and he shall call me and my 
 followers to the defence." 
 
 "That s a fact!" the major exclaimed heartily. 
 "It s a better stronghold than their own. You 
 couldn t have taken a more effectual way than you 
 did to impress us with its strength. And you may 
 be sure of one thing, general, you can t scare us 
 again, whatever you may say." 
 
 Vyr smiled. " Miss Paul was not scare ?" he said, 
 looking at her with pleased inquiry. 
 
 "Not in the least." 
 
 " I thank you from my whole heart." The look 
 and tone with which he spoke thrilled her. 
 
 " You all shall be perfectly at your liberty," he 
 went on. " You shall be my guests so long time as 
 you shall have pleasure. Then, when you shall com 
 mand me, I will carry you again over the little bridge 
 or you shall creep over it," laughingly to the major 
 and Griffin ; " or perhaps it is better that my servants 
 shall bring down the great bridge which I keep un 
 der my house, and which they place over when the
 
 132 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 great marble stones and tables and divans must be 
 carried across. You shall walk over on that, and I 
 will lead you to Mikro-Maina, or even to Sparta, if it 
 is your wishes." 
 
 While this talk had been going on, they had as 
 cended a breakneck, stony path, and now, turning a 
 sharp bend, they came into full sight of a white mar 
 ble tower similar to those they had seen a month be 
 fore, save that it was much taller. It surmounted an 
 irregular building of large size, also of marble, at one 
 side of which was a veranda with four Doric col 
 umns. Several enormous gables projected from the 
 three visible sides of the building, consisting chiefly 
 of long windows in slender casements of iron. On 
 the veranda were rustic chairs, and a hammock which, 
 Yyr informed his guests, was one of his favorite beds. 
 Madeline asked if he always slept in the open air. 
 He replied that he did not ; he was not a rock, but 
 rather a sort of hibernating animal. In the winter 
 he went inside of his cave like other bears. And 
 sucked his paws ? Oh no ; he made his paws work 
 hard in the summer, so in the winter they rested. 
 The major inquired if he and his friends were to 
 sleep in the open air, like their host. Yes, if they 
 preferred ; or they might sleep inside the house, 
 and breathe their own breath over and over a^ain as 
 
 o 
 
 many times as they liked. His guests always did ex 
 actly as they wished. They might eat and drink and 
 smoJce all the civilized poisons he could obtain for 
 them. They might even turn the night into day and 
 the day into night, as they had the reputation of do-
 
 THE VYKS AT HOME. 133 
 
 
 
 ing at tlicir own homes. They could not make noise 
 enough to disturb either his mother s rest or his own. 
 Rubbing his hands with anticipation, the major de 
 clared him the prince of hosts ; he and Griffin had 
 had nothing to smoke for a month but the brigand s 
 nasty nargiles. 
 
 As they approached the steps leading to the ve 
 randa, a handsome white face, crowned with abun 
 dant gray hair, appeared at the window, and the next 
 moment its owner, a tall, finely-formed woman, clad 
 in a gray jacket embroidered with silver, and a black 
 petticoat, stood curiously watching them from the 
 entrance. Vyr ran up the steps, and throwing his 
 unwounded arm around her matronly figure, he im 
 printed a hearty kiss upon each cheek. She received 
 his embrace impassively, as the Americans thought, 
 her only response being to place her hand on his 
 bandaged arm and look inquiringly in his face. lie 
 spoke a few short sentences in Greek, turned, and 
 bade his companions come up and be introduced to 
 his mother. 
 
 " They are English peoples, m<tnn<(k<i " (dear mam 
 ma), he said, eagerly; u /: //y//Vi, do you not under 
 stand ?" 
 
 " Oh, they are English, are they ?" she replied, with 
 something like interest ; for her eyes, which had sur 
 veyed them with stony apathy, or at most an idle cu 
 riosity, grew a few degrees brighter. ""Well, I am 
 sure I am very glad to see them/ 
 
 " I suppose we are the same as English to you, 
 ma am," said the major, with a low bow, "as we are
 
 134 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 
 
 to your son ; but we arc really Americans, from Bos 
 ton, Massachusetts." 
 
 " Oh, than~k yon," replied the poor woman, with a 
 blank smile. " It is a very pleasant evening, is it 
 not ?" Then suddenly she sprang forward, crying 
 angrily, " Americans, are you ? And what have you 
 been doing to my boy ?" 
 
 Vyr went to her and gently led her to a seat. 
 " They did not do it some peoples have shot me a 
 little; but" 
 
 " The klephts /" she almost shrieked, her pale face 
 distorted with terror; " Thee mou!" 
 
 "It is nothing, nothing," he answered, soothing 
 ly, kissing her again. " Do not you see that 1 am 
 safe and well? Is not my step firm? is not my 
 cheek red? is not my voice loud? These peoples 
 have been very kind to me, and you must be very 
 kind to them again. Miss Paul was a little doctor 
 to me ; she has bound my arm, and she has watered 
 it when we have come to the little brooks. It will 
 soon be strong again, like to the other." 
 
 " But we were the cause" exclaimed Madeline, 
 pressing forward in her eagerness. " Oh, madam, 
 when you know how much we owe to your son 
 how brave, how heroic he has been 
 
 "Yes," interrupted her father, impetuously step 
 ping before her; " we have a great story to tell you, 
 Mrs. Vyr a most astonishing story of your son s 
 
 " You must not tell it now," interposed Vyr, au 
 thoritatively ; "you must wait until my mother is 
 more calmer. She is not well. You must not tell
 
 THE VYRS AT HOME. 135 
 
 it to her at any time. I will tell it to you to-mor 
 row, manndkd. Xow we shall go in, and we shall 
 show to our guests how that we live in these wild 
 mountains." 
 
 Madame Vyr tried to speak, but her son prevented 
 her with another kiss and a playful remark, and tak 
 ing her hand, he led her unresistingly to the open 
 door. As they were entering he said, in a low voice, 
 to the major, " I will explain it all to you when we 
 shall be alone together." 
 
 With a natural dignity and grace that the most 
 hospitable nobleman might have envied,. he conducted 
 his guests through the different apartments of his 
 unique dwelling. These were in strange contrast to 
 their wild environments; they might have been the 
 home of a wealthy gentleman of eccentric tastes in 
 the heart of a populous city. The walls and ceilings 
 were panelled and painted in Pompeian style with 
 old gold and dead colors and with elaborate friezes. 
 Heavy carved chairs, couches, and tables of Western 
 manufacture, and Oriental rugs and divans, statues, 
 and other ornaments of bronze or marble, paintings, 
 engravings, chandeliers and candelabra, articles of 
 vertu from every clime and of every age, books and 
 musical instruments, scattered about without the 
 slightest regard to general effect, all betokened a 
 luxuriant if uneducated taste. It must be under 
 stood that the craze for furnishings and decorations 
 of this sort had not then spread over the civilized 
 world, as it has since ; so the four Americans be 
 held in silent amazement the discordant amalgama-
 
 130 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 tion of art, ancient and modern, barbaric and Euro 
 pean. 
 
 Their host smiled again and again at their looks 
 of wonder and doubtful admiration as they proceeded 
 from room to room. At length he said, 
 
 " Your tongues are paralyze, but your faces speak 
 enough. You do not wonder only, but you are crit 
 ics. You say you do not love the tout ensemble it 
 is very bad it is not harmony it is vinegar upon 
 nitre it is not order, it is chaos. Now, my friends, 
 listen to me. I do not have care for the tout ensem 
 ble ., it will be good for one only look ; but I and my 
 mother, we live here all the time; we have more 
 than one only look. We enjoy each thing here by 
 itself, like as we enjoy each book and magazine in 
 our library, without its relations and its harmonies 
 with the other books. The English gentleman and 
 the American gentleman furnishes and adorns his 
 house that he shall please his friends and his visitors. 
 If he shall make mistakes, it is ignorance, and he 
 feels the shame. My father, he furnished and adorn 
 ed this house that he may please himself, and my 
 mother she was please, too, because he was please. 
 I have done the same like as my father did. Ho 
 lived in the mountains ; he did not expect guests it 
 was accident that he received them, like as it is acci 
 dent now that we receive you ; it was not that he 
 shall please others, but that he shall satisfy himself 
 and my mother. To him beauty was beauty ; it was 
 no difference between old and new things ; his ances 
 tors were of many nations ; he was not Greek, not
 
 THE VYRS AT HOME. 137 
 
 Roman, not English, not Turk ; to him there was not 
 Europe, not Asia, not America, not Africa. My moth 
 er she loves everything s which my father loved, and 
 so I do. For us all beautiful things are harmony, 
 both those wild things which no man sees except our 
 selves and the other peoples of these mountains, and 
 also the exquisite things which the artist makes in 
 Paris." 
 
 Madeline took advantage of the pause which now 
 occurred to say, "Indeed, Mr. Vyr, you have misin 
 terpreted our wondering looks altogether. It is such 
 a delightful surprise to tind here so many beautiful 
 things which we usually see only where men are 
 thickly congregated together, and where they are 
 impelled by ambition love of approbation to sur 
 round themselves with costly adornments/ 
 
 " That they shall make other men to envy them 
 and to hate them, is it f asked Vyr, smiling. 
 
 "Oh no, not always, I hope, it is not impossible 
 that they may like to confer pleasure upon their 
 friends and visitors. You, it seems, are impelled by 
 love of beauty, pure and simple." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Paul; I love all beauty with a great 
 passion. My eyes are almost till with tears when I 
 look upon the sweet anemones on the sides of the 
 hills, and my heart it thrills when I behold the beau 
 tiful face or the beautiful form of a man, a woman, 
 or a child. It is a passion which God has create, like 
 as he has create the sharp desire for food and for wa 
 ter. The undevelop man only is dead to beauty, like 
 as the dyspeptic man has not the hunger. I enjoy
 
 138 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 to show to you these things which I love ; but not to 
 please you they were brought here ; they would be 
 here if no peoples in the world shall see them except 
 my mother and myself." 
 
 He ushered them into a bedroom on the second 
 floor, extending outward from the main building like 
 a huge bay-window. Three sides were almost entire 
 ly of glass panels, which could be pushed down in 
 grooves out of sight, leaving a wide, open balcony. 
 Mosquito nettings then took the place of the glazing. 
 
 " You asked me if I always sleep in the open air," 
 said Yyr. " I tolled you, when it is winter I come 
 in my cave like to the other bears. This is my cave. 
 I shut it up close, except one little window, and the 
 bright sun shines in all around me and makes me to 
 be warm. In the summer, when it is too much flies 
 and gnats to sleep in the hammock at the veranda, I 
 sleep out-of-door here." 
 
 "I suppose," said Major Paul, "you make it a point 
 never to breathe anything but the purest of air, day 
 or night, summer or winter." 
 
 " If I can breathe pure air, is it not foolishness to 
 breathe that what is not pure ?" Yyr returned, as if 
 what he asked were the most obvious thing in the 
 world. " You and your friends may sleep in rooms 
 the same like this, if it is your wishes ; but you can 
 shut them up close, too, if it is your wishes." 
 
 Adjoining the bedroom was a commodious bath 
 room, into which water was conducted by a pipe 
 from a mountain spring. 
 
 " I think you should not enjoy to plunge into my
 
 THE VYKS AT HOME. 139 
 
 frigidariwm in winter, when you must break tlie 
 ice," said Yyr. 
 
 "Ugh!" shuddered Aunt Eliza and Madeline to 
 gether. 
 
 "I assure you," said Griffin, " we should be able to 
 deny ourselves the luxury without repining." 
 
 " It is luxury," rejoined Yyr. " The water is so 
 cold as I love only when it is cover over with the 
 ice. Then it makes me to feel red and warm when 
 I come out, and I am light in my feet and in my 
 heart. In the summer it is not so luxury. 
 
 "!N"ow we shall go up in the tower, and you shall 
 see the beautiful things of nature, which belong to 
 you, like as they belong to me and my mother. I 
 wish that you shall see them sleeping in the moon 
 light ; then to-morrow you shall see them awake in 
 the sunlight." 
 
 Madame Yyr had scarcely spoken since they left 
 the veranda. Nevertheless she had shown unmis 
 takable signs of satisfaction at the frequent exclama 
 tions of pleasure and surprise in which the Ameri 
 cans indulged. She declined to climb the winding 
 stairs with them, saying abruptly that she must go 
 down and order supper. 
 
 "My mother thinks you are hungry for that what 
 is more nutriment than the mountains and the val 
 leys," said her son, as they began the ascent. 
 
 The last glimmer of the short Grecian twilight 
 had disappeared, but the full moon shining into the 
 narrow windows of the tower sufficiently lighted 
 their way. The darkness above and below, the hoi-
 
 140 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 low reverberation of tlieir voices in the cylinder of the 
 tower, the strange events that had preceded, the con 
 sciousness of their isolation from their fellow-men, 
 in the midst of a mountainous wilderness, and more 
 than all else, the character of their mysterious guide, 
 filled Madeline with a sense of romantic awe that al 
 most made her shudder. "What if he were a Mer 
 cury," she thought, " sent to transport us to Olym 
 pus!" 
 
 On reaching the summit of the tower they beheld 
 another of the glorious views seen only among the 
 Morean mountains. Snowy peaks arose against the 
 star-dotted sky, like giant billows crested with gleam 
 ing silver, while the black troughs of the valleys sank 
 into immeasurable depths between. Here and there 
 naked slopes reflecting the full moonlight seemed 
 like vast spirit-forms rising from amid the waves. 
 Far beyond lay the smooth, dark pavement of the 
 JEgean. 
 
 After gazing a while in silence, Major Paul began 
 pointing out the peaks and islands whose names he 
 had learned, and asked the names of others. 
 
 " Oh, papa !" protested Madeline, " let us not mind 
 their names. They seem to dwindle both in magni 
 tude and number when we can name and count them." 
 
 "I think the same like you, Miss Paul," said Yyr. 
 - It is like when we know the names and the num 
 ber of the stars in the heaven they are no more a 
 great multitude, but they are a catalogue." 
 
 " I like to feel," Madeline rejoined, " when I look 
 upon a scene like this, as if I had alighted upon some
 
 THE VYRS AT HOME. 141 
 
 unknown planet. I can imagine myself wondering 
 where in the wide universe I am, what sort of inhab 
 itants I am about to meet, and what strange things 
 lie beyond the horizon." 
 
 " I can give you the desired information," put in 
 Robert Griffin, lapsing into his old habit for almost 
 the first time since the rescue. " You arc upon the 
 earth, which is round like an apple or an orange, ex 
 cept that it is flattened a little at the poles. Out in 
 that direction lies a little village known among tho 
 natives as Boston, Massachusetts." 
 
 Hector Vyr looked at the speaker as if wondering 
 whether he were a lunatic or a fool. " Why-fore do 
 you say that ?" he asked, gravely. " Do you think 
 she does not know f 
 
 " Don t mind him, Mr. Vyr," answered Madeline, 
 feeling as never before the unspeakable smallness of 
 the conventional jest. "lie is only trying to be jo 
 cose." 
 
 Yyr nodded his head, smiled pityingly, and said, 
 " It is sometimes my own amusement, when I am 
 alone, to lie here and let my soul to fly up into tlio 
 sky. I can sec the little earth below me, and myself 
 a speck upon it, occupied with things which are 
 smaller than myself. Then I say, AVhat is it mat 
 ter if I am greater or smaller than the other men, 
 because we are all so little? It is like to the little 
 worm which is longer than other worms at the 
 breadth of a hair, or perhaps he is shorter. I am 
 glad, Miss Paul, because your imagination loves to 
 play, too !"
 
 143 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " Oil yes, Mr. Vyr, you will find ns fully as poetic 
 as yourself," said Aunt Eliza, who had conceived a 
 sudden small pique, for some reason or other ; wheth 
 er because so little of the talk had been thus far ad 
 dressed to her, or because she thought her nephew 
 had been somewhat ungraciously suppressed, I can 
 not tell. " Like all other Orientals, I suppose you 
 thought we Americans cared for nothing but dollars 
 and jokes." 
 
 Although she said this laughingly, she was con 
 scious of greater l>rusquerie than she had intended, 
 and she shrank in confusion from the mild, penetrat 
 ing look with which, even in the obscure light, she 
 saw Yyr was studying her. They had all, in turn, 
 shrunk from that look, innocent and mild as it was. 
 
 " Miss Wellington," he replied, " I have heard that 
 your peoples have not imagination ; but I have read 
 much of your books of poetry, and I find in them 
 sometimes very great imagination. They hear voices 
 to speak in the winds and in the waves, and they tell 
 the words which those voices say to them, which is 
 the same like the old divinities of the Greeks. They 
 feel the souls that live in the mountains and in the 
 rivers the mountain frowns angrily, the river thinks 
 silently upon his own deep secrets, and the brook 
 laughs with his shallow joy. But I find, too, much 
 that what seems to me to be disease, like the fe 
 ver, or like peoples with nerves and brains but no 
 belly." 
 
 This made the Americans laugh. It was an op 
 portunity which Griffin could not forego. Placing
 
 JEALOUSY. 143 
 
 liis hands upon the part last mentioned, ho said, with 
 a comical grimace, 
 
 " We are not that kind of people, Mr.Yyr." 
 
 The host was pleased with this sally. 
 
 " Forgive," he said ; " I am starving yon. We 
 shall go down now." 
 
 XL 
 
 JEALOUSY. 
 
 THE dining-room into which they were now in 
 troduced was one of the most ornate apartments of 
 the house. An Ionic door-way opened into it; the 
 floor was inlaid with Doric marble and other stones 
 of different colors, forming one huge figure of kalei 
 doscopic symmetry within a wide Greek border ; a 
 dado and a frieze with human and animal figures in 
 bass-relief harmonized admirably with the floor and 
 with the panel-work of the walls and ceiling; in the 
 corners were volutes relieved by gilding; here and 
 there in niches were statuettes of marble and bronze ; 
 an elaborate bronze chandelier, with lamps of ancient 
 pattern, hung directly over the centre of the dining- 
 table, on which was spread an array of edibles in 
 whimsical contrast with the vessels containing them. 
 Hulled eggs in cups of delicate silver filigree, coarse 
 but good bread on trays of rare porcelain, coffee of 
 burnt barley in a richly embossed silver urn, sweet, 
 fresh milk, and an abundance of fruit in vessels of 
 similar pattern, constituted the meal. 
 10
 
 144 A DEMIGOD, 
 
 "Sit, my friends," said the host, with the voice 
 and gesture of a gracious king, "and give honor to 
 me and to my mother by breaking our bread. You 
 will not be feast like as you are feast at your own 
 homes; but you have lived a month in the mount 
 ains, and you will enjoy our simple eating, perhaps, 
 more better than you have enjoyed the richer feast 
 before." 
 
 Protesting that there could be nothing better, Ma 
 jor Paul set his companions the example by accept 
 ing the invitation with an alacrity more creditable to 
 his appetite than to his courtliness. 
 
 Hector Yyr drank nothing, but ate heartily, with 
 vigorous, animal relish, of the coarse bread and of 
 the fruits. Griffin inquired, with an apology for his 
 inquisitiveness, but with a sidelong glance at Made 
 line, whether Yyr s system of dieting excluded all 
 the delicacies of art. 
 
 "I do not think that I use a system of dieting, " 
 was the reply. " I do not think much of that what 
 I eat. I take that what I like. I do not like meat 
 much. I like the oranges and the figs and the ap 
 ples best of all the other. What is delicacies of 
 art? Is it spices and confections? Those things 
 are not to me delicacies. I do not like those, like 
 as a horse does not like them. I think I am good 
 deal like to a horse," he added, with his inimitable 
 wholesome smile. 
 
 "Do you began Aunt Eliza. Then, abashed 
 at her thoughtless presumption, she stopped abruptly, 
 and her eyes fell.
 
 JEALOUSY. 145 
 
 " "Wliy-forc do you not go on ?" asked Yyr, gra 
 ciously. " I like that you shall ask me questions of 
 myself. I have told some things to you, and it is 
 right they make you inquisitive of more." 
 
 "Thank you. I was going to ask if you never 
 drank at your meals," she said. 
 
 " I do not know. I never think if I do or if I do 
 not. I drink always when I feel the thirst. I do 
 not think that I am thirst when I am eating. You 
 think I am like to a feeble old woman which is dys 
 peptic ?" with another smile " that I shall always 
 think of that what I eat and drink?" 
 
 " We did not know," returned Aunt Eliza. " You 
 said something about being a health-monomaniac, 
 and we supposed that " 
 
 " Ah yes, Miss Wellington. I said that to you. 
 But I think my health shall be better if I eat that 
 what I like. I think my belly Why-fore do you 
 laugh, Mr. Griffin? Have I said wrong, manndka?" 
 
 You should say stomach, Hector, not belly," an 
 swered Madame Yyr. 
 
 " I shall learn to speak English in a few days more, 
 if you will talk to me. Those three Englishmen 
 which I saved from the klephts did not talk much. 
 They said to me that they were afraid at me. I have 
 tried that you shall not be afraid. Have I not suc 
 ceed ? I do not scare you, do I ?" 
 
 "No, indeed, Mr. Yyr," answered Madeline, to 
 whom his question was more directly addressed. "I 
 assure you that your kind, genial treatment has 
 placed us all entirely at our ease."
 
 146 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " I am very glad at what yon say. I did not wish 
 that those other should be afraid ; but I have learned 
 a little lesson. I will say now what I wished to say : 
 I think that my stomach knows better what is right 
 that I shall eat than my head knows it." 
 
 " I suppose that is very well for a perfectly healthy 
 stomach, as yours must be," said the major ; " but it 
 would be a very unsafe rule for people in general to 
 follow. And I suppose your guide determines the 
 quantity as well as the quality of what you shall eat." 
 
 " I eat so long as I have hunger ; then I stop. I 
 enjoy great pleasure while I have hunger, and when 
 I have not, then I do not like. You think I am an 
 animal ? Yes ; if I am a poet on my tower and in 
 the fields and on the mountains, I am a great animal 
 at my table." 
 
 After supper, Vyr invited the two gentlemen to 
 return to the veranda, promising them what he sup 
 posed would be a great treat to them. When they 
 were comfortably seated in the brilliant moonlight, 
 a servant appeared with a little vase containing half 
 a dozen cigars. "Now," said the entertainer, "you 
 shall be happy, like as you would be if you are at 
 Boston. You may sit here and poison yourselves, 
 and I will look upon the sacrifice." 
 
 " Ah," sighed the major, with unutterable satisfac 
 tion, as he took one of the little brown rolls ; " this 
 alone was wanting to complete our bliss." 
 
 " I have been longing for Boston, or at least Ath 
 ens," chimed in Griffin, " with all due respect and 
 gratitude for your princely hospitality, Mr. Vyr;
 
 JEALOUSY. 147 
 
 but now I am perfectly content. I don t care for 
 Boston, or Athens, or the whole civilized world." 
 
 "You are all alike the same," replied Vyr, survey 
 ing them with curiosity. "The three Englishmen 
 said almost those words when my servant returned 
 which I sent to buy for them those cigars." 
 
 " But arc you not going to join us ?" the major 
 asked. 
 
 "No, Mr. Paul. For what reason shall I smoke 
 tobacco? Does it give satisfaction to hunger or to 
 thirst ? does it give health to the body or to the in 
 tellects ?" 
 
 "I thought you didn t trouble yourself to think 
 whether a thing is good for the health or not," said 
 Griffin, rolling out with intense enjoyment a volume 
 of smoke, milky white in the moonlight. 
 
 "/ may not trouble, but my stomach troubles," re 
 plied Vyr, laughing. 
 
 "Smoking would give you a great pleasure that 
 you know nothing of," said the major. 
 
 "My life is already full with pleasures. I have 
 no necessity for another, that I shall pay for it with 
 a part of myself." 
 
 " I cannot see how it could possibly harm so strong 
 a man as you are," said Griffin. 
 
 "Not harm? Yt .-s a little. The general which 
 lias an army of thousand hundred soldiers must not 
 sacrifice one soldier without the necessity. A miser 
 which has thousand hundreds of gold and silver does 
 not throw away one little drachma if he can prevent. 
 Hector Vyr is a miser. He has swore that he shall
 
 148 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 not throw away one little atom from his manhood of 
 his body or his mind. If my father chinked whiskey, 
 or smoked tobacco, or liurted himself in any little 
 thing, he would hurt me too. When your English 
 and American strong men shall fight for the prize, 
 they do not drink whiskey, they do not lie lazy in 
 their bed, they do not smoke tobacco. They train] 
 as you say it. I train always, all my life. When 
 the great artist shall make a statue from marble, you 
 say it will not harm much if he shall make one little 
 wrong cut with the chisel. Ah, it shall hurt. I am 
 an artist my statue is Hector "Vyr." 
 
 "You have indeed reduced self-culture to a fine 
 art," remarked Griffin. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Griffin. Your father shall give you a 
 noble horse. You are very full of thanks, and you 
 take very great care. You do not wish that your 
 gift shall be liurted in any little thing. God he gave 
 to me this body. I am very full of thanks, because 
 I think it is a very precious gift ; and I cultivate it 
 and I develop it to the best perfection which I can. 
 God he also gave me a mind and a heart. I receive 
 those with very much greater thanks, and I am very 
 much more careful." 
 
 " Then," said Griffin, " in spite of what you have 
 said, I can t understand why your thoughts are not 
 always on what is good and what is not good for you, 
 and I should think you would defeat your own ob 
 ject by such excessive care. We think the very way 
 to be ailing is to be always on our guard against ail 
 ments."
 
 JEALOUSY. 149 
 
 Vyr laughed in his characteristic way. " Yon 
 cannot understand how that it is my habit. I do not 
 think about my habit. You do not always think, I 
 must not cut myself with a knife, I must not shoot 
 myself with a gun, I must not drink the poisonous 
 cup, I must not sleep out-of-door in the snow. You 
 avoid all those things without think ; the same like 
 that I avoid all the little things that hurt without 
 much think. I suppose it is the instinct in me, like 
 as it is in the wild animal the chamois, docs he 
 smoke tobacco or drink whiskey ?" 
 
 " Well," rejoined Griffin, throwing himself back 
 luxuriously in his chair, " you are, at least, very 
 kind and hospitable to give us cigars to poison our 
 selves with." 
 
 " I am your host, not your master," retorted Vyr, 
 without offence, but with an unconscious dignity 
 that brought his two auditors up erect, and made 
 them for the moment forget their pleasurable indul 
 gence. " You are my guests, not my children. You 
 ask me for cigars; that is your foolishness. I give 
 them to you ; that is my hospitality. I say to you, 
 They arc not good, they will poison you ; that is 
 my friendship. You smoke them ; that is your lib 
 erty. You are not slaves, except of yourselves. I 
 can set you free from the klephts, but you must set 
 yourselves free from yourselves." 
 
 When they had finished and thrown away their 
 cigars, he said, " My friends, it is very late for me, 
 and I am full of sleep. I shall go to my bed now, 
 when I have said to the womans Kale nykta"
 
 150 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 The apartments assigned to the guests consisted of 
 a capacious drawing-room opening into two sleeping- 
 rooms that jutted out from the main building like the 
 one they had already seen. All were luxuriously 
 fitted up in European style ; for which, the host in 
 formed them, they were indebted to the wishes of 
 his mother. 
 
 "Here," he said, "you can think that you are in 
 Boston ; and you can dance till the sun shall shine 
 again, if it is your wishes." 
 
 " Thank you," said Madeline ; " but we don t dance 
 all the time, even in Boston. For myself, I am tired 
 enough to go to bed at once." 
 
 " Tired !" exclaimed Vyr. " I did not think that 
 you can be tired, with that cheek like the rose and 
 that bright eye." 
 
 " Indeed I am, and very often. You must remem 
 ber we are not children of nature, like yourself. I 
 suppose you haven t the least idea what the word 
 tired means." 
 
 " I do not think I know perfectly. I do not re 
 member that I was ever tired. Is it a pain ? an ache, 
 like that I feel in this arm ?" 
 
 " Oh," cried Madeline, " forgive me for my neg 
 lect. You have made so little of your wound, and 
 I have been so dazed with the strangeness of every 
 thing, that, to tell the truth, I almost forgot it. Will 
 you not have it dressed again before you retire ?" 
 
 " I give you thanks, Miss Paul. I have a faithful 
 servant which is a very good doctor of wounds, and 
 he will do for me what it is necessary. Then I shall
 
 JEALOUSY. 151 
 
 Is it tired to bo full of sleep ? If it is that, 
 1 love to be tired it is a sense full of delightness. 
 K<ilc mjlda, my friends. I wish that your sleep 
 shall be like the baby on the bosom of his mother." 
 
 His good wishes were heartily returned, and he 
 withdrew. 
 
 The moment the door closed, Madeline rushed into 
 her father s arms. 
 
 " Thank God, my child !" he cried, gathering her 
 to his broad breast. "Yes, thank God for answering 
 your prayer I 1 
 
 "And our brave, noble, godlike deliverer!" she 
 murmured, as her long- restrained tears of joy and 
 gratitude poured forth. 
 
 Griffin uttered no word, but he walked to the win 
 dow and scowled fiercely at the moon. 
 
 "But what a singular what a very extraordinary 
 person Mr. Vyr is !" exclaimed Aunt Eliza, after the 
 mutual congratulations and rejoicings had somewhat 
 abated. 
 
 " Extraordinary ? well, I should say so," answered 
 the major. " Constellations of the zodiac ! lie is a 
 prodigy a miracle. I never even imagined such a 
 character. It is a combination of the freshness of 
 a child, the strength of a giant, and the wisdom of a 
 sage." 
 
 " What strange eyes he has," said Madeline, mus 
 ingly ; and what shining, satiny skin for all the 
 world like a huge, strapping baby."
 
 J A DEMIGOD. 
 
 "I ve seen that matched more than once," said 
 Griffin. "You never saw John Hcenan peel; I 
 have. His skin was as rosy and glossy as your demi 
 god s." 
 
 "No," replied Madeline; "I ve not been in the 
 habit of frequenting the prize-ring." 
 
 " Well, you needn t annihilate me with your scorn. 
 I ve never been there but twice in my life, and that 
 was when I was a sophomore. I didn t go alone, 
 either, I want you to understand ; some of the best 
 fellows in collee went with me." 
 
 
 " Yes, best such men as Harry Le Court, for in 
 stance, and Tom Richmond. You wouldn t curl your 
 pretty lip at them, I fancy. Oh, well, you may sniff 
 and sneer as much as you please; I ve seen your 
 poetic soul in raptures over the statue of some old 
 Greek pugilist. How much better was he than John 
 Heenan, may I ask? Wasn t the pancration, a prize- 
 ring, my sweet jewel of consistency?" 
 
 " If you ve been through college, and see no differ 
 ence between a high-born athlete winning his olive-- 
 crown in the presence of the noblest citizens of 
 ancient Greece, in the presence of applauding states 
 men, artists, poets, philosophers, and a brutal bully 
 pounding another brutal bully for a thousand dol 
 lars, in the midst of a drunken mob of gamblers and 
 thieves ready to scamper at the first sight of a po 
 liceman s billy " 
 
 " Oh, for dear pity s sake," burst in Aunt Eliza, in 
 her shrillest tones, "don t you two get to quarrelling."
 
 JEALOUSY. 153 
 
 "I hadn t t]ic least idea of quarrelling, aunty," pro 
 tested Madeline. "I was full of only joy and won 
 der and gratitude till Robert compared him to a vul 
 gar prize-fighter; the very idea was- so revolting, so 
 utterly intolerable, that I couldn t help answering 
 him as he deserved." 
 
 " I should never think of comparing Mr. Vyr to 
 a prize-lighter," said Aunt Eliza. " lie reminds me 
 more of one of the sons of God the Bible tells of " 
 
 " That loved the daughters of men." The humor 
 ous glance with which her father finished Miss Well 
 ington s sentence, was entirely lost upon Madeline, 
 who was busy with her hair at the mirror. 
 
 Griffin sprang up from the divan where he had 
 been lying, in a rage which he tried to conceal under 
 a show of petty impatience. "1 didn t compare him 
 to a prize-lighter," he snarled. " I only said I leenan 
 had as good a skin as he had. I should think the 
 rest of you had glorified him enough to make up for 
 that. I ll grant yon he s a wonderful savage, and has 
 done us a devilish good turn ; but for Heaven s sake " 
 choking under his increasing passion " one would 
 think he had said enough himself to cover all the 
 points. What between his self-deification and your 
 abject homage, I must confess I m beginning to be 
 a trifle disgusted and should be" with an oatli 
 " if he were an archangel, which you all seem to think 
 him especially Madeline." 
 
 " When you get over your senseless fury," returned 
 Madeline, turning almost as white as he, " you ll see 
 how wicked and ungrateful you have been. Go, Rob-
 
 154 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 crt ; lay the head which the wonderful savage has 
 saved on the savage s pillow. Good-night. Good 
 night, papa. Come, Aunt Eliza." 
 
 With this she sailed into her room and closed the 
 door. 
 
 " "Well," shrilled Aunt Eliza, " this is a fine time 
 for such a scene, isn t it ? Who would suppose it 
 was only a few hours since we were all trembling for 
 our lives ? And here we are as safe as if we were in 
 Boston." 
 
 " Good-night," said Griffin. 
 
 " Oh, good-night. I sincerely hope you will sleep 
 off your disgust. Good-night, Warren." And the 
 good lady sailed out of sight as proudly as her niece 
 had done. 
 
 Griffin remained just as Madeline had left him. 
 
 " Oh, come, come, Robert," remonstrated Major 
 Paul ; " as your aunt says, this is a fine time to quar 
 rel. What does it matter what Madge says ?" 
 
 " It matters a great deal to me, as you well know," 
 sinking into a chair. " What do / care for the life 
 he has saved if he is going to rob me of what I value 
 more than my life? She has already fallen in love 
 with this great, brave, noble, godlike deliverer - 
 those were her very words! How can she help it? 
 how could any woman help it particularly under 
 the circumstances ?" 
 
 "Folly of the children of Israel ! I d as soon think 
 of her falling in love with the Olympian Jupiter !" 
 
 "But she has, I tell you. Her face follows him 
 like a sunflower. I have eyes, if they are not clear
 
 JEALOUSY. 155 
 
 and bright as those of an infant. There s another 
 of her adoring phrases," he added, with intense bit 
 terness. 
 
 " She wonders at him, of course, as we all do, but 
 that does not necessarily imply love. Come, come, 
 I m older than you are, and I know more about 
 these things than you do, Robert. A woman s heart 
 doesn t always go with her eyes. A cat may look at 
 a king, but she may not want to jump into his lap, 
 for all that." 
 
 " She never cared a pin for me and what chance 
 have I now? I am more insignificant than ever in 
 her eyes. Curse the day we started on this fools 
 errand !" 
 
 "I tell you, Robert, you are wrong. Xo woman 
 ever cares for a man, whatever he may be or what 
 ever he may have done for her, till he loves her 
 first." 
 
 ""Who says he hasn t loved her first?" 
 
 "Bosh! you corybantic ninny! he thinks no 
 more of her than if she were a kitten." 
 
 " I wish I could believe you, Uncle Warren. But 
 you are blind ; you are not in love yourself, and you 
 are as blind as a stone." 
 
 " They say it is love that is blind." 
 
 " Proverbs are always lies, and that s the stupidest 
 lie of all. Ko man has eyes like the lover ; he sees 
 everything. Haven t I seen this god, as everybody 
 calls him, drinking in her charms with those glaring 
 eyes of his, ever since he first set them on her? 
 Don t you remember how he began his inventory
 
 156 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 by looking at her teeth? Great Heaven ! as if she 
 were a blooded mare ! I wish she had made him 
 feel them ! He evidently knows he ll never find 
 another like her, and you can bet your life he ll not 
 let her slip if he can help it." 
 
 " Nonsense. He s a scientist, man ; he wanted to 
 see her teeth out of pure scientific curiosity. He 
 doesn t often have such an opportunity for studying 
 the civilized woman." 
 
 " Scientific humbug !" ejaculated Griffin, jerking 
 his head from side to side in his impatience ; " as if 
 she were a beetle ! That s worse than treating her 
 like a horse !" 
 
 " I never knew before that beetles had teeth," re 
 torted the major, thinking he would try the effect of 
 a little humor. 
 
 " Oh, no doubt you regard it as a stupendous joke ; 
 but, I assure you, it s no joke to me." 
 
 " No, my poor boy ; I do not regard it as a joke, 
 by any means. I m really sorry for your trouble. I 
 like you, and have always liked you. To be sure, 
 there are some things that You know Madge 
 complains of a few little points which you can easily 
 correct, Robert, you can easily correct and I have 
 hoped with all my heart that she would like you a 
 thousand times better than I do. Still, as I have told 
 you, I cannot undertake to coerce her. It would do 
 no good if I should you know her well enough for 
 that. I really think, however, that your suspicions 
 arc groundless. In the first place, I ve no idea that 
 this Hector Vyr would marry an American girl.
 
 JEALOUSY. 157 
 
 I ve a notion lie s on the lookout for all sorts of 
 physical perfections in the woman he is to marry, 
 lie s a man with a theory and a mission, and onr 
 American girls have no great reputation for physical 
 stamina, you know. But even if our Madge came 
 up to his standard, I m positive she would never con 
 sent to imprison herself in this wilderness; no, not 
 if the iincst god of Greek mythology should come to 
 life out of the marble and offer himself to her. At 
 all events, you may rest assured I should do and say 
 all in my power to ptcvent it." 
 
 " Well," sighed Griffin, after a gloomy pause, " I 
 hope Madge lias taught him a thing or two besides 
 her dental formula. Among the fine traits he is so 
 anxious to develop he d better include common de 
 cency. I m thinking it will take a good many gen 
 erations to evolute this wonderful race into gentle 
 men." 
 
 "Hippogriffina of Bagdad! but you are bitter, 
 aren t you ?" 
 
 " Do you wonder at it ? By heavens ! if he makes 
 her any sign I ll light him, big and smart as he is." 
 
 " There, there ; go to bed that s a good fellow. 
 You are only killing yourself with this exc-itement." 
 
 " I say, Uncle Warren, how long do you intend to 
 stay here ? Can t we get away in the morning ?" 
 
 " Perhaps so. We ll have to get away soon to get 
 some clothes. We didn t bring our trunks, and I 
 doubt very much whether our last landlords will send 
 them." 
 
 " Confound it ! I heard his half-crazy mother tell
 
 158 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 Aunt Eliza that their head-servant Ghiannes would 
 #o to Athens for anything we needed. But wo 
 needn t accept. We can t stay, possibly, can we ?" 
 
 " We ll talk about it in the morning. Will you 
 come to bed now ? I m going." 
 
 Griffin threw his arms out on the table, and drop 
 ped his head on them. His uncle spoke a few con 
 solatory words, and left him. He had been alone 
 but a few minutes when a door opened, a light foot 
 step tripped across the floor, and a hand was laid on 
 his shoulder. He looked up eagerly. There stood 
 Madeline, dressed as she was when he had last seen 
 her. 
 
 " Forgive me, Robert." 
 
 " Oh, Madeline, you do not love this great pro 
 digious savage, do you?" 
 
 She started back as if he had struck her. " Rob 
 ert Griffin ! what are you saying ? I came to make 
 my peace with you, and you have Never dare to 
 speak to me in this way again !" 
 
 Before he could reply she was gone.
 
 THE TRADITIONAL OATH. 1.VJ 
 
 XII. 
 
 THE TRADITIONAL OATH. 
 
 MADELINE arose the next morning with a delicious 
 sense of rest, of terrible peril past and perfect safety 
 present, of keen interest in the singular and romantic 
 situation in which she and her friends were placed, 
 and of a certain unreasoning happiness besides which 
 made her join the birds in their morning songs. 
 Then there came up like a cloud over the bright sky 
 the recollection of her last scene with Robert. Poor 
 liobert, why could he not be satisfied with her warm, 
 cousinly affection ? AVhy must he spoil all, making 
 her as well as himself unhappy by his hopeless 
 persistency ? ^Vhy, above all, must he arouse her 
 indignation by his obstinate ingratitude and injustice 
 to their brave benefactor? Did he not know that 
 lie was taking the surest means of alienating even 
 her friendship 1 Had he not always shown a low 
 estimate of her mind and character by supposing 
 that she could tolerate the debased opinions and 
 tastes he took no pains to conceal from her i Should 
 she not be serving him right to show him that she 
 even felt insulted by his supposing it possible for 
 her to love a man with such ideas and habits as he 
 openly avowed? Why should she feel such tender 
 pity for him? He loved her; yes, poor, poor boy, 
 11
 
 100 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 he did love her. But why, then, did he not try to 
 please her? why did he not try to elevate himself to 
 her standard ? Until he showed some disposition to 
 do that, what elaim had he even on her compassion ? 
 Certainly none. Before aspiring to her love, let him 
 show at least that he thought it worth making an 
 effort to deserve. With this definite conclusion, she 
 strove to banish the painful subject from her 
 thoughts. 
 
 Descending to the drawing-room, she found Ma 
 dame Yyr placidly entertaining Miss Wellington 
 with a gossipy description of the few people she 
 sometimes met. Rude and unlettered as they were, 
 in general, they were vivacious and kind-hearted, and 
 she had even found some of a better class at Mikro- 
 Maina whose society gave her much comfort. To 
 Madeline s inquiry whether she did not often sigh 
 for old England, she replied that until her husband s 
 death such a feeling had scarcely entered her mind. 
 Since then her anomalous life had lost very much of 
 its charm. No one, not even a son like his, could fill 
 his place in her mind. As she went on, her eyes di 
 lated, her face became chalky white, as it had been 
 when they first saw her, and her words became more 
 and more incoherent. With delicate tact Madeline 
 gradually succeeded in drawing her thoughts to her 
 native land. She told of her childhood and youth 
 in an old mansion on the Thames ; of the avenue of 
 grand old trees under which she used to run races 
 with her brother ; of her school life in London, and, 
 finally, of her leaving home with her father and
 
 THE TRADITIONAL OATH. 161 
 
 brother to make the tour which had sealed her fate. 
 Madeline quickly asked if she had never visited Eng 
 land since. Yes, she had made one long, delightful 
 visit, and was intending some day to make another. 
 Her son continually urged her to go ; but he could 
 not be persuaded to go with her, and she would not 
 leave him with only the servants for companions. 
 Some day, perhaps, there would be one to take her 
 place ; then she would go. She was very glad to 
 meet people who spoke her native tongue. She had 
 not seemed very hospitable the evening before, but 
 she was suffering from one of her ill turns, and they 
 must not regard it. Hector was always so tender, 
 never ashamed of her, whatever she might say or 
 do, although she knew she had mortified him terri 
 bly more than once. She could never make them 
 understand what a son he was to her, always so 
 thoughtful and loving, so obedient and deferential, 
 notwithstanding he was so great and strong and wise, 
 and she so weak and foolish. But she had not al 
 ways been so ; she had been considered even remark 
 able for her robustness of both body and mind until 
 until the terrible event which 
 
 Here Madeline gently interrupted her, to ask 
 whether she did not often speak English with her 
 son, who understood it so well. She used to, some 
 times, when he was a child, but not of late ; she had 
 become so accustomed to the language of the coun 
 try in which she had spent so many years of her life, 
 that she found it much easier to her than her own. 
 It was surprising, however, how it all came back to
 
 162 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 her, now that she was talking with English people, 
 or, what was the same thing, Americans. 
 
 At this point Major Paul came in, accompanied 
 by his host, the latter dressed in ordinary Greek cos 
 tume, that is to say, with his brawny neck, arms, and 
 legs covered, as they had not been the previous day. 
 
 Vyr s face glowed with something more than ex 
 uberant health, and his voice swelled with rich reso 
 nance, as he said, " Kale-mura. That is our way of 
 saying good-morning. Miss Paul, your face shows 
 to me that you know to sleep, although you have 
 come from the country where it says sleep is a lost 
 art." 
 
 "Why?" Madeline asked, with a laugh. "Do I 
 look as if I were asleep ?" 
 
 " Ah, that is the way that you play with me. Do 
 those birds sing like as they are asleep? But we 
 know from their happy noise how that they have 
 sleeped most sweetly." 
 
 " Oh, I am noisy ?" 
 
 " You are mischief. Your father shall whip you. 
 You will be noisy then, I think. Manndlca, is the 
 breakfast prepared ? Mr. Paul and I are prepared 
 for it." 
 
 " We are waiting only for you and Mr. Griffin." 
 
 "I beg you not to wait for him," said the major. 
 " If Robert prefers walking to breakfast, let him 
 have his preference." 
 
 "It is right," answered Yyr. "We must not all 
 do the wrong because one does it." 
 
 They sat down to a meal which, though simple
 
 THE TRADITIONAL OATH. 163 
 
 as their supper had been, their keen appetites made 
 sumptuous. Vyr ate almost voraciously, but princi 
 pally of fruit. 
 
 "Do tell me, Mr. Vyr," said Miss Wellington, in a 
 sort of mild desperation, " whether you really wouldn t 
 like a greater variety in your food, if you didn t think 
 it would hurt you." 
 
 At this they all laughed, the host loudest of all. 
 
 " You think it is a strange thing," he said, " that a 
 lusty animal like me shall be so full of care, like an 
 invalid which is in the charge of the doctor. But I 
 have telled you that I do not have care: I eat what 
 I most like, because I know that is the best for my 
 stojnach. It is a strange thing to me, too, that your 
 peoples confuse in your food so many differing sa 
 vors. Would you like those things if they are all 
 together mixed in one dish? bread, oil, bullock, 
 wine, soup, fruit, iishes, nuts, birds, coffee, tea, garlic, 
 pepper, confection, mustard, butter, salt, vegetable, 
 vinegar, cigars ? Do you like such olla podrida / 
 Yet is it not all then in your stomach, when you 
 rise from the table ?" 
 
 "No," sa id the major, promptly. "I deny the 
 cigars." 
 
 "Yes, my friend; if you die and it is wonder 
 why-fore you do not die and if the doctor shall 
 make the autopsy, he will find the cigar, too." 
 
 A lively, half -playful discussion followed, which 
 Vyr seemed to enjoy hugely. 
 
 After breakfast the entertainer took Major Paul 
 to an eminence at a short distance from the man-
 
 1G4 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 sion, whence were visible the wheat-fields, orchards, 
 and pastures populous with herds, of the Vyr estate. 
 Their extent and flourishing condition explained in 
 part, at least, the opulence of their owner s home, in 
 a country where the finest marble is cheaper than 
 granite. Finding a natural bench of stone, they seated 
 themselves with their backs resting against a rocky 
 wall, which shaded them from the warm morning 
 sun. 
 
 " Now," said Major Paul, with good-humored sar 
 casm, " can you point to something which does not 
 belong to the Yyr estate ?" 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Paul ; we do not own the sky, not the 
 mountain-tops, not the sea. I think, too, we do not 
 own the ground, although the laws of Greece have 
 given it to us for many generations. I think we own 
 that what my knowledge and labor and the labor of 
 my servants make from the ground. I have more 
 than two hundreds of Albanian servants, and we to 
 gether make very much to grow from the ground. 
 I do not prevent that other peoples shall make from 
 my ground, too, if it is their wishes, arid if they do 
 not rob like the klephts ; but they must pay to me a 
 little, because I and my fathers have made the ground 
 to be better for them. It is justice." 
 
 " Most certainly it is justice," replied the major, 
 emphatically. " By-the-way, I am curious to know 
 what sort of arrangement you make with your serv 
 ants." 
 
 " I pay to them that what their labor has value. 
 It is enough, and they are content. I know very
 
 THE TRADITIONAL OATH. 105 
 
 much more than they do know, and my knowledge 
 makes their labor to be much more value, which I 
 do not give to them. I hold the greater value to 
 myself it is justice. I also give good deal to the 
 Government. That is justice, too ; because I think 
 that the ground is really their ground, and because 
 they give to me much protection, and they make it 
 that I can sell my herds and my harvests, and that I 
 can buy all things that I wish from all the world. 
 The Government also gives to me much money, be 
 cause I have drived away the klephts many times 
 from the country. It is all justice." 
 
 AVell, Mr. Yyr," said Major Paul, relieving the 
 strain of the attention with which he had listened by 
 a deep, long breath, " I do not see but that you un 
 derstand the philosophy of trade and taxation as well 
 as if you lived in Boston and apply it, too, excepting 
 that you are much more liberal than men usually are." 
 
 " 1 pay good deal to the poor peoples also, which I 
 find" 
 
 " Pay ?" with a puzzled look. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Paul. I pay to them, because I think 
 it is justice. God has placed them here, and they 
 own some of the ground like as all the children own 
 the ground of their father. But I do not go all over 
 the world to find them. Other rich men must pay 
 to their own poor peoples in the places where they 
 live together." 
 
 " Il m; you conduct your affairs on a very unusual 
 basis, sir. I don t see how you prosper as you seem 
 to on that principle."
 
 166 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " I have enough, Mr. Paul, to do all my wishes, 
 and very much more." 
 
 "Do you go to Athens yourself to transact your 
 business with the Government ?" 
 
 " No ; the agent comes to me." 
 
 "But how have you been able to gather so many 
 choice books, ornaments, and other things as you have 
 in your house, if you go abroad so little ?" 
 
 "That is very easily explain. My old Ghiannes 
 goes away very much. lie is wise and cultivate he 
 was once a teacher in Athens he knows the things 
 what I love, he sends to me description and pictures^ 
 and I send to him that he shall buy them for me. 
 He brought for my mother the English tables and 
 chairs and other things which you have seen." 
 
 "So you have never been to Athens yourself?" 
 
 " You do not remember, Mr. Paul. Have I not 
 said to you that I have been there two times ? One 
 time was when I was a little boy, with my father ; 
 the other time was three years ago." 
 
 " You must have attracted a great deal of atten 
 tion." 
 
 " Yes, a little ; not much, because we put on the 
 dress like the other peoples. Everybody stared at us 
 a little, because we were so red in our cheeks, I sup 
 pose, and because we walked so strangely ; but no 
 one knew us who we were." 
 
 " You have mentioned your father several times. 
 Are you willing to tell me more about him ?" 
 
 A majestic sadness settled over Vyr s face. For 
 a few moments he was silent ; then he began : " My
 
 THE TRADITIONAL OATH. 167 
 
 father was killed by the kleplits three years ago. It 
 was then that I went to Athens the second time, Mr. 
 Paul. I telled you that I would explain to you of 
 my mother. It was the lightning-bolt from the sky 
 to her ; she has never recovered herself from it. 
 Nothing has been left to her as it was, except that to 
 me, her son, she is the same. And I too for long 
 time my heart was the furnace trying to consume 
 my big body. But nature is kind, and I was young 
 er and stronger than my poor mother." 
 
 " Go on," said Major Paul, his broad face glow 
 ing with interest and sympathy ; " that is, if you 
 are 
 
 "I will go on, because you ask it." 
 " Not by any means, Mr. Vyr, if it pains you." 
 " I do not wish to escape from that pain. I wish 
 that I shall never cease to offer to my dead father 
 the incense of my sorrow. In his body he was like 
 to me : in his character it is my most highest am 
 bition to be like to him. "When he was older than I 
 am now a little, he tried to rescue a family from the 
 captivity of the kleplits. It was an English family 
 of rank. He could not save them, only the daugh 
 ter, and she was my mother. Oh, Mr. Paul, you have 
 never seen my mother. She was proud and strong 
 and beautiful ; her talking was full of diamonds like 
 to the lights in her eyes. It is to me only that she 
 has not changed." 
 
 " She is very beautiful still," said Major Paul, in a 
 low, tender voice. 
 
 " To you, too ?" replied Hector Vyr, his face light-
 
 168 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 ing up with joy. "I am very glad for that. I had 
 fear that But I will tell to you the story : when 
 I was a little child rny father protected me against 
 all the things which he thought can make feeble in 
 any little way my body and my mind. He taught 
 to me the habits and the thoughts which you have 
 seen. Like to the father of Hannibal, he made me 
 to say an oath. It was that I shall never relax those 
 severe regime which he taught to me ; that I shall 
 never accept offices from the Government or from 
 the peoples ; that I shall always live in a home iso 
 late from civilized men ; that I shall avoid all noto 
 rieties ; that I shall inarry myself with none of those 
 faults of the mind and body which are so great curses 
 to the race of man ; and, at the last, that I shall make 
 my son which shall take my place to swear the same. 
 Not until the fourteenth generation are the Yyrs to 
 be released from this oath." 
 
 " A most remarkable oath," said his listener, half 
 to himself. 
 
 " Yes. It is not like to any other, I suppose, that 
 men have ever sworn." 
 
 "Do you not consider it rather a oppressive? 
 Do you think a father has a right to impose such an 
 obligation, or that his children are morally bound to 
 obey it V 
 
 " I said my father made me to swear : it is better 
 that I say he persuaded me. But he persuaded so 
 strongly, so irresistibly, his reasons which he spoke 
 were so cogent, and the thing at which he purposed 
 was so noble, and it so allured to me, that it was the
 
 THE TRADITIONAL OATH. 169 
 
 same like he compelled me. It seems to me like as 
 it was a command to me fixmi Heaven." 
 
 " The object, if I have rightly understood you, is 
 nothing more nor less than the highest possible de 
 gree of self-development." 
 
 " Yes, that is right. You do not see the nobleness 
 of such object ? It is like to selfishness ? Ah, Mr. 
 Paul, one man is only one little link in a long chain. 
 He is a fountain, and it is to flow from him a river 
 through all the ages that shall come, to the great 
 ocean of Eternity. You do not think of all the ages 
 that shall come you think alone of to-day." 
 
 " Oh yes, I understand you perfectly, Mr. Yyr. 
 But I must confess the thoughts you suggest are too 
 the issues you speak of are too comprehensive, they 
 involve too much, for me to take them all in at one 
 breath. One thing occurs to me, however: I do not 
 see why even self-development would not be best ef 
 fected by free mingling in society, by vigorous ac 
 tion with and upon men. And, Mr. Vyr, when I re 
 flect what grand results you might accomplish with 
 your wonderfully developed powers, how you might 
 influence men by your example to imitate, in some 
 degree at least, your methods, I cannot but feel that 
 your asceticism is a great wrong both to yourself and 
 to your race." 
 
 " You cannot separate your thoughts from here 
 and now," answered Yyr, a little impatiently. " When 
 the fulness of time shall be come, some of our line 
 age will go out from solitude, and do our mission in 
 the world. But it is not the time yet. We do not
 
 170 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 pluck the fruit from the tree until it is ripe. "We 
 are not yet ripe ; we are only in the seventh genera 
 tion ; we have not yet risen to the high possibility. 
 
 "But what possible objection can there be to go 
 ing forth now? Instead of interfering with your 
 self-development, I should think the very activity of 
 life in the world of busy men would help it on." 
 
 " Mr. Paul," returned Vyr, with slow, emphatic 
 utterance, " that day which takes me away from my 
 solitude here shall be the doomday to the great pur 
 pose, that what the representatives of seven genera 
 tions of our family have devote themselves like to a 
 religion. That what you wish me to do, it has been 
 tested. I have not yet explain to you one thing: 
 our families have been few most always it has been 
 only one child. But sometimes it was more; then 
 all except one were not bound by the oath. All the 
 others they can go away where they wish to go. 
 Some have made great reputation. You would be 
 astonished if I shall tell to you their name. But it 
 was the end. Their children have been swallowed 
 up in the great ocean of men without name. That 
 would be the same with me if I should do as you 
 say to me. This is why-fore I have sworn to stay 
 here as my fathers." 
 
 " And you really believe that want of intercourse 
 with your fellow -men, of the stimulus to activity 
 which they would be to you, is not a great loss ?" 
 
 " I have the intercourse, all which I can spare the 
 time. Do you forget I have many servants which 
 I must teach and command ? I see many times the
 
 TIIE TRADITIONAL OATH. 171 
 
 agents and the men which do business with me. And 
 I have enough activity. I labor every day with the 
 greatest activity of all the powers of my mind and 
 my body. You think 1 and my fathers have not 
 write books ?" 
 
 "Indeed I had no idea of such a thing. Did they 
 publish over their own names ?" 
 
 " They have not published. They write books for 
 ourselves, not for the world/ 
 
 " But why do you not give them to the world ? 
 That certainly could do you no harm, and it might 
 be of vast benefit to others." 
 
 "Have I not said to you that the world has not 
 necessity for more books? It has enough already, 
 and much more than enough. No man can drink 
 except a few little cups from the sea of books. I 
 say to you again, because you do not remember, men 
 have not necessity for more to read, but for better 
 brains to read that what is already write." 
 
 "Then why do you write books at all even for 
 yourselves?" asked the major, becoming more and 
 more perplexed. "The libraries of the world are as 
 accessible to you as to any one else, I believe you 
 have said." 
 
 "We write because of the benefit to ourselves of 
 writing. It is very great development of the intel 
 lects, like hard labor is to the body. It is very little 
 good to me to look at you when you lift the great 
 stone. I must lift it by myself, that I shall grow 
 strong. Like that, it is more good to me to write a 
 book by rfiyself than to read that book which other
 
 172 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 men have write. But I must do the both, too. I 
 must eat with the mouth of my brain, and labor with 
 the hands of my brain. I must do the two things 
 both." 
 
 " I hope," said the major, deferentially, " you will 
 allow me the pleasure of reading some of the works 
 of which you speak, especially those from your own 
 pen though I suppose, of course, I shall have to get 
 some one to translate them for me." 
 
 "Not any one can read them except myself," re 
 plied Vyr, smiling ; " they are all here," touching 
 his forehead with his finger. " I write them when I 
 walk, when I labor in the fields ; it is too much of 
 time to write them with paper. But you shall see 
 the things which I and my fathers have discovered in 
 our laboratory chemistry, mineralogy, botany, zo 
 ology." 
 
 " You surprise me more and more. Have you 
 made many new discoveries?" 
 
 " I do not know. I have not read all the books 
 which men have write ; but it is indifference to me 
 if they are new or old. It is enough if I discover 
 by myself. When you give to your little boy some 
 questions of matheinatic, he must answer them for 
 himself ; it is not good that other peoples shall an 
 swer them for him. Like that, Nature gives to us 
 great questions, and it is better that we shall answer 
 them by ourselves, not that we shall read those an 
 swers of other men." 
 
 " Even in your studies you think nothing of the 
 benefit you might be to others only of yourself,"
 
 THE TRADITIONAL OATH. 173 
 
 exclaimed Major Paul, with feeling. Then he red- 
 cK iH d, and begun to stammer an apology. 
 
 Vyr smiled again. "Do not yon think offence, 
 Mr. Paul," he said. " I am glad that you have learn 
 to say to me your thoughts. I wish that you shall 
 not hide them from me. Say some more." 
 
 Thus encouraged, the major went on: "I should 
 think you would be afraid that so much thought 
 about yourself, so much energy expended upon your 
 self, and so little upon your fellow-men, of the pres 
 ent generation at least, would develop a trait in your 
 character that even you will acknowledge is neither 
 admirable nor desjrable." 
 
 You mean the selfishness, egotism ?" with a good- 
 natured smile. 
 
 The major nodded. 
 
 " I shall show you different. If I think only of 
 myself, it would be the climax of egotism ; but do 
 not you understand what that would make me to do? 
 What do the selfish men, the egotists, try to do? 
 What do they burn up their hearts and their souls to 
 do . Is not it that they shall get to themselves fame, 
 glory, the isolate name which shall sound loud among 
 all the peoples of the world, and shall go down with 
 great echoes to the posterity ? I am content yes, 
 Mr. Paul, I wish that the fame of Hector Vyr shall 
 never go away from these mountains. Who is Hec 
 tor Vyr? One man. Who is one man? lie is 
 nothing except the preserver and the transmitter 
 of a Type. It is my aspiration that I shall be one 
 little step, one little round stick without name, in the
 
 171 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 ladder which shall elevate one family, at least, to the 
 ideal manhood. I wish that the little stick shall be 
 strong, that it shall not break. Is it selfishness, Mr. 
 Paul ? is it egotism ?" 
 
 Overpowered by the inspired eloquence of the 
 strange enthusiast s face, voice, gestures, the major 
 could only say, in a low, humble tone, " No, Mr. Vyr ; 
 I beg your pardon for my It is the climax of self- 
 sacrifice." 
 
 "Not self-sacrifice," returned Vyr, with unabated 
 ardor, " for I am very happy. What is fame, glory, 
 to me? It is nothing. It is the envy of your 
 friends, and the homage of your strangers, which 
 love } r ou less as they are more distance away from 
 you. You are not to them a man, you are nothing 
 except a name. If I shall be famous, I shall still be 
 isolate like as I am now. What is it matter if I am 
 above my fellow-men, or if I am far away from 
 them ; I am not one of them if I shall be one or 
 other. JSTo, Mr. Paul ; I have not thirst for glory, 
 for my life is full without it. Except one black 
 year, my life has been intense happiness. Every 
 thing is joy to me, even the knowledge that I 
 live." 
 
 "I think I can understand that," replied the ma 
 jor, thoughtfully and admiringly surveying his com 
 panion s splendid physique. " I have heard perfect 
 happiness defined as the perfectly harmonious opera 
 tion of all the natural functions. I thank you for 
 what you have said. I feel highly honored by the 
 confidence you have placed in me, and the pains you
 
 THE TRADITIONAL OATH. 175 
 
 have taken to enlighten me upon matters which you 
 must hold sacred above all others." 
 
 " One thing," said Vyr, speaking in a lower tone 
 and more slowly, " I have not explained. You do 
 not understand how that I speak so much to you, 
 when I have sworn that I shall avoid all notorie 
 ties ? " 
 
 " Pardon me," answered Major Paul, quickly ; " I 
 see no difficulty there. You recognize in me a man 
 of honor. You know perfectly well that nothing 
 would tempt me to violate your confidence, even if 
 you had not placed me and my friends under the 
 greatest possible obligation." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Paul; I know that you are a man of 
 honor, but that alone shall never make me to be a 
 gossip to you. You are the only man except myself 
 which knows our family secret. I have a great rea- 
 eon why-fore I give it to you. I shall tell the reason 
 to you before you go away. I, also, am a man of 
 honor." 
 
 Had the speaker been any other than Hector Vyr, 
 the major would have felt no uncertainty as to his 
 meaning. lie gazed into his eyes in an eager en 
 deavor to extort from them the promised revelation, 
 hut they remained as placid and unfathomable as a 
 cloudless sky. 
 
 After a while Vyr went on : " My father was fifty- 
 eight years when he died at the ripeness of his great 
 manhood. No wrinkle was in his face, no white in 
 his hair ; his foot was light and swift in its step like 
 my own ; his arm was more strong than my arm." 
 12
 
 176 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " How, then, was it," asked Major Paul, with deep 
 interest, " that he fell a victim to the villains whom 
 you so easily manage ?" 
 
 " Manage ? " 
 
 " Yes conquer, vanquish." 
 
 " Ah ! lie was wound by a bullet from a klepht 
 which hided himself; he was so hurted that he could 
 not walk ; he was made a captive and he was killed 
 by the torture" 
 
 "Horrible!" exclaimed Major Paul, springing up 
 from his seat. " Fiends as they are, I never thought 
 they were such hellish fiends as that !" 
 
 Yyr answered, calmly, " They hate the Vyrs with 
 the great hatred. We have been their enemies with 
 the greatest success of all from many generations. 
 If I shall be captive to them, they will do the same 
 things to me like those which they did to my father." 
 
 " Is not your hate equal to theirs ?" asked the ma 
 jor, in great excitement. "I should think the first 
 great object of your life would be to avenge your 
 father. Damn the wretches ! I wouldn t rest till 
 I had swept the whole race from the face of the 
 earth!" 
 
 For some moments Yyr made no answer. He 
 seemed altogether to forget the existence of his com 
 panion, while his great dark eyes were fixed with 
 an inscrutable expression on vacancy. Suddenly he 
 aroused from his reverie, and said, in a quieter tone 
 than usual, " No, Mr. Paul ; I have not revenge in 
 my heart. The klephts are the victim of nature and 
 of fortune. They have inherit from their fathers,
 
 THE TRADITIONAL OATH. 177 
 
 liko as I have inherit from my fathers. If there 
 shall be a country like Greece, with the history like 
 the history of Greece, it must be that there shall be 
 such peoples in the mountains like the klephts, like 
 as it must be that there shall be the reptiles in the 
 marsh, and the bears in the caves of Arcadia. I 
 know that it is necessity for mankind that they shall 
 be exterminate, like to the other beasts of prey. It 
 is one part of my business, my mission, that I shall 
 hunt them and kill them like to other serpents. I 
 sometimes go far from my home that I may do this 
 thing, because they do not come near to me many 
 times. 
 
 " Those Englishmen which were my guests before 
 you, asked me if I do not have remorse when I have 
 killed a klepht, if I do not see his spirit in my sleep. 
 I say to them, If I shall do the wrong, I shall feel 
 great remorse, God shall terribly punish me ; but if 
 I shall do the right, it is disease of the weak mind 
 and of the weak nerves, it is not punishment, if I 
 shall suffer. But I cannot prevent that I shall not 
 feel great compassion in my heart. " 
 
 Major Paul had indulged very sparingly in his 
 characteristic ejaculations under the restraint of Hec 
 tor Vyr s mighty personality ; but here his growing 
 astonishment entirely broke through his restraint. 
 kt AVell, by the arrow-head on the tail of great King 
 Diabolus!" he cried, " if that isn t the meekest, cold 
 est-blooded philosophy I ever listened to ! 
 
 Yyr smiled, but there was no trace of mirth or of 
 offence in his smile. "You did not think that I am
 
 178 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 meek or cold-blooded when you saw me at the first, 
 Mr. Paul ?" 
 
 " Not much, I didn t, general," answered the ma 
 jor, with a sudden and total change of manner. " And 
 it s actions that tell, after all, not words. My en 
 ergy goes mostly to words, they tell me. Yours 
 doesn t." 
 
 " By-the-way," he added, after a short silence, "that 
 reminds me of a question I have been wanting to ask 
 for a long time." 
 
 " You may ask it." 
 
 " Suppose that bullet had gone through your heart 
 instead of your arm \vhat would have become of 
 the Great Object ?" 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Paul," answered Yyr, looking solemnly 
 upward, "my work would be finish. God s will 
 would be done. No stain of the coward must l>e 
 transmitted to the Coming Type" 
 
 XIII. 
 
 THE REASON " WHY-FORE." 
 
 ROMANTIC as was their situation, our travellers 
 were still in a world of numberless unromantic needs, 
 for which no amount of poetry or sentiment can fur 
 nish a substitute. Great was their relief, therefore, 
 when Ghiannes returned from Athens, bringing with 
 him sundry packages and big boxes, with a letter 
 from the proprietor of the Xen-odochcion tes Agglias
 
 THE REASON "WHY-FORE." 179 
 
 convoying his good wishes most extravagantly ex 
 pressed and the hope that the various commissions 
 with which lie and his wife had been charged, had 
 been satisfactorily executed. So, despite the entreat 
 ies and angry remonstrances of Griffin, and the vacil 
 lation of the major who, as usual, was tremendously 
 powerful in speech and correspondingly feeble in ac 
 tion they remained day after day, until nearly three 
 weeks had passed. 
 
 During this time not the least wonderful among 
 the feats which their host was continually perform 
 ing with no thought on his part, however, of their 
 being feats was the mastery he made of idiomatic 
 English. As is not unfrequently the case with men 
 of far weaker receptivity and grasp, he seemed to 
 achieve this mastery all at once. After continuing 
 for several days the various solecisms which we have 
 observed in his speech, he suddenly dropped them, 
 and thenceforth his English was scarcely less pure 
 than that of his American guests ; indeed, so far as 
 the major s, at least, was concerned, it w r as generally 
 choicer, if not always so forcible. This was not, af 
 ter all, the miracle it seemed. It was simply the feat 
 of a prodigious memory and of a no less prodigious 
 facility for catching the tricks of verbal expression. 
 He read a pocket dictionary and an English gram 
 mar as rapidly as most people would read a novel. 
 Once read, they were learned. 
 
 Late one afternoon host and guests were all seated 
 on the veranda. The sun had set, but not all his 
 glory. The distant waters slept peacefully under a
 
 180 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 canopy of purple and gold, and the long, shadowed 
 slopes of the mountains relieved their summits, still 
 bright, and the velvety green of the nearer valleys. 
 
 " You are so accustomed to the beauties of mount 
 ain scenery, Mr. Yyr," said Miss Wellington, " that 
 I suppose you hardly notice them, except when there 
 are others to admire them with you." 
 
 " My thoughts are not directly upon them often," 
 replied Yyr, with an air of introspection. " Still, they 
 have become a kind of necessity to me. I feel 
 cramped and shut in, as if it were, when I am away, 
 like a captive in prison or a bird in cage. When 
 I am in Sparta or Athens, I feel as if I could not 
 breathe." 
 
 " I think I know one reason why you go away so 
 little," rejoined Miss Wellington, as if the thought 
 had suddenly occurred to her. 
 
 "Well?" with his smile. "I am anxious to un 
 derstand myself better." 
 
 " You are afraid the klephts will take advantage of 
 your absence, and lay your house and fields in ruins." 
 
 "I think you are right, Miss Wellington; though 
 
 / O O O 
 
 it would be the same if there were no such beings as 
 the klephts in existence. I should never go far away 
 unless I were absolutely compelled." 
 
 " They sometimes venture into your vicinity, in 
 spite of the terror of your name," remarked Griffin, 
 who had developed a fondness for saying such things, 
 particularly when Madeline was within hearing. 
 
 " Yes," answered Yyr, with the serene magnanim 
 ity which, instead of rebuking, had only encouraged
 
 THE REASON "WHY-FORE." 181 
 
 the envious young man s covert insolence ; " other 
 wise you would not have fallen into their clutches. 
 Ihit, addressing the rest, "it is not often that they 
 come. They are not so safe in these mountains as 
 they are in northern Greece from their other ene 
 mies to say nothing of myself. There they can es 
 cape from one chain to another, while in the single 
 chain of the Taygetns an energetic and well organ 
 ized movement might cut off their retreat on both 
 sides. I think they would never come south of the 
 isthmus at all, if it were not for their hope of catch 
 ing me at last. Notwithstanding their superstitious 
 fear of the AnthropoJd / uton and his noiseless, srnoiye- 
 less fc/< r<lo)i, a sort of fascination sometimes tempt. 
 them to their fate, as the flume of the lamp tempts 
 the silly moth. They complain," he added, laughing, 
 "that my warfare is not fair warfare. This last in 
 vasion of theirs, however, was probably entirely on 
 your account. They heard of your intended visit, 
 and came down purposely to meet you." 
 
 "No," said the major; " Peschino got his informa 
 tion from one of the Government messengers that 
 was sent to announce our visit." 
 
 " He might have done that in the very heart of 
 Athens," answered Vyr. 
 
 "How would that be possible?" asked Miss Well 
 ington. 
 
 "Oh, these fellows venture everywhere. Peschi 
 no, in particular, is an adept at disguising himself. 
 1 have heard that he boasts of having danced with 
 some of the finest ladies at the Roval Palace !"
 
 182 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " Don t you sometimes wish you were free to or 
 ganize and head a grand movement to exterminate 
 them altogether ?" asked Madeline. 
 
 o 
 
 " I often wish there were many others to fight 
 them in my own way ; but your own adventure 
 shows to you how useless ordinary troops would be 
 against them. An army would be almost as helpless 
 as a single man. Even if it were not so, many 
 changes must be made before there could be the 
 
 O 
 
 slightest use in such an attempt. First of all, the 
 Ottoman Empire, the great retuge of the klephts, 
 musty be converted or subjugated. Then there must 
 be/ internal changes physical, social, and political : 
 roadways must be constructed from coast to coast 
 across the mountains ; the morale of the whole na 
 tion must be raised ; as it is, not only a certain part 
 of the people, but some of the Government officials 
 themselves are said to be the secret allies of the 
 klephts. Do you not see they have nothing to lose 
 by being so ? If they displease the outlaws without 
 destroying them, they are like the huntsman who but 
 slightly wounds a dangerous animal. If they please 
 the outlaws, they are only lightly taxed by them, 
 and not otherwise disturbed. It is doubtless a fact 
 that certain politicians depend for their principal 
 support upon the brigand chiefs, who control the 
 suffrages of the people they rob. If these politicians 
 remain neutral, the suffrages of the people are given 
 to their political rivals. No, Mr. Paul, I have no 
 longing to organize and head any movement under a 
 government made, in part, by its own outlaws. I
 
 THE KEASOX " WHY-FORE." 183 
 
 am content to go on fighting the wretches as my fa 
 thers did before me, and the Government is glad to 
 send their agents to compensate me, for, you must 
 understand, at heart the real government is right : 
 it is only a necessary policy that compels them to act 
 as they do. They are rejoiced if Hector Yyr or any 
 one else will fight the common enemy, if he will 
 only not throw the odium on tliem" 
 
 " The people seem to think a great deal of their 
 Government," observed Major Paul. " When I was 
 at Athens I heard little else talked about." 
 
 " Yes," replied Vyr, with a smile of contempt ; 
 the ridiculous little squabbles of their politicians 
 afford them a never-ending theme for dispute. The 
 Boule supports one ministry or another as it pleases, 
 and it is more changeable than the wind. There 
 have been as many as fifty revolutions within half as 
 many years. It is always M. Tricoupis vs. M. Cou- 
 mondouros, or JM. Mpotzaroa vs. M. Hikezetis one 
 rival vs. another always. Politics, which in other 
 countries forms an important subject of thought and 
 talk, has degenerated in Greece to one of the most 
 trivial ; it is scarcely more worthy the attention of a 
 sensible mind than the common gossip of a country 
 village in truth, it is very much like it. Yet the 
 Greek politicians wonder why foreigners arc not as 
 deeply interested in it as themselves. Knowing lit 
 tle of the ancient glory of their country, except as a 
 matter for empty boasting, they cannot understand 
 why the enthusiasm of tourists should be confined to 
 antiquities?"
 
 184 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 Here was an opportunity for Major Paul, and lie 
 improved it. "Some of us at home have a similar 
 difficulty," he said ; "we cannot understand why the 
 enthusiasm of our scholars and educators should be 
 so largely confined to antiquities as it is, Mr. Yyr, 
 although America is the exact opposite of Greece in 
 all the respects you have named. You will admit 
 that American politics and European politics in gen 
 eral are something above the gossip of a country vil 
 lage ; yet many of our schools and colleges seem to 
 think nothing is worthy of their attention but anti 
 quity. There are no orators, no authors to-day, and 
 there have been none since the time of Virgil and 
 
 o 
 
 Cicero. It is all Greek and Latin, Greek and Latin, 
 until we practical men are sick with disgust. Mas 
 todons and blue-bottles! as if the world had fallen 
 into its dotage, like a broken-down old man who can 
 think or speak of nothing but the great things ho 
 did when he was a boy ! I believe we know more, 
 can do more, think better, write better, speak better, 
 and fight better to-day, Mr. Vyr, than any past gen 
 eration that ever crawled on the face of the earth. 
 Crawled, I say, sir, for we are the only generation 
 that ever did anything else. Great George Wash 
 ington ! to think of puttering over a Greek accent 
 when there are stars in the sky and living kingdoms 
 and republics on earth !" 
 
 Kow there were few things which amused Hector 
 Vyr more than the vigor of the majors verbal ex 
 pression. His highly developed intuition had almost 
 instantly divined the portly, loud-voiced American s
 
 THE REASON " WHY-FORE. 185 
 
 true character, with its wealth of warm-heartedness 
 mid impulsiveness, and its lack of real strength. He 
 listened to the stormy tirades, which were gradually 
 resumed as their acquaintance ripened into familiari 
 ty, with the keen enjoyment of a naturalist over a 
 new specimen. Nevertheless, out of deference to 
 the major s diitour propre, he usually repressed his 
 mirth, and answered with the respect he felt due to 
 his guest s amiable traits and relations towards him 
 self, but more especially to him as the father of a far 
 stronger, though scarcely less impulsive, daughter. 
 So now, with a kindly smile, he replied : 
 
 " You are both right and wrong, Mr. Paul, as I 
 think. As a whole, the race of man has greatly im 
 proved since the days of antiquity. We must admit, 
 however, that in language and art we have degener 
 ated as a race almost as much as the Greek nation 
 lias degenerated in all respects from the standard of 
 their ancestors." 
 
 " Your language is not very patriotic, sir," said 
 Griffin, with a glance at Madeline. 
 
 " "Why-fore is it not, Mr. Griffin ? I speak in pure 
 pity, not in censure. The Greek people have suf 
 fered from great calamities, for which they are not 
 to be blamed. It is the ages of Turkish oppression 
 that have reduced them to their present level. Now 
 they are free, and I believe that in time they will re 
 bound to a greater height than they have ever yet 
 reached ! * I am by birth a Greek, although my 
 
 * Hector Vyr s prophecy is proving true. The situation in
 
 186 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 ancestors represent many different nations. I have 
 lived all my life in Greece, I am grateful for what 1 
 have received, and, as I have told you, I try to make 
 myself of use. If I were free from my oath, I 
 would do what one man could towards a political and 
 social reform. But I am not only a Greek I am 
 one of the race of mankind. The world is more 
 than Greece ; man is more than the Greeks ; time is 
 more than to-day more than the nineteenth centu 
 ry. I am a zealot, a visionary. So be it." 
 
 " You appear to have very definite ideas in regard to 
 the distant future," remarked Griffin. " How do you 
 know the nineteenth century will not be the last ?" 
 
 Although his words were innocent enough, there 
 was an ill-repressed bitterness in the tone and the 
 look which he threw at Madeline that could not 
 have escaped Yyr. With his usual serenity, how 
 ever, the latter replied : 
 
 Greece is better to-day than ever before since the Revolution. 
 The flight of Otlio and the accession of Georgias were inestima 
 ble blessings. The ancient blood is once more stirring, and ev 
 erywhere energy and enterprise are showing themselves. The 
 reclamation of the vast marshes of the Morea is fast advancing. 
 Hundreds of villages have already been rebuilt, and many roads 
 have been constructed since 1874. Best of all for the honor of 
 Greece, she has practically wiped out the greatest blot on her es 
 cutcheon the brigand. After the capture and murder of Lord 
 Muncastcr s party at Oropos near Marathon, in 1870, aroused by 
 the condemnation of the civilized world, the Hellenic Govern 
 ment put forth its best efforts. Directed by the energetic min 
 ister, Zaimas, the entire army went against the treacherous foe, 
 and since then scarcely a klepht has dared to show his head near 
 a centre of population.
 
 THE liEASON " WHY-FORE." 187 
 
 " How do you know tins day will not be your last ? 
 Yet you lay your plans for to-morrow and next year 
 and years afterwards, precisely as if you were sure of 
 them. I know no more of the future than you ; but 
 I see everywhere in the organisms around me the 
 Creator s plan. Every living species is born, grows 
 to maturity, declines, and dies : that is the history of 
 an individual man, and I believe it will be the histo 
 ry of the race of man, which, as yet, is only in its 
 early youth. Many thousand generations, I think, 
 must come and go before it will reach a maturity it 
 has never yet dreamed of. God will not cut the best 
 tree in his garden down until it has borne its rich 
 fruit. This, Mr. Griffin, is why-fore I do not believe 
 the nineteenth century will be the last." 
 
 The last gray fringe of twilight had now died out 
 above the ^gean ; Orion and the Dogs had reached 
 their maximum brilliancy in the moonless sky ; and 
 the mountains had become mere masses of unvary 
 ing blackness against the horizon. In the increasing 
 crispness of the air the voices of the speakers had 
 become more and more distinct and resonant. By 
 a natural impulse Madeline began to sing softly to 
 herself. 
 
 " Louder, Madge !" said her father, and all but 
 Griffin warmly seconded the invitation. Without 
 an instant s hesitation she began Leonora s little song 
 in " II Trovatore," 
 
 " Tacca la noltc placidd, 
 E bclla in del sereno."
 
 188 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 As her pure, sweet voice poured out into the night 
 air, it seemed to intensify rather than to disturb the 
 calmness and peace that reigned around, as if the sil 
 very notes made harmony with the voiceless music 
 of the stars. Even those of the party who were 
 familiar with her singing listened entranced as they 
 had rarely been before ; what, then, must have been 
 the effect upon Hector Vyr ? lie scarcely breathed, 
 but sat, with face bent forward and lips apart, as if 
 fearful of losing her lightest note. When the vol 
 ume of exquisite sound swelled in 
 
 " Qtiando suonar per Faere," 
 
 he left his seat, unconsciously advanced, and stood 
 directly before her. He uttered no word, however, 
 until she had finished. Then he walked twice up 
 and down the veranda, stopped abruptly, and said, in 
 tones thrilling with suppressed emotion, 
 
 "My friends, I never before in my life heard a 
 woman sing. My mother could play very sweetly 
 upon instruments a few years ago, but she could not 
 sing. I have often read of female voices, and I 
 
 O 
 
 thought I could imagine what they were like; but 
 my idea was no more like what I have just heard 
 than a blind man s conception of light is like light 
 itself. Miss Paul, I thank you from my heart. 
 Would it be asking too much if I should ask you 
 to to " 
 
 " Sing again ?" 
 
 " Oh yes ! will you, Miss Paul 2" 
 
 She sang two more songs, and then laughingly re-
 
 THE REASON "WHY-FORE." 189 
 
 fused to gratify him further, lest the charm of nov 
 elty should be too soon dispelled. 
 
 Through it all Griffin had not spoken a word. 
 
 The next time Vyr saw the major alone, he asked 
 what could be the trouble with Mr. Griffin. "Was he 
 ill? Major Paul tried to put him off. Robert was 
 subject to occasional fits of depression ; in fact, to 
 tell the truth, he suspected the poor boy was a trifle 
 homesick, etc. 
 
 " I am very sorry for him," Vyr replied, fixing his 
 frank, inquiring eye upon the major s averted face. 
 " He loves your daughter, does he not ?" 
 
 " Ye 2/&S," said Major Paul, explosively. " Un 
 lucky fellow, I believe he does." 
 
 "Do you not know that he does?" 
 
 "lie has said as much to me." 
 
 "Why, then, did you say you simply believed?" 
 
 " I I Bless my soul, Mr, Vyr, I believe what I 
 know, don t I?" desperately. 
 
 * Ah yes. I shall learn English by-and-by. Does 
 your daughter love him too?" 
 
 " Who can tell ? Women are a great mystery." 
 
 " She does not say whether she loves him or not ?" 
 
 " Oh, she says she doesn t." 
 
 "Do you not believe your daughter s word, Mr. 
 Paul?" 
 
 The poor father quailed under the look and tone 
 with which this home-question was asked. He lit a 
 match and applied it to his cigar although it was 
 still burning and finally replied, 
 
 " You do not understand American girls, Mr. Vyr.
 
 190 A DEMIGOIX 
 
 On this subject I do not think they understand them 
 selves. At any rate, they do not always feel com 
 pelled to reveal their feelings particularly to a third 
 party." 
 
 " And so," rejoined Vyr, with an air of astonish 
 ment, "to avoid revealing their feelings, they some 
 times tell lies ?" 
 
 Major Paul laughed. " That is a very strong way 
 of putting it," he said. 
 
 " What do you mean by strong way ? Is it not 
 the true way? If I should put it in a weak way, 
 would it not mean the same thing ? I ask you again, 
 Mr. Paul, do young women think it is right to tell 
 lies to avoid revealing their feelings ?" 
 
 We have all been pushed in precisely this way 
 by bright, persistent children, whose honest, inquir 
 ing eyes have made us feel ashamed of our own want 
 of frankness. Add to the simple-hearted persistence 
 of a child the power of presence and the penetrating 
 vision of the highly developed man at his prime, and 
 we have some notion of the poor major s embarrass 
 ment. 
 
 " You follow me up very closely, sir," he said, his 
 face growing hot. " I I perhaps they think third 
 parties have no right to pry into their secret feel 
 ings." 
 
 " Ah ! then they should say so. And if you do 
 not wish to answer my questions, my friend, you 
 should &ay so too." 
 
 " I have no objection to answering your questions. 
 Perhaps you have a right to ask them, sir 2" turning
 
 THE REASON " WHY-FORE." 191 
 
 with unwonted boldness and spirit to the inquisitor. 
 Had the latter been any other than Hector Vyr, the 
 proud American would have roused himself long be 
 fore. So complete had been his subjection to that 
 prodigious force of character, that he had usually 
 submitted, without resentment or conscious humilia 
 tion, to things which, from any other source, would 
 have called forth his stormiest indignation. If he 
 thought of them at all, he attributed them to the 
 ascetic s phenomenal simplicity of character and his 
 ignorance of the world. In this he was partially 
 right ; for with rare exceptions no one could be 
 more innocent of intentional offence than Hector 
 Vyr. But, as we have seen, the major did occasion 
 ally bustle up. " Perhaps you have a right to ask 
 these questions of me, sir ?" he repeated. " I pre 
 sume that is a proper question for me to ask." 
 
 " Have I not the right to ask any question I wish, 
 since I do not compel you to answer unless you 
 wish ?" Vyr returned, opening wide his great eyes. 
 With all his reading and study, with all his delicate 
 receptivity, he had utterly failed thus far to under 
 stand some of the most obvious rules of human in 
 tercourse. His unflawed honesty of soul was his 
 great stumbling-block in the acquisition of this most 
 desirable accomplishment. Receiving no answer, he 
 went on, presently : " Mr. Paul, I do not believe your 
 daughter tells lies. If she has said she does not love 
 this young man, I know that she does not love him." 
 Then he added, calmly, " Is it your wish that she 
 Bhould, Mr. Paul?" 
 13
 
 192 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 "Yes," answered the major, throwing his reserve 
 to the winds, " that has been my hope. Griffin has 
 a good many faults, it is true ; he is not her equal, 
 by any means, in mind or character, but he is de 
 voted to her, and I have no doubt would make her 
 happy if she only would think so. He is well 
 thought of at home, occupies a good position, that is, 
 in social and business circles, and will be amply able 
 to give her any and every thing she can wish. To 
 tell the truth, Mr. Yyr, that is the principal reason 
 why I took them together on this tour." 
 
 The major s eyes had not been for an instant on 
 his listener during the whole of this speech, else he 
 could no longer have doubted the right or motive of 
 Vyr s questioning. 
 
 "But your plan has failed," replied Vyr, with ir 
 repressible eagerness. " She does not love him, she 
 never can, he is too far, far beneath her. Mr. Paul, 
 I promised you that before you went from me I 
 would explain to you the reason why-fore I told you 
 so many things about myself and my fathers. The 
 time has come /love your daughter."
 
 MAJOll PAUL ASTONISUES UIMSELF. 193 
 
 XIY. 
 
 MAJOR PAUL ASTONISHES HIMSELF. 
 
 ALTHOUGH almost constantly in Madeline s society, 
 Griffin was not foolish nor weak enough to weary 
 her with petty verbal importunity. He might as 
 well, however, for he made no attempt to disguise 
 his unhappiness ; he indulged in frequent fits of ill- 
 humor and moody abstraction, to which pity and 
 sorrow made her charitable. She tried every means 
 in her power to divert his thoughts and restore him 
 to cheerfulness. At last her long-continued forbear 
 ance yielded, which, of course, was the surest way 
 of bringing up the subject most constantly in his 
 mind ; for there is nothing like the effervescing wine 
 of a good, sharp quarrel to loosen the tongue. 
 
 It was the very day after the scene recorded at 
 the close of the last chapter. The major had thus 
 far kept his own counsel ; nevertheless something a 
 bird in the air had made the unhappy lover still 
 more fractious and despairing than ever. Madeline 
 had been bantering him in her best-natured vein ; 
 she had sung to him, read to him, chatted to him, all 
 without avail. " Come, Eobert," she said, at length, 
 " do throw off this everlasting gloom ; it is getting 
 utterly intolerable. You are worse than an immortal 
 nightmare. You never seem to think of your good-
 
 194 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 fortune. Think where yon were three weeks ago, 
 and where you are now. Try to feel a little decent 
 gratitude to Heaven and to to 
 
 AVith jealous fury Griffin grasped at her momen 
 tary hesitation. " You dare not utter his name to 
 me," he said, pointing his long finger and glaring at 
 her from under his black brows. " You dare not 
 utter his name but your cheeks speak for you." 
 
 The glow which had suddenly risen in her face 
 deepened to vivid scarlet. 
 
 "Now" he cried, pursuing the advantage he had 
 gained in such unmanly fashion, " will you tell me 
 you don t love him ?" 
 
 In an instant her downcast eyes were lifted in fiery 
 anger. He saw the fatal mistake he had made, fell 
 on his knees, and besought her forgiveness. 
 
 She turned away scornfully. 
 
 "Oh, Madeline! " 
 
 " Not a word till you are sane enough to stand on 
 your feet at least." 
 
 This brought him to his senses for a moment. He 
 rose, and began in a low, pathetic tone to bewail his 
 fate. But soon his voice became louder and his 
 utterance more rapid. Deaf to her replies, whether 
 of anger or entreaty, he raved on : He loved her 
 with the honest love of a natural man. Insignificant 
 as she thought him, he claimed to be the peer of any 
 man lie did not aspire to compete with gods or 
 devils. No sensible woman with the flesh and blood 
 of the nineteenth century could ask for more. He 
 loved her, and would make her happy in a home
 
 MAJOR PAUL ASTONISHES HIMSELF. 195 
 
 among the children of men in her own country and 
 among her own kindred. 
 
 ( Kercome by her compassion for his hopeless love, 
 her indignation at his merciless interpretation of her 
 slight hesitation and her blushing who wouldn t 
 change color, so suddenly and cruelly arraigned ? 
 her mortification at his repeated innuendoes over 
 come by these conflicting emotions, she burst into 
 a violent fit of weeping, hysterically lamenting that 
 she had ever left her home in Boston. Nothing 
 would have induced her to do so if she only could 
 have foreseen. They had been such good friends for 
 so many years, with nothing of this sort and now ! 
 Oh, if she could only get away anywhere from that 
 place home best of all. 
 
 Griffin eagerly caught at her last words. Get 
 away ? of course she could that very day that very 
 hour, lie knew the way to MikroMaina, whence 
 they could return to Athens as they had come. 
 
 She was hardly prepared to be so promptly taken 
 at her word. Her dilemma, with the tears she had 
 shed, cleared her brain and restored her self-con 
 trol. She would do nothing so foolishly heroic. 
 She would talk with her father, and see what }>< said 
 about their all going away together. "With this 
 promise Griffin was forced to be content, and they 
 separated on better terms than had appeared possible 
 an hour before. 
 
 While Madeline was waiting for an opportunity 
 to redeem her promise, she became conscious of a 
 growing burden upon her spirits, an undefined some-
 
 196 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 tiling that stilled her inclination to sing and laugh, 
 and made her sigh instead. She tried to think it 
 was pity for Robert, regret at their angry words, 
 exhaustion from excitement, together with a perfectly 
 natural reaction from the too great happiness of the 
 past three weeks the afternoon cloud which the too 
 bright sun of the morning had brought. 
 
 As she thought more and more of going away, the 
 weight upon her spirit grew heavier. She felt that 
 she was under a spell too potent for her to break, a 
 spell, she argued to herself, cast, not alone by a mere 
 personality, but by the thrilling romance of past 
 events and present environment, harbored with her 
 dearest friends in a refuge so near the scene of their 
 late mortal peril, and yet perfectly safe, among sur 
 roundings so wildly grand, whose master was an In 
 telligence so lofty, a host so benignant, a protector 
 so powerful. Like the enthralled reader of a tale, 
 she felt that she could not lay down the volume till 
 the last page was read. 
 
 While she sat thus absorbed one morning at the 
 window of her bedroom, her chin resting on her 
 hand, her aunt entered. 
 
 " Oh, Madeline," Miss Wellington exclaimed, rapt 
 urously, "you ought to have come with me this 
 morning. I have found the loveliest walk you ever 
 saw in your life !" 
 
 " I know, aunty, everything is beautiful here. But 
 do you think we ought to stay any longer ?" 
 
 " Why I don t know, I m sure. Under any oth 
 er circumstances, you know, my dear Mr. Vyr and
 
 MAJOR PAUL ASTONISHES HIMSELF. 197 
 
 his mother being total strangers before we came 
 but they both seem so anxious that we should stay, 
 particularly Mr. Vyr he looks so dejected, so utter 
 ly miserable whenever any one of us hints at going 
 with those great soft eyes of his, that tell every 
 thing so plainly that I really think, Madeline 
 However, that is a matter for your father to decide," 
 and she began to take off her hat and gloves. 
 
 " Of course," replied Madeline, oracularly. " But 
 you know how generous and democratic papa is. lie 
 makes powerful speeches for the affirmative or nega 
 tive, but he always does just as the majority vote." 
 
 Aunt Eliza thought. 
 
 "We are evidently conferring at least as much 
 pleasure as we are receiving," she said, presently. 
 " It is not often, you know, that they have an oppor 
 tunity to see and talk with civilized people. And he 
 is making such wonderful improvement in his man 
 ners and speech did you ever see any one learn so 
 fast as he is learning English ?" 
 
 " It certainly is wonderful," assented Madeline. 
 
 11 1 really think, my dear, that it is our duty to 
 stay a little longer, and give them the benefit of our 
 society. It is little enough we can do, at best, to show 
 our gratitude. Think what we owe him, Madeline." 
 
 " Should we seem ungrateful if we refused to 
 stay?" Madeline asked, pensively. "I wouldn t do 
 anything ungrateful for the world ; and yet I I 
 Robert is very anxious to go." 
 
 " Oh, he is, is he ?" returned Aunt Eliza, with a 
 laugh. " Well, it is very easy to understand that"
 
 198 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " Has lie has he said any tiling to you ?" a hot 
 flush mounting to her brow. 
 
 " I should think lie had. lie thinks we are act 
 ing very improperly; that we are making ourselves 
 ridiculous, to say the least, by making so long a visit 
 to this hermit in this out-of-the-way place ; that it is 
 a poor way to return the favor he did us, to impose 
 so long upon his hospitality. But that s all non 
 sense / see what the real trouble is, if you or your 
 father do not. He s afraid of Mr. Vyr s influence 
 over you, Madeline. In other words, the poor boy 
 is jealous. There, there, you needn t look so terribly 
 angry. I didn t mean any harm. I didn t say he 
 had any real occasion, did I? To tell the truth, I m 
 afraid of Mr. Vyr s influence over myself, over us 
 all. He s such a wonderful character, so overmaster 
 ing, that I sometimes feel as if we should all become 
 his slaves if we remained here long enough." 
 
 " Not /," retorted Madeline, raising her head proud 
 ly. " What right have you to say such things ? No 
 one could be more kind and considerate. He doesn t 
 understand all our forms, but his occasional little rude 
 nesses are the rudenesses of honesty grand, man 
 ly honesty and power. He cannot handle such ten 
 der creatures as we are without sometimes hurting 
 our delicate sensibilities but he never means to 
 hurt us, aunty." 
 
 "No, I suppose notyou least of all. Be careful, 
 my dear. You are a strong little thing, the dear 
 knows, but he is vastly stronger." 
 
 "Be careful of what?" burst forth Madeline, petu-
 
 MAJOR PAUL ASTONISHES HIMSELF. 199 
 
 lantly. " What have I done, what lias lie done, that 
 I should be subjected to such humiliating looks and 
 speeches ? You and Robert and everybody seem bent 
 on I won t stay here another day. I promised 
 Robert I would ask papa to go, and I am going to 
 find him this minute." 
 
 " Perhaps that s the best thing you can do, my 
 dear," returned Aunt Eliza, placidly. Then, as Made 
 line stood irresolutely playing with the door-knob, 
 " You might as well wait until you are calmer. Don t 
 be offended with me, at any rate; I only spoke as I 
 did for your best good. I thought you praised Mr. 
 Vyr rather warmly ; and you talked as if you really 
 wanted to stay here." 
 
 "That was because I am enjoying the place so 
 much," replied Madeline, with pretty hesitation ; 
 -and and you said yourself that we should be 
 ungrateful to leave when ho is so anxious that we 
 should remain." 
 
 " Still," returned Miss Wellington, with decision, 
 " I am afraid of Mr. Vyr s power over us. Don t 
 you see how your papa yields to him, and follows 
 him around like a child ? If any one else should take 
 such liberties with Major Paul as Mr. Vyr does 
 innocently enough, I ll admit how do you suppose 
 he would bear it ( I confess, I cannot understand 
 the secret of this man s power. He certainly makes 
 no effort to control us." 
 
 "/understand it," said Madeline, her heart swell 
 ing with enthusiastic pride, for which the next mo 
 ment she was covered with confusion. " It has been
 
 200 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 handed down to him from generation to generation, 
 like his superb courage and 
 
 " If he were reserved and silently dignified," Aunt 
 Eliza went on, without noticing Madeline s embar 
 rassment, " I should understand it better ; but he is 
 so perfectly frank and unrestrained, he always speaks 
 BO freely of himself, one would suppose that would 
 relax his power over others ; it usually does. I do 
 think he is the most remarkable example of what 
 they call personal magnetism I ever saw ; don t 
 you 2" 
 
 " If we are all in such danger," replied Madeline, 
 with a demure smile, " we d better escape while we 
 can. I m calm enough now, you see, aunty, so I m 
 going to find papa, and beg him to flee at once from 
 this moral and intellectual cuttle-fish." 
 
 She ran down to the veranda, where the major was 
 usually to be found at that time of day engaged in 
 reading or meditation. Not finding him there, she 
 started for the cliff, another of his favorite resorts. 
 She had just reached the base, when a voice fell on 
 her ear which arrested her steps and sent a cloud of 
 color to her cheek. It was at a considerable distance, 
 but so clear and still was the air that she could hear 
 every syllable with perfect distinctness 
 
 " Tacea la, notte placida, 
 E bella in del sereno; 
 La luna il visa argenteo 
 Mostrava licto a pieno !" 
 
 Loud and clear as a clarion came the notes, yet 
 mellow and full of tender sensibility. Only one chest
 
 MAJOR PAUL ASTONISHES HIMSELF. 201 
 
 she knew of could send forth such sounds, so power 
 ful, yet so sweet 
 
 " Quando suonar per I acrc, 
 Infino allor si muto, 
 Dolci ii iidiro e flclili, 
 Gli accordi d un Unto, 
 E versi inelanconici, 
 U/i trovator cantb." 
 
 Every word and note just as she had sung them 
 that night on the veranda ! 
 
 She listened till the sounds died away, then she 
 slowly went up the ascent, her lips parted in a happy 
 smile. 
 
 " What a voice !" she thought " and what a 
 memory! He said he never heard a woman sing 
 before. I suppose he never saw an American girl 
 before. I must be almost as great a curiosity to him 
 as he is to me. I wonder whether he altogether 
 approves of me." 
 
 As she went on up the ascent, thinking upon this 
 profound problem, it must be confessed she was not 
 conscious of any very harassing doubts as to its 
 proper solution. At the top of the cliff she found 
 her father, to whom she immediately communicated 
 her errand. I suspect, however, that her pleading 
 lacked something of its wonted persuasiveness, for, 
 contrary to its usual result, it was fruitless. The 
 major, ordinarily so plastic, was for once actually 
 immovable. 
 
 Go away? what, when Yyr wanted him to stay? 
 Not if he knew it. In any other case he should un-
 
 202 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 dcrstand, of course, that it was nothing but empty 
 politeness ; but when Hector Yyr said a tiling, it was 
 so if it was only "Good-morning." 
 
 With a long face Madeline reported her defeat to 
 Robert Griffin. He angrily accused her of purpose 
 ly failing ; she had not half tried ; it was only neces 
 sary to get her father to scold a little more, and the 
 thing was done. A little conscience-smitten, she re 
 ceived his reproaches meekly, and proposed that they 
 should try the effect of their united powers of per 
 suasion. But for some reason or other even these 
 failed. Aunt Eliza was then induced to add the 
 weight of her influence ; still with no result. The 
 major scolded enough to satisfy even Griffin, but, 
 strange to say, his determination was not a whit un 
 dermined thereby. They might as well hold their 
 tongues, he said, at last ; not one of them knew what 
 they were talking about. Then in a dogged way he 
 muttered, " Griffin may go to-day if he wants to ; 
 the rest of us will follow when I think proper." 
 With which he stalked away. 
 
 Griffin pursued him in a great heat. " Well, Uncle 
 Warren, what am I to understand by that ?" 
 
 " lley ? what ? You re your own master, aren t 
 you ? If you want to go, /can t prevent you. But, 
 by the Little Billy Peterson ! I propose to be mas 
 ter in my own family for once, if I never was be 
 fore !" 
 
 " You want to drive me off the field, do you ?" 
 said Griffin, growing white. 
 
 " Don t talk trash. You have a fair field. Go or
 
 GRIFFIN RETURNS. 203 
 
 stay, as you please. If you want my advice, I d ad 
 vise you to stay" And he again turned his back. 
 
 "Without more ado, Griffin returned to Madeline, 
 whom he found alone. He told her that he had 
 made up his mind to leave the next morning, and 
 besought her again and again to accompany him. 
 She persistently refused, at first with indignation, 
 finally with tears. 
 
 k% Well, then," said he, fiercely, " good-by, Made 
 line and may God forgive you, for I never shall ! 
 But," he added, "I shall return. 
 
 XV. 
 
 GRIFFIN RETURNS. 
 
 Miss WELLINGTON somewhat exaggerated both her 
 own discomfort in the presence of her host and the 
 major s subserviency. It remained true, neverthe 
 less, that, although every effort was apparently made 
 to put them at their ease, they were oppressed with 
 an increasing sense of their own inferiority, and were, 
 therefore, under a constant strain to appear at their 
 best, which in time became very wearisome. At each 
 observation made by one, the other furtively scanned 
 Vyr s face for some little sign of disapproval or even 
 contempt. Nothing of the kind ever appeared. On 
 the contrary, he always listened with the most kind 
 ly interest, and replied with a fulness and a simplic 
 ity which should have precluded all suspicion of
 
 204 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 mental reservation. Perhaps it was this very unflag 
 ging attentiveness that made them feel as if they 
 were being continually weighed in the balance as if 
 those luminous eyes were microscopic lenses, through 
 which they were inspected with unsparing criticism. 
 
 Madeline alone felt no discomfort under this moral 
 mastery. She rather gloried in it : to her there was 
 an exquisite pleasure in the contemplation of a nature 
 so lordly. She felt the loyal thrill of hero-worship 
 which women so often feel in a lesser degree for 
 men far beneatli them in reality, but whom they have 
 idealized whose grossness they have taken for gran 
 deur, whose brutality they have taken for power. In 
 her mute homage she felt no sense of abasement. 
 She pictured to herself a fitting mate for this natural 
 monarch, a soul as queenly as his was kingly, a face 
 and form as divinely beautiful as his were majestic, 
 an ideal woman, the equal and complement of this 
 ideal man. 
 
 In these reveries, if her thoughts ever reverted to 
 herself, it was only to contrast herself with the peer 
 less creation of her fancy, and to blush at the humili 
 ation to which her friends had so inconsiderately or 
 cruelly subjected her. More definitely than this she 
 scarcely thought. If she had been conscious of a re 
 sponse within her heart to their accusations and in 
 nuendoes, though never so slight and timid, she would 
 at once have crushed it back with terror. She could 
 indulge for a while her wonder and admiration for this 
 human prodigy, as she had basked in the glories of 
 the Parthenon; and then satisfied and ennobled
 
 GRIFFIN RETURNS. 205 
 
 return to America, where, perhaps, in due time she 
 might mate with one of her own kind, to whom she 
 would relate all her wonderful adventures. Poor 
 Cousin Robert ! 
 
 One afternoon, a few days after Griffin had taken 
 his abrupt departure, she was swinging in a hammock 
 among the trees at a little distance from the house. 
 She had, of late, taken to wearing the picturesque 
 Greek costume, partly, I suppose, because she thought 
 it would please her entertainers, and partly because 
 she liked to be herself in harmony with her surround 
 ings : she liked to view herself objectively, as a part 
 of the landscape. Upon her head she wore a fez 
 with a long blue tassel, beneath which her abundant 
 hair was twisted in a classical knot ; a jacket of crim 
 son velvet richly embroidered with gold fitted closely 
 her superb figure ; her petticoat was of lustrous golden 
 silk, while her feet were encased in slippers of crim 
 son velvet embroidered like her jacket. 
 
 She was alternately reading and thinking, when 
 suddenly a shadow fell across her page. She looked 
 up, and beheld Hector Yyr gravely contemplating 
 her. His eyes did not fall nor waver, but remained 
 fixed with an intentncss which caused her to drop 
 her own and uneasily to change her position, while 
 the rosy cloud deepened on her cheek. 
 
 " I see I have been rude again," he said, smiling. 
 "I did not know it. I am afraid I shall never learn 
 to be like your American gentlemen. I was looking 
 at you that I might read your thoughts in your eyes; 
 I wished to know whether they were happy or sad
 
 203 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 whether they were upon what yon have been read 
 ing, or upon yourself and your home so many miles 
 away." 
 
 "And what is your decision, Mr. Yyr?" Madeline 
 asked, recovering her equanimity. 
 
 "I do not think they are sad. They were very 
 busy until I broke in upon them. If I had been a 
 klepht I could have seized you and carried you off 
 without your knowing it." And he laughed softly 
 and musically. 
 
 "]STot while Mr. Yyr was within hearing," retorted 
 Madeline, looking among the trees with a little shud 
 der. 
 
 " Ah, Madeline Paul, what joy it would be to save 
 you !" he said, looking at her in a kind of rapture. 
 
 "Thank you," she replied, briskly; "once is quite 
 enough to satisfy me. If you could read my thoughts 
 correctly, Mr. Yyr, you would have seen that that 
 was the very thing which was occupying them when 
 you interrupted them." 
 
 " Then I am glad I interrupted them. You must 
 not think so much upon the past, Madeline ; you 
 must think upon the present, as I do. It is a much 
 pleasanter theme." 
 
 " It is very pleasant," assented Madeline ; " but I 
 like to think of the past, too, and contrast it with the 
 present. By-gone dangers only enhance the happi 
 ness of present safety 
 
 Rich the treasure, 
 
 Sweet the pleasure, 
 Sweet the pleasure after pam.
 
 GRIFFIN RETURNS. 207 
 
 I have been thinking how -wonderfully and myste 
 riously your powerful succor came to us just after I 
 had prayed for it. It seems certain that God heard 
 my prayer and sent an immediate answer. Don t 
 you believe it, Mr. Vyr 2" 
 
 Yyr smiled. Then, after a thoughtful pause, he 
 answered, " There is in my veins the blood of an im 
 aginative race fond of the supernatural. I inherit 
 the tendency to see divinity in everything around 
 me events controlled by unseen hands. But I rec 
 ognize the vastness of the universe, on whose throne 
 sits the One Supreme, and the insignificance nay, 
 the utter nothingness of our planet, with all it con 
 tains, in comparison." 
 
 " Not a sparrow falls to the ground without His 
 notice, " said Madeline. 
 
 "Ah, that is woman s beautiful faith." 
 
 "It is not an unreasoning faith," she protested. 
 4> That which took place on that day could not 
 have happened by mere accident. It must have 
 been the act of a pitying, all-merciful Father, whose 
 messenger you were. I can never believe other 
 wise. Simple gratitude would forbid, if nothing 
 else." 
 
 " That does more credit to your heart than to your 
 philosophy," replied Vyr, with another smile. " But 
 who can say, after all, that you are wrong ? Man s 
 boasted philosophy is doubtless a far less stable struct 
 ure than he thinks it. I wonder if He who knows 
 all truth holds in derision the conclusions we so 
 gravely form our ascription of absolute supremacy, 
 14
 
 208 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 for example, to what we call Natural Law, because 
 we have never seen it superseded." 
 
 " But you and I have both seen it superseded, have 
 we not ?" asked Madeline, eagerly. 
 
 " Who knows ? People in great distress or dan 
 ger almost always pray for deliverance. Some 
 times deliverance comes sometimes not. Mere 
 chance would bring it sometimes. Then, of course, 
 it is but natural to attribute it to divine interposi 
 tion." 
 
 Seeing the look of dismay which this cold philoso 
 phy cast over her face, he went on quickly : 
 
 " But, as I said, who knows ? Men who think their 
 reason infallible are often guilty of the grossest un 
 reason. Only the absolute atheist can logically deny 
 the possibility of divine intervention. He who writes 
 of an unknowable Source of all things writes ab 
 surdly when he says that He never can and never 
 does perform special acts in the universe He has 
 made. I questioned only our right to decide when 
 and how those special acts are performed. The con 
 ception of the great First Cause as contemplating the 
 merely automatic workings of his mechanism in ut 
 ter idleness is monstrous !" 
 
 " Thank you for saying that, Mr. Vyr," responded 
 Madeline, tremulously. " It would be a great blow 
 to me if my faith in the care of a Heavenly Father 
 w r ere shaken. It is the sweetest thought in my rec 
 ollections of the past." 
 
 Yyr seemed to be pondering upon her words. 
 Presently he asked, as he seated himself upon the
 
 GRIFFIN RETURNS. 209 
 
 grass, " Do you not like to think of the future as 
 well as of the past?" 
 
 " Yes," she replied, vaguely, " I love to dream as, 
 I suppose, every one does." 
 
 " People live more in the future than in the past 
 or present, do they not ?" 
 
 lie questioned her with very much the same look 
 .and manner that a bright child might assume in 
 questioning a much- beloved teacher. 
 
 " Some do : not all," the fair oracle answered. 
 
 "Who do not?" 
 
 " AVell those who have no future to look forward 
 to those who arc perfectly hopeless." 
 
 " Are there any such people in the world ? Did 
 you ever see one who, you thought, was perfectly 
 hopeless ?" 
 
 "No; I never saw one, but I suppose there arc 
 such unhappy beings." 
 
 " In the Siberian mines, for instance ?" 
 
 "Yes; poor wretches!" with a shudder. "There 
 must be many such among them. I never can think 
 of them without wondering how I or any one else 
 can ever be happy, knowing that there is such utter 
 misery in the world." 
 
 " But you are happy, are you not ?" 
 
 He asked precisely as if he did not know, for the 
 mere pleasure of hearing her say she was happy. 
 
 " Yes," penitently. 
 
 " Ah, you have a good heart, Madeline. I suppose 
 you wouldn t be happy if you could prevent it ; but 
 Nature is kinder to you than you would be to your-
 
 210 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 self. She will not let yon think forever of human 
 Buffering. You are never very unhappy, are you ?" 
 
 "No; when I think of it, I am ashamed to ac 
 knowledge that I am not that is " 
 
 "Why -fore ashamed? You cannot help being 
 happy, any more than you can help being young and 
 healthy, and beautiful and good. You cannot make 
 yourself to be miserable because others are, just as 
 you cannot make yourself to be old or ill or ugly or 
 bad because others are. Why-fore do you grow so 
 rosy red? Is it because I said you were beautiful? 
 or is it because I said you were young and healthy 
 and good ?" 
 
 "You do not know how good I am," returned 
 Madeline, mischievously. " 1 may be very wicked, 
 for all you know." 
 
 " Oh no ; that is impossible" 
 
 "But how do you know? Some wicked people 
 appear very good indeed, Mr. Yyr." 
 
 "Not like you. Ila, ha! you may play with me, 
 but you cannot blind my eyes. They can look 
 through yours down into the pure little heaven of 
 your heart, as they see the blue heaven at the bot 
 tom of that lake." Then, pitying her confusion, 
 he added, more calmly and argumentatively, " If 
 you were wicked, Miss Paul, you could not be 
 happy." 
 
 "Why not?" she asked, quickly, still blushing and 
 with downcast eyes. " Did you not say that happi 
 ness was unreasoning, like health and youth ?" 
 
 " No, no !" with an energetic shake of his head.
 
 GRIFFIN RETURNS. 211 
 
 " Wickedness is a disease that destroys happiness, 
 just as consumption destroys health and beauty." 
 
 Madeline s whole frame was still thrilling with 
 pleasure at his praises; but she retained coolness 
 enough to think of various peccadilloes she had com 
 mitted at one time and another during her nineteen 
 years of existence, and she cordially assented to his 
 last proposition. "But I do not agree with you," 
 she said, after a little pause, " that happiness is such a 
 negative thing. It may be with birds and little chil 
 dren, but with grown-up people it is very different." 
 
 " You think hope has much to do with it, as well 
 as memory ?" 
 
 "Yes; particularly hope. Did you ever read 
 Pope s Essay on Man . " 
 
 " No ; I have never heard of it." 
 
 " Why, Mr. Yyr !" exclaimed Madeline, in great 
 surprise, " I thought you were a great reader." 
 
 A little impatient frown crossed his brow. lie 
 never forgot anything himself, and he could not un 
 derstand why others should forget. " I told you 
 long ago," he said, that I had only a few English 
 books and magazines. Is this book you name written 
 by Pius IX.?" 
 
 " Oh no," replied Madeline, a trifle coldly. " Pope 
 is the author s name, not his title. One of his most 
 famous lines is, 
 
 " Man never is, but always to be, blest. " 
 
 " It is not a good line," said Yyr, shaking his head. 
 " He does not say what he means."
 
 212 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 "Why, what does he mean?" Madeline asked, cu 
 riously. 
 
 " lie means that man thinks he is never blest." 
 
 " Oh, that is implied, of course." 
 
 "It should not be implied ; it should be said." 
 
 "Surely, Mr. Vyr," she cried, sitting bolt-upright 
 in the hammock, " you would not change the line 
 you would ruin it utterly." 
 
 Vyr answered, gravely, " Men think more of what 
 they call beauty, wit, force, epigram, than they think 
 of truth." 
 
 "But there is no lack of truth here," persisted 
 Madeline, more and more astonished. "Everybody 
 understands exactly what it means." 
 
 " No, not quite, perhaps," he replied, thoughtfully. 
 " The spirit of the line is not good, not beneficent ; 
 it is cruel ; it does not help man to feel that he is 
 wrong in thinking that he is never blest it rather 
 makes him feel that it is inevitable. It sounds like 
 an oracle of Fate which is not the truth, Madeline ; 
 there is no such fate pronounced upon man. He 
 may be blessed to-day as well as in the future, if he 
 will. What does To-morrow owe him more than 
 To-day ? Will the sun be brighter ? the sky bluer ? 
 the fields and forests greener ? If his heart shall be 
 stouter, will it not also be heavier? If his head shall 
 be wiser, will it not also be more gray ? If his limbs 
 shall be stronger, will they not also be less nimble ?" 
 
 " But," returned Madeline, hesitatingly, " he hopes 
 for more than all this, Mr. Yyr. He looks for well, 
 greater power, fame and and "
 
 GRIFFIN RETURNS. 213 
 
 "When he shall have attained all these, what 
 then f 
 
 " Why, then he looks for still greater power and 
 fame." 
 
 Vyr shook his head again. 
 
 "If happiness depends on such things as these, 
 your poet s line ought surely to be changed," he 
 said. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Man never is, and never shall l)c, blest. If 
 happiness depends on the things you have named, I 
 wish never to be happy, Miss Paul. I wish never to 
 be more renowned or more powerful, as men usually 
 reckon power, than I am now. I would like to be 
 even less widely known than I am. But it is not 
 true. I have been, I believe, one of the happiest of 
 men. I live, like a child or a bird, in To-day in 
 every moment as it passes. Every sense, every fac 
 ulty is a channel through which enjoyment is ever 
 flowing in upon me. I love to walk, to run, even to 
 fajld" laughing. "I love to read, write, sing, talk, 
 listen, sleep, wake, and animal that I am to eat and 
 drink. I love to walk forth upon the mountains and 
 feast my eyes on the paradise which God has given 
 us; to stand on some lofty peak and feel the proud 
 consciousness of sovereignty over this luxuriant nat 
 ure ; to feel in my body and mind God s master 
 workmanship. I love to look at you, as you sit there 
 in your surpassing beauty, and think of you as the 
 crowning work of all. Nay, Madeline, do not turn 
 away from me. I have said that I live in the pres-
 
 214 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 cut, that I do not depend for happiness on the hopes 
 which other men indulge. I do live in the present. 
 These days are the most glorious I have ever lived ; 
 this moment is to me the central point of time an 
 existence in itself. But I live in the future, too. 
 Did I say hope was nothing to me ? Ah, it is every 
 thing. All the hopes which other men cherish are 
 as nothing compared with the blissful hope that has 
 sprung up in my soul. I have told you of things I 
 love to do. Best of all, I love to love. Best of all 
 things I love above them all, more deeply than all 
 I love you, Madeline Paul !" 
 
 He had risen from the ground, and now towered 
 over her, gazing upon her as if he would devour her 
 with his eyes. It is impossible to describe the in 
 tensity of passion with which his last words were ut 
 tered. His tones vibrated like those of some mighty 
 organ, his face seemed transfigured, while his power 
 ful frame was shaken as by some great agony. 
 
 Madeline had also risen, and now stood looking at 
 him, as it seemed to her, through a mist. His figure 
 became more and more shadowy, but his burning gaze 
 seemed to pierce deeper and deeper into her inmost 
 soul. Her lips opened, but her tongue littered no 
 words. 
 
 All at once she became conscious of another pres 
 ence. "With a great struggle she threw off the spell, 
 and beheld the face of Robert Griffin glaring upon 
 her! 
 
 It was not an idle freak of nature that had given 
 his features their forbidding form and color. The
 
 IN THE STARLIGHT. 215 
 
 jester s mask was gone utterly consumed, as it were, 
 by the scorching heat of those demoniac eyes. 
 
 ]K> was standing in the path not twenty feet dis 
 tant. Madeline uttered a cry and fled towards the 
 house. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 IN THE STARLIGHT. 
 
 HECTOR VYR turned, and saw the intruder. 
 
 " ffourounif" he roared, " it was you that fright 
 ened her away ! I will tear you to atoms !" 
 
 lie sprang towards him like an enraged lion. 
 
 Griffin sprang too, and before his antagonist could 
 recover himself for another bound, he had deliberate 
 ly aimed a pistol at his heart. 
 
 Yyr neither spoke nor moved. Marins disarmed 
 iiii lissassin by the mesmerism of his gaze. Griilin 
 stood a few seconds looking into those terrible eyes. 
 Then his arm slowly sunk to his side. 
 
 " I did not intend to frighten her," he said, with 
 utterance abnormally distinct, from the very effort to 
 throw off the awe he felt creeping over him. u I did 
 not know what was in progress. I came back to join 
 my friends, and happened upon you by pure acci 
 dentat a very inopportune moment, it seems." 
 
 Vyr held out both hands, while a smile broke out 
 over his face, like sudden sunshine through threaten 
 ing clouds. "Forgive me; I was a madman."
 
 210 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 But Griffin drew back haughtily. " I cannot take 
 your hand, Mr. Vyr," he said. 
 
 "Why-fore not?" Vyr asked, with innocent sur 
 prise. " Are you afraid of it ? I made a mistake. 
 It will not hurt you now." 
 
 Griffin s only reply was a scornful smile and a sig 
 nificant little wave of his pistol. 
 
 As if by a stroke of lightning, the weapon was 
 torn from his grasp and hurled far over the tree- 
 tops, exploding as it fell. 
 
 "When 1 play with a serpent," said Vyr, into 
 whose face a calmer, deeper wrath had come, "I 
 first pluck out his sting." 
 
 Griffin stared blankly at his benumbed fingers, then 
 at Vyr. " You are very quick," he said, at length ; 
 " you can overmatch me ; but you cannot make peace 
 with me. I love that lady, Mr. Vyr, as well as your 
 self." 
 
 " Does she love you ?" 
 
 "I I have, at least, as good reason for hope as 
 you, sir ; and I have a prior claim. I have known 
 her almost from a child, while it is only a few days 
 since you knew that such a being existed." 
 
 " There is truth in that what you say. But this 
 is a matter in which there is no prior claim. Miss 
 Paul herself shall decide between you and me." 
 
 " She is in no respect suited to you," retorted Grif 
 fin, angrily. " You have no right to ask her to aban 
 don her own country and kindred, the friends of her 
 lifetime, the comforts and refinements of civilization, 
 to share your savage life in this wilderness."
 
 IN THE STARLIGHT. 217 
 
 For a while Vyr did not answer. The rich, dark 
 bloom faded from his check, and it was with a strange 
 faltering in his voice that he finally said, 
 
 " I have, at least, the right to ask. She lias the 
 right to accept or refuse, as her own heart shall dic 
 tate." 
 
 "And so," cried Griffin, following up his advan 
 tage with merciless vindictiveness, "you would 
 shamelessly accept the romantic fancy which the 
 poor young creature may have conceived for your 
 your barbarous physical strength and prowess, and 
 your still more barbarous habits of life, and call it 
 love ! You would take advantage of this silly fancy, 
 I say, to allure her to a step she would bitterly re 
 gret when she came to her senses ! You would really 
 marry her, would you, Hector Vyr ? You, a non 
 descript mountain hermit, and she a tender flower of 
 civilization ! Faugh !" 
 
 He saw with malicious joy that his bitter words 
 were producing an effect, and the consciousness gave 
 new fertility to his brain and fluency to his tongue. 
 But the calm, white face did not reveal with how 
 terrible a power his blows fell upon that great, sim 
 ple heart. For a few moments Vyr remained silent, 
 then his face lifted with a look of sublime resigna 
 tion, as he said in low, humble tones, 
 
 "Mr. Griftin, i have done to you a very great 
 wrong. I believed in my heart that you were only 
 a shallow trifler, with no soul above your little jests. 
 I knew that you loved Miss Paul ; but I also knew 
 that she did not return your love, and I believed you
 
 218 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 were unsuited to her, as you say / am unsuited to 
 her. I find that I made a mistake. I find you a 
 man of thought and earnestness. Perhaps you are 
 even capable of no, I cannot believe that. Tell me, 
 Robert Griffin, is it true that she would be unhappy 
 here? Are her home and her friends, the excite 
 ments of society, so necessary to her that nothing can 
 take their places ? Tell me," he repeated, his whole 
 soul in his adjuration, " do you really believe this in 
 your secret heart ?" 
 
 The incredible simplicity that would ask such a 
 question, at such a time, of him, brought a con 
 temptuous smile upon Griffin s face. " Believe it ?" 
 he replied, with the careless insolence he would have 
 assumed to an inferior whose anger he despised 
 " why, of course I believe it." 
 
 But Robert Griffin judged from his ordinary ex 
 perience in the world, where such simplicity is usu 
 ally the result of mere obtuseness of intellect. He 
 could not understand that in this case it sprang from 
 a grandeur of soul that, for the moment, was willing 
 to accept even him as a peer. He was instantly un 
 deceived. 
 
 " Go !" said Yyr, waving his hand with utter loath 
 ing. " Why-fore do I stoop to talk words with you ? 
 I thought you were a man. You have the tongue of 
 a man, but the soul of a lizard !" 
 
 Without deigning another look at the dazed face 
 of him he thus spurned, he strode majestically away. 
 
 Griffin had seen the best tragedians of his day, and 
 had himself no mean skill at tragic impersonation,
 
 IN THE STARLIGHT. 219 
 
 for which his peculiar physiognomy admirably fitted 
 him ; but never in his life before had he conceived 
 of the wonderful capabilities of the human voice and 
 countenance. He knew well that much of his own 
 short-lived power over his rival had been due to his 
 excellent elocution ; he knew also that in one un 
 guarded moment he had betrayed himself, that in 
 that moment his rival had seen through his flimsy 
 heroics. He felt that the tremendous outburst of 
 scorn which had followed the discovery was gen 
 uine that the man, powerful and mature as he 
 was, was as incapable of mere acting as a child ; 
 and this consciousness left him gazing, like one 
 paralyzed, at the tall retreating figure, whose very 
 back seemed to dart upon him arrows of con 
 tempt. 
 
 When Yyr had vanished behind the trees, Griffin 
 shook himself, drew 7 in a long breath, and expelled it 
 again in a series of blasphemous ejaculations expres 
 sive of wonder, self-reproach, and hatred for his for 
 midable rival. He then went to look for his revolver, 
 which he found at a marvellous distance from the 
 spot whence it had been thrown. It had fallen upon 
 a rock, and was ruined past repair. Spurning it with 
 another fierce oath, he walked straight to the door of 
 the house, and haughtily demanded to see his rela 
 tives. His uncle greeted him cordially, and asked 
 what in the name of the Old Black Coal-heaver he 
 had gone away for, and where he had been. Deign 
 ing no reply to these questions, Griffin angrily in 
 quired if his uncle was aware how far matters had
 
 220 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 advanced between Madeline and their host, and with 
 out a pause proceeded to a lurid description of the 
 scene he had just witnessed. 
 
 The major listened patiently till he had finished ; 
 then, laying his hand on his nephew s arm, he said, 
 with tender deliberation, "Robert, my poor boy, I 
 have been expecting some such thing as this." 
 
 " Oh, you have, have you ?" retorted Griffin, recoil 
 ing and growing white. "And I suppose you have 
 been hoping for it, too ?" 
 
 " No, not exactly that. I have simply felt that I 
 could not prevent it." 
 
 " Prevent it !" with a passionate oath. " Of course 
 you could prevent it if you had wanted to. Why 
 the devil didn t you take her away, as I asked you 
 to so many times ?" 
 
 " What, against his wishes? You couldn t expect 
 me to do that, Robert. Have you forgotten what 
 obligations we are all under to him ?" 
 
 " So, to pay the debt, you are willing to sacrifice 
 your own daughter, whom you have pretended to 
 love so tenderly !" 
 
 " What s that you say, you young " began the 
 major, blazing up. But he instantly calmed down 
 again. " I ll stand anything in reason from you, 
 Robert, because I pity you from my soul ; but I want 
 you to understand there s going to be no sacrifice of 
 my Madeline to Vyr, or you, or anybody else. She s 
 to be absolutely free to choose for herself. I ve 
 promised her that, and I ll be as good as my word. 
 She s got a level head as well as a heart of gold.
 
 IX THE STARLIGHT. 221 
 
 She ll never be such a fool as to imprison herself 
 among these howling mountain caves I ll trust her 
 for that. If she s influence enough over this Hector 
 Yyr to draw him out of his hermitage and lead him 
 captive to Boston, she may do it without any inter 
 ference from me. If she hasn t, there ll be the end 
 of it. Mark my words, Robert Griffin, she d never 
 bury herself here for Jupiter Ammon himself ! nei 
 ther you nor I need fear any such result. In any 
 event, I shall never forget my debt to this man, or 
 Madeline s either ; and if he really wants her for his 
 wife, the very least he is entitled to is a fair chance 
 to win her if he can. Don t you see that s only right, 
 my dear fellow C in a softer tone, again laying his 
 hand on Griffin s arm. " You ve as fair a chance as 
 he, haven t you ?" 
 
 Utterly beside himself with rage, Griffin snatch 
 ed his arm away. " You talk, you old hypocrite ! 
 Didn t you try to get me out of the way, so that he 
 might have the field to himself 2" 
 
 Up flew the major s ready fist. His reckless neph 
 ew would have measured his length upon the floor 
 if he had not adroitly slipped aside. Instant con 
 sciousness of his folly flashed into his brain. " I take 
 it back, Uncle Warren, I take it back," he whined. 
 " I did not know what I was saying." 
 
 " Yes, you did, you insulting puppy !" bellowed 
 the major, furiously, "and you knew it was a villan- 
 ous lie ! I told you to go or stay, as you pleased, and 
 I advised you to stay." 
 
 If this had been their first stormy quarrel, it would
 
 222 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 without doubt have been irreparable ; but mere words 
 were too cheap witli both to be fatal. Even if the 
 major s anger had not been habitually short-lived, 
 pity for his unhappy kinsman would soon have 
 quenched it ; and as for Griffin, his returning pru 
 dence had already supplanted his exceedingly impol 
 itic rage. 
 
 A partial reconciliation took place, therefore, after 
 which Griffin dashed away to find Madeline. From 
 Miss Wellington, whose eager questions he contempt 
 uously thrust aside, he learned that she had taken 
 refuge in her room. lie flew up-stairs, and listened 
 at her door. No sound. He rapped gently. A la 
 bored breathing, and a rustle as of some one rising 
 from the bed. 
 
 "Madeline," he said, in a tone but little above a 
 whisper, " will you not see me ?" 
 
 " Oh, Robert," came through the door, " please go 
 away !" 
 
 " If I do," in a louder tone, " it will be forever." 
 
 "But I I can t come now; I am utterly ex 
 hausted." 
 
 " Good-by, then. Remember, it \sforever" 
 
 "No, no! I will come." The door was unlocked, 
 and she stepped forth, her cheeks burning, her hair 
 unbound and enveloping her shoulders and waist 
 like a brown mantle. " Why are you so cruel 2" she 
 asked. " Could you not wait till " 
 
 " Till you were lost to me forever ?" he burst forth 
 " till you had bound yourself like a slave to this 
 monstrous "
 
 IN THE STARLIGHT. 223 
 
 She threw up her hands as if to ward off a blow. 
 " I can never be more lost to you than now," she 
 cried, passionately. "No one could treat me more 
 like a slave than you ; no one could be more unjust, 
 more insulting to to one who merits only your 
 life-long gratitude. lie has done you no harm, Rob 
 ert ; I have never changed my mind for a moment, 
 and I never shall. I cannot tell you how sorry I am 
 for you but go away now; wait till we are both 
 calmer, at least." 
 
 " And give you up ? leave you to drag out your 
 days in this solitude with that mountain demon ?" 
 
 "Don t insult him any more to me!" she retorted, 
 her hot cheek growing suddenly cold and white. 
 " Go to him if you dare. He could strike you dead 
 with one sweep of his hand ; but he wouldn t no, 
 he wouldn t stoop to harm you. He is not a mount 
 ain demon, he is a mountain god !" 
 
 " Yes, you poor, silly, romantic child, I know you 
 think so. And you think you love him, do you ? A 
 fashionable young lady of Boston, only a little while 
 out of boarding-school, daughter of a Yankee store 
 keeper, in love with a god!" Words cannot de 
 scribe the stinging sarcasm with which he flung this 
 at her. 
 
 But she was impervious. " Yes," she replied, 
 drawing up her tall, slight h gure ; " imperfect and 
 weak as I am, I love him !" 
 
 " Then listen to me, Madeline Paul. You say he 
 could strike me dead. Imperfect and weak as I am, 
 and god as he is, I ll strike hint, dead !" 
 15
 
 224 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 With this menace on his lips, he vanished from be 
 fore her horror-stricken eyes. 
 
 For a long minute she stood motionless as he had 
 left her. Then, without knowing how, she was at the 
 bottom of the stairs and in the path in swift pursuit. 
 
 " Yon need not follow me !" he shouted back. " I 
 shall bide my time !" 
 
 She knew the sentinel on guard had orders to al 
 low any of Major Paul s party to cross and recross 
 the narrow bridge at pleasure. She called to him, 
 but before he could understand the meaning of her 
 frantic words and gestures, Griffin was safely over 
 the chasm and out of sight. She darted back to the 
 house, and tried to find her father. He, too, had 
 disappeared. No one was there but Madame Vyr. 
 Knowing, even in her terror, that it would be worse 
 than useless to alarm her, she ran with might and 
 main towards a field where she had sometimes seen 
 Vyr at work with his men. He was nowhere to be 
 seen. Gradually she became calmer. Robert had 
 only meant to frighten her. It was not possible that 
 lie really meant to carry out his murderous threat. 
 At any rate, there was no immediate danger, and she 
 would have ample time to warn her lover. Once on 
 his guard, what had she to fear for him who had so 
 long defied the combined skill and treachery of the 
 klephts? She would not even distress her friends 
 with the fearful tale ; for if, as she became more and 
 more convinced, Robert was only playing upon her 
 fears, how glad she would always be that she had 
 kept her own counsel.
 
 IX THE STARLIGHT. 225 
 
 The afternoon waned ; the supper-hour came but 
 not the master of the table. His mother would not 
 wait for him ; for, she said, his meal-times were as 
 regular as the rising and setting of the sun, and she 
 knew he was at supper elsewhere. As the evening 
 passed, and still he did not corne, Madeline s terror 
 by degrees returned in full power. She could not 
 sit with the family, but went and paced to and fro 
 upon the veranda. What if the threat had already 
 been carried into execution ? As the thought took 
 full possession of her mind, blanching her cheeks and 
 lips, she turned to fly, she knew not where to her 
 father, to implore him to go forth with her into the 
 darkness and search for him to Madame Yyr, to 
 alarm the servants and the people in the valleys 
 somewhere, everywhere to do something, every 
 thing, to prevent a catastrophe which seemed to her 
 the destruction of the flower and glory of the world. 
 But before she could act on any of her frenzied im 
 pulses, she heard quick, firm steps approaching, and 
 in another moment Hector Yyr ran up the steps. 
 
 With an inarticulate cry she made a movement 
 towards him, and sank trembling into a chair. 
 
 He knelt beside her, and seizing her hand, pressed 
 it with his lips. "You have been waiting watch 
 ing for me?" he said in a low voice, that thrilled her 
 through and through. " You have been waiting here 
 to tell me that you return my love ? My soul blesses 
 you, bows in adoration before you. Until now I 
 thought myself blest above my race ; I thought my 
 earth was fairer than other men s, my skies brighter;
 
 226 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 but you have brought me a new heaven and a new 
 earth. You have made my past life seem a waste of 
 loneliness and selfishness, and have opened before me 
 the gates of paradise." 
 
 " I I have been watching for you," began Made 
 line, in weak, tremulous tones ; " because I was afraid 
 that Oh," with a sudden outburst of joy and love 
 " oh, thank Heaven, you are alive alive and un 
 harmed ! He said he would strike you dead !" 
 
 Yyr clasped both her hands, and laughed in an ec 
 stasy of mingled tenderness and amusement. " Let 
 not your woman s heart be troubled," he said. " Shall 
 I fear the threatenings of a jester, who, though he 
 speaks terrible words, has not courage to use the 
 weapons he bears? He is as shallow in his boasting 
 as in his jesting. If I did not pity his hopeless love 
 for you, my own beautiful one, I should only laugh 
 at him." 
 
 " Ah, he is not jesting now," replied Madeline, 
 raising her head and timidly touching with her hand 
 one of the short curling locks on his temple. " lie 
 is terribly in earnest. Oh, I have been trembling for 
 you you were gone so long." 
 
 " T/teos nd se euloyese!" * lie exclaimed, fervent 
 ly. " You shall tremble no more. Consider, my dar 
 ling one I am accustomed to far more dangerous 
 enemies than he is, men not only more reckless but 
 skilled as he certainly is not in hunting down their 
 victims. Have no fear in your heart, Madeline if 
 
 * God bless you !
 
 IN THE STARLIGHT. 337 
 
 lie ventures to attack me, I will scare him away with 
 a look." 
 
 " If he should attack you openly, I should not fear 
 at least for you. lie is my cousin, poor Robert ! 
 I cannot believe he would be so vile a coward as to 
 But, then, that fearful threat! And when you go. 
 away, as you have done to-day, and are gone so long 
 
 " My eyes are always open wide when I walk. I 
 know all the hiding-places here, as you know the 
 dwelling-houses in the street where you live. My 
 ears are trained to hear sounds when to you there 
 would be unbroken silence. Shall I tell to you why- 
 fore I was gone so long? I have been fighting 
 no," with a laugh, as she started up " not with the 
 klephts, nor with /tun, but with myself. I told you 
 of my love too soon. It burst from my lips, because 
 my heart could not keep it imprisoned. I have been 
 punishing myself for my too great haste, for my self 
 ishness, in asking you to turn your back on the coun 
 try of your birth, on your father, who has cherished 
 you from your babyhood, your mother s grave, your 
 friends who love you so well and whom you love, 
 the pleasures and refinements to which you have all 
 your life been accustomed to turn your back on 
 all these, and live with me in this solitude grand, 
 glorious, filled with things which satisfy my mother 
 and me, but still a solitude. What right have I, I 
 asked myself, even if she were willing, to transplant 
 this tender flower, that has grown and bloomed in a 
 sheltered garden in the midst of palaces, to even a 
 paradise of uncultivated nature?
 
 228 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " Then I answered to myself, But I love her with 
 a love i m measurably greater than the love of father 
 and friends. I will reconcile her to the loss of other 
 society by an affection which shall always absorb her 
 whole heart and soul ; I will make her to forget those 
 pleasures she leaves, by filling all her moments with 
 greater pleasures than she ever dreamed. For the 
 home she abandons, she shall have one fashioned af 
 ter her own wildest fancy. If my wealth is not great 
 enough, cannot I increase it as I will ? And it shall 
 awake in me a sweet ambition I have never yet felt 
 to enthrone my peerless queen in a palace of her 
 own devising. 
 
 " I thought, too, of my mother ; how she had left 
 home and kindred and position all I should ask you 
 to leave for this same mountain home ; and yet how 
 she was supremely blest until," lowering his voice, 
 " that dark hour, Madeline, that I have told you of." 
 
 A sudden trembling seized her, and he felt, rath 
 er than saw, that her face had grown white in the 
 bright starlight. 
 
 "I read your thought, my tender-hearted love," 
 throwing his arm around her, as if to protect her 
 from her own fancies. "I thought of this in my 
 struggle with myself to-day. She is not accustomed, 
 I said, to ever-present dangers, as I am. But she shall 
 grow stronger; she shall learn to laugh at fears of 
 evils that may never come, as she now laughs at old 
 nurses tales to children. Yes, my Madeline, I thought 
 of everything, and I resolved to say to you no more 
 of love until you had smiled upon the confession that
 
 IX THE STARLIGHT. 229 
 
 came unbidden from my lips. You waited for me 
 here ; your sweet soul was turn with fears for my 
 safety ; you love me : and here I lay myself, my love, 
 my hopes, my promises, at your feet." 
 
 Madeline uttered no word, but her eyes, in which 
 the starlight seemed condensed to soft, liquid fire, 
 remained fixed on his till he had finished speaking. 
 For a while longer she continued silent, hearing only 
 the throbbing in her own breast. At length she 
 spoke : 
 
 It seems to me like a wonderful dream. I feel 
 as if I had been lifted from earth into a gorgeous 
 cloud-land. Nothing is real to me but 3-011, my hap 
 piness, and my love. Can it be only four short weeks 
 since my friends and I were trembling for our lives ( 
 It seems as if I had known you for years. 
 
 "And loved me f 
 
 "I think I must have loved you from the first, 
 though I did not know it. I thought it was only 
 gratitude, wonder, admiration for one who made all 
 other men seem like pygmies. I thought no more 
 of loving you than of loving the sun. What was 
 poor little I to dream of such a thing ? But my 
 fancy created a being suited to you, a creature who 
 should match your splendor with beauty more daz 
 zling and nature more lovely than poet ever imag 
 ined. Ah, Mr. Vyr, what an enchanting idyl I have 
 been weaving ! Is it not a pity that it should be 
 spoiled ? that this resplendent creature of my fancy 
 should be supplanted in your heart and by your side 
 by a commonplace, fashionable Boston girl ?"
 
 230 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 She looked up with a half-doubting, half-roguish 
 smile, and was going on in the same strain, remind 
 ing him of his oath, when he suddenly smothered her 
 voluble self -depreciation with kisses, protesting in 
 the intervals that she was the one above all others 
 who would enable him most gloriously to fulfil his 
 oath ; that no creature of her fancy could equal her 
 self ; that he would listen to no more hyperbole in re 
 gard to himself; that he was no sun, nor god, nor 
 demigod, nor anything of the sort, but only a man 
 with a sound head, body, and heart, who had simply 
 taken good honest care of himself, as his ancestors 
 had done before him, and who, thank Heaven, had 
 now one whom he loved far better than himself to 
 care for. 
 
 Thus they communed together, till the old moon, 
 rising above the black ^Egean, seemed to glorify 
 their love with her radiant benediction. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE LABORATORY. 
 
 IN the morning Yyr and Madeline went up the 
 cliff to see the sunrise. It was not the first time they 
 had together witnessed the grand spectacle ; but there 
 was now an inward glory that shone forth and mag 
 nified the outer glories tenfold. The mists of night 
 had not yet fled : each summit was crowned with a
 
 THE LABORATORY. 331 
 
 halo that gradually took on the cool blush of morn 
 ing, while the deep valleys .seemed to awake, one by 
 one, refreshed and smiling from their dreamless sleep 
 As the "silver-orbed chariot leaped above the sea, 
 turning the purple clouds to many -colored flames, 
 Madeline clasped her hands in an ecstasy of admira 
 tion. But neither spoke until the pageant had some 
 what faded. Then said Vyr, 
 
 "/Sic transit gloria mundi" 
 
 " AVhy must it be so ?" responded Madeline. " Why 
 must the greatest glory always be the most tran 
 sient 2" 
 
 "It passes away, but only to return." 
 
 "And will it be so forever f Will the last sunrise 
 of all never come ?" 
 
 " I suppose it will," answered Vyr, smiling 
 "neither sun nor earth is immortal." 
 
 " Is it not a terrible thought that all life and beauty 
 must perish, that all the lights in the firmament must 
 be put out, that the universe must at last be one vast 
 sepulchre V 
 
 u Xay, that will never be. The universe shall 
 never die utterly. When the time comes of which 
 you speak, One shall say, It is not dead, but sleep- 
 etli. Then lie shall stretch forth His hand I say 
 unto thee, arise! And from Him there shall pro 
 ceed virtue. The streams of force and life that have 
 sunk to their lowest level shall again be lifted to their 
 sources ; the great heart of nature that has expanded 
 shall again contract : the night shall pass, and a ne\v 
 day shall dawn,"
 
 32 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " Oh, what a glorious prophecy !" exclaimed Made 
 line, her face glowing anew. 
 
 " I cannot believe otherwise. In the beginning 
 God created the heavens and the earth ; but they 
 were not i\\Q first heavens nor the first earth; they 
 are but the last of an infinite series, as to-day has 
 come after millions of yesterdays. Neither shall they 
 be the last : there shall come endless to-morrows. 
 God never has been idle ; he never will be idle ; it 
 is Brahma, not God, who sleeps." 
 
 "Oh, if this were only science, instead of a beauti 
 ful speculation !" sighed Madeline. 
 
 "Stubborn science will not read all the pages nat 
 ure has written. Look at that carob-trec. It was 
 once a little germ ; it has grown to its maturity ; it 
 will decline and die. Will there be no more trees? 
 Yes ; it has sown its seed. One great law pervades 
 all nature: birth, growth, decline, death, reproduc 
 tion. The law governs every organism, from the 
 monad to man from man to the universe !" 
 
 As he stood erect, overlooking the vast amphi 
 theatre, he seemed indeed a prophet reading to the 
 mountains, valleys, and seas their destiny. 
 
 After breakfast the lovers went forth to renew 
 their communion with nature and with each other. 
 They threaded labyrinths, explored caves, and crept 
 under cascades. No wonder the ancient Greeks were 
 an imaginative race. They could not but people their 
 mountains with oreads, their seas with tritons, their 
 woodlands with dryads, their caves with satyrs. Amid
 
 THE LABORATORY. 233 
 
 those wild, poetic scenes. Hector Vyr was more than 
 ever a god to Madeline ; she to him more than ever a 
 goddess. 
 
 Passing through a little clump of carob-trees, they 
 found themselves in the midst of a blaze of rhodo 
 dendrons. Beyond were the remains of an old Spar 
 tan wall, built in two courses of hewn stone, and 
 filled in between with the fragments. It was in a 
 good state of preservation, though nearly concealed 
 by ivy and thorn- bush. From the parapet they looked 
 down a precipitous descent, which even without the 
 wall would have rendered the height well-nigh inac 
 cessible. 
 
 " My home was one of the Lacedemonian fortress 
 es, said Vyr. " History does not mention it, but I 
 have no doubt if these walls could speak they could 
 tell as stirring a tale as old Ithome. You see how 
 this side is protected. On the north and cast are im 
 passable ridges ; on the south the only approach is 
 by my log-bridge." 
 
 "It is fortunate for the country that you are in 
 trenched here instead of the klephts," said Made 
 line. 
 
 They followed the wall until they overlooked a 
 beautiful little valley with a stream running through 
 it. By the side of the stream stood a low, nonde 
 script building of stone surmounted by a tall chim 
 ney. Madeline asked what it could be. 
 
 " That," replied Vyr, " is my chemical laboratory .* r 
 
 " Oh yes. Papa told me of your scientific as well! 
 as literary labors: how you wrote books and made
 
 234 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 discoveries for your own private pleasure and benefit, 
 without hope or desire of other reward, either in 
 fame or fortune. But he told me that your books 
 were written only in your head, and I didn t know 
 but but" 
 
 " That my scientific experiments were performed 
 there, too ?" asked Yyr, laughing. " No, I should 
 scarcely be as cool-headed as I try to be, if I should 
 admit nitric acid and electric fire into that labora 
 tory." 
 
 That Hector Yyr should condescend to be funny, 
 as any one else would have been in like circumstances, 
 seemed strange to Madeline, but no more strange than 
 delightful. She laughed merrily, but protested that 
 her idea was not so absurd after all. She thought, of 
 course, that he could make discoveries without the 
 slow and tedious labor of experimenting tlmt was 
 what other men were obliged to do. 
 
 "My beloved," he replied, gravely, " I hope you 
 are speaking only in jest." 
 
 " Not entirely," she said, looking up with ingenu 
 ous homage into his eyes ; " I really did think some 
 thing of the sort. You are not like other men, you 
 know." 
 
 " Yes, Madeline, in all respects except that I have 
 tried to obey the laws of my being as other men 
 usually do not. It troubles me to hear you speak as 
 if I were otherwise, even in play ; to hear you speak, 
 as you sometimes do, as if I were a sort of unnatural 
 prodigy. You seem to me the perfection of nature 
 the very goal towards which I am striving and it
 
 THE LABORATORY. 235 
 
 raise- :i barrier between us when you attribute to me 
 qualities and degrees I do not possess. I am no An- 
 tyropodaimon, although it suits my purpose that my 
 enemies should deceive themselves with that super 
 stition. I wish you to look upon me, as I look upon 
 you, as a part of what is to be a harmonious whole. 
 Let there be no barrier between us, my loved one, 
 nothing to prevent our mingling heart with heart in 
 perfect unconstraint." 
 
 "There is no barrier between us, Hector," replied 
 Madeline, laying both her hands in his, while her up 
 turned face shone with the perfect love which cast- 
 eth out fear. 
 
 After a while they returned to the subject of the 
 laboratory. " There are few discoveries without ex 
 periment," said Yyr. "Nature does not reveal her 
 mysteries except to the patient, persevering question 
 er. The ancient philosophers trusted to theory and 
 conjecture, and so they drifted apart from pole to 
 pole ; but to-day we put our questions to Xature her 
 self, and we do not let her rest until she says yea or 
 nay. 
 
 * "Will you go into the laboratory and see the 
 wrecks which my failures have left <" 
 
 "Failures? do you ever fail f 
 
 * A hundred times where I succeed once." 
 
 Madeline was astonished, but glad. An Ant/tro- 
 podaimon would never fail. 
 
 There were broken retorts and galvanic cells lined 
 with many-colored incrustations, blow-pipes, cupels, 
 dialyzers, meters of all kinds all the paraphernalia
 
 230 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 of a chemist s workshop, which showed in what 
 manner many, man} hours of the recluse s life had 
 been spent. At the base of the tall chimney was a 
 large furnace of strange-looking material and elabo 
 rate construction. 
 
 " I suppose you have a very hot fire here some 
 times," remarked Madeline. 
 
 " So hot that no unprotected eyes could endure its 
 brilliancy." 
 
 "Pray how do you make it so hot? Oh, you 
 needn t hesitate to explain it to me," she added, 
 laughing ; " I am a graduate of a Boston school, you 
 know. A Boston school-girl is supposed to know all 
 about protoplasm and differentiation, all about cen 
 tral forces, the possible utilization of one hundred 
 per cent, of molecular energy, and all such matters." 
 
 lie regarded her in amused astonishment. "Ah," 
 he said, at length, "you are going to surprise me 
 more than I have been able to surprise you." 
 
 " Oh no, I can only talk, which is very different 
 from doing. Please go on ; how do you make your 
 fire so hot?" 
 
 " It is very easy. You have only to seize the oxy 
 gen at the instant of its evolution from a compound 
 in which it is abundant, and cause it to combine at 
 that instant with its exact equivalent of hydrogen in 
 the same nascent state. In the ordinary oxhydrogen 
 flame both elements have assumed their quiescent 
 state before combustion, which, of course, immense 
 ly reduces the energy of re-combination." 
 
 " Yes ; I understand perfectly. That is the ideal
 
 THE LABORATORY. 237 
 
 heat-producing flame. Oh, you have no idea what a 
 chemist I am in theory." 
 
 "That is the flame I make in that furnace. As 
 the heat grows more and more intense, of course the 
 energy of combination is proportionately intensified, 
 and so it goes on increasing its own power almost 
 without limit. This device for continually and en 
 tirely removing the waste products of combustion is 
 mine. The clay of which the fire-box is made only 
 grows harder and harder. I know not how intense 
 a heat would be required to fuse or vaporize it. 
 This is the baker s cap I wear when I work here." 
 
 He took a kind of helmet from a hook, and drew 
 it down over his head, face, and neck the eyes be 
 ing protected by thick, apparently opaque circles of 
 glass. 
 
 " And what sort of cakes do you bake ?" asked 
 Madeline. 
 
 " A great many kinds," he replied, after removing 
 the helmet; "some useful, some beautiful, some only 
 curious, but the greater part absolutely worthless. I 
 will show you the last what do bakers say f 
 
 "Batch?" 
 
 " Yes, batch. It is, as you will see, both curious 
 and beautiful. Look at this fine black powder. I 
 wished to see if it could be crystallized. I enclosed 
 some of it in a crucible of that same fire-clay, and 
 subjected it for ten hours to the most intense heat I 
 could produce. On opening the crucible, I saw that 
 the contents had fused, but had solidified again into 
 a soft, spongy mass no more crystalline than at first.
 
 238 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 I tried over and over again, modifying the experi 
 ment in every conceivable way. I found, at length, 
 the trouble. I had allowed the liquid to cool too 
 rapidly. It requires a much longer time to build up 
 the delicate structure of this crystal than that of any 
 other. 1 allowed my fire to cool only a few degrees 
 a day. My servants relieved each other in watching 
 it night and day for many long, anxious weeks. At 
 last the supreme moment arrived I broke the cru 
 cible ! I will show you the result." 
 
 He unlocked the heavy iron door of a vault that 
 stood in the centre of the room, displaying two rows 
 of shelves covered with boxes, bottles, and indescrib 
 able objects in great variety. Taking out one of the 
 boxes, he showed her a collection of crystals, large 
 and small, whose peculiar brilliancy caused her to 
 look at him in wondering inquiry. 
 
 " Yes," he smiled, in answer to her look. 
 
 " The black powder was 
 
 " Pure carbon." 
 
 "And these are diamonds?" 
 
 " Pure and without flaw." 
 
 " But but " she replied, breathlessly, " you said 
 they were only curious and beautiful. Why they 
 are a fortune an enormous fortune !" 
 
 " To sell ? yes, I suppose so. But they will never 
 be sold. If men would only admire and enjoy their 
 beauty, I should be glad to let them go ; but men 
 would, in the first place, give for them millions of 
 times their real value, and then they would perhaps 
 lie, plot, fight, murder for them. Why-fore should
 
 THE SERPENT UISSES. 239 
 
 I sell these pretty pebbles or give them away ? 
 Their practical usefulness is very slight. Their 
 beauty is great, it is true, but not great enough to 
 compensate for the mischief they would cause. I 
 will not sell them. I should be like the man of civ 
 ilization who takes from the poor, simple savages 
 their ivory and their furs, and gives them only a few 
 glittering, worthless beads in return. Neither shall 
 1 give them a-vay ; I will not open this Pandora s 
 box to the world. They shall remain for the pres 
 ent on my shelf, a shining trophy of my victory over 
 nature. When you are all my own, it will not be a 
 gift to you, it will be only conferring upon you your 
 riyht to place these and all else I have in your keep 
 ing. Ah, you are a woman !" he added, laughing, as 
 she clasped her hands together in uncontrollable de 
 light. " Your eyes are brighter than these worthless 
 pdbbles. But, remember, iny beautiful one, you are 
 not to be Pandora I" 
 
 XY1II. 
 
 THE SERPENT HISSES. 
 
 IF we have forgotten poor Tsaras, his late com 
 panions in misfortune had not. Many were the 
 speculations as to his probable fate. Sometimes they 
 were inclined to the opinion that he had dealt treach 
 erously with them. Several little circumstances, be 
 sides the suspicious exchange of glances between him 
 L6
 
 240 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 and Peschino which Madeline had observed during 
 
 O 
 
 lier " examination," seemed to point tliat way. Gen 
 erally, however, they were disposed to believe that 
 these circumstances were merely fortuitous and with 
 out significance, and they blamed themselves for ever 
 harboring ungenerous doubts of his honor and fidel 
 ity. It must not be supposed that their solicitude or 
 that of their host concerning him was manifest in 
 mere speculations. Strange as it may appear to in 
 habitants of well-ordered America, there was little 
 greater difficulty in communicating with the brigands 
 than with the most law-abiding citizens of that 
 anomalous country. Letters passed to and fro under 
 a sort of postal system skilfully contrived to secure 
 absolute safety to the outlaws. Offers were made to 
 release the remaining prisoner upon terms which Vyr 
 would not allow the major to accept. " I have made 
 a vow," he said to him, on one occasion, " that, if I 
 can prevent it, the klephts shall never receive a 
 drachma of ransom. I will try again to rescue your 
 friend ; but I really do not believe he is with them. 
 My men, who, as you know, have been always on the 
 watch near their den ever since you came here, have 
 never seen such a person as you describe. They have 
 either released him already, or they have taken him 
 so far away that it is hopeless to try to rescue him by 
 force. You may be assured that they will riot harm 
 him before the time they have appointed ; and that 
 is far enough away at present. If, when that time 
 conies, it is your choice to pay to them what they de 
 mand, why, I suppose I cannot prevent you. I sup-
 
 THE SERPENT HISSES. 241 
 
 pose I should do the same if I were you, and in your 
 situation. But, he added, resolutely, " it is i\i\& final 
 i/i, l<lhifj that does all the mischief. If the friends 
 of the first captives had let them die rather than 
 yield, brigandage would have been strangled in its 
 birth, and those martyrs would have done Greece 
 more good than Zaimis, with all his Greek and Ba 
 varian troops." 
 
 At last all doubt and solicitude were set at rest in 
 a very unexpected manner. 
 
 One day, shortly after dinner, the three Americans 
 were seated by themselves on the veranda, when they 
 saw a well-known figure climbing up the steep ascent, 
 accompanied by one of the bridge guards. 
 
 "Consultation of the United States!" exclaimed 
 the major, "it s old Tsiiras himself!" and he ran 
 down to meet him with out-stretched hands. "What 
 where in the name of Jupiter Jones did you come 
 from? How did you get away from those hell- 
 vomited rattlesnakes?" 
 
 The little professor s reception of this effusive 
 greeting was remarkably cool, considering the cir 
 cumstances. " Monsieur Paul," he said, with stately 
 Greek politeness, " I am mos happee that I mit you 
 once more again as a free man. I will give to you 
 the explanation of myself when I shall see my other 
 friends, the companions of my captivitee. Ah, mes- 
 dames," as they came tripping and stumbling, but 
 with beaming faces, down the slope, "permiss me 
 that I shall congratulate you. You see," turning 
 back to the major, "that 1 have not lead you into
 
 242 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 those hell-of-scraape, as you have say to me, after 
 all." 
 
 The unblushing impudence with which he thus 
 accredited himself with the results of Hector Vyr s 
 prowess somewhat cooled their enthusiasm. " Never 
 mind that now," the major replied, " tell us how you 
 fared after we left you ; how you managed to make 
 your escape, and all about it." 
 
 "After you lef me aah, Monsieur Paul, your 
 eyes did not turn ba,ck one little look for poor 
 Tearas!" 
 
 " Oh, come now, professor, you couldn t expect 
 why weren t you with us, as you ought to have been ? 
 Why" here his voice grew harsher, and his face 
 more red " why had you been systematically cutting 
 us for a week at a time ? hey ?" 
 
 " Thcemou!" cried Tsaras, raising his hands in 
 indignant remonstrance, " that is one mos horrible 
 slander ! I have never cut you one little scrratch !" 
 
 "Nonsense. I mean why did you avoid us run 
 away from us ?" 
 
 " Oh, aah not cut you with knaifes?" 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 "But what for did you have suspicion for me, 
 Monsieur Paul ? eh ?" 
 
 " Who told you that ?" the major asked, sharply. 
 
 " Youvfaaces have tell me your eyes, which look 
 at me under the brow. I am not a chorikos of the 
 ground ; I am a man of educaation with honorable 
 proudness, Monsieur Paul. I know ver well what 
 you thing of me : you thing I was maiike barrgain
 
 THE SERPENT HISSES. 243 
 
 with Peschino. Aali, it was mos horrible, unjus 
 suspicion !" 
 
 The proud, manly way in which the olive check 
 flushed and the graceful little figure straightened up, 
 extorted from the Americans a deeper respect than 
 they had ever yet felt for their late guide. 
 
 Major Paul hastened to propitiate him : u I don t 
 think, my dear sir, that we ever gave you any real 
 occasion for " 
 
 " Aah, yeas. The faiice spik more plain as the 
 tongue. 1 shall tell to you the whole truth. I 
 perrcive that Peschino was fascinaiite with beauti 
 ful Miss Paul. If she shall smaile a little, she can 
 maiike him one fool, and he shall let us all to 
 go. So I spik to him privaiite a little encourage 
 ment." 
 
 "Then," said Madeline, with scornful, flashing 
 eyes, " what did you mean by accusing us of unjust 
 suspicion ?" 
 
 " Pardon, kurdtza you shall wait till I have fin 
 ish. I say you can maiike him one gretfod. It is 
 not dishonor when you shall cheat the klepht which 
 try to rob you." 
 
 " Right, by Jupiter Johnson !" put in the major. 
 " Give us your hand, old dragon " his habitual short 
 for dragoman. " Now go on with your story. How 
 did you escape ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell the stoary to you. I have maiike 
 one mos saiicred promise that I You know, my 
 friends, when they loses the big fishes, they throw 
 away the little fishes sometaime."
 
 244 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 A quick glance shot from eye to eye among his 
 auditors. 
 
 "Aah" straightening up again "yon have sus 
 picion. I shall not talk to you. I have come to 
 bring one mos important commission to Monsieur 
 Hector Vyr. Will you have the kaindhood to tell 
 to me where I shall i aind him?" 
 
 " Go 11 j) on the veranda, sir," replied the major, 
 haughtily, "and take a seat there. Madeline, go and 
 find Mr. Vyr." 
 
 When she had gone, Tsaras, with -increasing digni 
 ty, took from his pocket a paper, and presented it to 
 Major Paul. "Will you faiivor it with examinaii- 
 tion, Monsieur Paul ?" 
 
 It was his account to date for services as guide 
 and interpreter. The major gazed upon it and upon 
 Tsaras for a moment in speechless amazement. "I 
 should think, sir," he said, when lie could recover his 
 breath, " that you would, at least, have waited until 
 you had conducted us safely back to Athens before 
 you had the audacity to give me this." 
 
 "Pardon" with a low bow "it was the agree- 
 
 o 
 
 ment that you shall pay to me every wik. It is 
 now " 
 
 "Why, contaminate your insolence, you bowing, 
 scraping Greek harlequin ! what do you mean ? You 
 lead us into the lions den, and then bring in your 
 
 uur 
 
 "You shall not forget that / fall in the laions 
 den too, also," retorted Tsaras. 
 
 The major was so choked by his disgust and choler
 
 THE SEHPENT HISSES. 045 
 
 at this absurd rejoinder, that lie could only grow 
 inoiv red in the face and wildly gesticulate. 
 
 I!ut Miss Wellington spoke for him: "You de 
 serve to stay there, sir, for attempting so dangerous 
 an undertaking, knowing as you must your utter in 
 competence. If you were willing to risk your own 
 life, you had no right to risk ours." 
 
 AVhile Tsdras was replying in his characteristic 
 way, his eyes fell upon a tall, majestic figure stand 
 ing upon the veranda. "Aah!" he cried, suddenly 
 breaking off his specious argument, "at las I see the 
 wond ful Hector Vyr! Is not he what I have tell 
 you? is not he prodigce ? iniriclel Monsieur Paul, 
 you shall make the introductions." 
 
 Tsiiras was received with the forbidding digni 
 ty, almost rudeness, with which the singular ascetic 
 treated all intruding strangers. The rebuff was in 
 tensely galling to the sensitive little Greek. lie col 
 ored, bit his lips, shuffled from side to side, but pres 
 ently plucked up spirit and ceremoniously presented 
 a letter. 
 
 "I have intruded upon you," lie said, in his own 
 language, " not on my own account, but because I 
 was sent to you by a person whom I believe you 
 know. Will you do me the favor to read his letter, 
 and give me your answer, in private?" 
 
 AVithout a word, Vyr led the way to a small room 
 which served him as an office. There he broke the 
 seal and read, while the messenger stood vainly try 
 ing to still his loudly beating heart:
 
 246 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " MIKRO MAINA, September 24, 18. 
 
 " SIR, A short time ago you rendered me, in com 
 mon with my friends, a most signal service. I joined 
 them in the expression of profound feeling which so 
 gallant and beneficent an act naturally awakened. 
 
 " Since then, however, events have occurred which 
 have released me from my obligation to you, and 
 changed my sense of gratitude to one of bitter in 
 dignation. You are the cause of a disaster, sir, which 
 to me is far greater than captivity among the klephts. 
 From that I might have found other means of re 
 lease than your intervention ; but for the loss of the 
 greatest treasure man can possess, a loss which, as 
 you must be fully aware, you have inflicted upon 
 me, there is only one atonement in my power to ask, 
 or in yours to give. For tin s, therefore, as well as 
 for the insulting and threatening language you saw 
 tit to use at our last accidental meeting, I hereby de 
 mand the atonement which you, as a gentleman and 
 a brave man, cannot refuse. 
 
 "My friend, Prof. Harkos Tsaras, has kindly con 
 sented to make the necessary arrangements with any 
 gentleman you may designate. 
 " I have the honor to be 
 
 " Your most obedient servant, 
 
 " ROBERT GRIFFIN. 
 "M. HECTOR YYR." 
 
 The look of indifference with which Yyr began 
 the perusal of this letter changed to a smile of inef 
 fable contempt as he read on, and to a peal of laugh 
 ter as he finished.
 
 THE SERPENT HISSES. 047 
 
 "This poor angry fool," lie said, raising his eyes 
 to the wonder-struck Tsaras, " wishes to fight a duel 
 with me !" 
 
 Tsaras bowed. 
 
 " He lias talked with you about it ?" 
 
 "He has." 
 
 " What is his purpose ? does he wish to kill me, 
 or does he wish me to kill him ?" 
 
 " That is a strange question, monsieur." 
 
 " Answer it " authoritatively. 
 
 Why, I suppose he hopes that the fortune of bat 
 tle will favor him. It would be no more than nat 
 ural." 
 
 "He assumes that I shall choose a weapon in the 
 use of which his skill is equal if not superior to my 
 own ?" 
 
 " He knows that Monsieur Vyr is as generous as 
 he is brave." 
 
 " Ah, then, of course he wishes to kill me. Why C 
 
 Tsaras was writhing under the cool, penetrating 
 eye and the overpowering presence of his questioner. 
 "Will monsieur have the kindness to answer my 
 friend s letter?" he asked, ruefully. 
 
 "Certainly not, until I understand it." 
 
 "Is it not a sufficient explanation in itself T 
 
 " By no means. It does not reveal the writer s mo 
 tive." 
 
 "Pardon; but is not that his own affair r 
 
 "No more his than mine, if I am to assist him. 
 lie cannot tight this duel alone, my friend ; and if I 
 am to be his accomplice, I must know whether his
 
 248 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 motive be tight or wrong. I ask you again, why does 
 lie wisli to kill me ?" 
 
 " Surely his letter explains the cause of offence." 
 
 " You imply that his motive is revenge. If so, I 
 will not help him to gratify so base a passion. If I 
 have done him any wrong, I will repair it in a man 
 ly, sensible way. You may say to him this: Mr. 
 Griffin, in a moment of ungovernable passion, of 
 which I am ashamed, I threatened to tear you to 
 atoms. I explained to you, a few minutes after 
 wards, that this was the speech of a madman, and I 
 asked your forgiveness. That is enough. I did not 
 carry out my threat, and the breath I breathed out 
 I breathed in again. Afterwards I told you that 
 though you had the tongue of a man you had the 
 soul of a reptile. These words were figurative, it is 
 true, but their import was truth ; so there can be no 
 wrong in them, and hence no reparation is due. " 
 
 " I suppose," interrupted Tsiiras, now quite re 
 stored to equanimity by the quiet, argumentative 
 tone which the conversation had assumed "I sup 
 pose you will admit that to be a matter of opinion." 
 
 "Assuredly. I speak only my own opinions. I 
 am not responsible for those of other men." 
 
 " But one man s opinion may be grossly insulting 
 to another at least its expression may be." 
 
 " No. If it is truth, it is no insult. If it is an error 
 made in good faith, it is an injustice, which a just 
 man will correct as soon as he is convinced. Let Mr. 
 Griffin prove to me that I was in error, and I will 
 hasten to acknowledge it."
 
 THE SERPENT HISSES. 249 
 
 "And so," cried Tsaras, pleased and astonished at 
 his own boldness, and the " wond fnl " Hector Vyr s 
 condescension " and so any man is justified in say 
 ing any outrageous thing he chooses to another, pro 
 vided he thinks it is the truth, although his judg 
 ment may be warped by anger, malice, prejudice, 
 misinformation, jealousy, or stupidity !" 
 
 " Others may respect or despise his opinions as they 
 see fit," replied Vyr. " Your friend Mr. Griffin has 
 this freedom in respect to mine. If my contempt 
 for him is the fault of my imperfect judgment, he 
 may despise it as a thing of no significance." 
 
 " Suppose a man insults you by saying to you what he 
 himself does not believe to be true ? suggested Tsaras. 
 
 " Such a man is but an idle babbler, not worthy of 
 mv notice. If Mr. Griffin thinks I have done so to 
 him, he may regard me in that light." 
 
 Tsaras looked far from satisfied, but made no re 
 ply. Vyr went on : 
 
 "There is one respect in which I freely acknowl 
 edge that I have done Mr. Griffin injustice. I said 
 to his cousin Miss Paul that he had not the courage 
 to use the weapons lie bears. I also said to her that 
 I could scare him away with a look. I am convinced 
 that this was an error." 
 
 "May I ask if these things were said in his li ear 
 ing .** asked Tsaras, curiously. 
 
 "No. And it is this I most regret. You may say 
 so to him, Monsieur Tsaras. And now I believe I 
 have made full reparation for all the wrong I have 
 done him."
 
 250 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " The tilings we have been speaking of are trifles," 
 said Tsaras, as if the thought had just occurred to 
 him. " You make no mention of the great grievance 
 of all the disaster which he says you have caused, 
 far greater to hiwi than the captivity from which you 
 released him." 
 
 " I have not mentioned it, simply because there is 
 no wrong to acknowledge nor difficulty to explain. 
 Mr. Griffin needs no words from me to understand 
 that, when he charges me with robbing him of the 
 greatest treasure man can possess, lie is what I have 
 called an idle babbler, not worthy of notice. He 
 says what he himself does not believe. Can a man 
 lose what he has never possessed ? What no man al 
 ready possesses, is it not free to any man to win if he 
 can ? No wrong has been done here, and hence no 
 reparation is called for. Why, then, I still ask, does 
 lie thirst for my blood ? If it is to gratify an unrea 
 soning revenge, I refuse to be his accomplice. 
 
 "But perhaps it is hope. Perhaps he imagines 
 my death will give him the treasure of which he 
 thinks my life deprives him. You may tell him, 
 Monsieur Tsaras, h rst, that such a hope is futile, 
 for the murderous deed would only drive that treas 
 ure farther than ever from his grasp ; and, secondly, 
 that such a motive is no better than that of the 
 klepht, who also murders that he may gain. In 
 such a business I shall never participate. 
 
 " There is only one other supposition possible : 
 that he wishes me to kill him. This, of course, is 
 extremely improbable ; but even if it were the true
 
 TIIE SERPENT HISSES. 251 
 
 one, I could not gratify him ; . unless, indeed, ho 
 should enroll himself among the klephts, and thus 
 give me the sanction of the law." 
 
 "And this, Mr. Vyr, is your final answer?" 
 
 " It is my only answer." 
 
 "Would you not like" hesitatingly "to think 
 of it for twenty-four hours ?" 
 
 " No. Why should I ? It is a very simple mat 
 ter there is nothing more to think of." 
 
 "Very well, then. Will you kindly write a line, 
 that my friend may be in no doubt as to your 
 decision 2" 
 
 "He will not believe your word ?" asked Vyr, with 
 a smile. 
 
 " It is more business-like." 
 
 Vyr laughed outright. "You call it business? 
 Well, I will humor you." 
 
 He took a scrap of paper, and dashed off, in a big, 
 round, black hand, 
 
 " MR. GRIFFIN, I have read your letter of to-day. 
 My answer to your demand is no. 
 
 " HECTOR VYR. 
 "My Jwuse, Sept. 34, 18." 
 
 " Thank you," said Tsaras, folding the paper care 
 fully and putting it in his pocket. "1 will now 
 take my leave ; but my friend may send me back." 
 
 "It would be a waste of time. However, you 
 shall be admitted, as you were this morning." 
 
 In a few hours Tsaras returned with the following 
 letter:
 
 253 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " MIKKO-MAINA, September 24, 18 . 
 
 " SIR, Your insultingly short reply to my letter 
 of this morning has been handed me by my friend, 
 Prof. Tsaras. In it you decline to give me the 
 satisfaction I have an undoubted right to demand. 
 In its stead you offer me, by word of mouth, only a 
 specimen of that peculiar philosophy in which you 
 evidently take so much pride. Permit me, there 
 fore, to say that such conduct is no more in keeping 
 with the character which you have hitherto main 
 tained for courage, than your recent treatment of 
 myself is in keeping with the honor and magnanimi 
 ty of a gentleman. I shall lose no opportunity of 
 setting you in your true light before the public, be 
 fore which you have been so successfully posing as a 
 prodigy of valor, and before my personal friends, 
 upon whose good opinion you place so high a value. 
 
 " Permit me further to say that you will not es 
 cape with this punishment alone. 
 " I have the honor to be 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 " ROBERT GRIFFIN. 
 "M. HECTOR VYB." 
 
 The same changing expressions passed over Vyr s 
 face, as he read through this ferocious epistle, that 
 its predecessor had called forth. 
 
 " Take this back to your friend," he said, " and 
 thank him for me for the amusement it has afforded 
 me." 
 
 " You are a remarkable man, indeed !" muttered 
 Tsaras, half to himself.
 
 TUB SERPENT HISSES. 253 
 
 "Why? because I laugh? I suppose it is cruel. 
 I ought to feel only compassion. Your friend has 
 been unfortunate, and is very unhappy. I would 
 express my sympathy for him, but you know very 
 well it would only be rejected. I cannot feel fright 
 ened by his terrible words, so nothing remains but to 
 be amused by them." 
 
 "I was instructed," said Tsaras, with formality, 
 " to ask you, for the last time, will you give Mr. Grif 
 fin the satisfaction he demands?" 
 
 " Why is that asked again ?" returned Vyr, with 
 the first sign of real intolerance he had yet shown. 
 "Have I not told him plainly? He has the satisfac 
 tion of having challenged me. He is therefore en 
 titled to all the credit whatever it may be of an 
 actual encounter. It is no fault of his that I will 
 not descend to the idiotic barbarism of a prearranged 
 duel. He may enjoy the further satisfaction of 
 branding Hector Vyr as a coward, to say nothing 
 of the additional punishment he says ho has in store 
 for him. What more can he ask ? Come, my friend, 
 this interview has been sufficiently prolonged. It 
 is only the genuine sorrow I feel for Mr. Griffin 
 that has made me patient all this time. You may 
 go now." 
 
 And although V} r r made no movement, yet it al 
 most seemed to Tsaras as if he were taken up bodily 
 and carried out by some invisible power.
 
 254 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 THE SERPENT STINGS. 
 
 AFTER Tsaras had finally gone, Major Paul and 
 his friends anxiously waited for some intimation as 
 to the nature of the business which their absent kins 
 man had to transact with Hector Vyr. The latter 
 made no reply, however, to their inquiring looks, but, 
 after a few commonplace remarks about the long- 
 continued absence of rain, and the effect upon his 
 crops with scarcely a glance at Madeline he start 
 ed to return to his field. The major saw the startled, 
 wounded look upon Madeline s pale face, and, spring 
 ing up with sudden determination, followed him. 
 Vyr saw him coming, and smilingly waited. 
 
 "Mr. Vyr," said the major, "is the matter between 
 you and my nephew one that I have a right to know 
 about ?" 
 
 " You may know it if you wish, though it is not 
 essential that you should. It affects neither youv 
 daughter nor yourself, and I do not wish the slightest 
 hint of it to reach her. In reality, it affects only Mr. 
 Griffin himself. He has sent me a challenge." 
 
 " Apotheosis of Blazing Idiots ! I was afraid of 
 that." 
 
 " Why-fore afraid, Mr. Paul ?" with a smile 
 "you paid a very poor compliment to my self-re-
 
 THE SERPENT STINGS. 055 
 
 spect, intelligence, or humanity, if you supposed for 
 one instant that I should accept. I should ill fuliil 
 my mission if I consented to an act which belongs to 
 an inferior stage in the development of civilized man, 
 and beyond which, thank Heaven, he has already ad 
 vanced. My mission is to go forward, not back 
 ward." 
 
 " Poor Robert ! I don t suppose he really knew 
 what he was about. He is in great trouble, Mr. Vyr." 
 
 " I know that ; and I pity him from my heart ; 
 but I could not give to him what fate has refused 
 him, even if I would. 
 
 " Mr. Paul " stopping and speaking with slow, 
 intensely earnest utterance "until lately I had but 
 one great object in existence. To that object 1 have 
 sworn to devote my life and energies. I shall keep 
 my oath, at least its letter: its spirit compels me to 
 seek in marriage the most perfect example of woman 
 hood fortune brings to my knowledge. With no 
 direct thought of my oath, I found myself plunged 
 into a love for your daughter which has swallowed 
 up my soul as the ocean would ingulf my body. 
 With unutterable joy I became convinced that my 
 coolest judgment could not choose better than my 
 heart had already chosen. We have spoken our love 
 to each other, and you have not frowned upon us. 
 But now my great object in life has sunk almost into 
 insignificance in comparison with another that of 
 securing for my beloved the greatest possible degree 
 of happiness of which she is capable. To this I feel 
 as if I could sacrifice all others, except the preserva- 
 17
 
 256 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 tion of honor. I have read of man s love for woman 
 in poems and tales ; but mine is not like that. That 
 demands love for love, like the payment of a debt to 
 the uttermost farthing. It demands possession at all 
 hazards. It is not love ; it is the greed of a devour 
 ing dragon. But mine demands above all other things 
 the choicest blessings that Heaven can bestow upon 
 her beloved head. My own happiness I could throw 
 into the scale as a willing sacrifice, if it would enhance 
 hers that would not be sacrificing my happiness, it 
 would be insuring it I could yield possession of her, 
 I mean, and live in contentment, if I knew that there 
 by she would be more blessed than with me. Mr, 
 Paul, tell me from your heart of hearts, do you. be 
 lieve she would lead a happier life without me in her 
 own country than with me in these wilds ?" 
 
 This solemn appeal, delivered with an intensity of 
 feeling the major had never before imagined, almost 
 stopped his pulses. He knew not what to say. At 
 length he stammered : 
 
 " But but, if my darling Madeline is, as you say, 
 the finest example of womanhood you expect to meet 
 how are you going to what about your oath, Mr. 
 Vyr ?" 
 
 " Its language is simply negative ; it does not com 
 pel me to marry, it only obliges me to avoid allying 
 myself with mental, moral, or physical deficiency. 
 And it is better that the lineage should end with Hec 
 tor Vyr, than that he should transmit to posterity the 
 smallest gerrn of the greedy, selfish passion which 
 goes under the name of Love. If it is not love itself,
 
 THE SERPENT STINGS. 257 
 
 pure, self-sacrificing, heavenly preferring the wel 
 fare of its object to all other things, even a posterity 
 that it would otherwise debase far better that it 
 should die !" 
 
 Major Paul looked at him with an admiration 
 amounting to awe. " I cannot answer for Madeline," 
 he replied, in a voice shaken by his emotions ; " but, 
 if she does not prefer such devotion from such a 
 source to a thousand Bostons, she is unworthy of you. 
 That s all I can say, Mr. Vyr." And he turned and 
 marched away, as if he were on parade. 
 
 " Mr. Paul." 
 
 The major halted and faced about. 
 
 "Not a word of this to her" 
 
 "No, Mr. Vyr." 
 
 As Vyr went on his way alone, he mused : 
 
 "Poor dove! I have played upon her wonder and 
 gratitude until she is in my toils, and cannot escape 
 if she would. Does she not even now secretly regret 
 that her love for me will exile her from her home, 
 notwithstanding all I have promised her in return ? 
 Will all I can do compensate her for the sacrifice? 
 That poor, foolish young man loves her well enough 
 to throw away his life for her. lie deserves a better 
 fate, mean-spirited as I thought him. Can it be that 
 her heart might have softened to him if she had never 
 fallen in my way, and that she might have lifted him, 
 if not to her own level, at least to one of harmony 
 and mutual happiness I Would it be better for her, 
 after all, if she could cease loving me? Could she 
 cease loving me if she thought I had ceased lov-
 
 358 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 ing her? Would it be cruel to put lier to the 
 test? 1 
 
 Thus he renewed the battle with himself, till, iron- 
 nerved as he was, the sweat stood in great drops on 
 his brow. 
 
 "When he returned at rapper-time, his manner tow 
 ards Madeline was that of a ceremonious host, noth 
 ing more. Throughout the short evening he main 
 tained the same unlover-like reserve. He seemed to 
 have entirely forgotten the tender scenes that had 
 taken place between them. She, poor girl, besides 
 being chilled to the heart by his changed manner, was 
 devoured with anxiety in regard to the mysterious 
 " commission " of Tsaras. But she would not speak 
 not she ; she sat with proud indifference, occasion 
 ally chatting with her father and aunt, until she final 
 ly rose to say " good-night." 
 
 Yyr followed her to the foot of the stairs, but he 
 offered her no embrace ; there was no tenderness in 
 his look, no lingering pressure of her hand, only a 
 little tremor in his voice, as he said, "Good- night, 
 Madeline. May your sleep be as sweet as your soul 
 is pure." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Yyr. I always sleep sweetly. 
 Good-night." 
 
 She walked up-stairs with a firm, steady step, and 
 sat down at her window to think. 
 
 And this was her hero, the god she had worshipped ! 
 The change had immediately followed Tsaras s visit. 
 Robert had in some vr&j frigMened him him who 
 was to scare the poor fellow away with a look ! Oh,
 
 THE SERPENT STINGS. 259 
 
 \vliat a fall was there what a height, what a deptli ! 
 Oh, the scorn, the bitter self-scorn, that stung her for 
 her folly, her absolute inanity ! 
 
 And yet, was it not this very god, this very pyg 
 my, that had dashed up to the mouth of the lion s 
 den, and, single-handed, brought her and hers away in 
 safety? Had she sinned unpardonably against him 
 in her thought ? If she had, could she ever look upon 
 his face again ? could she ever dare to think of him 
 again ? 
 
 Could it be that Robert had tried to poison his 
 mind in regard to her past history ? No, no ! Des 
 perate, passionate, revengeful as he was, he was her 
 cousin, the son of her own mother s sister. But, if 
 it were possible, would Hector Yyr believe him ? 
 Would he not repel the slanders with unutterable 
 contempt, or at least give her the opportunity of 
 doing so ? 
 
 " May your sleep be as sweet as your soul is pure." 
 "Were not these kind, beautiful words enough, from 
 lips that could utter falsehood no more than the 
 heavens could fall to earth ? 
 
 No, he had repented his own impulsive haste ; he 
 had seen his mistake ; he had taken her for a divinity 
 worthy of himself, and had at last discovered that 
 she was no more than other women. And now he 
 was sternly, cruelly undoing his mistake. Soon he 
 would unsay the words that had lifted her soul to 
 paradise. 
 
 And she ? Alas ! she ought to have known, if he
 
 260 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 did not. It was, as she had told him, all a gorgeous 
 dream. She was awaking, and she would banish it 
 like other dreams from her recollection. 
 
 One day more and she would return with her 
 friends to the solid earth beneath the clouds, and he 
 would never see nor lietir of her again. 
 
 Would he think of her? would he feel sorry that 
 he had taken, her up in his mighty hand, like a little 
 bird, only to dash her down again ? 
 
 The livelong night brought her no sleep. In the 
 morning she stood before her mirror until she had 
 schooled her features to an expression of calm, even 
 gay unconcern, and then tripped down the staircase 
 with the same lively air upon her lips that had an 
 swered the birds upon her n rst morning there. Vyr 
 darted a keen glance at her as she entered the break 
 fast-room, which was lost upon her no more than was 
 the momentary pallor on his own face, or his silent 
 preoccupation during the meal. She chatted briskly 
 about their return to Athens, and the wonderful sto 
 ries they should have to relate to their friends in Bos 
 ton. She even spoke of Robert as if nothing had 
 happened to disturb their cousinly friendship, won 
 dered what comical mischief he had been concocting 
 during his absence, and whether he was not coming 
 to bid his entertainers good-by. She hoped that Ma 
 dame Yyr and her son would, for once at least, break 
 in upon their ascetic habits, and accept a return of 
 their delightful hospitality. It was altogether a sin 
 gular, one-sided conversation. Vyr looked and lis-
 
 THE SERPENT STINGS. 261 
 
 tened as if neither seeing nor hearing. The major 
 scarcely uttered a word, but sat looking from one to 
 another, wondering when the farce would be over 
 and the real play begin, when he should be having 
 something to say for himself. Madame Vyr s face 
 wore a more anxious and bewildered look than ever. 
 Aunt Eliza ventured upon a few non-committal ob 
 servations, but Madeline alone seemed to be mistress 
 of the situation. 
 
 Finally, as they were about rising from the table, 
 Vyr roused himself. " Mr. Paul," he said, " while I 
 was at the village yesterday I learned something that 
 I think will interest you." 
 
 " I shall be most happy to be interested, sir," re 
 plied the major, a little stiffly. 
 
 " His Majesty s Government has at last listened to 
 the demands of the American Minister in your be 
 half, and has sent adetachment of one hundred and 
 fifty men to rescue yon from the klephts." 
 
 " Indeed ! I am under great obligations to his 
 Majesty s Government. It was a handsome thing to 
 do. I have said a great many hard things of that in 
 stitution I am happy to retract em all." 
 
 " They are now in the village," Vyr went on. 
 " Their commander has expressed a very strong de 
 sire to meet you and your friends, and to extend to 
 you his congratulations on your not needing his serv 
 ices. If he were not prevented by my well-known 
 inhospitality to uninvited guests, he would doubtless 
 have presented himself here before this. I happened 
 to fall in with him a very good-hearted, soldierly
 
 262 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 fellow but I assure yon I was glad to escape from 
 his tongue. lie could not understand by once tell 
 ing that I would not accept any demonstrations in 
 my honor, nor permit any to my guests at my house. 
 I am a bear, and it is not only right but necessary 
 that all who know of me at all should also know this 
 of me." 
 
 " We discovered it long ago," remarked Miss Well 
 ington, facetiously. 
 
 "I have not been a bear to you," replied Vyr, 
 coldly, "because you have a perfect right to be here. 
 I desired your society for my own purposes, and I 
 invited you to visit me." 
 
 Soon after breakfast, of which Vyr scarcely tasted, 
 he proposed a last ramble through the neighboring 
 forest. Madeline assented with cheerful alacrity, and 
 was running to call her father and aunt, when he 
 prevented her by a decided " No." 
 
 She controlled the sudden throbbing in her breast, 
 and simply replied, " My father, at least, would enjoy 
 it as well as I." 
 
 " As well as you ?" thought Vyr, giving her a long, 
 wistful look. " Are you weaned from me so soon, 
 so easily ?" Then he said aloud, " I do not invite 
 you for the sake of mere enjoyment to-day, Madeline. 
 I have much to say to you alone." 
 
 " Say it now ! here /" she answered, bravely. " I 
 insist upon your telling me at once what is wrong or 
 strange." 
 
 " There is nothing wrong or strange so far as you
 
 THE SERPENT STINGS. 263 
 
 arc concerned, /am the only one in the wrong, and 
 it remains for mo to do right." 
 
 "Then do right now!" 
 
 "That is what I am trying to do," he said, with 
 unutterable sadness. " Come with me, and I will tell 
 you what the right is." 
 
 For a few moments she stood regarding him in 
 proud defiance. lie moved slowly away, with his 
 great soft eye fixed steadily upon hers. Against her 
 will her feet followed him. 
 
 They went silently down the narrow, stony path 
 to the deep ravine which they had crossed at their 
 first approach to his home. 
 
 " Xot across there" she said, firmly. 
 
 "Yes, Madeline ; I wish it. I have a good reason." 
 
 "Mr.Vyr, I \\i\\not!" 
 
 But she might as well have opposed Fate. As if 
 lie had not heard her last words, he gently approach 
 ed and raised her unresisting form in his arms. The 
 angry tears rushed to her eyes ; she tried to speak, 
 but her tongue was paralyzed. lie stepped upon the 
 perilous bridge. For an instant she looked down 
 into the frightful abyss, and her arms flew around 
 his neck. She felt convulsive tremors darting 
 through his frame, and she clung more closely. 
 
 AVhen he set her down on the other side, the tears 
 still stood in her eyes. " You are a tyrant !" she 
 cried, with a passionate outburst, "a cruel tyrant!" 
 
 "Am I?" he said, sorrowfully. "Forgive me. I 
 did not mean to be. I did not think you would be 
 60 frightened. You were not before. There is no
 
 2G4 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 more danger now than then, Madeline. Are you an 
 gry because I brought you here against your will? 
 I will carry you back again if you command me, and 
 by-and-by I will tell you why-fore I brought you 
 here. 1 
 
 She hesitated, looked again into the gulf, and re 
 coiled. " No," she said, weakly ; " not now. Let 
 me rest a while." 
 
 " Poor, tender bird ! I have been cruel. I am not 
 fit to be with you. I shall never learn to be gentle. 
 Here, darl here, Madeline, rest under this fir. You 
 are pale, you are trembling. I will not frighten you 
 any more. I will obey you like your slave." 
 
 His penitence and submission soon reconciled her 
 to her position, and she waited for him to begin his 
 promised confession. But, intolerable as was her sus 
 pense, she was too proud to betray the least impa 
 tience. She even feigned interest in the natural ob 
 jects around, asking him for their names and uses. 
 
 So perfect was her disguise that he was complete 
 ly deceived. " Ah !" he said to himself, " how have 
 I mistaken this beautiful, soulless creature ! Her 
 heavenly lips have spoken love which I thought was 
 as deep as the sea, but which was only as the foam 
 upon its surface ! Will my heart ever recover from 
 this bitter, bitter blight ? There is nothing for me 
 to say the work is already done she has forgotten 
 why we came here /" 
 
 The poor unsophisticated soul even felt something 
 akin to her own pride. He answered her questions 
 with a clumsy attempt at her own indifference of
 
 THE SERPENT STINGS. OQ5 
 
 manner. While thus engaged, his eye fell upon a 
 politary ant slowly dragging along the mutilated body 
 of a beetle. lie broke a dry twig in two, and care 
 fully placed the pieces in its path, leaving a passage 
 too narrow for its burden to pass through. 
 
 " What a little fool !" he exclaimed, after both had 
 watched its unavailing efforts for a while. " Why 
 doesn t she go around, where her path is clear ? They 
 say she knows almost as much with her atom of brain 
 as we do with our three pounds, more or less. Let 
 us see her prove it. Stupid ! doesn t she see the 
 beetle is too big to go through that little gate ? She 
 could have carried it around twenty times while she 
 has been wasting her strength there." 
 
 "Here, you poor little simpleton," said Madeline, 
 " let me help you." And she pushed away one of 
 the sticks. 
 
 "You are no naturalist, Miss Paul," said Vyr, 
 with a singular, desolate smile, "or you would have 
 waited." 
 
 "No, Mr. Vyr, I have no heart to experiment 
 even on an insect." 
 
 In spite of her self-mastery there was something in 
 her tone so unconsciously accusing, so appealing, that 
 it penetrated to his very soul. Not all the eloquence 
 of words could have equalled the pathetic reproach 
 of that voice. lie stood before her a while, regarding 
 her in silence. Then he said, in a low, humble tone, 
 "Your rebuke is just; I have been experimenting 
 upon you ! 
 
 "And most cruelly!" she burst forth, all her self-
 
 266 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 restraint giving way. " Could yon not speak ? could 
 you not ask me what you wished to know, as you 
 promised to do ?" 
 
 "I promised to ask what your lips could tell," he 
 answered, without lifting his eyes. " But we do not 
 always know our own hearts, Madeline. I know 
 yours is true Heaven forgive me for doubting it 
 for one instant ! I know you believe you could al 
 ways be happy with me, even in the life-long exile I 
 offer you. But always is a long time ; life-long 
 means throughout the heat of youth, throughout mid 
 dle life, with its cooler weighing of blessings and pri 
 vations, throughout frozen age. Love must be a 
 chain as" well as a garland. It may have the beauty 
 and fragrance of flowers, but it must have also the 
 strength of adamant. A chain that is to hold so long 
 must be tried, Madeline. If a little strain can break 
 it now, is it not better that it should be broken? 
 Better for you, I mean," he added, with intense fer 
 vor " it is of you only that I think !" 
 
 " Strains will come soon enough without our seek 
 ing for them," retorted Madeline, bitterly, yet with a 
 gleam of tenderness in her reproach. " If your faith 
 in my love is so weak that you cannot trust it with 
 out such cruel tests, you had better never have sought 
 it. But are you quite sure it is /, after all, whom 
 you are testing ? Have you no misgiving lest you 
 may have chosen wrongly ? She whom you rescued 
 from the klephts, and whom your first blind impulse 
 exalted to your own level have you, at last, discov 
 ered that she is only one of countless thousands, any
 
 THE MAJOR S RIDE. 267 
 
 one of whom might have filled her place in your 
 fancy to-day, had fortune so willed it? Have you 
 discovered that poor Madeline Paul is not the divin 
 ity you thought her ?" Rising calm and cold before 
 him "And is this what you meant when you said 
 you were in the wrong, and were going to do right?" 
 Before Hector Yyr, gazing entranced into her eyes, 
 could reply, the sound of a sudden rushing was heard 
 a loud shout there was a heavy blow and he 
 sank unconscious at her side. 
 
 XX. 
 
 TIIE MAJOR S RIDE. 
 
 THAT had taken place which, under any other cir 
 cumstances, would have been impossible. Eye and 
 ear, heart and soul completely enthralled, there was 
 nothing to Hector Vyr either audible or visible be 
 yond the shade of that fir-tree. 
 
 Peschino caught Madeline in his arms, while two 
 other brigands pounced upon the prostrate form of 
 her lover. Her piercing shrieks partially restored 
 Vyr to consciousness, and a mighty spasm shot 
 through his body, throwing one of his captors upon 
 his back and the other to his knees. With a curse 
 of rage and fear, Peschino dropped his burden and 
 sprang to their assistance, fetching another blow upon 
 the bleeding head of his victim.. 
 
 As if in response to Madeline s agonized shrieks
 
 268 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 for help, a man came running towards her from 
 among the bushes. 
 
 It was Robert Griffin ! 
 
 " Thank God !" she cried, springing to him with 
 out-stretched arms. " Oh, Robert save him ! save 
 him!" 
 
 At the same instant a loud report rang out among 
 the trees on the other side of the ravine, and one of 
 the brigands fell. The sentinel and two others were 
 seen hurrying down the slope. 
 
 "Ferete ten mdzi mas!" (Bring her with us!) 
 shouted Peschino, as he and his men made off with 
 their inanimate prisoner. 
 
 Griffin replied by a shot from his revolver into the 
 air. Then, seizing Madeline s hand, he dragged her 
 towards the bridge. 
 
 " Save him, too ! Let me go !" she cried, strug 
 gling to escape. 
 
 " Hush !" he hissed through his teeth ; " the others 
 will look out for 1dm. Come along, I say ! When 
 you re safe in the house, we ll arouse the village." 
 
 In her frenzy she charged him with treachery 
 murder ! 
 
 He turned upon her, his face white with fury. " Is 
 this your gratitude, you viper ! Are these the words 
 you spoke to him when he did no more for you than 
 I have done this day ?" 
 
 Poor soul ! notwithstanding that she shrank with 
 loathing from his very sight and touch, uncertainty 
 made her retract her terrible charges, and plead for 
 his forbearance.
 
 THE MAJOR S RIDE. 2G9 
 
 It was now she that urged him forward. He was 
 obliged to strain every nerve to keep pace with her 
 nimble feet. The bridge was lying, as Vyr had left 
 it, over the ravine. Heedless of danger she crossed 
 it, calling Griffin to follow. On she sped, up the 
 path until the white tower came in sight. The sen 
 tinel s shot as well as her own shrieks had been heard, 
 and her father, with two or three of the servants, 
 was hastening to meet her. 
 
 "What is it, Madge?" puffed the major "for 
 Heaven s sake, what is it ?" 
 
 " The brigands ! Hector /" she gasped, seizing him 
 by his arms. 
 
 " "What do you say ? the brigands have got 
 Ju in /got Hector Vyrf" 
 
 " Yes ! yes ! Save him ! oh, save him !" 
 
 Griffin now came up, and breathlessly told how, 
 while on his way to join his friends and say farewell 
 to the Yyrs, he had happened on the scene of action 
 in the very nick of time. 
 
 The major blessed him with few but vigorous 
 words. "We ll save him, too, Robert," he panted. 
 "Rim up with Madge rouse everybody meet me 
 at the demarcli s." 
 
 In an incredibly short space of time, Major Paul 
 reached the little office of the dcmarch of Mikro- 
 Maina. Bursting in without ceremony, he inquired 
 whether the detachment of troops had left the vil 
 lage. 
 
 His month of language-lessons with Peschino now 
 stood him in good stead.
 
 270 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 The big, red-faced Mainote stared in open-mouthed 
 wonder. "Yes," lie managed to answer at length ; 
 "it left this morning/ 1 
 
 " Where has it gone ?" 
 
 " Back to Athens, to report to his Majesty s Gov 
 ernment the complete success of the expedition. I 
 congratulate you on your " 
 
 " Where will it stop for the night?" 
 
 " Probably at Peschino-Chorio." 
 
 The name startled the major. " Does that place 
 belong to the villain Tin after?" he asked. 
 
 " The klepht ? No," smiled the demarch. " They 
 have nothing to do with each other that I know of." 
 
 "How far is it from here?" 
 
 " About six hours journey." 
 
 It was nearly three o clock. 
 
 " A\ r ho has the swiftest horse in the village ?" 
 
 The demarch reflected. 
 
 "Mikhalis Panoutso has one that is very fleet; 
 Petros Maurides has another about as good ; but, 
 Panagliia! no one has an animal that can compare 
 with my own Alogon." 
 
 " Will you let me have him ?" 
 
 "Holy Virgin ! no one could hire my Alogon for 
 half his entire value." 
 
 "But I will l)inj him of you at double his value." 
 
 " E eugema sas " (You are a prince). " He would 
 be cheap at six hundred drachmas." 
 
 " Have him saddled immediately," ordered the ma 
 jor; "and, in the mean time, write me a letter of 
 introduction to the commander of the detachment :
 
 THE MAJORS RIDE. 271 
 
 Major Warren Paul of Boston, TJ. S., late of the tli 
 lu iriment Massachusetts Volunteers, recently rescued 
 
 O v 
 
 from the klephts." 
 
 When his order had been executed, he said, " If 
 Mr. Griffin calls here You know him, I believe V 
 
 The demarch nodded. 
 
 " Tell him to wait for me at the Kutclmk inn." 
 
 Mounted upon a large-framed, powerful creature, 
 Major Paul rode for dear life, stopping only to in 
 quire his way as he passed through one straggling 
 village after another. 
 
 For dear life? lie rode for one whose happiness 
 was dearer to him than life for the life of another 
 worth to humanity a hundred of his own, a life which 
 might even then be going out in lingering torture 
 he rode for sacred honor, for the payment of a debt 
 that life to that other or death to himself only could 
 repay! 
 
 Now dismounting to rest his panting horse while 
 they climbed a steep, narrow, crooked path, now ca 
 reering down the opposite incline, scouring over the 
 valley, thundering across the rickety foot-bridge that 
 spanned the stream in its midst, plunging into a for 
 est, emerging on the other side he at last, just as 
 the sun was setting, dashed up to the barracks at 
 Prsdiin<-( horio. 
 
 The officer of the guard was called, who took 
 Major Paul s letter of introduction, and with elabo 
 rate politriu ss Conducted him to headquarters. His 
 |tiin then 1 , while it nrre.-sarilv pleased and en- 
 18
 
 272 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 couraged him, wasted precious time. lie impatient 
 ly interrupted it, therefore, with a statement of his 
 errand, which his broken Greek rendered forcible, if 
 not eloquent. 
 
 We will attempt a free translation of the conversa 
 tion that ensued. 
 
 " I have heard of this Hector Vyr," said the loch- 
 agbs commanding, " even before the gallant act which 
 anticipated my own, and for which he so persistently 
 refuses all recognition, official or private. Until then, 
 however, I never believed the stories they tell of him. 
 He shall be reported in spite of himself ; he cannot 
 help that. He must be a marvel indeed ! How is 
 it possible the klephts ever caught him ?" 
 
 " But they have caught him !" fumed the major. 
 " And if he is to be rescued there is not a moment to 
 lose. We must march instontly" 
 
 " My orders were" 
 
 " Curse your orders ! Go back to Athens without 
 striking a blow for the man that alone did your work 
 for you and your whole command if you daro !" 
 
 " Certainly not. I will despatch a courier without 
 delay to" 
 
 " But he ll be dead, I tell you ! He s dead now, 
 for all I know. Come, my dear colonel, Pll take the 
 responsibility. You shall run no risk. I promise 
 you the influence of the whole United States Gov 
 ernment to protect you. Lose another moment and 
 your head shall be covered with infamy, both at homo 
 and abroad. Suppose you are disciplined a thing 
 your minister will never disgrace himself by doing
 
 THE ORDEAL. 373 
 
 what then? You will have made a glorious record, 
 bulged a score of kleplits, perhaps, to say nothing of 
 rescuing the man who is an army in himself. I 
 promise you success, colonel. I ve been there, my 
 self, and will show you the road to victory. We 
 needn t go by the Flume at all. Great King Devil ! 
 what do you want? If it is money " 
 
 " Sir ! this is an insult." 
 
 " Never mind. We ll settle it afterwards. What 
 arc you waiting for ? Give the order this instant, I 
 say !" 
 
 "Well, well. Don t be so furious, my friend. I ll 
 venture it." 
 
 " Now ! We must march at once, and fight all 
 night if necessary !" 
 
 But in spite of entreaties and threats the lochagos 
 refused to stir till morning. So, lest he might be 
 come so incensed that he would give up the under 
 taking altogether, the major finally submitted, though 
 he spent half the night in chafing and raging like a 
 caged animal. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 THE ORDEAL. 
 
 HECTOR YYR S first returning consciousness was 
 that of a terrible throbbing pain in his temples, 
 the smell of brandy, a fiery, pungent taste in his 
 mouth and throat, and iron chains pressing tightly 
 into his anus, wrists. legs, and ankles.
 
 274 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 He drew a deep, gasping breath and opened his 
 eyes. He was lying on a pallet in a rude hut. The 
 pillow was red with blood from his head. A dozen 
 faces were glaring at him in savage exultation. 
 
 "Go! he heard a loud voice say; "every man to 
 his quarters." 
 
 Reluctantly the brigands withdrew, leaving their 
 captain alone with his prisoner. 
 
 " So I have you at last !" 
 
 " Yes. You have my body." 
 
 " That s all I want. As for the rest of you, the 
 devil may have it and be welcome he ll soon get it," 
 with a ferocious laugh. 
 
 O 
 
 " You are happy now, are you not ?" asked Vyr. 
 His voice was so changed by the first great physical 
 shock he had ever suffered, that he almost wondered 
 w r hether it was he that was speaking or some one else 
 uttering his thoughts. 
 
 "Happy!" echoed Peschino. "I am in paradise! 
 This is the grandest day of my life. It is joy enough 
 for a hundred lives to see the Antliropodaimon lying 
 like a helpless infant in my cabin !" 
 
 " Enjoy it while you can, Peschino," answered his 
 victim, fixing his great mild eyes, languid with pain, 
 upon him. " There is little enough you can enjoy, 
 poor soul !" 
 
 " Ho, ho ! Never you fear for me. I ll get enjoy 
 ment enough out of you before I have done with 
 you !" 
 
 " Play with me, and then slay me. Then there is 
 the rest of your life on earth then eternity."
 
 THE OKDEAL. 275 
 
 Vvr spoke more as if lie were communing with 
 himself than replying to Peschino. His eyes had 
 turned away from his enemy, and now looked dream 
 ily out through the little window at the foot of his 
 pallet. 
 
 The brigand crossed himself. "I ll meet you in 
 eternity, Hector Vyr," he retorted, with a fearful 
 scowl, " with all my followers whom you have sent 
 there." 
 
 " Yes. We shall all meet together before our 
 Judge and may He forgive us all !" 
 
 " You preach and pray !" growled Peschino. " You 
 sing psalms and I I ll play tlie instruments /" 
 
 But the terrible significance of this taunt extorted 
 no sign of fear from the helpless prisoner, who asked 
 quietly, 
 
 Are these chains designed as a part of my pun 
 ishment, or simply for security C 
 
 "Will you swear to attempt no violence if I loosen 
 them a little?" 
 
 " I shall attempt nothing that would be useless." 
 
 "Will you swear to make no effort to escape, or to 
 harm any of us, if I take them off altogether ?" 
 
 " No. Let them remain as they are." 
 
 Nevertheless, Peschino sounded a whistle, and 
 while two brigands who answered the call stood cov 
 ering the prisoner with their rifles, he unlocked the 
 fetters, loosened and rclocked them, one by one, 
 affording inexpressible relief to the swollen, suffering 
 limbs. 
 
 " I have no intention to punish you," he ex-
 
 276 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 plained, after the men had been again sent away, 
 "until the proper time. I have a proposition to 
 make to yon first." 
 
 " You will doubtless waste your breath. Never 
 theless, go on, and I will listen as well as I can with 
 this thumping brain. You have lamed my thinking 
 power somewhat with that bludgeon of yours, Peschi- 
 710. If you wished to talk with me, you should not 
 have struck so hard twice, I think it was, was it 
 not?" 
 
 "Ah, it was Hector Vyr that I struck!" laughed 
 the brigand, exultingly. " Santa Maria bless the 
 sweet bait that trapped him for us, the beautiful 
 Madeline Paul ! Without her help we could as well 
 have trapped the moon !" 
 
 Two lurid flames seemed to leap from the eyes be 
 fore so soft and mild. Peschino started back, ex 
 pecting to see the chains snap under the tremendous 
 struggles of his prisoner ; but in a moment or two 
 the latter sank panting back upon his pallet. 
 
 " Aha !" thought Peschino, " there s where the 
 quick lies. Now we ll see \vhat you ll say to my 
 proposition. 
 
 " What," he asked, " if I should myself break those 
 chains for you ? What if I offer to you release not 
 merely from death, but torture f 
 
 " Yes, Hector Vyr, liberty is yours if you will ac 
 cept it. I, the Kapitdn Peschino, pronounce it upon 
 the honor of a klepht. I will forget the many dis 
 appointments we have suffered at your hands, the 
 terrors, wounds, and death you have inflicted upon
 
 THE ORDEAL. 277 
 
 my brave followers ; you shall once more behold the 
 face of your twice-bereaved mother, and clasp in your 
 arms the beautiful daughter of the Frank I, who 
 loved her and swore that the very bed whereon you 
 lie should be hers, will yield you even this all upon 
 one condition !" 
 
 " Become one of you ?" 
 
 " Yes. Will you do it ? We will make you our 
 leader, our kiny ! Heavens! what could we not do 4 
 We would make all Greece our pasture-land and vine 
 yard ! We would laugh at the world !" 
 
 " Even as I now laugh at you." 
 
 The eager solicitation of Peschino s face changed 
 to a demoniac scowl. "You shall pay dearly for 
 this !" he growled, and turned to the door, as if to 
 call his men. But avarice once more mastered his 
 rage and thirst for revenge. lie hesitated, and turned 
 slowly back. 
 
 "Well, hear one more condition, one that demands 
 no sacrifice of honor only simple justice." 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 "In the first place, you will not deny that you and 
 your father before you have many times interfered 
 with our business. You have lost us many hundred 
 thousands of drachmas. The Kapitdii Paul alone was 
 to pay us three hundred thousand. It was not your 
 affair. If he and I had been suffered to finish our 
 transaction of business together, you would not have 
 been accountable. Have we not a right to demand 
 that you shall let us alone ? that you shall attend to 
 your own affairs, and let us attend to ours ?"
 
 278 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " It is just. You attend to your affairs, and I will 
 attend to mine." 
 
 "Make good to us, then, at least this last loss. 
 Mark, Hector Yyr, I ask only what was already ours. 
 You call us thieves what have you and your ances 
 tors been but the greatest thieves in Greece ? Re 
 store to us, I say, the last game that you stole from 
 our snare ; put the Kapitdn Paul again in our way ; 
 swear to interfere with us no more, and you are free. 
 Refuse this most reasonable, most generous condition, 
 and I swear to you I will measure your fortitude, 
 inch by inch, hour by hour, till I have reached its ut 
 most limit! or, if that is equal to your power of life, 
 till the last spark of life has faded out in slow agony! 
 Think it well over, Hector Yyr. Remember your fa 
 ther, and from his fate be assured that the heart of 
 a klepht never relents. Well, what do you say ?" 
 
 "You have done well, Peschino," answered Yyr, 
 with white, firm lips, " to speak of my father. If for 
 one instant my heart should fail me, the thought of 
 him would nerve me to the end. It is you that should 
 remember him, and know, without another trial, what 
 a Yyr can endure. 
 
 "If you indulge in this idle chatter because you 
 think it torments me, continue it by all means 1 am 
 in your hands; but if you think it will cause one lit 
 tle tremor in my resolution, spare your breath. My 
 brain is weary. I shall say no more." 
 
 With this he closed his eyes, and turned his face to 
 the wall. 
 
 "Very well," said Peschino, drawing a long breath
 
 THE ORDEAL. 379 
 
 between his teeth as lie arose, " I will leave you now. 
 I will give you till the sun again shines in at this 
 window to make your final decision. Perhaps a 
 night s thinking will make your brain clearer." 
 
 Within a half-hour after Peschino s departure the 
 sentinel at the door of the hut reported the prisoner 
 fast asleep ! 
 
 There are some things too horrible to paint, though 
 they are not too horrible to be. Art averts her face 
 in high-bred disgust, or in compassion too keen for 
 her fine sensibilities, from scenes which Nature toler 
 ates without flinching, and history delineates in ev 
 ery horrifying detail. For four interminable hours 
 Hector Yyr endured that of which no one shall suf 
 fer the pain even of reading a description. Suffice 
 it that his tormentor was an adept in his fiendish art, 
 that he knew too well the secret of prolonging ago 
 ny he knew that the breaking of bones, the direct 
 injury of vital parts, even the free shedding of blood, 
 was but a clumsy waste of the victim s vitality, and 
 hence of his capacity for suffering. 
 
 Did Vyr suffer without a murmur or a groan? 
 Before the ordeal began lie s:iid to Peschino, "I shall 
 play no heroic folly for your admiration. I shall as 
 sist your executioner by no self-torturing repression. 
 Do not, therefore, mistake my cries for prayers, or 
 my wailings for signs of yielding. They are ano 
 dynes which I shall employ without stint. Begin 
 when you please. 1 am ready." 
 
 *******
 
 280 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 At last a more effectual anodyne came perfect 
 unconsciousness. 
 
 " Quick !" shouted Peschino, " tlie brandy !" 
 
 They had partially released their victim, and were 
 in the act of forcing the burning liquid down his 
 throat, when a musket-shot was heard from the cliff, 
 and the cry, " Strdtiotai ! stratwtai /" (the soldiers ! 
 the soldiers !) resounded through the camp. 
 
 Peschino had far underestimated the tremendous 
 vitality of Hector Yyr. It was now that his reserve- 
 power, the faithful husbandry of seven generations, 
 triumphantly showed itself. As the terrified shouts 
 of the brigands fell upon his reviving ear, the vital 
 tide came pouring back into his veins. Back surged 
 his giant strength into every nerve and muscle. A 
 feeble invalid will sometimes put forth a maniacal 
 force which will tax strong men to their utmost. 
 What, then, must have been the might with which 
 the long-tortured Hector Yyr arose at that electrify 
 ing sound ? He shook off the remaining bonds that 
 
 o o 
 
 held him as if they had been wisps of straw, snatched 
 a musket from the paralyzed hand of his nearest 
 guard, darted forward, dashing down his enemies 
 right and left, and disappeared in the pass before a 
 shot had been fired ! 
 
 With loud imprecations Peschino and three more 
 started in pursuit. A few others sprang to the top 
 of the cliff to shoot down the fugitive as he emerged. 
 But none of their wild shots struck the half-naked 
 figure that darted its zigzag way down the hill and 
 quickly vanished in the thickets. Then, raising their
 
 THE ORDEAL. 281 
 
 eyes for the first time, they saw a line of muskets 
 glittering along the open space below, and disappear 
 ing one by one among the tall bushes. Leaping 
 back into their intrenchments and seeing nowhere 
 their chieftain, they rushed into his hut, hurriedly 
 overturning pallets, tables, etc., in their search for a 
 certain strong box they knew of. Not finding it, 
 they rushed out again with yells of " Qr&gora ! GrS- 
 gora!" ran down the valley, up into the mountain 
 on the other side, where they were closely followed 
 by their panic-stricken comrades. 
 
 Meantime Peschino and his three followers contin 
 ued their pursuit until they reached the outer en 
 trance of the pass. There, instead of their late pris 
 oner, they beheld a swarm of soldiers just beginning 
 to pour forth from the thickets, led by the well- 
 known figure of Major Paul. They turned to re 
 treat but too late. There were rattling explosions, 
 and Peschino fell with both knees shattered. His 
 companions caught him up in their arms and hur 
 ried with him into the pass. The shouts came near 
 er nearer their burden grew heavier it was too 
 much for brigand courage and fealty ; they laid him 
 on the ground, and, heedless alike of his entreaties 
 and his curses, they left to his fate their captain, in 
 whose defence they had sworn to die ! 
 
 A few minutes later he was surrounded by his 
 chattering, huzzaing captors. The lochagfa ordered 
 two soldiers to take him in charge, and hastened on 
 with the rest in hot pursuit of his faithless comrades. 
 With renewed yells the troops poured through the
 
 283 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 pass, then scattered here and there, in and out of the 
 huts, and down the valley. But Peschino fl boast was 
 true. In the mountain labyrinth beyond, all but the 
 wounded chief and three or four stragglers were as 
 safe as was the eagle looking down upon them from 
 his aerial circuit. 
 
 Major Paul found Peschino lying on the pallet in 
 his hut volubly cursing his two guards, who were 
 baiting him as they would a wounded bear. 
 
 " Let him alone, you cowardly rascals !" he roared. 
 They fell back respectfully to their places. 
 
 "Are you badly hurt?" he asked, kindly, bending 
 over the pallet. 
 
 Peschino uttered an inarticulate growl, and tried 
 to turn away, but the movement extorted from him 
 a howl of pain. 
 
 " Oh, come, come ! you re in for it now, and you 
 may as well make the best of it. I m not going to 
 hurt you, man. I only want to make you as com 
 fortable as I can. What did the surgeon say to 
 you ?" 
 
 "lie say cut off. No; die! no cut off. 
 Ough-o-o-o !" 
 
 The major tried to place the lacerated legs in a 
 more comfortable position, but only brought down 
 on his head a shower of mingled Greek and English 
 curses, from which he was glad to beat a retreat. 
 
 " You bring them !" snarled the brigand, presently. 
 
 "I am proud to acknowledge the charge," replied 
 the major, upon whom his ungracious reception was 
 beginning to tell. " You showed me the way, and I
 
 THE ORDEAL. 283 
 
 improved the knowledge. What have you l)een do 
 ing to JLrtnr Yijr r 
 
 Peschino s lower jaw dropped, and his face, already 
 pale, turned to the color of ashes. 
 
 " Well, well," said the major, startled by the effect 
 of his question, " I will not trouble you any more 
 now. I must go and help look after your subordi 
 nates." 
 
 Outside of the hut huddled an eager crowd striv 
 ing to get a sight of the famous captive. The major 
 drove them all away, threatening to report them to 
 their commander and have them court-martialled if 
 they did not keep their distance. 
 
 After an hour or two all further pursuit was aban 
 doned, the spoils were collected, the huts fired, and 
 with their prisoners the troops prepared to return. 
 
 On reaching the rescuing party, Hector Vyr had 
 thrown his arms around Major Paul s neck, and then 
 sunk once more into unconsciousness. Even he was 
 at last exhausted. 
 
 Long before the victorious detachment came in 
 sight of Mikro-Maina they were met by a throng of 
 excited villagers in quest of news. A little apart 
 from the crowd was a group consisting of the serv 
 ants of the Vyr estate and two women, at sight of 
 whom Major Paul rode forward on the full gal 
 lop. Dismounting, he embraced the younger of the 
 two. 
 
 " Darling daughter, we ve saved him !" 
 
 "With a low, joyful cry she fainted in his arms. 
 
 "Where is he 2" asked the mother, grasping his
 
 284 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 arm and glaring at him with fierce, insane eyes ; 
 " where is he? Ilave they burned him to death with 
 hot irons ?" 
 
 " Ho, no !" lie answered, eagerly. " He is safe ! 
 Can t you understand, my poor woman? he is safe! 
 You will see him in a few minutes." 
 
 "When they laid that majestic form before her, 
 helpless but alive the smooth forehead colorless as 
 snow, save where the hair lay in thick curling masses 
 stiff with blood, the eyelids closed like sculptured 
 marble under the noble arches of the brow, and the 
 deep, broad chest laboriously heaving and sinking un 
 der the blood-stained jacket she uttered a loud, wail 
 ing note, and fell on her knees by his side. 
 
 The eyes slowly opened, their lustrous black con 
 trasting vividly with the pallor of the face. " Man 
 na! Madeline !" came in scarcely audible tones from 
 the lips, and the eyes closed again. 
 
 He was tenderly conveyed to his home, where, for 
 the present, we will leave him in the care of the sur 
 geon of the detachment and others, whose loving, anx 
 ious ministrations were far more effectual than all the 
 surgeon s skill. 
 
 The entry into Mikro-Maina w r as a triumph in 
 miniature. Those of the villagers who had not al 
 ready sated their curiosity and admiration, flocked to 
 see the valiant warriors and their prisoners, as if the 
 latter were some new and strange variety of wild ani 
 mals, instead of men with whom some of them, at 
 least, had talked as familiarly as with any others of 
 their occasional visitors.
 
 THE ORDEAL. 285 
 
 Among the crowd Major Paul recognized his neph 
 ew, whom he immediately asked to gi\ r e an account 
 of himself. Where had he been all this while? 
 
 Been { Where should he have been, but at the 
 Kutchuk inn, where he had been told to wait until 
 his uncle should call for him ? 
 
 "What the devil arc you litre for, then ?" retorted 
 the major, disgusted at a mere civilian s obeying or 
 ders with such military precision. 
 
 " The campaign being over, I took it for granted 
 that I was discharged from duty,* replied the young 
 man, with provoking coolness. "But I say, Uncle 
 AVarrcn, the next time you go klcpht-lmnting, I shall 
 go with you, orders or no orders." 
 
 As one of Peschino s late prisoners, Griffin was of 
 course allowed to speak with him. 
 
 " Well, captain, he said, with affected exultation, 
 at the same time darting at him a significant glance, 
 "circumstances have somewhat changed since I last 
 had the pleasure of seeing you." 
 
 The brigand understood the glance, and replied 
 with simulated scorn and defiance. Seizing his op 
 portunity, Griffin said, in low, hurried tones, "Don t 
 betray me. I ll do my best to help you out of this." 
 Then aloud : " I suppose you are willing to reduce 
 our ransom a little, under the circumstances, eh, cap 
 tain ?" 
 
 " Oh, come !" interposed Major Paul ; " that s cow 
 ardly, Robert. Let the poor cuss alone, if you can t 
 treat him civilly.
 
 286 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 It was found impossible to save Peschino s legs; 
 so, in spite of liis opposition, they were both ampu 
 tated, and he was left under good care until he should 
 have sufficiently recovered to warrant his removal to 
 Kahimas, where he was to undergo his trial. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 A NIGHT OF FEVER. 
 
 FROM the moment when Madeline found herself in 
 the grasp of the brigand chief, and her lover lying 
 stunned a few feet away, up to the time when he 
 lay weak and only half conscious in his own house, 
 her mind was so taken up with his terrible peril and 
 her frantic desire to do something to extricate him, 
 that she scarcely thought of the barrier that had arisen 
 between him and herself. But, as by degrees her 
 hope became firm that he was not going to die, but 
 would sooner or later recover his full health and pow 
 er, her proud resentment returned. So, when after 
 a day and a night he awoke to a clear consciousness 
 of the faces and forms around him, she simply con 
 gratulated him on his escape and assured recovery, 
 and hurriedly left the room. 
 
 The sick man gazed at the closed door in con 
 sternation. " Why has she left me, manndka ?" he 
 asked, querulously. " Call her back again." 
 
 " You must not excite yourself, Hector, 7 replied 
 his mother, in whose face the insanity of despair had
 
 A NIGHT OF FEVER. 287 
 
 given place to a calm, fixed happiness ; " you are very 
 weak yet." 
 
 " Then call her back. I shall get dangerously ex 
 cited if she doesn t come." 
 
 ""Wait till you arc a little stronger, paidi mou. 
 The doctor says positively that you must be kept 
 perfectly quiet." 
 
 " But I say I cannot be quiet unless she comes. Go 
 and tell her that, manndka" 
 
 " Oh," cried Madame Vyr, wringing her hands, 
 "what shall I do? what will the doctor say? Will 
 you promise not to talk ?" 
 
 " I must talk a little, but I promise to say no more 
 than is absolutely necessary." 
 
 At that Madame Vyr left the room, still complain 
 ing to herself. In a few minutes Madeline re-entered. 
 You sent for me?" she said, commanding her voice 
 with a great effort, as she took the chair by his bed 
 side. 
 
 " Sent for you ! Of course I sent for you. My 
 life came back to me, but it seemed to leave me again 
 when you left me. Madeline, did you think I had 
 ceased to love you ?" 
 
 "You said you had done wrong, and were 
 
 going to do 
 
 " What is right ?" 
 
 "Why to unsay all you have said isn t it?" 
 " No, dearest one, that can never be. It is to say 
 it all again, from the lowest depths of my heart and 
 much more. It is to tell you that I love you so well 
 that I am willing to sacrifice all other things to your 
 L9
 
 288 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 best happiness. What liave I to offer yon in place 
 of native land, friends, everything that has made your 
 life a perpetual pleasure ? Only a splendid solitude 
 in exile, myself and my love. If these are enough 
 for your joyous youth, how can I be assured that they 
 will suffice for the long, long years of a lifetime ? It 
 is only a love longer than life, stronger than death, 
 that will be satish ed with my offering. Such, my 
 Madeline, is my love for you, and such must be your 
 love for me if I accept the sacrifice that I have asked 
 too soon." 
 
 " Oh," she exclaimed, rising and standing before 
 him like a beautiful statue, "how little you know, 
 Hector Yyr ! with all your power, with all your wis 
 dom, how little you know ! You think that your 
 lion heart has lower depths than a woman s that 
 your love is more enduring, more unselfish than hers ! 
 You think I prize a life of shallow pleasure above 
 my very soul ! and doubt whether the palace you 
 offer me in the midst of this splendid solitude will 
 compensate me for the loss of society ! I say to you, 
 I do not want your palace ! Your love is enough 
 for me, and will be till I die !" 
 
 As he heard these words, uttered with convincing 
 fervency, a glow of rapture lighted up his pale feat 
 ures. " I believe you," he said. " Come to me, my 
 own love !" 
 
 After a while she raised her face, dewy and radi 
 ant, from his bosom. " There will be no more ex 
 periments now ?" she asked, with a lovely smile.
 
 A NIGHT OF FEVER. 289 
 
 " Never again. And when I have shown you my 
 perfect faith for a year, will you forgive me?" 
 
 "I have already forgiven you. You did not know 
 poor recluse, how could you ?" 
 
 "No, I did not know. I was blind, and you did 
 not open my eyes, Madeline ; you only drew r the veil 
 more closely over them so artfully did you feign in 
 difference. Now shall I tell you why I insisted on 
 carrying you over the log-bridge ?" 
 
 " Ah, I called you a tyrant. And you were, Hec 
 tor. I tried to defy you ; but my will against yours 
 was no more than my feeble arm would be against 
 your strength. Yes, tell me why did you insist on 
 going, and carrying me with you to your -fate?" 
 
 "It was indeed to my fate!" he said, his face an 
 swering the sudden paleness of her own. " "Why 
 could I not have looked into the future one short 
 hour ? I thought you as devoid of emotion as you 
 seemed. I thought I must lose you forever but, be 
 fore the last tie was severed between us, I wanted to 
 fold you again to my breast as I did on that first day 
 to feel your head again nestling upon my shoulder, 
 your arms clinging around my neck. Was it not an 
 artful stratagem ?" 
 
 " I must leave you now," Madeline said, a little 
 later, " or my visit will do you more harm than good." 
 " Yes ; you may go now." 
 
 Late in the afternoon there were alarming symp 
 toms of fever. Vyr s cheeks burned, and his eyes
 
 290 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 shone with a lustre that was almost frightful. His 
 friends stood gazing in silent awe upon his counte 
 nance, transfigured by the fire of disease to a dazzling, 
 unearthly beauty. The doctor summoned Major Paul 
 to a private conference. 
 
 "We have a terrible night before us," he said. " If 
 he becomes delirious no living man can hold him. 
 Unless he is restrained by a power stronger than his 
 own, he w r ill tear himself and everything about him 
 to pieces." 
 
 " What can be done ?" asked the major. 
 
 " The first thing is to get rid of the women." 
 
 " I am afraid that is out of the question at least 
 so far as my daughter is concerned. She is under a 
 great obligation to him, like the rest of us, and noth 
 ing could persuade her to desert her post." 
 
 " Well, she seems to be a strong, sensible young 
 woman, and if she can stand it, she may be of some 
 help. Sometimes these women are cooler than we are." 
 
 " They generally are, in dealing with the sick, are 
 they not ?" 
 
 " I don t know how it would be in such a case as 
 this promises to be it is going to take something 
 more than coolness, you will find." 
 
 " I suppose we shall have to strap him down." 
 
 " If we can find straps strong enough," replied the 
 doctor. 
 
 "Poor Madeline!" thought the major. 
 
 As darkness approached, the patient rapidly grew 
 worse. His chest labored painfully, and his pulses 
 came like jets of hot quicksilver.
 
 A NIGHT OF FEVER. 291 
 
 "I am afraid I am going mad," lie said to tlic 
 doctor. "A moment ago I thought you were Pes- 
 chino, and I was on the point of seizing you by 
 the throat. If this goes on, you will have to leave 
 me by myself, or I shall do mischief." 
 
 " You certainly will do mischief if we do" an 
 swered the doctor. 
 
 " You must chain me down, so I can t. Give me 
 some more water I am on fire !" 
 
 During the ever- shortening intervals of reason 
 which followed, Yyr tried to quiet his poor frenzied 
 mother, and to soften the deeper grief and terror 
 which he saw in Madeline s calm white face ; while, 
 like Karl the Martyr, he helped to devise means of 
 controlling the fury of the coming delirium. 
 
 He struggles with all his might, but he cannot 
 move a muscle ; for a demon, with eyes like molten 
 metal and huge overshadowing wings, holds him in 
 a horrid embrace. 
 
 "Will you betray him?" says the demon in his 
 ear. It is the voice of Peschino. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then fall !" 
 
 He is in motion, slow at first, then faster, faster, 
 down, down, swifter and still more swift, until, like a 
 material body shattered by its own motion, the ties 
 of conscious existence snap asunder.
 
 292 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 Again lie is in motion, inconceivably swift, up like 
 a ray of light darting through the darkness of space. 
 He looks upward. He is suspended, like a pendu 
 lum, by a thread of fire coming from a point far 
 away in the immeasurable void. It is the upward 
 swing of the pendulum. There seem to be hours of 
 diminishing speed, until he stops and is again in the 
 demon s embrace. 
 
 " Will you betray him ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then fall !" 
 
 Once more the accelerating motion of descent ends 
 in unconsciousness, to be followed by another awak 
 ening in the vast upward cycloid. 
 
 The slender thread of fire parts, and he falls down 
 through the illimitable darkness into an oblivion from 
 which it seems there can be no awakening. 
 
 But he awakes. He is lying chained upon a bed 
 of solid rock, that stretches in all directions around 
 him like a waveless ocean. Far, far above is a sky 
 of leaden cloud of one unvarying hue. As he gazes, 
 the distance above him shortens. The leaden sky is 
 sinking. Erelong it will envelop him in its chilling 
 folds. It comes nearer. Its surface takes on a more 
 substantial appearance. It is not cloud it is solid 
 granite! In the distance, sky of rock and sea of 
 rock meet in a soft blue horizon. Still the solid 
 heavens sink. It will be hours, perhaps days, but 
 they will surely reach him at last, and crush him to
 
 A NIGHT OF FEVER. 293 
 
 powder. And lie cannot move a link of the iron 
 chains that bind him. 
 
 Now the mistiness is all gone. He can see the lit 
 tle black and white specks and the glittering grains 
 of mica. He makes a mighty effort, and frees his 
 right arm. He reaches it up, and feels the rough, 
 hard, cold surface. 
 
 " Will you betray him ?" says the voice of Pes- 
 chino. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then die !" 
 
 Again he awakes. The rocky incubus has arisen, 
 and now smiles in a vast dome of blue crystal, with 
 the bright sun in its midst. The granite plain has 
 heaved into grassy hills and snow-capped mountains. 
 In a valley carpeted with flowery verdure are sport 
 ing troops of maidens, each of surpassing beauty. 
 The melody of their laughter falls upon his ear like 
 silvery chimes. Among them, most beautiful of all, 
 walks their queen. Her form and features are those 
 of Madeline Paul. 
 
 He tries to throw his arms towards her and to call 
 her name ; but he is bound immovably, and his voice 
 is smothered by a rude hand. 
 
 " Will you betray him ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then die !" 
 
 White-hot irons are laid upon his flesh. The in 
 tolerable anguish rouses his giant strength to a su-
 
 294 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 prcme effort. He bursts liis bonds, leaps towards liis 
 love, clasps her in Iris arms, and sinks with her into 
 oblivion ! 
 
 He is lying upon a bed of softest down. A cool 
 breeze plays upon his brow. The sunlight filters 
 through his closed eyelids. His chest rises and falls 
 with slow, gentle motion. A sense of delicious lan 
 guor weighs down his limbs. A voice that tingles 
 to his fingers ends utters a cry of delight. His 
 heavy eyelids open. He sees Madeline Paul stand 
 ing over him with a cup and a teaspoon in her hands. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 ON THE VERANDA. 
 
 IT was a fierce but short-lived invasion of disease. 
 Xot long could the enemy maintain his foothold 
 within a citadel so strongly built and hitherto unsha 
 ken by his assaults. The forces of life rallied at ev 
 ery point. Day by day the work of reinstatement 
 and reparation went on. In no other way, perhaps, 
 could the exceptional vitality of Hector Vyr have 
 asserted itself so strikingly as in his rapid rebound 
 from a fall which must inevitably have destroyed the 
 majority of men. The terrible blows he had received 
 upon his head would alone, in ordinary cases, have 
 entailed weeks, perhaps months of prostration, if not 
 instant death. That his skull was not fractured, was
 
 ON THE VERANDA. 395 
 
 due, under Providence, to the unequalled texture and 
 elasticity of that helmet of nature ; that his cords 
 and sinews were not broken or permanently injured, 
 and his nervous system shattered, in the excruciating 
 ordeal which followed, was because they were of Nat 
 ure s best handiwork, compacted to endure the sever 
 est tests that mortality can sustain. 
 
 But he was not a patient convalescent. Hours of 
 torture he could have borne without a groan, had he 
 so chosen ; but day after day of enforced idleness, 
 mental and physical, was an experience so foreign to 
 his nature and life-long habit, that it is by no means 
 certain he could have borne it without murmuring 
 and chafing, even if he had tried, which he certainly 
 did not do. Every member of the household, mis 
 tress, guests, and servants alike, had to bear his vig 
 orous fault-finding and restless lamentations. Once 
 Madeline actually lost her temper, and boldly asked 
 if he were really the heroic Hector Vyr, or some 
 commonplace invalid who had assumed his shape. 
 At that, for the first time since his capture by the 
 brigands, he burst into a lit of laughter. 
 
 " Impertinent !" he exclaimed. " If the klephts had 
 not robbed me of my nails, I should scratch your 
 eyes out with them ! Make up your mind to endure 
 my unruly tongue till I get well. It amuses rne to 
 scold you, and helps me to pass the endless days. 
 Haven t I already borne enough, without being ex 
 pected to play the martyr now ( It is part of your 
 share of the pain to tolerate my ill -humor, and I 
 promise you I shall not spare you any more than the
 
 296 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 rest. But you may scold, too," lie added, with anoth 
 er laugh ; "if you can make me really angry, all the 
 better anything to spur on the leaden-footed hours." 
 
 " Forgive me," said Madeline, laughing, though the 
 quick, penitent tears started to her eyes. " You may 
 scold all you like, if it relieves you. It is little 
 enough for our share of the pain though, if you 
 think it is all we have borne for you, you are most 
 egregiously mistaken, sir !" 
 
 " I said it was apart of your share, mademoiselle." 
 
 " Well, we ought not to complain, but rather to re 
 joice," she rejoined, " for a bad temper is said to be 
 one of the surest signs of returning health. But I 
 am afraid my impatient giant would make but an in 
 different hero in a dungeon." 
 
 " I am not a hero, Madeline ; I am a philosopher. 
 Many of the heroic things men are said to do are the 
 sheerest folly. My standard is what is on the whole 
 the greatest good and the least evil. If I were in a 
 dungeon which God forbid ! I should do my best 
 to alleviate the tedium of my imprisonment, what 
 ever my keepers might think of me. No doubt Pes- 
 chino and his minions thought me anything but a 
 hero when they were exercising their villanous inge 
 nuity upon me. But what were their opinions to 
 me ? my aim was so to occupy my mind with action 
 as to leave the least possible scope for passive en 
 durance, and I succeeded. A man is much less con 
 scious of agony when he is struggling and yelling 
 with all his might, not to speak of the quicker ap 
 proach of exhaustion and unconsciousness. Ah!"
 
 ON THE VERANDA. 397 
 
 with tender regret and solicitude, "I should not have 
 spoken of this." 
 
 Fr she had grown deathly pale, and was trembling 
 from head to foot. 
 
 "Yes," she replied, with firm lips. "Go on. I 
 know something of it, and I ought to know all. I 
 should be but a poor wife for you if I had not the 
 courage to hear what you had the fortitude to bear." 
 
 " But, my dearest, there is no need of your hear 
 ing it. It would be so much gratuitous suffering, 
 which would be altogether contrary to my theory. 
 The sympathy of my best beloved is sweet ; but I 
 have all I wish and more. If her sympathy is sweet 
 her pain is not. I referred to that ordeal only to 
 convince you that I made it less intolerable than you 
 might have imagined. Pain can be endured., Made 
 line. We cannot be fully conscious of more than one 
 great throe at a time. Happily for me, the klephts 
 did not understand that. It would have required at 
 least three distinct persons to realize what they did 
 to me at one and the same instant. It does not seem 
 to me, as I look back upon it, that I suffered so terri 
 bly, after all. A part of the time I was protected 
 by a merciful numbness in every nerve. I can scarce 
 ly decide which I remember the most distinctly the 
 pain, my desperate struggles, or my ear-splitting 
 shrieks and yells." 
 
 lie accomplished his beneficent object. She lis 
 tened with rapt attention, and when he had finished, 
 heaved a long, deep sigh of relief. 
 
 After that he scolded less, and chatted more.
 
 398 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 One morning lie sat in an easy-chair on the veran 
 da, breathing in great draughts of crisp air, while his 
 eyes roved over the deep green of the valleys and 
 the delicate pearl of the distant mountain-tops. A 
 luxurious gown lined with white fur enveloped his 
 large person, and a light fez concealed the bandage 
 which he still wore upon his head. A bright color 
 in his cheeks enriched their softened olive and the 
 bronze of his hair. Madeline sat near him, her grace 
 ful figure clad in a morning-robe of soft orange-col 
 ored stuff lined with white and relieved at the throat 
 by a cluster of blue and white anemones, which, add 
 ed to the effect of the morning air and her restored 
 happiness, rendered her eyes and complexion more 
 beautiful than ever. She had been reading to him 
 from a volume of English poetry, of which, in pres 
 ence of the sublimer poetry of nature, they had both 
 wearied. After a long silence she abruptly ex 
 claimed, 
 
 " How wonderfully fast you are gaining, Hector ! 
 I can almost see the life-blood pouring into your 
 body as I look at you." 
 
 "Like wine into a bottle," he answered, laughing. 
 
 7 O O 
 
 " Don t you enjoy the process ? Health and pow 
 er will be all the more delightful to you now that 
 you know what it is to be without them." 
 
 " It is one of the most delicious sensations I have 
 ever felt," he replied, dreamily letting his eyes rest 
 on the blue water in the distance. " I am becoming 
 
 O 
 
 convinced that it is almost worth while to endure 
 evil for the sake of the exquisite pleasure of relief.
 
 OX THE VERANDA. 299 
 
 and the greater enjoyment of positive good that fol 
 lows. The blacker the shadows, the brighter the 
 lights. How the rocky grandeur of those mountains 
 would be tamed if the dark mantles should be 
 stripped from their sides ! The Creator of beauty 
 does as well when he dips his brush into the dyes of 
 midnight as when his pencils are the beams of the 
 morning sun." 
 
 k> We shall some day understand the mystery of 
 evil more clearly still, I suppose," returned Madeline, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " To my mind evil is scarcely a mystery. It is 
 like the shapeless rocks in those mountains, over 
 which men must toil and sweat if they would change 
 them into forms of beauty and usefulness." 
 
 "But there is so much that never can be moulded 
 into good," protested Madeline. 
 
 " What is good ? It is not only the squared and 
 polished block of marble that is good and beautiful. 
 All mankind could not carve these rugged crags and 
 ledges into smoothness and regularity. But they arc 
 not evil : there is a beauty and a good, k<tlo)i tiaga- 
 thon, in their very shapelessness, which, in its place, 
 surpasses that of the most magnificent palaces of hu 
 man workmanship." 
 
 " Oh," said Madeline, " we can enjoy mere pictu- 
 resqueness and roughness, but we can take no pleas 
 ure in suffering, however picturesque. Or, if we do 
 feel a sort of horrible fascination in contemplating 
 it, we may be sure the sufferer feels nothing but 
 pain. Prometheus s vulture was not a good to
 
 300 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 himself, whatever it might be to poets and paint 
 ers." 
 
 " On the contrary," said Vyr, smiling with pleas 
 ure at her zest and spirit, "it was the very incarna 
 tion of good to him. It devoured nothing in him 
 but what was corrupt and vile. It was to him wliat 
 the furnace seven times heated is to gold. Your al 
 lusion, Madeline, gives us a key to a part, at least, of 
 the mystery. Prometheus is man ; the vulture is 
 what we call evil." 
 
 " And what shall we call that which the vulture 
 devours 2" 
 
 "Ah, that is the only real evil. And the only 
 remedy for it is the so-called evil, pain." 
 
 " It is that real evil that puzzles me," persisted 
 Madeline. "Why need it have existed in the first 
 place, to require so fearful a remedy ?" 
 
 " Who is man, that he should fathom the Infinite?" 
 returned Vyr, reverently. "If the beginning had 
 been perfection, there could have been no change but 
 to imperfection. Is it not better that imperfection 
 should be eternally employed in struggling towards 
 perfection ?" 
 
 " No," answered Madeline, with decision. " There 
 was no necessity for change. Perfection might have 
 been eternal." 
 
 " Brahma s endless sleep," said Vyr. And though 
 the world-old problem was as far as ever from solu 
 tion in her mind, Madeline made no reply. 
 
 Both remained for a while in thoughtful silence. 
 At length she said, with a sort of tender awe, " When
 
 ON THE VERANDA. 301 
 
 you were speaking as you did, of pain and its benefi 
 cence, it almost seemed to me as if you were Prome 
 theus himself especially when I thought of Can 
 you accept that as good ?" 
 
 " Yes, Madeline now that it is over, I can. It 
 has enlarged my vision. It was a revelation to me, 
 which will make the remainder of my existence deep 
 er, broader, higher." Then, in a lower tone, " When 
 I am a little stronger I shall visit Peschino. He is 
 said to be growing worse every day." 
 
 " Can you trust yourself to look upon the wretch s 
 face ? How shall you be able to restrain your hands 
 from tearing him limb from limb?" 
 
 " Not by the aid of such words as those from your 
 lips !" he replied, knitting his brows. 
 
 She shut her lips tightly together, as if to pre 
 vent a retraction of her question. He went on more 
 calmly: 
 
 " I should be restrained by the reflection that the 
 wreaking of my vengeance would do no good, but 
 very great harm. Even if he lives and escapes with 
 a light punishment, or is acquitted altogether, which 
 is not an impossibility for he has wielded a great 
 political power he can do no more mischief. As a 
 klepht chieftain he is forever disabled. All that is 
 left him now is to learn the use of artificial limbs 
 and try to live an honest life." 
 
 " And have you no desire for retribution ?" asked 
 Madeline, looking very much as if she would not re 
 fuse to be herself the minister of vengeance. 
 
 "Desire ! Every nerve in my body thrills at the
 
 302 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 thought of clutching his throat in my fingers of 
 feeling them cut through flesh, cords, and bones to 
 gether ! Ah, the rapture of that supreme moment !" 
 
 The paroxysm was appalling while it lasted. It 
 continued but a few seconds, however. Then the 
 lurid fire went out in his eyes, which now regarded 
 her in mild, sorrowful reproach. " You see what an 
 afrit you can evoke from the bottle into which you 
 can see the life-blood pouring, " he said. 
 
 " You surpass my ideal of nobleness and goodness, 
 Hector. When I think of what you endured at 
 Peschino s hands my whole soul rebels at the thought 
 of impunity for him. I know it is terribly wicked, 
 but I can t help wishing him to feel in his own vile 
 body some of the agony lie made you suffer. If the 
 opportunity should come, I am afraid I should try to 
 evoke the afrit where he could actually exert his 
 power." 
 
 " But he would not, Madeline he would not" an 
 swered Vyr, again struggling with his passion. " One 
 nod from Reason, and he would shrink to a puff of 
 smoke and return to his prison in the bottle." 
 
 "And I suppose you would even forgive " 
 
 " No, not yet. I haven t risen so high as that. I 
 simply recognize the burning thirst for revenge I 
 felt just now to be a bestial appetite which must be 
 fought against and subdued, if I would realize my 
 highest aspirations. It belongs to a very low stage 
 in development, like the poison fangs of the serpent. 
 It is only in the breast of the savage, wild or civil 
 ized, that it is fully developed. He alone can ex-
 
 ON THE VERANDA. 303 
 
 perience more than a momentary joy in its gratifica 
 tion, or escape the remorse and self-scorn which in 
 variably follows in higher natures. No one would 
 suffer more keenly than you, my love, if what you 
 say is your present desire should be carried into exe 
 cution. I am going to try perhaps I may learn 
 to forgive Peschino." 
 
 Madeline rose from her chair, knelt beside him, 
 and leaning her arms on his lap, gazed up into his 
 face in mute adoration. One of his maimed hands 
 stole around her neck. 
 
 " You must not give me more credit than is my 
 due," he said with a smile. "I have not forgiven 
 him yet. There is no very great merit in seeking 
 my own best good, is there ? If I prefer a lasting, 
 solid happiness to the savage satisfaction of a mo 
 ment, or to the bitter luxury of an enduring hatred, 
 what greater virtue can I lay claim to than the per 
 fection of selfish wisdom ?" 
 
 "Oh," she eagerly protested, "you have no right 
 to defame your own great, noble heart. It is blas 
 phemy. It is not selfish wisdom ; it is Christlike 
 goodness ! What more could an angel from heaven 
 do ? Your own happiness has nothing to do with it, 
 Hector Vyr I almost believe you would do the 
 same if you knew it would result in your own misery 
 instead of your happiness !" 
 
 "No," he replied, shaking his head. "Not even 
 an angel from heaven would do that. But think of 
 a Being that would! Angels and men may well 
 worship Him ! 
 20
 
 304 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 HECTOR VYR VISITS PESCHINO. 
 
 PAIN is pain, whoever or whatever endures it. 
 That the sufferer deserves it does not make it the 
 more, but rather the less tolerable. In a world 
 where there is already so much misery, what heart, 
 human or divine, can rejoice in that which tends to 
 increase the sum ? When we know of some desper 
 ate criminal expiating his life-long cruelties, is the 
 sense of keen satisfaction we feel of the heavens 
 heavenly ? We may satisfy ourselves that it is our 
 natural love of justice which the God of Justice him 
 self has implanted in us, and which he shares with 
 us. But justice is only another name for right, and 
 right is never malevolence. If the pain of others is 
 to result in greater good to them or to the world, it 
 is Godlike to rejoice in the good and to accept the 
 pain for its sake ; but it is Satanic to rejoice in the 
 pain. When we feel our hearts bound with exulta 
 tion at the recital of richly deserved suffering, is it 
 on account of the future good or on account of the 
 present evil ? Do our pulses quicken with joy at the 
 thought of the possible reformation of a criminal or 
 of benefit to society? If so, we may well rejoice 
 we have gone a long way in our journey to the ce 
 lestial city.
 
 HECTOR VYR VISITS PESC11IXO. 305 
 
 The poetry of justice was but feebly exemplified 
 in the fate of the li<(j>it(in Peschino, at least so far 
 as human vision extends. To say nothing of his 
 
 / O 
 
 long years of outlawry, his last act of fiendish cruel 
 ty should have been expiated by at least the utmost 
 pain and ignominy the law could inflict, or by a lin 
 gering, painful death at the severer hand of Nature. 
 On the contrary, however, whatever his mental ex 
 periences may have been, his physical suffering was 
 comparatively slight. The anaesthetic administered 
 to him at the time of the amputation of his limbs, 
 and the unskilful performance of that operation, left 
 him in a state of exhaustion from which he never 
 rallied. Day after day he lay in a semi -comatose 
 condition. Only at long intervals did he awake to 
 full consciousness, and only for a short time at each. 
 It was during one of these intervals that Hector Vyr 
 paid him his first visit. Then, indeed, for a few 
 fearful moments he tasted the retribution he so abun 
 dantly merited. 
 
 As his languid eyes fell upon the noble counte 
 nance he had seen so frightfully distorted, but now 
 so placid, and upon the kingly form he had caused 
 to writhe in agony, but now firm, erect, with every 
 appearance of health and power restored, he recoiled 
 with a look of indescribable horror, and gave utter 
 ance to a shriek so wild, so unearthly, that his vis 
 itor instinctively retreated from the room. Then a 
 deep but gentle voice came through the nearly closed 
 door: 
 
 u May I come in, Peschino ?"
 
 30G A DEMIGOD. 
 
 " No ! no ! Go away ! The very sight of you 
 will destroy mo !" 
 
 But it was not long before Hector Vyr sat beside 
 his bed, listening to sobs which shook the narrow cot 
 and drew tears from his own pitying eyes. 
 
 "It is not as you think, my poor friend. I have 
 not come to torment you." 
 
 "You cannot hurt my body," came the answer, 
 brokenly, convulsively " it is nearly gone already 
 but you can torment my soul." 
 
 " Alas ! I have come to do your soul good." 
 
 " Good ! After what I did to you ! No, no, no ! 
 it is not possible ! It was four hours I kept you 
 there -four hours! You were very near death when 
 Heaven interposed and saved you." 
 
 "Heaven will save you too, Peschino." 
 
 "Save mef" Words cannot describe the amaze 
 ment with which these two words were uttered, nor 
 the laugh of wild scorn which followed. 
 
 " Yes. Do you think that Infinite Goodness is less 
 forgiving than Hector Vyr ?" 
 
 " Do you forgive me ?" 
 
 " "With all my heart and soul !" And Vyr s hands, 
 which still showed the marks of the awful cruelty 
 they had suffered, grasped the cold, trembling hands 
 of Peschino. 
 
 For a while the wretch did not speak, but lay pant 
 ing. Then he tore his hands away and with them 
 covered his face. "It cannot be. I cannot receive 
 so much from you. It is not just." 
 
 "If I can give, cannot you receive?"
 
 HECTOR VYR VISITS PESCHINO. 3Q7 
 
 " You Hector Yyr really forgive Pescliino?" 
 " As I hope tliat Heaven will forgive me !" 
 " Kyi ie eh ixoii ! Christe ctiison /" 
 
 During the few days of life that remained to Pes- 
 chino, he was visited not only by Vyr, but by the 
 others whom he had wronged, and who, influenced 
 both by Yyr s example and by the piteous spectacle 
 of the fallen brigand s weakness and penitence, left 
 him at last with something very like sorrow, if not 
 sorrow itself. 
 
 Among his visitors was Tsaras, who besought him 
 to do him a last act of justice. 
 
 "Ah," said the dying klepht, "you played your 
 part well ; and I am glad you succeeded. There 
 would have been one victim the less. I really be 
 lieved that you led those people into my snare for a 
 share of the booty. Such things have been done for 
 me. Your cunning did them no harm, but might 
 have done them much good. Yes, Tsaras, I release 
 you from your oath, and I will moreover sign a writ 
 ing declaring that you were true and faithful to your 
 friends. They will believe even Peschino s dying 
 testimony." 
 
 Robert Griffin was the only one of our acquaint 
 ances to whom the brigand s death brought unmin- 
 gled joy. To him the sound of the falling clods was 
 like the sound of music, for they told of lips forever 
 mute. When he learned that the other prisoners 
 had met their fate at the guillotine, and was satisfied 
 that his dark secret had not been betrayed, his breath
 
 308 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 came freely again, and lie gradually resumed Iris old 
 self-assurance. The constant fear and remorse he 
 had suffered had so engrossed his mind that, for the 
 time being, he had almost forgotten his passion for 
 Madeline, and as he had now become convinced of 
 its utter hopelessness, he had the wisdom to accept 
 his lot with resignation. It was not many days, 
 therefore, before he seized opportunities to join in 
 the counsels of the family, and he even went so far 
 as to address himself to Yyr with as little apparent 
 reserve or embarrassment as if he did not deserve 
 the execrations of the one and the direst vengeance 
 of the other. In the estimation of his uncle Warren 
 and of his aunt Eliza he of course stood far higher 
 
 O 
 
 than ever before. Madeline s want of enthusiastic 
 gratitude for the gallant service he was supposed to 
 have rendered her was a source of profound aston 
 ishment and grief to them. She received their re 
 proaches with patience and humility, and promised 
 to try to feel as she ought. 
 
 "Rebellions in Pandemonium!" exclaimed the 
 major, " what ails the girl ? You never failed to 
 feel as you ought before. Are your gratitude and 
 appreciation so entirely appropriated that you have 
 none left for this poor, brave boy? Can t you be 
 satisfied with throwing him over, without cheating 
 him out of everything even the decent recognition 
 you would give a beggar who should do for you one- 
 tenth of what Robert has done?" 
 
 But she did not speak of the dark, torturing sus 
 picion that was in her heart ; and, although some
 
 HECTOR YYR VISITS PESCIIINO. -J09 
 
 trace of her former cousinly manner towards Rob 
 ert occasionally appeared, they were never again for 
 an instant the congenial pair they had been. 
 
 With the now fully recovered victim of his treach 
 ery Griffin s relation was most peculiar. A not un 
 common effect of wrong-doing is an increasing aver 
 sion to the one injured. In this instance the effect 
 was the reverse. The meanest and most cowardly 
 villain is sometimes capable of feeling a sincere ad 
 miration for his opposite in character. One of the 
 oldest of sayings is that unlike natures attract one 
 another like the opposite poles of the magnet. When 
 this attraction exists between the good and the evil, 
 the noble and the ignoble, it shows itself on the one 
 side in a longing to reform and elevate the other, 
 and on the other side in a desire, if not to be purified 
 and ennobled, at least to be permitted to contemplate 
 and wonder at that which is as sublime as it is unat 
 tainable. A singular attraction certainly grew up 
 between these two, like that between the sun and 
 some frozen, barren planet which it tries to warm 
 into life. 
 
 Griffin s animosity to Hector Yyr had been due to 
 a stinging sense of his own immeasurable inferiority 
 as well as to the ill-balanced rivalry between them 
 for the love of Madeline Paul. It was far more 
 than satisfied with the unspeakably atrocious reprisal 
 lie had taken, and was now followed by the deepest 
 repentance and admiration, from which every parti 
 cle of envy was purged. To admiration was soon 
 added genuine friendship, and to friendship an affec-
 
 810 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 tion almost like that of a child for its father. la 
 every way, save that of confession, he did all in his 
 power to atone for the past. This was*, of course, 
 very, very little ; still, if never-ceasing remorse is to 
 be accounted, it was something. 
 
 Yyr appeared to enjoy his friendship and, in a 
 certain way, to reciprocate it. Although he would 
 never invite him into his house, he did him many 
 other favors: he talked with him a great deal, and 
 frequently took long walks with him ; but even in 
 speech there was a barrier which he never suffered 
 him to pass : just as he was willing and anxious to 
 give him free entree to his garden and his outlying 
 estates, but closed against him every door of his house, 
 so he admitted him to every subject of conversation 
 except himself (as to Madeline, Griffin did not dream 
 of venturing the most distant allusion to her). When 
 ever Griffin approached the subject of their growing 
 intimacy or his own sentiments towards him, Yyr 
 became coldly silent, or immediately diverted his 
 thoughts to something else. It was evident that, 
 however much they might have to say to each other, 
 it was to be only upon things entirely disconnected 
 with the personality of either.
 
 HOW THIS STORY CAME TO BE WRITTEN. 3H 
 
 XXV. 
 
 HOW THIS STORY CAME TO BE WRITTEN. 
 
 IN spite of Vyr s well-known aversion to every 
 sort and degree of public recognition, a few days af 
 ter Peschino s death a deputation arrived at Athens, 
 with a request that M. Hector Vyr should present 
 himself at Court, and receive official acknowledg 
 ment of the signal services he had lately, and on sev 
 eral former occasions, rendered in rescuing his Maj 
 esty s subjects and those of foreign powers from the 
 klephts. 
 
 The deputation was courteously received ; but the 
 request was positively declined with due gratitude 
 for the honors intended. The only return M. Vyr 
 desired was such as he had formerly received, with 
 permission to continue in the obscurity in which his 
 life had thus far been passed. To this end he hum 
 bly prayed that, so far as his Majesty s Government 
 could carry out his wish, nothing should be said or 
 done, either in public or private, which would in any 
 way tend to bring him into further notoriety. Most 
 especially he desired that nothing should be permitted 
 to appear in the public prints bearing directly or in 
 directly upon him, his acts, or his affairs. If his pe 
 tition should be granted, he should try to discharge 
 in the future, as he had done in the past, his duties
 
 312 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 as a private citizen, as a private soldier of his Maj 
 esty s army with peculiar privileges and immunities, 
 and as a friend of law, order, and humanity. More 
 than this he trusted would not be required of him. 
 
 With this answer the agents of his Majesty s Gov 
 ernment were forced to be content. 
 
 Accompanying the deputation was Mr. Caleb Gold- 
 apple, Secretary of the American Legation, who had 
 special business to transact with his countryman, the 
 guest of M. Hector Vyr. This person, having been 
 invited to Major Paul s private drawing-room, effu 
 sively congratulated him on his well-nigh miraculous 
 escape from the brigands, commented on the remark 
 able qualities of his deliverer and host, and then pre 
 sented a letter and two cable despatches, all from 
 Josiah Jobling, of the firm of Jobling, Hotchkiss & 
 Paul, Boston, U. S. 
 
 Cable Despatch No. 1 was dated September 23d, 
 and stated substantially that all efforts to raise the 
 required ransom had failed, and furthermore that the 
 Western parties had backed out. 
 
 " Don t trouble yourselves, you peddling, miserly 
 skinflints !" ejaculated the major, dashing the paper 
 on the floor. " Thank fortune, I had somebody to 
 help me that was worth a thousand hundred million 
 such muck-worms as Jobling and Hotchkiss ! But 
 who in the devil are the Western parties ?" 
 
 Cable Despatch No. 2 was dated September 24th, 
 10 o clock A.M., and announced, in substance, that the 
 firm had themselves decided to advance the required 
 sum.
 
 HOW THIS STORY CAME TO BE W1UTTEX. 313 
 
 The major reckoned : " September 24th, 10 o clock 
 A.M. The despatch announcing my rescue was sent 
 from Sparta at 2 o clock P.M. on September 24th. Al 
 lowing for all delays, it must have reached Jobling at 
 9 o clock A.M. at the very latest a full hour before 
 he sent this! Ah-ha! ah-ha-a-a! They re a magnan 
 imous pair, are Josiah P. Jobling and Marshall W. 
 Hotchkiss! a noble, high-souled couple of saints! 
 an angelic brace of players on the golden harp ! 
 They ve decided to advance the whole fifty thousand 
 dollars, have they ? I suppose the Western parties 
 have backed in ! Unprecedented generosity ! unpar 
 alleled munificence ! Was there ever such an exhibi 
 tion of heroic self-sacrifice since the days of Damon 
 and Pythias! They ought to have fifty thousand 
 leather medals struck off and hung round their necks ! 
 Confound the sneaking, hypocritical, Jesuitical hum 
 bugs ! Going to advance the whole fifty thousand 
 dollars, are they ? fifty thousand fiddle-sticks ! fifty 
 thousand pop-guns, pepper-corns, rotten eggs, dead 
 cats, rattlesnakes ! Oh, Mr. Goldapple. you just wait 
 till I get to Boston won t I reel it off to em ! won t 
 I give them a few quotations from Baxter s Saints 
 Rest ! won t I make their heads hum, buzz, fizz, 
 sing, snap, sizzle!" 
 
 Mr. Goldapple thought it not at all improbable 
 that he would. 
 
 Having thus expended his scorn at, and exultation 
 over, Messrs. Jobling and Hotchkiss, safe and undcaf- 
 ened six thousand miles away, the major opened the 
 letter with a smile of amiable curiosity to see what
 
 314 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 further display of phenomenal liberality it might 
 present. 
 
 "BOSTON, August 6, 18 . 
 
 "My DEAR PAUL, Times are decidedly looking 
 up with us." (Oh, they are, are they ?) " The Mose- 
 by sales netted us a cool fifteen thousand I cabled 
 you only twelve, but there was a supplementary or 
 der." (By George, that s good news!) "What do 
 you say to that, old boy ?" (I say it only proves how 
 cussed mean you are.) "Whitlow & Co. have failed, 
 however" (What s this?), " which offsets nearly a third 
 of the Moseby profit." (All an infernal swindle, I ll 
 bet my head !) " The rascally beats paid only twen 
 ty-two per cent. Whitlow s wife outshone every 
 body with her new diamonds at the Toastman jam 
 boree only a week before the failure." 
 
 (Here the major stopped reading and effervesced, 
 until the Whitlow failure and the Toastman jambo 
 ree were no more to him than a trilling mercantile 
 transaction and an interesting item of society news.) 
 
 "But we shall make that all up," the letter went 
 on, " and ten times as much on top of it " (All right ; 
 then you will be ready to do something for me) 
 "within the next three months." (Ah!) "We have 
 got some responsible Western parties " (Yes, I see) 
 " in tow, who will probably want fifty thousand dol 
 lars worth at the very least." (That s just like Job- 
 ling!) "Will let you know by cable the instant 
 the contract is signed. 
 
 " Well, old fellow, I hope you are enjoying your 
 selves among the marble temples and broken-armed
 
 HOW THIS STORY CAME TO BE WRITTEN. 315 
 
 stone gals." : (Oh yes! we ve enjoyed ourselves!) 
 "Don t let your charming daughter" (Confound his 
 impudence !) " fall in love with any of those beggarly 
 Greeks, with their slim waists, black eyes, and straight 
 noses." (Don t you fret, Jobling.) " If she does, give 
 them some grape and canister from that twenty-four 
 inch columbiad you call your mouth." (Ha, ha ! Job- 
 ling isn t such a bad fellow after all, sometimes.) 
 " Griffin will look out for those chaps, however." 
 (Poor Bob !) " By-the-bye, do you suppose he could 
 be persuaded to part with some of his Eastern Pa 
 cific if we should get into a particularly tight place ? 
 Sound him on that. 
 
 "One thing more: don t think of coming home 
 for another solid year. Anybody that has worked 
 as hard as you have for the last twenty-five years" 
 (Oh, slop !), " including your three years of noble 
 self-sacrifice in the war" (What disgusting drivel!), 
 " ought to have a rest of three years at the very 
 least." (Well, I think I ought.) " We should all like 
 to see you, of course " (Guess not, if he knew what 
 I ve got to say!); "but business is all right, and 
 well, you know all about that, Paul." (li m, h m !) 
 " I have sent you papers by every steamer ; hope you 
 have received them all right. Remember us both to 
 Miss Wellington and Miss Madeline. I suppose she 
 will be Mrs. Griffin when we see her next." (Not 
 much, she won t !) " Let us hear from you as often 
 as you can about your travels don t waste any time 
 writing business. Faithfully you re, 
 
 " JOSIAII P. JOBLING."
 
 316 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 "Hang me if I believe I shall ever go back again !" 
 said Major Paul, throwing the letter down to keep 
 company with the cablegrams on the floor. " They 
 don t want me, and I swear I don t want to see any 
 of their faces again as long as I live ! They would 
 have let me and all my family be murdered in cold 
 blood rather than part with their filthy dollars ! If 
 there s ever another war, Uncle Sam may find his 
 majors where he can !" 
 
 " Don t be ungrateful to Uncle Sam," said the sec 
 retary, who had been busy arranging a file of docu 
 ments. " If the brigands had dared to harm you, 
 there would have been terrible reprisals taken. The 
 world knows well that free and innocent American 
 citizens are not to be slaughtered with impunity." 
 
 " Reprisals !" echoed the major, growing suddenly 
 apoplectic from his inability to express himself as 
 the occasion demanded ; " that would be eminently 
 satisfactory ! A man would be unreasonable indeed 
 that should complain of that !" 
 
 " But that isn t all," rejoined Mr. Goldapple, look 
 ing a little foolish : " you probably will never know 
 the full extent of the efforts which were made in 
 your behalf. The matter was thoroughly canvassed 
 in the House ; the lobbies were full of it. But, you 
 see, there were peculiar difficulties the spectacle of 
 a nation of nearly sixty millions of people submit 
 ting to be robbed by a corporal s guard of Greek 
 bandits would have been a little well, humiliating, 
 to say the least. Still, for all that, it was out of the 
 question to let you die, without doing everything
 
 HOW THIS STORY CAME TO BE WRITTEN. 317 
 
 that was possible to save you. If worst had came to 
 worst, there is not the slightest doubt that the ran 
 som would have been raised, either by private sub 
 scription or by public appropriation." 
 
 " Worst had pretty nearly come to worst," sug 
 gested the major. 
 
 " Oil no ; there was plenty of time. There was 
 talk of sending a military force to rescue you ; but 
 that, you know, was the business of the Greek Gov 
 ernment. They were importuned enough on that 
 subject, I assure you witness this pile of letters and 
 documents I ve brought for you to examine. You 
 know what the result was : that detachment sent to 
 your relief was the response to your country s de 
 mand, Major Paul. To be sure, the movement was 
 not quite as prompt as it might have been ; but still 
 it would have been in time, even if it had not been 
 so happily anticipated. I don t think you have any 
 thing to complain of, sir," concluded the secretary, 
 with dignity. 
 
 " Well, one thing is sure, at any rate," said the ma 
 jor, " we are all right now" 
 
 " And you would have been, in any event." 
 
 "I m not sure of that. I suppose those villains 
 would have cut all our throats before they would 
 have given us up." 
 
 " If they had chosen to do that, no power on earth 
 could have prevented them." 
 
 "No; you re right, Mr. Goldapple, and for that 
 very reason a ransom would have been better for us 
 than an attempt at rescue. Still, I fully appreciate
 
 318 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 the objections, and I will not be ungrateful. I pre 
 sume everything was done for us that could be rea 
 sonably expected. I shall always be a true, loyal 
 American wherever I live ; but I think it very pos 
 sible I shall decide not to return to Boston, consider 
 ing all the circumstances. Athens is not such a bad 
 place for a residence ; and now that my daughter 
 "What would you think of settling down for life in 
 Athens, Mr. Goldapple ?" 
 
 " Oh, If Well, my circumstances are very differ 
 ent from yours, you know. I ve seen pretty nearly 
 all Europe, and the United States is good enough for 
 me." 
 
 "The more I think of it," the major went on, 
 ignoring the secretary s reply to his question, " the 
 more the idea pleases me. Since my wife s death, 
 five years ago, there s nobody in particular that I 
 care for at home. I don t suppose my daughter will 
 ever return that is, to stay. She s more to me, sir, 
 than all the rest of the world put together. I ve 
 got capital enough in that firm to keep me going, if 
 J. and H. give me fair play, and I guess there ll be no 
 trouble about that. You ve lived in Athens a good 
 while, Mr. Goldapple ; don t you think there s some 
 pretty fair people there, on the whole 2" 
 
 " Oh yes, Major Paul, of course there are. Society 
 is rather heterogeneous, however, in Athens. It may 
 be divided pretty distinctly into three classes. In 
 the first place, there are the Autochthones, or true 
 Athenians. You can t get in among them, for they 
 despise everything that is foreign ; they call all for-
 
 HOW THIS STORY CAME TO BE WRITTEN. 319 
 
 cigners Ileterochthones, just as the old Hellenes used 
 to call everybody else Barbarians. They swindle and 
 cheat" 
 
 " Who the Ileterogones 2" 
 
 "No ; the A utochthones. They cheat and swindle 
 the poor Ileterochthones without the least compunc 
 tion that is, some of them do ; there are honorable 
 exceptions, of course most of the magistrates, pro 
 fessors, and merchants, for instance, will compare fa 
 vorably with those of any other civilized country." 
 
 " Well," said the major, " we have the Automatons 
 and the Heteroclites who are the third class?" 
 
 " The Phandriotes, or Byzantine Greeks. They 
 are generally wealthy and cultivated, have travelled 
 a good deal and got their minds expanded, you know. 
 The others are jealous of them " 
 
 " The Heterodoxies 2" 
 
 " No ; the Autochthones so the Phandriotes are 
 more apt to be friendly with foreigners " 
 
 " Or Ileteropods 2" 
 
 "Ileterochthones. Their ladies are handsome, ac 
 complished, and are everlastingly chatting " 
 
 " The Pharaohs 2" 
 
 "The P ha n <ir ivies . You will enjoy their salons, 
 Major Paul. Yes decidedly your place is among 
 the Phandriofat" 
 
 " All right," answered the major. " Henceforth I 
 am a PhandrioU" 
 
 " No, you cannot be that, for you are not a Greek 
 by descent ; but as a respectable, well-to-do Ileteroch- 
 thon you can fraternize with the Phandriotes. You 
 21
 
 820 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 will not forget, however, tliat you are an American, 
 I hope." 
 
 "Never! I am an American now and forever, 
 one and inseparable. Halloo ! who is this ?" 
 
 Happening to glance through the window, Major 
 Paul had seen a consequential-looking individual in 
 European dress swaggering up the path, accompanied 
 by one of the bridge guards. 
 
 " Good heavens !" exclaimed Mr. Goldapple, feel 
 ing; the blood rush into his cheeks, "has that fellow 
 
 o t 
 
 got iii ? Well, if that isn t the most monumental au 
 dacity I ever saw, even in Yankee-land ! He s the 
 correspondent of the New York Gimlet. He tried 
 to wedge himself in with my party, but we gave him 
 what he would call the Grand Bounce. He want 
 ed to interview your eccentric champion. Fancy 
 it!" 
 
 Major Paul was so delighted that he could not 
 contain himself. " Let him try it !" he cried, danc 
 ing round the room, "let him try it! If he doesn t 
 get shot up so high that he ll never come down again 
 I ll eat a year s file of his Gimlets /" 
 
 The stranger ascended the steps with professional 
 self-possession, and seated himself on the veranda as 
 if it belonged to a New York politician s villa on the 
 Hudson. As soon as the royal deputation had been 
 dismissed he was ushered into Yyr s "office." 
 
 Unabashed by the cool stare of inquiry with which 
 he was received, he began, with his professional bow, 
 
 " M. Hector Yyr, I presume." 
 
 "Yes."
 
 HOW THIS STORY CAME TO BE WRITTEN. 321 
 
 " Allow me to introduce myself : J. P. Thumb, of 
 New York." 
 
 " What is your business with me ?" 
 
 " I have been told, sir, that you are a man who 
 hates all kinds of beating round the bush; that there 
 is no use in boring you with ceremonious prelimi 
 naries, nor attempting with you any of the delicate 
 finesse which gentlemen of my profession feel obliged 
 to resort to in approaching other distinguished characr 
 ters. I have been told, in short, that you would see 
 through everything of that sort in a twinkling, and 
 would be simply disgusted with it, if not mortally 
 offended. As that is precisely my own character, I 
 will approach you in a manly, straightforward way, 
 such as I think must appeal to your generous sympa 
 thies, and tell you at once, in as few words as possi 
 ble, my object in calling upon you." 
 
 " Go on," said Vyr, with an ominous glance tow 
 ards the door, then at the window. 
 
 " In spite of your reputed efforts to hide your 
 dazzling light under a bushel, sir, your fame has 
 reached even as far as America. However much 
 you may deplore this " with an ingratiating smile 
 " it is past remedy now. Your recent act of unpar 
 alleled heroism in rescuing my unfortunate compa 
 triot and his family from the brigands has 
 
 " Your business!" thundered Vyr. His voice 
 shook the room. The correspondent felt a peculiar 
 sense of suffocation, as if a cannon had been dis 
 charged behind his buck.
 
 322 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 "I I beg your pardon sir. I was not aware 
 that that " 
 
 " YOUR BUSINESS !" 
 
 " Cer certainly certainly," stammered Mr. 
 Thumb, breathlessly, sidling towards the door. " I 
 am the representative of the New York Gimlet, sir. 
 I I the people have learned something of you al 
 ready and they wish to know they have a right 
 to know more of the wonderful man who " 
 
 Vyr took one long stride, seized the luckless vic 
 tim of his own rashness by the collar with one 
 mighty hand, opened the window with the other, and 
 gently set him outside, as if he had been a bag of 
 straw. " Stathas," he said to the guard, " take this 
 person away ; and henceforth allow no one to cross 
 the bridge until I have first been informed who he 
 is and what he wishes." 
 
 Of course Major Paul and the secretary had been 
 on the lookout, and the air of general collapse with 
 which the discomfited interviewer picked his way 
 down the slope, hard pressed by the guard, afforded 
 them much amusement. 
 
 " He will make his report all the same," remarked 
 the major, when they had laughed their fill. 
 
 " Of course he will. I fancy I can already see the 
 startling head-lines and double-leaded columns in the 
 Gimlet. His eye took in instantaneously everything 
 there was in the room, every article of clothing Mr. 
 Yyr had on ; and his walk from the ravine to the 
 house has given him material for a solid column, at 
 the least."
 
 HOW THIS STOIIY CAME TO BE WRITTEN". 333 
 
 " He won t write so mucli about his walk back" 
 laughed Major Paul. 
 
 " Oh yes. His alchemy will find good matter 
 even in that. These magnanimous gentlemen never 
 descend to petty personal resentments. Your cham 
 pion is doomed to be famous now in spite of himself. 
 Within a month there will be an army of sight-seers 
 besieging his castle." 
 
 "And I and my family will be the unhappy 
 cause," moaned the major. " He ll wish he had let 
 us all perish before he opened the floodgates upon 
 himself in this way blister the whole race of pry 
 ing, gossiping, goggle-eyed blabbers ! "What can be 
 done? They ll get small satisfaction that s one 
 comfort. He will intrench himself, pull in his log- 
 bridge, and woe to the foolhardy gabbler that offers 
 to find another for himself !" 
 
 "Well," responded the secretary, "the mischief s 
 done, and it can t be helped. M. Hector Vyr must 
 accept glory, whether he will or no." 
 
 " Mr. Goldapple !" exploded the major, as if a new 
 and brilliant idea had popped into his head. 
 
 " Well, what now ?" 
 
 " The mischief is already done, as you say." 
 
 " Yes ; there s no doubt of that." 
 
 " And there s no possible help for it." 
 
 "Not the slightest. You can t stop their tongues 
 from wagging now, any more than you can prevent 
 the winds from blowing." 
 
 " Then we must countervail them." 
 
 " How ? What do you mean V
 
 824 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 "Why, if Hector Vyr must be talked about and 
 written about, it had better be the truth than all sorts 
 of vile, twisted, garbled, scurrilous, preposterous, idi 
 otic lies, hadn t it ?" 
 
 " I don t imagine there will be any intentional in 
 justice done him," replied Mr. Goldapple, somewhat 
 overcome by the shower of adjectives. 
 
 " I don t know. The reception that pitiful, scrub 
 by interviewer got wasn t exactly what you might 
 call affable." 
 
 " Not exactly," laughed the secretary. 
 
 " And I don t believe interviewers are proof against 
 resentments any more than other men. I tell you 
 what, Mr. Goldapple, you write his story." 
 
 "/?" starting back. 
 
 "Yes. You can do him justice at least you tell 
 the truth. I ll talk with him about it, and I know 
 he will give his consent. One of the cardinal points 
 of his philosophy is to accept the less of two evils 
 when one is inevitable." 
 
 Mr. Goldapple put his finger to his forehead and 
 thought a long time. 
 
 "I suppose you could give me all the necessary 
 data ?" he asked, at length. 
 
 " Of course, of course." 
 
 " Well, we ll see." 
 
 And that is how this story came to be written.
 
 AU REVOIR. 335 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 AU EEVOIK. 
 
 THE first unmistakable smile that visited the face 
 of Madame Yyr in these days was welcomed with 
 all the enthusiasm that greeted the first doubtful 
 smile of her infancy in that noble old mansion on 
 the Thames. It was a beautiful smile, rather with 
 the eyes than with the lips. She gave it one morn 
 ing at breakfast, when she was assured that, though 
 Madeline Paul was soon to depart with her friends, 
 it was only for a time. She had conceived a great 
 fondness for the girl, whose splendid vigor and beau 
 ty brought back so vividly her own youth ; and this 
 sentiment stirring in the depths of her heart, was like 
 a stream of pure, fresh water flowing into a stagnant 
 pool. It is not strange, therefore, that, when she 
 clearly understood the happiness in store for her, her 
 sad, worn face was illuminated with a smile. It was 
 by no means the first happy change that had been 
 observed in her since the advent of the Americans. 
 The general enlivening eifect of their visit, the stimu 
 lating sense of responsibility she felt as their hostess, 
 and, later and far more than all these, her joy at her 
 son s escape, and at his rapid restoration to health, 
 had wrought a great alteration both in her bodily 
 and in her mental condition. Her step became firm, 
 her large, matronly figure more erect, a little color
 
 826 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 came into her cheek, and the melancholy, far-away 
 look almost entirely forsook her eyes. But, best of 
 all, she began to express herself freely, and it soon 
 became evident that the poor, distraught creature 
 whose white face and drooping form had haunted 
 the house moving slowly and silently from room 
 to room, like a restless spirit had been a woman of 
 superior intelligence, cultivation, and even vivacity. 
 " Ah," said her overjoyed son to his visitors, " now 
 you begin to see what my mother was and is /" 
 
 At last the day which the Americans had appointed 
 for the termination of their visit arrived. Without 
 protesting against their departure, Yyr quietly, but 
 with deep sincerity, described the happiness he had 
 enjoyed in their society, and the benefit he had de 
 rived from the interruption of his comparative lone 
 liness and from contact with a little delegation from 
 the civilized world. The stirring scenes in which 
 they had all participated had woven ties between 
 them which could never be broken, even if it were 
 not for the infinitely stronger tie that now bound 
 them together. 
 
 The evening before their separation the lovers 
 spent in such a blending of heart with heart and 
 soul with soul as only such lovers can enjoy. It was 
 then that Hector Vyr became, if possible, still more 
 thoroughly convinced of the injustice he had done 
 Madeline in harboring the thought that home and 
 friends and the numberless delights of fashionable 
 society could weigh in the balance with life and love 
 with him, even in his mountain solitude.
 
 AU REVOIR. 327 
 
 At Mikro-Maina, Tsaras, armed with his certificate 
 of moral character siyned by the brigand chief and 
 duly attested, presented himself to Major Paul, with 
 the request that he he reinstated and allowed to fin 
 ish the undertaking for which he had been employed. 
 His request was readily granted. 
 
 Hector Yyr accompanied his guests as far as Spar 
 ta. "When Robert Griffin came forward to say fare 
 well in his turn, he took Yyr apart from the rest, 
 and safd, in a faltering tone, with cheeks flushed and 
 eyes bent downward, 
 
 " Mr. Yyr, your treatment of me has been most 
 generous, most noble. But you have never not 
 withstanding the respect, the the affection you have 
 compelled me to feel for you you have never given 
 me a hint in words, I mean of your real opinion 
 of me, or of your real feeling towards me." 
 
 Although he did not dare to raise his eyes, he felt 
 the power of the look that was fixed upon him. 
 
 " Tell me, I implore you," he burst forth, " is there 
 any reason do you know anything which prevents 
 you from from 
 
 Before he could find words to finish his question, 
 the answer came turning his blood to ice : 
 
 "I know all!"
 
 828 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 A COUKT RECEPTION. 
 
 "HAVE you been presented to their Majesties?" 
 asked the secretary of the American Legation, ad 
 dressing a newly arrived compatriot one morm ng. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Would you like to be?" 
 
 "I should like it very much." 
 
 "Yery well. There is to be a grand ball at the 
 palace to-morrow night. I will introduce you to the 
 consul, who will introduce you to the Grand Mare- 
 ckal, and you will receive an invitation." 
 
 "But what shall I wear?" asked the "Globe 
 trotting American." 
 
 " Oh, there will be no difficulty on that score. Or 
 dinary evening-dress will do." 
 
 At nine o clock the next evening the secretary 
 and his new acquaintance arrived at the palace, the 
 exterior of which, though of Pentelican marble, was 
 far from imposing. They followed a motley crowd 
 up a narrow staircase, arid presently found them 
 selves in a large, lofty hall, whose splendor was in 
 startling contrast with its humble approaches. The 
 floor was beautifully inlaid ; an elaborate frieze ran 
 along the middle of the walls ; above this w r ere par 
 allelograms of Pompeian painting; the ceiling was
 
 A COURT RECEPTION. 309 
 
 cut into panels, each profusely decorated with red and 
 old gold ; while huge chandeliers and candelabra of 
 bronze threw a subdued light over all. High Ionic 
 door-ways of marble opened into two other halls sim 
 ilarly decorated, which to one viewing the scene from 
 a central point gave an effect of almost unlimited 
 extent. 
 
 A multitude of guests in every variety of gay, 
 splendid, and commonplace costumes surged from 
 hall to "hall, harmonizing admirably with the pictur 
 esque decoration of the walls and ceiling: palikars 
 in crimson and gold, officers in uniform, ministers 
 and consuls in court dress, English, French, and Amer 
 ican ladies in elegant Parisian toilets, modest gentle 
 men in expansive shirt-fronts and swallow-tails, and 
 islanders in still plainer attire. 
 
 Presently a general buzz of excitement arose every 
 where, a passage was opened through the crowd, and 
 their Majesties, with the dignitaries of the court, ad 
 vanced into the hall. The king, tall, slender, light- 
 haired, was royally handsome in his citizen s dress 
 and manifold decorations. The queen was radiant 
 with smiles, satin, and diamonds. On being presented 
 the American tourist was favored with the following 
 extended conversation : 
 
 "How long have you been in Greece?" inquired 
 the king. 
 
 " Only three days, your Majesty." 
 
 " How do you like Athens ?" 
 
 " Very much indeed. It is to me, next to my own, 
 the most interesting city in the world."
 
 330 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 The tourist then fell back, and was at once accosted 
 by an old palikur, who was evidently impressed with 
 the attention he had received. 
 
 " We are very fond of you Americans," said the 
 palikar. "We have a fellow-feeling with you. Like 
 us, you were oppressed by a tyrannous despotism ; like 
 us, you arose in your might and threw off the yoke." 
 
 "Yes," assented the American, cordially ; "there 
 is a brotherhood between all lovers of freedom the 
 world over." 
 
 " We are grateful to you, too," rejoined the pali 
 kar. " In our war of independence you sympathized 
 with us, and many a ship-load of provisions came to 
 us from your ports. In our troubles with our brig 
 ands since then you have not censured us with the 
 cruel injustice of other nations ; you have not insulted 
 us with arbitrary dictation ; you have not given us 
 self-contradictory directions as to what to do with the 
 rascals, as England, France, and other European pow 
 ers have done ; you have appreciated our efforts. 
 Sir, the American and the Greek are brothers !" 
 
 The tourist gratefully acknowledged the compli 
 mentary speech, and turned away to join his friend 
 the secretary. As the two were sauntering through 
 the halls, the stranger s attention was attracted by two 
 ladies who appeared to be holding a sort of minor 
 reception in the centre of an admiring circle. One 
 was a stately matron with a handsome, intellectual 
 face, crowned by wavy masses of white hair; the 
 other was in the very bloom of magnificent woman 
 hood.
 
 A COURT RECEPTION. 331 
 
 " Who are they ?" asked the tourist, his face glow 
 ing with admiration. 
 
 k Ah, you are a stranger. But surely you must 
 have heard of the famous Yyr family ?" 
 
 " Vere ? Are they any connections of the Lady 
 Clare? " 
 
 " Neither by name nor by nature. It is V-y-r, not 
 Y-e-r-e, and if reports be true, the country heart is 
 to both these ladies worth a hundred coats of arms. 
 It is said they leave their hermitage in the mount 
 ains only once a year, and then only from a sense of 
 duty." 
 
 " Indeed, this is very interesting. Whose is the 
 country heart? Some simple Young Laurence? 
 some foolish yeoman ? : 
 
 " Well, upon my word ! where have you lived, 
 man ? Is it possible you have never heard of the 
 lion of Greece, who might be the lion of the world 
 if he chose, but who shuts himself up in an inaccessi 
 ble mountain fastness, and stubbornly refuses to be 
 coaxed from his solitude, or to allow any one to in 
 trude upon it? A squad of Bavarian guards regu 
 larly patrol the approaches to his castle, and no one 
 can pass them without a written permit, signed by the 
 Minister and countersigned by the old ogre himself." 
 
 "Seems to me I do remember something of the 
 sort," replied the tourist "a newspaper sensation 
 three or four years ago. But it subsided very quick 
 ly, and I ve heard nothing since. I supposed, there 
 fore, that it must have been one of the Sea-serpent
 
 332 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 "Nothing of the kind," said the secretary, em 
 phatically. 
 
 " Then there really is such a marvel as they told 
 about?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Why don t they keep up the excitement, then ?" 
 
 " They do in a certain way. There s no end of 
 table and cafe, gossip ; but the subject is tabooed in 
 the Greek papers. The editors know that Hector 
 Yyr doesn t want to be talked about, and there is a 
 general sense of gratitude and obligation among the 
 people that they know better than to violate. You 
 remember, the newspaper accounts told of his won 
 derful exploits how he attacked whole gangs of 
 brigands single-handed, and drove them out of their 
 strongholds ?" 
 
 " Yes, I remember. He rescued an American fam 
 ily, about. whom there was a great fuss made." 
 
 " Ah we ll come to that presently." 
 
 " But, of course, nobody believed such stories." 
 
 "Nevertheless, they were true in the main. I 
 happen to know all about it. The Greeks believe 
 them, at any rate, and they would demolish a paper 
 that ventured to make the most distant allusion to 
 their hero without his consent." 
 
 " Why don t other papers keep up the excite 
 ment English, French, and American papers ? The 
 Greeks would find it a difficult matter to demolish 
 the New York Herald or the London Times!" 
 
 " Don t you know, my friend, no man is lionized 
 very much in these days without his own conniv-
 
 A COURT RECEPTION. 333 
 
 ancc? The Angel Gabriel himself would have to 
 keep his trumpet blowing, submit to interviews and 
 band serenades submit ? he d have to solicit them ! 
 attend dinners, and make speeches, or he would 
 Boon find himself dropping into obscurity." 
 
 "But how do you knoiv" said the tourist, obsti 
 nately, " that it isn t all a fable, a revival of ancient 
 mythology ? I should think these Greeks would be 
 up to that sort of thing." 
 
 " How do I know ? Didn t I tell you I knew all 
 about it? Bless your soul, I ve seen Hector Vyr 
 himself, and talked with him !" 
 
 " Is it possible !" exclaimed the tourist. " Do tell 
 me all about it." 
 
 "A\ r ait till we are cosily seated with our cigars in 
 my library." 
 
 " Let s go there now." 
 
 "No ; we ve a great deal to see here first. I want 
 to present you to Madame Vyr, his mother, and Ma 
 dame Vyr, his wife, when we get a chance. The wife 
 is a countrywoman of ours, a daughter of that very 
 family he rescued from the brigands ; so of course 
 she will be delighted to see you. That soldierly- 
 looking old gentleman in the swallow-tail is her fa 
 ther, Major Warren Paul, late of the firm of Job- 
 ling, Hotchkiss & Paul. He s what you would call 
 a rabid Philhellene he s more than that, he s as good 
 a Greek as any old palikar of them all." 
 
 Seizing their opportunity, the two Americans 
 wedged themselves through the crowd, and received 
 as cordial a welcome as the secretary had promised.
 
 334 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 Madeline Lad no end of questions to ask in regard to 
 her beloved America, and particularly of her native 
 city, which was also her new acquaintance s home. 
 
 Meanwhile the crowd, seeing that it was to be a 
 purely national love-feast, had gradually withdrawn, 
 and \vere now furtively observing their favorites 
 from a respectful distance. 
 
 " Does Mr. Yyr never come to Athens?" asked the 
 tourist, interviewing Madeline in his turn. 
 
 " Only when it is absolutely necessary, which is 
 very seldom," answered Madeline. " Then he always 
 comes incognito, and goes away as soon as possible." 
 
 " Do you spend much time here yourself, madam?" 
 
 " No, only a week or two." 
 
 " She wouldn t do that if she could prevent it," 
 put in the elder Madame Yyr, laughing. 
 
 " My husband thinks I must come here at regular 
 intervals to prevent my growing rusty," explained 
 the younger. " Our home is in a very retired situa 
 tion : we rarely see any one there besides each other 
 and our servants." 
 
 " Your friends have difficulty in finding you 2" 
 asked the tourist, with affected innocence. 
 
 " Yes," answered Madeline, frankly ; " very great 
 difficulty." 
 
 Major Paul now advanced, to whom the new 
 comer was duly introduced. 
 
 " From Boston, eh ?" said the major, shaking his 
 hand warmly. " Glad to see you, sir tremendously 
 glad to see you. And how are matters at the new 
 Athens 2"
 
 A COURT RECEPTION. 335 
 
 " About as they are at the old Athens, if we may 
 judge by this gorgeous display of wealth and general 
 prosperity, answered the tourist, looking around the 
 halls. 
 
 " Yes, about the same, I suppose. Plenty of gold 
 and diamonds outside and plenty of nothing inside. 
 If these people would spend less in glitter and more 
 in paying their debts and building up a solid foun 
 dation of prosperity, they would be vastly happier 
 and more respected, I keep telling em. But, wis 
 dom of Socrates! what do they care for what any 
 body says? As long as they can dazzle your eyes, 
 what difference does it make whether they have any 
 thing to eat or not ? Go out of this marble palace, 
 and take a walk through the streets : what will you 
 see, eh? And how is it in Boston, sir? Better look 
 ing houses and shops, of course but how large a per 
 cent, of the people do you suppose eat three square 
 meals a day ? It s just the same all over the coun 
 try. "With natural resources enough to support a 
 population of six hundred millions in comfort and 
 prosperity, it doesn t half support sixty millions 
 and all because of your cursed extravagance, sir! 
 Greece is, on a small scale, what America is on a big 
 scale, sir !" 
 
 Before the tourist could find words to reply, Mad 
 eline said, " You must not mind papa s scolding, lie 
 docs it only for his own amusement. If there is any 
 country he loves and admires more than Greece, it is 
 his own America." 
 
 "And if there s a country," added the secretary, 
 22
 
 336 A DEMIGOD. 
 
 "ho admires and loves more than America, it is his 
 own Greece." 
 
 " Hold there !" said the major ; " America first, al 
 ways, and forever ! But it is always so I never say 
 a true and honest word but some one must imme 
 diately spoil its whole effect by calling it only my 
 scolding ! 
 
 "But all this isn t what I came to say. I rather 
 think I have some news that will set you ladies to 
 scolding, too especially you" addressing his daugh 
 ter. 
 
 " "What is it, pray ?" 
 
 " The boat went this afternoon." 
 
 " This afternoon !" echoed Madeline, in dismay. 
 "Why, it wasn t to go until to-morrow." 
 
 "That is very true. All the same, it has gone." 
 
 "But it had no right to go!" cried Madeline, in 
 dignantly. 
 
 " True again, my daughter. Still, I can t see that 
 that alters the case. It went as a special accommo 
 dation to his Serene Magnificence or whatever it 
 is Serapis Effendi, who had important business at 
 Sparta, admitting of no delay." 
 
 Instead of looking in tender sympathy upon, poor 
 Madeline s grewsome countenance, her father only 
 laughed at it. 
 
 " Never mind, my dear," said Madame Yyr mere, 
 "we ought to have become sufficiently accustomed 
 to such things by this time. This is neither London 
 nor Boston, you know 7 . It only involves three more
 
 A COUKT RECEPTION. 337 
 
 days of gnyety in Athens. I think we can reconcile 
 ourselves to that if we try. 
 
 "Madeline made no further exhibition of indigna 
 tion or of disappointment until the secretary and his 
 friend had withdrawn, when she indulged in sundry 
 expressions vividly reminding her hearers of her re 
 lationship to the doughty major. 
 
 "So, so," said the last-named gentleman; "if you 
 iind it so hard to submit to three days enforced ex 
 ile from your hermitage in the wilderness, what pos 
 sible hope have we that you will ever make up your 
 mind to the visit to America we have been talking 
 about so long?" 
 
 AVithout noticing her father s question, Madeline 
 only said, while her face suddenly brightened up, 
 
 I ll tell you what we will do, manmika we will 
 ask Mr. Goldapple to take us to Gytheion in his 
 yacht; and Tuesday we shall be at home! think of 
 it, mamuika IIOMK ! !" 
 
 It was thus her hands clasped rapturously to 
 gether, her eyes brighter than the diamonds upon 
 her white throat that she spoke of that wildest of 
 solitudes in the Taygetus Mountains ! 
 
 THE END.
 
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 The Warden, and Barchester Towers Svo, Paper 60 
 
 The Way We Live Now. Illustrated Svo, Paper 90 
 
 Thompson Hall. Illustrated 32mo, Paper 20 
 
 Why Fran Frohman Raised her Prices, &c 4to, Paper 10 
 
 (Frances E.) Among Aliens. Illustrated 4to, Paper 15 
 
 Anne Furncss Svo, Paper 50 
 
 Like Ships Upon the Sea 4to, Paper 20 
 
 Mabel s Progress Svo, Paper 40 
 
 The Sacristan s Household. Illustrated Svo, Paper BO 
 
 Veronica Svo, Paper 50 
 
 WALLACE S (Lew) Ben-Hur 16mo, Cloth 1 50 
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 12rao. With 2000 Illustrations. 
 
 THISTLE EDITION 48 Vols., Green Cloth, per vol. 1 00 
 
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 Complete Sets, Half Morocco, Gilt Tops 72 00 
 
 POPULAR EDITION 24 Vols., Green Cloth, per vol. 1 25 
 
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 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 12mo. With 2000 Illustrations. 
 
 Wavcrley ; Guy Mannering ; The Antiquary ; Rob Roy ; Old 
 
 Mortality ; The Heart of Mid-Lothian ; A Legend of Montrose ; 
 
 The Bride of Lammermoor ; The Black Dwarf ; Ivanhoe ; The . 
 
 Monastery ; The Abbot ; Kenihvorth ; The Pirate ; The Fortunes 
 
 of Nigel ; Peveril of the Peak ; Quentin Durward ; St. Ronan s 
 
 Well; Redgauntlet; The Betrothed; The Talisman; Woodstock; 
 
 Chronicles of the Canongate, The Highland Widow, &c. ; The 
 
 Fair Maid of Perth ; Anne of Geierstein ; Count Robert of Paris ; 
 
 Castle Dangerous ; The Surgeon s Daughter ; Glossary. 
 
 WOOLSON S (C. F.) Anne. Illustrated by Reinhart 16mo, Cloth 1 25 
 
 For the Major. Illustrated 16mo, Cloth 1 00 
 
 TATES S (Edmund) Dr. Wainwright s Patient Svo, Paper 30 
 
 Kissing the Rod Svo, Paper 40 
 
 Land at Last 8vo, Paper 40 
 
 Wrrcked in Port Svo, Paper 35