CONSTANTINE 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE HORTON 
 
 CHICAGO 
 MDCCCXCVII- 
 
University of California Berkeley 
 
 FROM THE PAPERS OF 
 Frederick J. Mosher 
 
CONSTANTINE 
 
CONSTANTINE 
 
 S Cale of (Greece unfcer 
 King <tfjo 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE HORTON 
 
 AUTHOR OF "SONGS OF THE LOWLY"; "IN UNKNOWN 
 SEAS"; "APHROKSSA"' 
 
 CHICAGO 
 WAY AND WILLIAMS 
 
 1897 
 
DEDICATED 
 
 TO 
 
 MRS. JAMES W. SCOTT 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Page 21. " Three terrible Old Women." The 
 Three Fates, universally believed in by the com- 
 mon people of Greece. 
 
 Page 22. " Koumbare." Vocative case of 
 Koumbaros, the " Best Man'' at a wedding or at 
 the baptism of an infant ; a relationship considered 
 more sacred in Greece than that of blood. 
 
 Page 23. " Wrestling with Charon." Strug- 
 gling with death. In the death agony. 
 
 Page 24. " How bitter a thing is death? etc. 
 Translated from popular Greek song. 
 
 Page 25. " Barbandone" Uncle Anthony. 
 Anthony would not have been called " Barba " //// 
 he was over forty years of age. To save confusion 
 in the minds of the English reader, I have called 
 him Barbandone all through. 
 
 Page 29. " Church of the Wilderness" Little 
 churches are built in lonely places in Greece and 
 called " Churches of the Wilderness. " 
 
 Page 32. This Moerologian, or Death Song, is 
 one that I actually heard. I have translated it as 
 best I could. 
 
 Pages 41, 42. " Yaourti" Klabberedgoafs or 
 sheep '* milk. " Halva" and " Loukoumi" sweet- 
 meats. 
 
 vii 
 
viii Notes. 
 
 Page 43. " Kuria" Mrs. 
 
 Page jo. " Nounos- ' ' Godfather. 
 
 Page 51- " Palikari." Hero. 
 
 Page 5 4. " Papas r Priest. 
 
 Page 56. Vampires are much dreaded by tht 
 common people of Greece. Priests frequently per- 
 form ceremonies for the "laying of Vampires" 
 Then the flssh instantly decomposes, and the rustic 
 listening at the grave hear the bones rattle together 
 in the bottom of the coffin. 
 
 Page 59. " Zetos." " Long Live" 
 
 Page 59. Match-making is a recognized pro- 
 fession in Greece. 
 
 Page 74. Greek cisterns are built with a smaller 
 reservoir at the bottom for receiving the deposit. 
 
 Page 84. " Anezaki" Little Aneza. 
 
 Page go. " Eat Wood" Get a whipping. 
 
 Page 92. " Palikaraki" Little palikari. 
 
 Page g6. " Kurios." Mr. 
 
 Page QJ. " Panageia" All holy one ; the Vir- 
 gin. 
 
 Page 118. These two stories, and many others, 
 are told of " Our Lady of Miracles" of Tenos. 
 
 Page IIQ. This story is related of an Athenian 
 student in one of the American colleges. 
 
 Page 194. " Proeka." Dot; dowry. 
 
 Page 194. " Parades" Money. 
 
Constantine 
 
 Chapter I 
 
 THE little town of Poros sits by a lake of 
 the sea, which is bounded by the curving 
 shores of the Peloponnesus on one side and 
 the ancient isle of Calabria on the other. 
 
 To reach Poros from Athens, you rise at 
 four o'clock in the morning, and hurry 
 through the cool twilight streets to catch the 
 first train for the Piraeus. 
 
 Early as it is, Greek life is already astir. 
 Swarthy servant-girls are sweeping dust from 
 the sidewalks with short brooms, and the 
 saleppi men have been on the corners for an 
 hour or more. These latter preside over 
 great samovars filled with a sweetish liquid, 
 which they sell, smoking hot, at a halfpenny 
 the cup. 
 
 " C-r-r-r ! " That purring sound is a fruit 
 
2 Constantine 
 
 or vegetable seller telling his donkey to stop. 
 He has seen the head of a possible purchaser 
 in an upper window. "M-h-h-h!" The lit- 
 tle animal starts as though roused from slum- 
 ber and proceeds on his way. 
 
 Do not flatter yourself that you are enti- 
 tled to any credit for having arisen at four. 
 
 Numerous market-boys toiling through the 
 streets with well-filled baskets strapped to 
 their backs prove that the Greek gentlemen 
 are already at the market, and are sending 
 home their purchases. 
 
 You reach the Station ere day has dawned, 
 and stand for a moment on the platform, 
 gazing at a great star that shines with defiant 
 brightness. 
 
 Then comes the noisy half-hour rush 
 through the olive groves and vineyards of the 
 Attic plain, and the scramble to get on board 
 the dilapidated little Greek steamer adver- 
 tised to sail exactly at seven. 
 
 Once safely on the deck, you wait a full 
 two hours while small boats come leisurely 
 from the wharf, rowed by piratical-looking 
 but good-natured Greeks. And how those 
 boats are laden ! Islanders in picturesque 
 
Constantine 3 
 
 and varied costume; animated sacks that 
 tumble aimlessly about, and give forth squeals 
 of the pigs confined within ; old women with 
 families of chickens tied by the legs; girls 
 with affectionate goats, that bleat in human 
 tones whenever their mistresses step for a mo- 
 ment away; bundles, baskets, and queerly 
 shaped wine-jars innumerable. Finally you 
 start, and if the weather be favourable, what 
 a delightful journey you have ! 
 
 Scarcely are you out of the harbour before 
 Psyttaleia is seen, that small barren island on 
 which Xerxes landed a detachment of choice 
 Persian youth just before the battle of Sala- 
 mis. They were to destroy such Grecian 
 ships as might be forced ashore during the 
 engagement. As you look, Aristides seems 
 to land again with his body of Hoplites. 
 There is a short struggle. The Persians run 
 to and fro in terror, or cry for mercy in a 
 strange tongue. Soon they are all slain, and 
 the Hoplites strip them of their armour and 
 golden ornaments. A lighthouse stands on 
 Psyttaleia now, and you can easily imagine it 
 a monument of the great naval battle. As 
 you skirt the shores of Salamis you are struck 
 
4 Constantine 
 
 with its barren aspect. Perhaps, if your 
 mind still dwells on Xerxes and his fortunes, 
 you wonder if anything remains of the two 
 hundred and more ships sunk on the day of 
 his defeat. The water is so clear you almost 
 fancy that, were you sailing through the 
 Strait, you could see metallic prows, breast- 
 plates, shields, and helmets lying there on 
 the bottom. You even wonder if you should 
 be able to pick out the ruins of the Carian 
 trireme sunk by Queen Artemisia. 
 
 At ^Egina the steamer stops for a moment 
 well out to sea, while sailboats flit forth from 
 the white town for possible freight. How 
 dexterously they are managed, and what a 
 commotion their arrival creates ! Every 
 Greek on board captain, crew, and passen- 
 gers shouts advice while the loading con- 
 tinues, and each word uttered is emphasized 
 with a gesture. A pillar of Aphrodite's an- 
 cient temple is visible from the deck, as well 
 as a new Christian church. One is discour- 
 aged when he reflects that the old edifice of 
 worship was chastely beautiful, while the 
 modern is an architectural nightmare. The 
 last point of interest before arriving at Proso 
 
Constantine 5 
 
 is Methana, whose sulphur-baths were cele- 
 brated in antiquity, and about whose shores 
 the sharks lay in wait for those bathers who 
 plunged into the sea to rid themselves of the 
 sulphur. 
 
 As you approach the harbour of Poros, its 
 narrow mouth is not visible, and the sturdy 
 steamer seems about to plunge into the rocky 
 hills that lift in front. But she makes a turn 
 and finds herself in the Strait ; and, as you 
 wind your way along, the orange and lemon 
 groves of the Peloponnesus unfold before you 
 like veritable gardens of the Hesperides. 
 Higher up, innumerable olive-trees cover the 
 hill-slopes with their feathery frondage, and 
 back of all, the mountains rear their eternal 
 buttresses. Suddenly, at the left, Poros 
 breaks upon the sight like a fairy town, with 
 its quaint houses of snowy whiteness, perched 
 one above the other up the side of a preci- 
 pice. At the farther end of the harbour an- 
 other watery lane leads out into the great sea 
 beyond the great sea, whose long swells 
 throb away to the shores of distant continents 
 more or less mythical to the Poriote. For is 
 not his world surrounded by mountains ? In 
 
6 Constantine 
 
 any direction that he looks he beholds a cir- 
 cling wall of gigantic hills, which bound his 
 ocean, his city, his ambitions, his life. Some- 
 times, when the wind is high, the Poriote lis- 
 tens to the vast roar of the waters behind the 
 hills, and says, " The waves are running high 
 to-night." Then he looks at the calm surface 
 of his own little lake and rejoices that he is 
 not of the great bustling world. 
 
 The town itself is situated on a tiny penin- 
 sula. To reach the Poriote's mainland, or 
 continent, you cross a narrow isthmus of 
 white sand and come to the island of Cala- 
 bria, which sent out a colony in old times to 
 Italy. Strangely enough, Greek is still spoken 
 in Italian Calabria, though it is spelled there 
 with Latin letters. On this mainland you 
 may make two excursions one to the mon- 
 astery, with its quiet cloister, famous spring, 
 and Homeric kitchen; the other to the site of 
 the ancient city and the Temple of Poseidon, 
 under the shadow of whose pillars Demos- 
 thenes breathed out his soul from his poison- 
 racked body, gazing with dying eyes towards 
 Attica, whose soil not even the charm of his 
 eloquence could save from the foot of the 
 
Constantine 7 
 
 traitor and the tyrant. It is pleasant to re- 
 flect that nowhere on earth exists a sublimer 
 prospect of the sea than those island-girt 
 patches shining far below the Temple of 
 Poseidon. 
 
 But the Poriote has also other diversions. 
 He can cross over to the peninsula of Argolis 
 in a boat, giving the sturdy rowers the just 
 Charon's fee of one penny, and can walk to 
 the site of the ancient city of Troezen. He 
 can go also to the Devil's Bridge, an arch of 
 early masonry spanning a frightful chasm, in 
 whose bed boils and gurgles a stream of clear 
 blue water. During the summer this rivulet 
 tumbles in long, thin cataracts over high 
 rocks, spreads out in glittering sheets on the 
 clean sand, or collects in deep cool basins at 
 whose sides one might imagine another Nar- 
 cissus pining away in despairing love of his 
 own girl-like beauty. Here, curtained with 
 overhanging moss, are dim caverns which the 
 simple shepherd-folk people with nereids, 
 lineal descendants of the water-nymphs of 
 old. In earliest spring sweet flowers bloom 
 in Argolis the shy and fragrant violet, the 
 exquisite heliotrope, the gaudy anemone, and 
 
8 Constantine 
 
 shrubs covered with pink and white bloom. 
 But most beautiful of all, and dearest to the 
 heart of the Greek, is the almond-tree, that in 
 February banks the hillsides with patches of 
 flowery snow. If one wishes, he may take a 
 sailboat and flit out through the southern 
 mouth of Poros Bay, and turning soon to 
 land, draw up the prow on the shelly sand, 
 under the very spot so loved and so often 
 visited by King Otho and sweet Queen Ama- 
 lie. The old boatmen still remember the first 
 king of modern Greece. High up on the 
 mountain-side is a spot shaded by large trees 
 and refreshed by a spring. The upward 
 climb is difficult, and your boatman, if he is 
 old enough, will tell you how easily Amalie 
 used to make the ascent, well-nigh impossi- 
 ble to the degenerate women of to-day. 
 
 The effect upon the sensibilities of a few 
 days' residence in Poros is peculiar. One is 
 so shut off for the time being from the vast- 
 ness of the world, from the dimness of far 
 horizons, from the vagueness of distant moun- 
 tains, from the beckoning of limitless seas, 
 that the passage outward through the little 
 Strait seems like the emergence from time 
 
Constantine 9 
 
 into eternity. Yet what need have the Pori- 
 otes ever to quit the shores of their tiny lake? 
 The sun shines warm there in winter, and the 
 sea-breeze blows fresh and fragrant all the 
 summer long. They have everything that 
 mortals need; grandeur of mountains, beauty 
 of stars, fruitfulness of flowering vale and 
 hillside, and variety of the inconstant sea. 
 Then the rising of the moon, night after 
 night, from behind the mountain wall, is a 
 scene of endless delight each time slightly 
 differing in shape and hour of rising, yet 
 always seeming to leap suddenly from the hill- 
 tops, and to gaze with wonder down upon 
 the white town snuggled in this cup of earth. 
 How suddenly, too, she pours the cup full of 
 golden light! When one has nothing else to 
 talk of at Poros he can discuss with some 
 friend the question: Which is more beauti- 
 ful there, the rising or the setting of the sun? 
 As for me, I prefer the latter, because the sun 
 goes down behind the Sleeping Woman, that 
 sublime mountain which God hewed in the 
 beginning in the form of a dreaming giantess. 
 How placidly she lies! The knees drawn 
 reposefully up, the head thrown back in utter 
 
io Constantine 
 
 abandonment of rest, the noble face turned 
 heavenward with closed eyes. Old, crude 
 nations have come and passed away while she 
 had been sleeping for a thousand years; the 
 dawn of tradition blazed into the noonday of 
 history, and she did not awaken; long cen- 
 turies of yearning for the beautiful brought 
 exquisite arts into perfect bloom, and she still 
 slept on. Who knows of what she is dream- 
 ing? One thing only is certain when the 
 sun has but just disappeared behind those 
 cold, placid features they take on a softer 
 look, an expression of benign, celestial dig- 
 nity, of unutterable beauty. 
 
 The people that I know best in Poros are 
 the Doctor, Aleko, and the old sea-captain, 
 all pure Greeks, such as one can hardly meet 
 in that Frenchy capital, Athens. The two 
 former are always on the wharf when the 
 steamer comes in, and they greet the visitor 
 from Athens as though he had unexpectedly 
 arrived from another world. Aleko is an 
 ancient Greek come down to these days from 
 the time of Lucian. He speaks his native 
 tongue with great eloquence and perfection, 
 
Constantine 1 1 
 
 and is a purist in the use of it. Much of the 
 day he spends across the Strait in his orange 
 grove, alone, save for the society of his fowls, 
 that follow him about with evidences of aftec- 
 tion surprising in such silly birds. There, 
 amid the date-trees and clambering rose- 
 bushes, he has built him a little study, taste- 
 fully furnished, and overflowing with books. 
 Besides the Classics, one finds there Bikelas's 
 translation of Shakespeare, Goethe's Faust, 
 Poe's Tales, and many other masterpieces, all 
 admirably done into modern Greek. I see 
 him now as I write, small of stature and dark 
 of face, aesthetic, noble-minded, excitable, 
 patriotic. The ardent dream of his life is to 
 be in the front ranks when the Greeks retake 
 Constantinople ; and if the army consisted of 
 such patriots as he, it would start for the 
 Macedonian frontier to-morrow. 
 
 The old sea-captain was a trusty follower of 
 King Otho. He dresses still as when in the 
 service, and uses as frequently as possible the 
 few German words that he still remembers. 
 When sober, he talks in a gruff voice of King 
 Otho's virtues; when made romantic by drink, 
 
12 Constantine 
 
 he punctuates his meditative silence by sighs 
 emitted at regular intervals, and exclamations 
 of "Ah, beautiful Queen Amalie ! " 
 
 The Doctor is the Marco Polo of the place. 
 He goes to Athens about once every quarter, 
 and returns with whistled reminiscences of the 
 latest airs, and with greetings and gifts from 
 old-time Poriotes, not seen by their friends 
 for many years. Often have I sat in the little 
 cafe" by the seashore, and looked through the 
 dingy window while the raindrops pimpled 
 the harbour, and the waters crept over the 
 pier almost to the door. There, while the 
 narghiles bubbled soothingly, and the Turkish 
 coffee filled the room with its aroma, have I 
 told of the wonders of New York and Chicago, 
 and listened in turn to tales of Greek life. 
 
 I first saw Constantine at the Poros monas- 
 tery. Aleko, the Doctor, and I were taking 
 our coffee under the great oak-tree, and were 
 gazing silently at the Strait, glimmering like 
 a mirror, far below, in the rays of the afternoon 
 sun. Suddenly the figure of a man, tall, bent, 
 and old, shuffled by us. His clothing was 
 ragged, and hung loosely about his shrivelled 
 limbs. He wore a brimless felt hat, drawn up 
 
Constantine 13 
 
 to a peak in the crown, like a fool's cap. In 
 each hand was an earthen jar, and he was on 
 his way to the spring for water for the monks. 
 His slippers slapped against his soles as he 
 walked, and he was muttering to himself. 
 " Poor fellow ! " I ejaculated in my own 
 tongue, for a sense of pity seized me ; and 
 the influence of the sea and the mountains 
 was swept away in a moment. The Doctor 
 did not understand the words, but the tone 
 was not lost upon him. "Constantine !" he 
 called, and the human wreck approached. 
 The Doctor repeated the first line of a little 
 poem by Heine, and paused. Constantine 
 recited the next line of the quatrain mechan- 
 ically, but broke off in the middle of the third, 
 and recommenced his rambling. " Constan- 
 tine!" said the Doctor again, sharply, and the 
 experiment was repeated with another poem 
 from German literature, with the same result. 
 Finally, the wreck drank the dregs in each 
 of our coffee-cups, picked up his water- jugs, 
 and shuffled away, mumbling as he went. 
 
 A human mind in ruins is always the most 
 pitiable spectacle in the world; but this ruin, 
 for some reason or other, saddened me inde- 
 
14 Constantine 
 
 scribably. I looked enquiringly at my friends. 
 " Love," said the Doctor laconically, in 
 Greek. 
 
 " Love and betrayed friendship," added 
 Aleko ; "but the Captain knows the story 
 better than any of us. Let him tell us this 
 evening at the cafe*." 
 
 The story that the Captain told, with the 
 addition of other information obtained at 
 Athens, forms the basis of this truthful tale. 
 
Chapter II 
 
 In the fall of 1835 a three-masted schooner 
 was daintily picking her way through the 
 Cyclades. In general appearance she did not 
 differ much from hundreds of other Greek 
 vessels which at that time were enriching their 
 owners in the ports of France, Russia, and 
 Germany, and even in those of distant Eng- 
 land. But our story begins on her deck ; and 
 as far as two human beings were concerned, 
 she represented the consummation of long- 
 cherished plans. Every plank in her sides 
 had been talked of long before they were fitted 
 into place, and her white sails had often 
 gleamed on the seas of youthful fancy. She 
 was the realization of a boyish dream, and had 
 been built by two young friends, whose love 
 was so great that they had always addressed 
 each other by the endearing term of " brother." 
 The schooner's name, inscribed upon her 
 stern in classic letters, bore testimony to this 
 15 
 
1 6 Constantine 
 
 friendship. She was known as the Two 
 Brothers. 
 
 The Two Brothers was painted green. 
 She was 109 feet long and 27 feet amidships. 
 She had been built in Syra, of Russian tim- 
 ber, and the beams that strengthened her 
 roomy hold were stout as the ribs of a giant. 
 In front of her foremast was the hand-engine 
 for lowering and raising the anchor. This 
 was worked by long iron handles, which, when 
 fitted in the sockets, curved outward to the 
 edges of the deck on either side. These same 
 handles also served for the pump, a double- 
 barrelled affair behind the mainmast. Di- 
 rectly back of the foremast was the kitchen, 
 which was little else than a wooden box, high 
 enough for a man to stand in comfortably, 
 and sufficiently large for him to turn round 
 in, after making allowance for the space occu- 
 pied by the cooking-place. This latter was 
 neither stove, oven, nor fireplace, in the ordi- 
 nary sense of those words, but was merely an 
 altar of solid brick masonry, built up to about 
 four feet in height. On top, in the centre, 
 a depression had been dug, in which charcoal 
 was fanned into a blaze by means of a broom, 
 
Constantine 17 
 
 when such an article existed, or failing this, 
 an old hat. Over this aperture, when the 
 coals were alive, an iron grate would be laid, 
 on which meat was broiled, or a pot set for 
 boiling beans and salads. If the truth must 
 be told, the black iron pot figured on the fire 
 more often than the lamb-chop or spring 
 chicken, for the diet of the Greek sailor con- 
 sists largely of bread and huge quantities of 
 boiled greens, anointed with rancid olive-oil 
 and lemon-juice. When greens are unob- 
 tainable, beans usually take their place. The 
 interior of the kitchen was adorned with 
 ridges and stalactites of creosote, and on the 
 walls hung various long-handled implements 
 for the making of black coffee, and for other 
 culinary purposes. There was no outlet for 
 the smoke except the door, and the sailor who 
 performed the duties of cook had gradually 
 assumed an appearance which would have 
 done credit to Old Sooty himself. As often 
 as the smoke within became unendurable, the 
 sailor rushed choking from the door. When 
 he washed his face and hands, which he did 
 not do over once a week, a veritable trans- 
 formation took place. 
 
1 8 Constantine 
 
 Well aft was the captain's cabin, ten feet by 
 eight square, and just high enough for a tall 
 man to stand in. The furniture consisted of 
 a table and four wooden chairs. On the 
 walls hung a barometer, a little clock, and 
 the inevitable picture of Saint Nicholas a 
 benevolent-faced and heavily bewhiskered per- 
 sonage to whom the Greek sailor looks for 
 special aid and protection. In cold weather 
 an iron stove about the size of a milk-pail 
 roared away merrily in the cabin, and warmed 
 both this apartment and the sleeping-room, 
 which latter was barely large enough to hold 
 a bunk on either side. These luxurious quar- 
 ters were lighted by a single small window, 
 opening into the dining-room. Here the two 
 friends and partners had been wont to par- 
 take of their homely sailors' fare together, or 
 to sip their resin wine and smoke innumer- 
 able cigarettes, while planning future voy- 
 ages, or talking over boyhood days in the isle 
 of Poros. 
 
 The crew lived upon deck, and even slept 
 there, except in very cold weather, when they 
 spent the night in small bunks, also built aft. 
 
 Before finishing our description of the 
 
Constantine 19 
 
 Two Brothers, we must not forget the 
 figure-head, which was naught else than 
 Nicholas himself, crudely done in wood, and 
 looking benevolently down upon those waters 
 over which he was supposed to exert so be- 
 nign an influence. Indeed, the safety with 
 which the gallant schooner outrode the 
 severest weather, and the luck of her commer- 
 cial ventures, were attributed to the guardian 
 care of the saint a trust which he has not 
 even yet abandoned, for she is still defying 
 the waves, and may be seen occasionally in 
 the harbour of the Piraeus to this day. 
 
 At the time of which we write, the Two 
 Brothers had been absent for nearly a year's 
 cruise, visiting ports of the Black Sea and the 
 Danube for the purpose of selling a cargo of 
 Greek products, consisting of olive-oil, wine, 
 silks, and so forth. She was now returning 
 to the Piraeus, laden with Russian wheat. 
 Thus far, all had gone well on the cruise. 
 The original cargo had been sold at a profit, 
 and the good ship had been attended on her 
 return voyage by fair winds and pleasant 
 seas. She was now off the western coast of 
 the Isle of Andros. Another day or two at 
 
2O Constantine 
 
 most, and the southern point of Attica would 
 be passed, and not long after the hill of Lyca- 
 bettos would move into view, like an island 
 floating in the mist. 
 
 But alas! now when the goal was so nearly 
 reached, one of the two friends had been 
 taken suddenly and seriously ill. There was 
 no doctor on board, not even one of those 
 old women in whose incantations and herb 
 concoctions the ignorant Greek places so 
 much confidence. A sailor, who claimed an 
 amateur knowledge of medicine, had bled the 
 unfortunate man, and had brewed him a hot 
 drink of some magic plant gathered at the 
 right phase of the moon. Incense had also 
 been burned before the picture of St. Nicho- 
 las, but to no avail. The sufferer grew worse 
 and worse. He was lying upon the deck, 
 wrapped in blankets, looking between the 
 white sails at the whiter clouds drifting in the 
 heavens far above. 
 
 " Spiridon," said he, in a husky voice, to his 
 partner, who knelt beside him; "I believe 
 I 'm dying." 
 
 "Bah, bah, bah!" replied the other; "what 
 are you saying?" 
 
Constantine 21 
 
 "I feel weaker and weaker every minute. 
 Besides, I had such a horrible dream just now. 
 I thought I was on a steep, lonely mountain, 
 and there, in a cave, I saw three terrible old 
 women. The wind blew their thin grey hair 
 about their heads, and their backs were bent, 
 but their eyes blazed like lightning. They 
 all pointed their fingers at me and shrieked, 
 'He shall never see Poros any more. The 
 flowers shall bloom there in the springtime, 
 but his Maroula, the fairest flower of all, shall 
 wither away because he does not come.' Oh! 
 it was horrible! " 
 
 And the sick man shivered as with a chill. 
 
 " You must n't mind the dream. These 
 are childish fancies that we learned when 
 boys, and they come into your head because 
 you are weak. Be quiet now, and I '11 make 
 you a cup of coffee. Courage, courage! " 
 
 Spiridon hastened away to the kitchen. 
 After a few moments he returned, walking 
 gingerly, and holding in each hand a steam- 
 ing cup of Turkish coffee. 
 
 " Here, my brother, drink this," he said, 
 placing one of the cups on the deck and 
 
12 Constantine 
 
 offering the other. " It '11 warm you up, and 
 make you feel better." 
 
 " It 's no use," replied Loukas, for such was 
 the sick man's name. " I 'm sure my time 
 has come. Oh! it 's hard to think I '11 never 
 see my Maroula any more! Do you remem- 
 ber how sweet she looked that night, with the 
 orange wreath about her brow! How she 
 blushed, and how her eyes shone! Do you 
 know how beautiful her eyes are? But you 
 can't know. Nobody but me can know that. 
 They look into mine so tenderly when I go 
 away, so joyfully when I come back. You '11 
 protect her and care for her when I 'm gone, 
 won't you, Koumbare? She has no relatives 
 no one but me, you know." 
 
 " Courage, brother, courage," said Spiri- 
 don; " don't give way like this. You 're not 
 going to die. Make up your mind to live, 
 and you will. Just keep thinking about 
 Maroula, and you '11 pull through. She 's 
 waiting for you, and the wind is fair." 
 
 Loukas lifted one feeble hand, and pulling 
 his partner closer to him, whispered some- 
 thing in his ear. In reply, Spiridon motioned 
 away the two or three sailors who were stand- 
 
Constantine 23 
 
 ing near. Then the man who was to live for 
 years bent with his ear close to the face of 
 the man whose minutes were numbered, and 
 listened. 
 
 When Spiridon rose to his feet again, his 
 countenance bore an expression of mingled 
 wonder and doubt. He walked to the rail, 
 crossing himself as he went, and looked into 
 the sea. For a long time he stood thus, 
 meditating, while the mellow sun slid down 
 the western sky. 
 
 "Can it be true? or is his mind wander- 
 ing?" he muttered many times. He started 
 like a guilty man when an old sailor touched 
 him on the arm. 
 
 " Well, what do you want?" asked Spiridon 
 sharply. 
 
 " Your pardon, Capitane," replied the 
 sailor, "but I think he is wrestling with 
 Charon." 
 
 Spiridon hurried to Loukas's side, and found 
 him actually in the throes of death. " Lou- 
 kas! Loukas! " he called several times, but 
 Loukas answered not. For one moment a 
 look of intelligence lit up the glazing eyes, 
 and the white lips moved in a vain effort to 
 
24 Constantine 
 
 speak. The limbs shivered faintly, and all 
 was over. 
 
 Spiridon removed his hat and crossed him- 
 self, and all the members of the crew, seeing 
 the action, understood its meaning, and did 
 likewise. 
 
 "How bitter a thing is death!" said he. 
 ' Where he finds two, he carries away one; 
 where three, he seizes two; and where one 
 alone, him he does not spare. He is unyield- 
 ing, he is blind. He takes the mother, even 
 though she has a babe at the breast; he takes 
 the sister from the brother; he takes the hus- 
 band of the newly wedded bride. May I be 
 buried alive, my brother, if I do not do unto 
 yours as though they were my own!" 
 
 Spiridon closed the eyes of his dead friend, 
 and crossed the hands tenderly upon the 
 breast, after which he called four sailors, who 
 carried the body into the cabin, and laid it 
 gently upon the floor, with the head to the 
 east. Rough men though they were, wild 
 and uncouth-looking in the uncertain light, 
 they dragged their hats from shaggy heads 
 and crossed themselves reverently. When 
 they had gone from the bare and narrow 
 
Constantine 25 
 
 room, Spiridon took his own heavy capote 
 from his shoulders and laid it over the dead 
 form, after which, in default of candles, he lit 
 a lantern and set it at the head. Then call- 
 ing a sailor, he bade him stay in the room with 
 the body, while he walked aft to the seaman 
 at the wheel. 
 
 This latter was a young man, but he was 
 from Andros, and knew well every dangerous 
 rock about his native isle, as well as every 
 quiet bay in which a ship might safely come 
 to anchor. 
 
 " You are an Andriote, Barbandone," said 
 the Captain; " is there not a little Church of 
 the Wilderness near here somewhere?" 
 
 "Certainly, certainly," cried Barbandone 
 with animation; "it overlooks the sea from 
 the top of a steep cliff. If he is still alive, 
 the monk, old Papa Demetrius, lives alone 
 in it." 
 
 " Can you take the ship there? and can we 
 reach the church from the shore?" asked 
 Spiridon. 
 
 " Certainly, certainly. There is a beauti- 
 ful bay, with a long, moon-shaped beach. I 
 know the place well. A path leads through 
 
26 Constantine 
 
 Solon's vineyard, and then up a ravine, and 
 finally around the hill to the church itself. 
 We can be there by midnight" 
 
 " Let us go, then," said Spiridon. 
 
 As Barbandone had prophesied, the 
 schooner came to anchor shortly after mid- 
 night in a semi-circular bay, at the foot of a 
 cliff. The moon was riding round and high 
 in the cloudless heavens, and its light fell full 
 upon the little house of God, perched on the 
 rock, far above the sailors' heads. The entire 
 crew stood in a group on the deck. 
 
 "Papa Demetri! Papa Demetri!" called 
 Barbandone lustily many times, but no an- 
 swer came from above. 
 
 "The church is empty," said Spiridon; 
 " the old eagle has left his nest." 
 
 " Let us try once more," urged Barbandone, 
 bringing an old-fashioned gun from his berth 
 and discharging it. Very loud and strange 
 sounded the report in the silent night, and 
 two or three startled echoes called to each 
 other among the distant hills. 
 
 " Hallo! " shouted a faint voice, seemingly 
 from the clouds; " who is that down there in 
 the shadow? and what do you want?" 
 
Constantine 27 
 
 They looked up. There stood the old 
 priest on the edge of the precipice, his form 
 clearly outlined in the overflowing moonlight. 
 His long hair blew about his shoulders, and 
 his venerable beard broke in a cataract upon 
 his breast. His body was clad in a long cas- 
 ock, tied about the waist with a rope. 
 
 " It is I," shouted the helmsman, putting 
 up his hands trumpet-wise; "I, Barbandone, 
 son of old Vasili of Batse." 
 
 " God bless you, my son," floated down in 
 a thin voice, as if from heaven; "and God 
 bless all the good Christians with you." 
 
 " We have work for you," cried Spiridon. 
 " Rest quiet; we are coming up." Then, 
 turning to the crew, he explained for the first 
 time: " Our brother, before he died, made me 
 promise that he should have Christian burial, 
 and that he should lie in the solid earth. 
 None of his family sleep in the sea. His 
 father, and his grandfather before him, rest 
 among the rocks at Poros; and it is not good 
 that he should drift alone among the wander- 
 ing waves. Let us carry him to the church." 
 
 The body was brought out, put in the boat, 
 and rowed to shore. There it was laid on a 
 
28 Constant! ne 
 
 blanket in lieu of a bier. Six sailors seized 
 this by the corners and the two sides, and 
 with heads uncovered the entire distance the 
 rude procession wound its way to the church. 
 Over the level sand they went, snow-white in 
 the rays of the old Greek moon, and the flat 
 cuttlefish bones crunched under their feet, 
 through Solon's vineyard and his olive 
 orchard on the hill-slope, and then into the 
 long ravine that by day blazed with oleander 
 flowers. When the ravine flattened out and 
 lost itself in the mountain side, they followed 
 the winding footpath worn by many worship- 
 pers, coming at last to the summit of the pre- 
 cipice, and the little church. This edifice was 
 built of stone, and was very tiny indeed not 
 large enough to hold more than a dozen 
 people in comfort. In the rear a holy of 
 holies had been partitioned off, before the 
 door of which hung a cheap calico curtain. 
 On the wall was an altar and a picture of the 
 Virgin painted on a piece of board about 
 four inches square. The features were nearly 
 obliterated, as if by exposure to the elements 
 for was not this same Virgin found by a 
 shepherd-youth on the very spot where the 
 
Constantine 29 
 
 church now stands? Old Papa Demetri lived 
 alone in the church, and slept on its earthen 
 floor. A very holy man was he. Years ago 
 he retired to a convent, in order that, far 
 from the distracting affairs of men, he might 
 fix his mind on things spiritual. But even in 
 the convent he found a human community, 
 with its jealousies and hates, its petty ambi- 
 tions and disappointments. So he hung his 
 little bundle over his shoulder on a staff, and 
 hurried away by night to the Church of the 
 Wilderness as soon as it was built. Right 
 fortunate was he, too, for ere morning three 
 other priests had pushed open the door and 
 gone away disappointed at finding the lonely 
 dwelling inhabited. Here indeed could the 
 priest's soul grow. No sordid cares had he, 
 for his bread and wine were brought to him 
 by the simple island folk, and the ever-vary- 
 ing yet unchangeable sea filled his mind with 
 thoughts of the Infinite. 
 
 " God bless you, my children," said Papa 
 Demetri again, as the procession halted before 
 the church. " Lay your burden down within. 
 It is fit that a Christian should set forth to his 
 last resting-place from the house of God. 
 
30 Constantine 
 
 But have we wine here in which to wash the 
 body ?" continued he, after the questions con- 
 cerning the dead man's orthodoxy had been 
 satisfactorily answered. As if in reply, Spiri- 
 don produced a large bottle of wine, which 
 he had brought from the ship, and poor 
 Loukas's best clothes tied up in a winding- 
 sheet. The last-mentioned article had been 
 found among the sailor's effects a provision 
 for Christian burial in case of sudden death 
 abroad. 
 
 "Thou wert his nearest friend," said the 
 priest. Accordingly, Spiridon went in, washed 
 the body in wine, wrapped the winding-sheet 
 about it, and put the suit of best clothing on 
 over all. 
 
 Then the venerable father produced four 
 candles, which were lighted, and set two at 
 the head and two at the feet. While this was 
 going on a faint halloo was heard far down 
 the mountain side, and ere long Barbandone, 
 whose absence had not been noticed, came 
 up. He was supporting an old woman, who 
 dropped his arm as soon as she had gained 
 the summit, and leaning both her wrinkled 
 hands upon a short staff, looked about her. 
 
Constantine 3 1 
 
 She was very aged, and every passing year had 
 left its furrow on her yellow face. She was 
 clad in black, and wore a black handkerchief 
 over her head. Her hair was unkempt and 
 grey, but her dark eyes gleamed with un- 
 quenched youth. 
 
 " I have brought old Mother Maria," ex- 
 plained Barbandone, " the most famous 
 mcerologist on the island. She lives in a lit- 
 tle cabin on Solon's place." 
 
 Old Mother Maria seated herself on a stool 
 by the corpse, and commenced to rock slowly 
 to and fro, groaning lugubriously the while. 
 About her in the crowded church, and lean- 
 ing through its door, stood the rough, hairy 
 sailors, bareheaded. As the old woman con- 
 tinued to rock, her grief increased, and her 
 uncouth listeners became visibly affected. 
 Suddenly she broke out in fierce denuncia- 
 tion of the dead man, demanding, 
 
 " What right had you to die, far from your 
 home, and leave thus your young wife and 
 the friends of your youth? What wrong have 
 you suffered that you should treat all who are 
 dear to you in this shameful way? " 
 
 Continuing, she assumed the character of 
 
32 Constantine 
 
 the wife in lamentation and praise of the de- 
 ceased, and of the husband in reply. All this 
 was delivered in a wild, monotonous key, and 
 in a voice inexpressibly sad. It is impossible 
 to give a correct idea of a moerologion in 
 another tongue, because much that impresses 
 the simple-minded hearer as pathetic seems 
 ridiculous in a translation to the cultivated 
 reader. The following lines will perhaps give 
 an imperfect idea of old Maria's impromptu 
 song. Doggerel in Greek, it can be nothing 
 better than doggerel in English. The reader 
 must try to put himself in the place of the 
 old woman's ignorant hearers, and to imagine 
 himself in the little church, with the body of 
 Loukas actually before him. 
 
 [The Wife.} 
 Up to the sky I 'd like to fly, and there so humbly 
 
 sitting, 
 On paper white thy praises write, no single one 
 
 omitting. 
 Up to the sky I 'd like to fly, and tell my mournful 
 
 story: 
 We 'd see why thou deniest me, my darling man, 
 
 my Glory. 
 I liken thee, my husband, to a stately tree in 
 
 measure, 
 
Constantine 33 
 
 That groweth in the garden where the Queen doth 
 
 take her pleasure. 
 If but the hills would lower, like the light would I 
 
 dart over, 
 And fall upon the eyes and the eyelids of my 
 
 lover. 
 Thou wast a windowed tower and a casket decked 
 
 the rarest, 
 Amid thy goodly brothers thou wast stateliest and 
 
 fairest. 
 My beauteous flower, my darling bird, to foreign 
 
 countries winging, 
 The foreign land hath ruined thee : how sad is now 
 
 my singing. 
 This day is black, this day the skies are by the 
 
 light forsaken, 
 This day when father from his child so cruelly is 
 
 taken. 
 Charon himself deserves to die, two silver swords 
 
 should smite him ; 
 He separateth man and wife, and mother's tears 
 
 delight him. 
 My Orange and my Mousmoula, in widowhood I '11 
 
 tarry ; 
 Yes, all my life I '11 wait for thee, and never, never 
 
 marry. 
 I '11 wander up the mountain side; perhaps the 
 
 wolves will lend me 
 Some plant, that if I eat of it, to my true love will 
 
 send me. 
 
34 Constantine 
 
 [The Husband.] 
 
 The foreign country holdeth me, my native land is 
 
 calling, 
 My wife for me doth vainly sigh, her bitter tears 
 
 are falling. 
 
 [The Wife.} 
 No other comfort save my tears have I to ease my 
 
 yearning; 
 They fall like dew upon my heart, and help to 
 
 quench its burning. 
 
 As the old woman neared the end of her 
 song, her voice sank lower and lower, until 
 nothing was heard but an indistinguishable 
 wail, mingled with sobs. When it became 
 evident that the moerologion was finished, 
 the priest burned some incense in a small 
 earthen cup, and said the usual prayers. 
 Then the procession started for the lonely 
 grave, which two of the sailors had already 
 digged near the edge of the precipice. The 
 ship's boy was given a crude cross, which he 
 lifted on high. After him came four sailors 
 with the body on a blanket. Beside these 
 walked old Maria, wringing her hands and 
 groaning dismally, and followed by the priest 
 chanting the solemn service for the dead. 
 
Constantine 35 
 
 The body was soon lowered into the grave 
 and the brief ceremonial finished, after which 
 every one present threw in a handful of 
 earth. The two sailors seized their shovels, 
 but ere they had commenced to push in the 
 heap of fresh dirt, the voice of Spiridon was 
 heard, crying, " Hold ! " 
 
 All looked at him, and beheld the blade of 
 a long knife gleaming in his hand. In a mo- 
 ment he had dropped into the shallow grave, 
 and had commenced slitting the dead man's 
 clothing. 
 
 "That was not necessary, my son," said the 
 priest, when the curious ceremony had been 
 finished. "There are no grave-robbers in 
 this lonely part of the world." 
 
 " There is no part of the world so lonely 
 that it hath not evil men, my father," replied 
 Spiridon; "besides, the widow will grieve 
 less if she knows that all fitting things were 
 done." 
 
 "You did well, you did well," mumbled 
 the old woman. 
 
 At the church a tin cup was produced, and 
 the little group, standing in front of the door, 
 drank to the rest of the dead man's soul and 
 
36 Constantine 
 
 to the forgiveness of his sins. Each sailor in 
 turn, as the cup reached him, praised the vir- 
 tues or the wisdom of the deceased, closing 
 the brief panegyric with the prayer, " May 
 God give him rest," or " May God forgive his 
 sins." Spiridon spoke last : 
 
 " When we were foolish children," said he, 
 " we played together like twin kids. In boy- 
 hood we were inseparable, and when our 
 beards first began to sprout we joined our 
 fortunes. Nothing ever came between us to 
 cast the slightest shadow over our friendship. 
 And now, in a day, in a moment, Charon has 
 snatched him from me forever. He has left 
 a young flower in Poros that will wither when 
 it receives no more the sunshine of his smile. 
 Her will I take to my mother's house, and she 
 shall have the just share of my earnings hence- 
 forth, as though her husband were still alive. 
 I promised him I 'd take care for his widow, 
 and she shall be as my own sister. Farewell, 
 my brother, may your memory be eternal! " 
 
 So one of the friends was left in his grave 
 on the cliff, and the other sailed away in the 
 early morning. As the white canvas of the 
 schooner filled with the breeze, the sun rose 
 
Constantine 37 
 
 from a distant island, and the wimpling 
 waters of the ^Egean blushed rosily. The old 
 priest came out upon his cliff and spread his 
 arms, crying, " God bless you, my children," 
 in a voice that floated over the waters, faint 
 but distinct. The sailors, standing upon the 
 deck, looked up and crossed themselves. 
 
Chapter III 
 
 The living-room in a neat little cottage in 
 the island of Poros was filled with guests, evi- 
 dently there on some important occasion, for 
 all bore evidence of having paid careful at- 
 tention to their toilet. The men wore clean 
 fustanellas, and the silver handles of elabo- 
 rately adorned daggers protruded from more 
 than one silken sash. Several of the girls had 
 donned gold-embroidered jackets of velvet, 
 and all wore highly coloured handkerchiefs of 
 silk twisted about their heads. 
 
 Very primitive indeed, according to Eng- 
 lish or American ideas, was the apartment in 
 which this assembly was gathered. In one 
 corner stood the bed, a solid block of masonry 
 about six feet long and four wide. A stone 
 wall four inches high ran along the outer edge 
 of the top, to keep the occupants from roll- 
 ing out. Within the enclosure thus formed 
 lay a rough mattress of straw, on which were 
 38 
 
Constantine 39 
 
 piled several home-made rugs and one or two 
 sheepskins. A picture of the Virgin Mary 
 and the church at Tenos, together with a few 
 wooden chairs and a table, completed the 
 adornment and furnishing of the room. The 
 house was built, like those below and above 
 it, on a shelf of a huge perpendicular rock. 
 It was reached by a flight of steps cut in the 
 stone, and besides the living-room, possessed 
 only one other the kitchen. Three windows 
 in front and a terrace overlooked the sea. On 
 the table already mentioned were three huge 
 coulouria, ring-shaped loaves of bread, resem- 
 bling life-preservers, besides various sweet- 
 meats, and an earthen pitcher of wine. 
 
 By the table sat an old woman, swaying a 
 young babe to and fro in her arms, which she 
 occasionally held up to view for the better in- 
 spection of some newly arrived guest. The 
 baby was evidently the hero of the evening. 
 
 "You are sure the wine is good? "asked 
 one of the women. 
 
 " It could n't be better," replie'd the baby's 
 nurse. 
 
 " It is famous," declared a young man, tast- 
 ing it and smacking his lips. 
 
40 Constantine 
 
 " And the sweetmeats," exclaimed a pretty 
 maiden with enthusiasm, " how lovely they 
 are! " 
 
 " The whole repast is a masterpiece," 
 chimed in another. " I am sure if the Fates 
 are not satisfied with this they are very hard 
 to suit. But are you certain you are not 
 afraid to stay alone, my Chryse? " 
 
 "Not I," said the old woman; "the Fates 
 will do nothing to me, and if they should try 
 to harm me, I have but to make the sign of 
 the cross, and call on the Holy Virgin. If 
 thou wilt, however, Widow Elene, thou mayest 
 remain with me." 
 
 The evening passed quickly, for conversa- 
 tion soon turned upon the appearance and 
 character of the Three Fates, those mysteri- 
 ous beings who come on the seventh night 
 after the birth of an infant and decide what 
 its future life shall be. For that reason the 
 poorest women in many parts of Greece set 
 out a feast at the appointed time, that the 
 dreaded visitors may be propitiated. If the 
 wine is of the best and the sweetmeats are 
 delicious, such an effect may be produced on 
 these whimsical beings as will have a favour- 
 
Constantine 41 
 
 able bearing on the infant's entire after-life. 
 Elene, the old woman who had agreed to 
 spend the night with the nurse, had on one 
 occasion seen the Three Fates. 
 
 " Tell us about it, tell us about it," cried 
 all the guests in chorus ; and every eye was 
 focussed on the old woman, who, thus becom- 
 ing the most important person in the room, 
 determined to be coaxed a little. 
 
 "You will not believe me," said she. 
 
 "Why, my widow," chorussed her would- 
 be listeners, "when did we ever doubt you?" 
 
 " You will say I was dreaming." 
 
 " Never, never." 
 
 " Or that perhaps I had been drinking too 
 much." 
 
 " We would never be so rude. We will 
 not go till you tell us." 
 
 "Go on," pleaded a fisherman, "and I'll 
 send you the first half-dozen fine red mullets 
 that I catch." 
 
 "And I," urged a shepherd, "will bring 
 you to-morrow an elegant bowl of Yaourti." 
 
 Thus persuaded, Elene seated herself and 
 took a pinch of snuff preparatory to com- 
 mencing her recitation. The titilating pow- 
 
42 Constantine 
 
 der seemed an hour producing the desired 
 effect, but when at length a series of violent 
 sneezes followed, every one good-naturedly 
 cried out, "Your health 1" Thus refreshed, 
 the old woman commenced. 
 
 " It was the seventh night after the birth of 
 little Yanko Melas. What a beautiful table 
 we had spread for the Fates! Wine of San- 
 torin, sweet as honey ; beautiful red resinato, 
 from the cellar of the old Melas himself ; 
 honey-cakes, Halva and Syra Loukoumi. 
 The whole table was hidden with good 
 things. Then there was a basin full of 
 strained Syra honey. At the edge of it we 
 stuck three newly made church candles and 
 lighted them. One we named Mary, one 
 Jesus Christ, and the other John the Baptist. 
 Papas Loukas read the creed three times, 
 after which we sat watching the candles. 
 How silent we were! Not a sound was heard, 
 save the occasional crying of the young ,babe, 
 who lay in my arms, so foolish and so inno- 
 cent, little knowing how much it all meant 
 for him ! " 
 
 " Suddenly the father shouted, ' It 's Saint 
 John, it's Saint John!' And sure enough, 
 
Constantine 43 
 
 although the three candles had burned down 
 almost together, the one we had dedicated to 
 John the Baptist sputtered and went out first! 
 The baby had not yet been baptized, as a 
 matter of course. So the koumbaros, who 
 was naturally present, determined to call him 
 Joannes, and he was baptized under that 
 name the very next Sunday. Finally, the 
 guests all went home, and I and the mother 
 were left in the room alone. We left the 
 door ajar, and went to bed. No danger of 
 our going to sleep! How we watched that 
 door! It was so still in there I could hear the 
 beating of Kuria Melas's heart! " 
 
 "Are you sure it was not your own?" 
 roguishly inquired the fisherman. 
 
 " If I am interrupted again," said the old 
 woman severely, "I shall not proceed." 
 
 "Remember the red mullets, my sister," 
 whispered some one at her elbow, and the 
 story continued. " Finally, just as the hour 
 was balancing at the summit of midnight 
 before sliding down on the morning side, 
 we heard the door go kruk! kruk! Slowly, 
 slowly it opened, and three terrible old 
 women came in! They were much taller than 
 
44 Constantine 
 
 human beings, and their eyes were like bright 
 swords." 
 
 "Holy Virgin!" exclaimed several of the 
 listeners, and all crossed themselves hurriedly. 
 
 " They went straight to the table, and one 
 of them tasted the wine. ' It is good,' said 
 she in a deep voice. ' 'T is a masterpiece,' 
 said the second. ' Such honey-cakes are rare,' 
 said the third. Then the first spoke again: 
 ' I grant him the gifts of the angels '; and the 
 second: 'Whenever he laughs, may two dewy 
 roses fall upon his cheeks'; and the third: 
 1 Whenever he weeps, may pearls flow from 
 his eyes!' Finally they threw a ring on the 
 table, with a stone in it that glittered like a 
 star, and all cried together: ' May it guard 
 him from every evil! ' After which they van- 
 ished, and the room gleamed for a moment 
 as with a sudden flash of lightning! " 
 
 "Holy Virgin!" exclaimed all present, 
 crossing themselves again. 
 
 "Did you find the ring?" asked the fisher- 
 man. 
 
 "Why not?" demanded the old woman. 
 " Yanko Melas wears it to this day; and has n't 
 he been fortunate all his life? As a boy he 
 
Constantine 45 
 
 escaped whooping-cough and measles! Once 
 he was in a caique which was upset, and all 
 were drowned except him! And now he is 
 to marry an heiress with twenty thousand 
 drachmas proeka! " 
 
 " That, of course, settles it," admitted the 
 doubting Thomas. " A cat might have eaten 
 the sweetmeats, but if the ring was there, that 
 settles it." 
 
 Towards eleven o'clock, after much drink- 
 ing of resin wine, and many toasts to the 
 babe's welfare, the guests departed, leaving 
 the two old women alone. Chryse placed the 
 infant in the high bed, Elene holding the 
 flickering candle. " Bless his bright eyes," 
 said the latter, standing tiptoe, and looking 
 into the child's face; "he deserves the best ! " 
 
 "And his mother dead, too, poor thing," 
 sighed Chryse. " Well, well, when the father 
 comes, he '11 have the consolation of knowing 
 that we did everything we could." With this 
 observation the nurse took the candle and set 
 it on the table. 
 
 "O Fates, daughter of Fates," said she 
 solemnly, " come and fate well this child of 
 dead Maroula, and give him Alexandria with 
 
46 Constantine 
 
 its mills, the sea with its ships, and Stamboul 
 with its diamonds ! " 
 
 Crossing themselves, the old women climbed 
 into bed without undressing, leaving the door 
 ajar and the candle flickering dimly on the 
 table. For some time they managed to keep 
 their eyes open, and as often as the wind 
 made the door creak, two comical old heads 
 rose from the bed and peeped cautiously about 
 the room. 
 
 " They 're coming," they whispered. 
 
 " No; it is not yet twelve." 
 
 " Now they 're coming." 
 
 " No; it was the wind." 
 
 But age and the resin wine at last triumphed 
 over superstition, and ere the mysterious hour 
 of twelve had arrived the grey-haired watch- 
 ers were wrapped in deep slumber, with the 
 innocent babe between them. A puff of wind 
 flew in like a frightened bat, and blew out the 
 candle with its wing, leaving the room in 
 utter darkness. Still the Fates came not ! 
 The crescent moon fell swift and keen as the 
 blade of a guillotine through the sky, and 
 disappeared behind the mountains, and yet 
 the Fates delayed ! Finally a ship drifted in 
 
Constantino 47 
 
 front of the dim-white town, and shed its sails 
 as the leaves are blown from a tree. The 
 anchor chain played out noisily, and ere the 
 long iron fingers of the anchor had gripped 
 the sand, a little boat had started for the 
 shore. The babe's fate sat at the helm ! No 
 sooner had the prow scrunched on the beach 
 than a man stepped over the seats and leaped 
 eagerly to shore. Without even looking be- 
 hind him, he strode across the sea-walk in 
 front of the town and plunged into a dark 
 narrow street leading, like all the others, up 
 the hill. He must have known his way well, 
 for when his form reappeared high up, dim in 
 the starlight, he was bearing off to the right, 
 and was still striding on without the least 
 hesitation. At last he arrived at the door of 
 the cottage where the two old women were 
 sleeping. 
 
 "The door is open," he muttered. " This 
 Maroula was always a fearless lass." Then 
 he called several times softly, " Maroula! Ma- 
 roula! Poor child, she does well to sleep! 
 She will wake too soon, at the quickest! " 
 
 "Did n't you hear something? " whispered 
 Elene, fearfully. 
 
48 Constantine 
 
 "No; I was sleeping"; and the two comical 
 old heads arose again from the bed. 
 
 "Maroula! Maroula! " called the man a 
 second time, louder. 
 
 "Hark' they're calling Maroula," whis- 
 pered Chryse, her teeth chattering; " they 
 don't know the poor thing is dead." Here 
 was a dreadful thought! The grim and mys- 
 terious visitors were ignorant of the mother's 
 death, and might be enraged at finding only 
 strangers in the house. The two heads 
 bobbed down into the bed and were immedi- 
 ately wrapped in the blankets, held tightly by 
 four withered hands. The shouting loudened, 
 but no answer came from within. The man 
 hammered at the door, and the babe awoke 
 and cried, but the old women only crouched 
 the closer in the blankets, and whispered the 
 name of the Virgin repeatedly. 
 
 At this, wonder overcame the midnight vis- 
 itor. "By all the saints," said he, "what 
 miracle is this? " Pushing open the door, 
 he walked boldly into the room. 
 
 A moment later he collided violently with 
 the table standing in the middle of the floor. 
 Over it he went, throwing down wine-bottle, 
 
Constantine 49 
 
 plates, glasses and candlestick with much clat- 
 ter. 
 
 Chryse and Elene sat up in bed and added 
 their terrified voices to that of the babe. The 
 man was now too overcome with perplexity to 
 say anything. He hastily drew flint and tin- 
 der from his pocket, and, after much scratch- 
 ing, produced a light, by the aid of which he 
 succeeded in finding the candle on the floor. 
 Lighting this, and holding it up to his face, 
 he advanced to the bed. 
 
 " In the name of St. Nicholas," said he, 
 "what hullabaloo is this? and what does it all 
 mean? " 
 
 "Chryse, Elene, do you not know me 
 me, Spiridon, who sailed away in the Two 
 Brothers? Where is Maroula? and whose lit- 
 tle one is this?" 
 
 The old women stared for a moment con- 
 fusedly at the stalwart sailor; but the face of 
 their fellow-townsman was too familiar for 
 them to remain long in doubt. 
 
 "It is himself," they said with a sigh of 
 relief. 
 
 "But where is Loukas?" asked Chryse. 
 " Did you leave him in the ship? We have 
 
50 Constantine 
 
 something here to show him. And we have 
 sad news for him sad news mingled with 
 good." 
 
 " Poor Loukas is dead. He will come to 
 Poros no more. He 's buried by a little 
 Church of the Wilderness in the Isle of 
 Andros." 
 
 The two old women looked silently into 
 each other's eyes, and crossed themselves 
 three times successively. 
 
 " But where is Maroula ? I 've come to tell 
 her the sad news." 
 
 " Do you tell him," said Elene, after a long 
 pause. 
 
 " No ; you tell him I cannot. It 's too 
 sad." 
 
 "Well, then, Maroula is dead too. She 
 died seven days ago giving birth to this little 
 one." " Here," continued Elene, bringing 
 the babe from the bed, " is the son of Loukas 
 and Maroula. Poor thing, you've got no 
 father nor mother now. So little, and all 
 alone in the world." 
 
 " Nay," cried Spiridon, his form shaken by 
 sobs; "it's not alone in the world. I'll be 
 father and mother and nounos to the boy. I 
 
Constantine 51 
 
 swear by my hopes of eternal life that he 
 shall be like my eyes to me. Come to your 
 nounos, my little Palikari." And Spiridon 
 handed the candle to Chryse and took the 
 child in his arms. The wee bundle of hu- 
 manity looked up for a moment with big 
 beautiful eyes into the face of the tall sailor. 
 And the two old women declared that it 
 smiled. 
 
 " God be praised ! " said they devoutly, 
 sobbing in their turn. 
 
 After the natural questions had been asked 
 and answered on both sides, Spiridon an- 
 nounced his intention of returning to the 
 ship, and bade Elene and Chryse good-night. 
 But the latter would not consent to remain in 
 the house. The repast of the Fates had been 
 rolled on to the floor. The terrible beings 
 might yet appear, and " Who knows," said 
 Chryse, "into what a dangerous rage they 
 may fly when they see the wine spilled and 
 the sweetmeats soiled with dirt?" 
 
 So Spiridon escorted the two old women 
 and the babe to Elene's house, and took his 
 own way back to the schooner. 
 
 "Is it not fortunate," asked the nurse, be- 
 
52 Constantine 
 
 fore retiring for a second time, " that the boy 
 has so good a protector ? " But Elene shook 
 her head. "Nay, nay," she answered; "the 
 Fates will come and find their feast scattered 
 on the floor. Who knows what evil things 
 they may say ? I fear greatly that 's a bad 
 
Chapter IV 
 
 The very next day Spiridon set out with his 
 mother and a party of her female friends in 
 search of baptismal garments and other 
 necessaries. The articles which he bought 
 were of the finest, and the gossips of Poros 
 long after applauded his generosity. He went 
 to the jeweller's and commanded a tiny cross 
 of solid gold with a slender chain of the same 
 material for the prospective Christian's neck. 
 Thence he went to the store of a man who 
 kept a stock of baptismal and marriage goods, 
 where, after much searching on his own part, 
 and more advice on that of his female com- 
 panions, he succeeded in selecting a complete 
 infantile outfit, from stockings to embroidered 
 jacket and tiny cap. So intent was he in the 
 purchase of these things that he nearly forgot 
 iheforia, or souvenirs for the guests. These 
 he ordered, to prevent ill-feeling, of the only 
 53 
 
54 Constantine 
 
 other jeweller in the place. They were all 
 alike silver stars, with a picture of Christ's 
 baptism stamped on one side and of his birth 
 on the other. One hundred souvenirs he 
 ordered, all with neat ribbons attached, that 
 the guests might easily pin them onto their 
 clothing. Nor did he cease his preparations 
 until he had purchased a huge candle of orna- 
 mental shape, gaily adorned with ribbons, 
 and three smaller ones of beeswax; the former 
 to be lighted and held during the ceremony, 
 the three latter to be fixed in sockets about 
 the edge of the font. 
 
 On the afternoon of the baptism the church 
 was filled. The sad story of the baby's father 
 and mother, and Spiridon's oath to act as its 
 natural protector, had excited general inter- 
 est. Never had old Papas Antoni been 
 more impressive in official robes, his long 
 grey hair tied up in a woman's knot at the 
 back of his head, and his white beard spread- 
 ing out like a fan upon his chest. The cere- 
 mony itself went off beautifully. Spiridon 
 looked very noble, dressed in white fustanel- 
 las, with his candle in his hand, and many 
 feminine ejaculations were heard as the nurse 
 
Constantine 55 
 
 appeared by his side, holding what seemed to 
 be a bundle of linen in her arms. 
 
 The priest lit the candles, made a circle 
 about the font with a censer, and blessed the 
 water, blowing three invisible crosses above it 
 with his lips. After the preliminary prayers 
 the babe was stripped of his wraps, and the 
 priest bathed him in olive oil, and made the 
 sign of the cross upon the child's forehead, 
 saying: "Constantine, servant of God, I 
 anoint thee with the oil of joy, in the name 
 of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen." 
 
 The same sacred sign was made upon Con- 
 stantine's chest, his ears, his hands, and his 
 feet: upon his chest, for the health of soul 
 and body; his ears, that he might hear the 
 words of faith; his feet, that he might walk 
 in the narrow way; his hands, because " Thy 
 hands made and fashioned me." Then the 
 priest took Constantine beneath the arms 
 and held him upright over the font, with his 
 face towards the east, saying: " I baptize thee 
 in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy 
 Ghost." He plunged him three times be- 
 neath the water; this being almost hot, Con- 
 stantine came up red as a rose, at which all 
 
56 Constantine 
 
 the women whispered in audible chorus, "The 
 poor little darling! " 
 
 The little darling did not seem to enjoy 
 the proceeding very much, for he spluttered 
 and gasped like a drowning man, and, as 
 soon as he had recovered his breath, broke 
 forth into a series of screams that quite 
 eclipsed all his previous efforts. After Con- 
 stantine had been dried with the sacerdotal 
 garment, he was handed to Spiridon, and the 
 most important part of the ceremony then 
 took place. The priest dipped a brush in a 
 small silver bottle filled with the Holy Chrism, 
 oil blessed in Constantinople by the Patri- 
 arch, and sent out to all the Greek churches 
 of the world; with this he marked the child 
 many times with the sign of the cross, saying 
 repeatedly, " The seal of the gift of the Holy 
 Spirit. Amen." 
 
 Papas Antoni now, for the first time dur- 
 ing the rite, allowed his face to relax into a 
 smile, for it now became his duty to take the 
 scissors attached to the silver bottle, and to 
 cut off three locks of hair from the shiny lit- 
 tle head. The hands of the priest looked 
 very clumsy during this operation, the shears 
 
Constantine 57 
 
 very big, and the white fuzz on the head ex- 
 tremely fine. But three imaginary locks were 
 finally cut off and thrown into the holy water 
 during universal tittering. Constantine was 
 dressed in the" clothes purchased for him by his 
 nounos; and then came Spiridon's turn to feel 
 proud. Taking the young Christian, who 
 looked very cunning indeed in the white bap- 
 tismal costume, upon his left arm, and hold- 
 ing the huge candle, gaily decked with ribbon, 
 in his right hand, he walked three times 
 around the font, accompanied by the holy 
 father. 
 
 That night half a dozen fires burned in 
 front of the house of Spiridon's mother, and by 
 each of them sat a boy slowly turning a long 
 spit six young lambs were being deliciously 
 roasted. About the door and in the princi- 
 pal room were collected a throng of guests, 
 for the nounos was giving a befitting dinner 
 to his friends. Wine flowed freely, and many 
 were the toasts drunk to the future prosper- 
 ity of Constantine, and to Spiridon's health 
 and happiness. Nor were poor Maroula and 
 Loukas forgotten; the courage and manliness 
 of the one were extolled, the beauty and 
 
58 Constantine 
 
 virtues of the other. Their happy marriage 
 was recalled by the simple villagers, most of 
 whom had been present on that occasion; and 
 now the two were sleeping far apart, the hus- 
 band on a lonely promontory in the Isle of 
 Andros, the bride in the village graveyard. 
 
 "But Constantine shall never miss them," 
 said Spiridon again and again; " I '11 be like his 
 own father to him, and my mother shall be 
 his mother." 
 
 "Ah! that will never do," cried Elene, 
 hearing this part of the programme. " Your 
 mother is getting old; we must find you a 
 wife, who '11 care both for Constantine and 
 the little mother." 
 
 "Bah, bah, bah! d 'you think if I were to 
 marry one of these beautiful maidens I could 
 go off and leave her behind ? I must keep 
 the ship going for the boy's sake; he shall 
 have his father's share of the profits." 
 
 At this some of the maidens blushed, and 
 some sighed. 
 
 " We '11 find you a wife with a proeka> you 
 so noble and handsome." 
 
 " Long live Mrs. Spiridon," cried a young 
 sailor, clicking his glass against that of his 
 
Constantine 59 
 
 neighbour, and the old woman's voice was 
 drowned in a sudden chorus of " Zetos." 
 
 "You must sell the ship and settle here," 
 she continued, when the cheering had sub- 
 sided. 
 
 " V/here all are so beautiful," said the host 
 gallantly, "it is hard to decide"; and all the 
 girls blushed. 
 
 But Elene was a famous and determined 
 matchmaker. After the guests had departed 
 she lingered and urged upon Spiridon the 
 necessity of matrimony. 
 
 "It is too soon after poor Loukas's death," 
 he objected sadly; "besides, I have not yet 
 met the particular maiden." 
 
 " It 's only the hills that do not meet," re- 
 plied the old woman, oracularly taking her 
 leave. 
 
Chapter V 
 
 As nounos, or godfather to the babe, Spiri- 
 don had taken upon himself obligations of 
 the most solemn nature. It became necessary 
 for him to instruct his charge, as the latter 
 advanced in years, in the precepts of the 
 Orthodox Church. He was considered the 
 boy's spiritual father, as it were, and therefore 
 a more important personage than the natural 
 parents. They had been instrumental in 
 bringing a life into the world; Spiridon had 
 officiated at that rite by which alone is it pos- 
 sible for a soul to enter upon the life eternal. 
 What sacred responsibilities, therefore, does 
 the nounos take upon himself; and if he ful- 
 fil them faithfully, what treasure of grace is 
 laid up to his credit in Heaven! But Spiri- 
 don, from the peculiar circumstances of the 
 case, was bound to this babe by still greater 
 ties of responsibility. The little one was the 
 relic of his dearest friend, and he had prom- 
 60 
 
Constantine 61 
 
 ised solemnly, in the presence of half the 
 inhabitants of Poros, to be more than a father 
 to him. And very touching it was to see the 
 strong sea-captain rocking the tiny infant in 
 his arms, singing to him the while sweet Romaic 
 cradle-songs in a deep but tender voice. 
 
 Many days the good ship lay at anchor like 
 a seagull with its wings folded, and still 
 Spiridon lingered on in Poros. Often the 
 kindly face of Papas Antoni peeped in at 
 the door, and his " God bless you, Christian 
 children," was so heartfelt that it fell like 
 mellow sunshine upon the souls of those 
 within. Mother Leonidas, too, took very 
 kindly to the babe, and applauded her son's 
 conduct. Indeed, this dear old lady was a 
 true Greek mother, which is only another way 
 of saying that her boy was her idol, and that 
 anything he did was apt to appear right in 
 her eyes. She welcomed Constantine the 
 more kindly, also, because she saw in him 
 an able ally in her long-cherished scheme 
 of making Spiridon give up the sea and 
 settle in Poros. For this reason she joined 
 her influence with that of the priest and the 
 matchmaker Elene, both of whom desired to 
 
62 Constantine 
 
 see the young man married. Many times was 
 Elene's crutch heard knocking at the door, 
 and numerous were the names of available 
 damsels whom she proposed. Each was repre- 
 sented as possessing peculiar charms of the 
 most irresistible nature, and the old woman 
 argued in favour of all with untiring volu- 
 bility. Finally, after sifting the list thor- 
 oughly, Mother Leonidas, Elene, and the 
 priest settled on Loukia Kastriotes as the 
 most suitable candidate, and urged her upon 
 Spiridon with such combined persistency that 
 he consented. 
 
 She was a black-eyed maiden of petite fig- 
 ure and attractive face. Spiridon objected 
 that her tongue was sharp and her character 
 too determined; but not even his mother 
 listened to him in this particular, for is it not 
 the husband's duty to exact obedience from 
 the wife ? Loukia was certainly pretty and 
 vivacious, and her proeka was equal to that of 
 any girl in the island. So the family of Le- 
 onidas made preliminary advances to the 
 family of Kastriotes, and after much negoti- 
 ating on both sides, the matter was settled. 
 Spiridon thereupon visited his prospective 
 
Constantine 63 
 
 bride, carrying her a pearl necklace and a 
 beautiful hand-mirror brought from Russia, 
 the like of which had never been seen before 
 in Poros. The engagement was announced, 
 and the day was fixed for the celebration of 
 the betrothal. 
 
Chapter VI 
 
 During all this time there had been some- 
 thing on Spiridon's mind. There was a cer- 
 tain matter concerning which he desired very 
 much to inform himself without exciting 
 suspicion, and if possible without assistance. 
 While he was perfectly honest in his demon- 
 strations of affection for the son of his late 
 partner and friend, yet he possessed a secret in 
 connection with the little one's fortunes which 
 he had as yet breathed to no one. The revela- 
 tions made to him by the dying Loukas were 
 sacred in the extreme, and the last request 
 should have been as binding as a will. If 
 Spiridon had made a clean breast to his fel- 
 low-townsmen, and asked their advice and aid 
 in carrying out the desires of his deceased 
 partner, he would have been saved all tempta- 
 tion; but he had within him the guile of the 
 Greek nature to contend against, that charac- 
 teristic which has flowed down the current of 
 6 4 
 
Constantine 65 
 
 Greek blood from the times of the Trojan 
 horse even to our own day. He did not 
 therefore mention this thing which he had on 
 his mind to any one, but lingered on at Poros 
 studying the problem night and day. What 
 his secret was will be better understood by 
 those who are acquainted with the island 
 itself. 
 
 Sphseria, on which the village of Poros is 
 situated, is no more nor less than a small 
 circular rock. The town is now supplied 
 with water by means of pipes that run under 
 the sea from the Peloponnesus opposite, but 
 in earlier times the inhabitants were obliged 
 to rely upon cisterns, capacious caverns hol- 
 lowed out in the solid rock, in which enough 
 water was collected during the long rainy 
 season, for drinking and cooking purposes the 
 remainder of the year. These reservoirs 
 usually consisted of a large pear-shaped cavity, 
 having a smaller receptacle at the bottom for 
 the collection of impurities. 
 
 Spiridon was haunted night and day by 
 the desire to drain the cistern of Loukas's 
 house, and to examine the smaller cavity at 
 the bottom. He went secretly and tasted the 
 
66 Constantine 
 
 water, but, to his disgust, found it remarkably 
 clean and good. Of course, as it was then 
 autumn, he might have had an excuse for 
 cleaning the cistern in preparation for the 
 fresh winter rains. But he wished to be very 
 sure of avoiding suspicion, so he slyly poured 
 several pails of brackish water from the har- 
 bour into the cistern, as well as a quantity of 
 loose rubbish. The next day, in the most 
 natural manner possible, he complained of 
 the water at his own house, which was getting 
 low, and went for a pailful to Loukas's. On 
 his way back to his own door he called the 
 attention of several villagers to the queer 
 taste of the pail's contents. Old Papas 
 Antoni and Elene, who had called during his 
 absence, both declared that the water in 
 Loukas's cistern had gone bad. 
 
 " I think of cleaning it out, putting the 
 house in repair, and renting it," said Spiri- 
 don. 
 
 "Are you crazy?" asked Elene. "Who 
 do you suppose would live in a house that 
 has proved itself unlucky ? " 
 
 "But Papas Antoni would bless the 
 place." 
 
Constantine 67 
 
 " Even so, it will be a long time before 
 any one else will care to live in it." 
 
 "At all events," persisted Spiridon, " there 's 
 no harm in draining the cistern and letting 
 it fill up with fresh water." 
 
 To this even Elene assented, and the very 
 next morning Spiridon had the pump un- 
 screwed from its place on the schooner's deck, 
 and brought on shore. A hole was bored 
 through a heavy plank, which was laid over 
 the reservoir's mouth. The pump was screwed 
 to the plank, the long handles were put in 
 place, and the emptying process was com- 
 menced; a goodly portion of the population 
 coming to look on at one time and another 
 during the day. So skilfully did Spiridon 
 manage the work that the valves did not 
 suck wind till about dusk, and many times 
 did he speak of the danger of going down 
 into an impure cistern, and the precautions 
 necessary to be taken. 
 
 "To-morrow," he said, to two or three men 
 who were peering curiously into the dark 
 cavity, "to-morrow we'll clean out the bot- 
 tom." 
 
 About ten o'clock that night, Spiridon 
 
68 Constantine 
 
 took a small boat and rowed out to the 
 schooner, on which Barbandone was staying 
 alone the rest of the crew being tempora- 
 rily discharged. Barbandone was sitting in 
 the cabin, sheath-knife in hand, carving the 
 head of an olive-wood walking-stick into the 
 form of a human fist. On the table sat a 
 tumbler of olive-oil, in which floated a bit of 
 cork transfixed by a tiny burning wick. 
 
 "What's running, effendi ?" asked the 
 young helmsman, as the form of his employer 
 appeared in the door. Spiridon seated him- 
 self in the only other chair the cabin pos- 
 sessed. 
 
 "There 's no moon to-night," said he irrel- 
 evantly. 
 
 " When the moon is away, the stars have a 
 better chance to shine," replied Barbandone, 
 looking shrewdly at the other, who sat with 
 his eyes fixed on the floor. A long silence 
 intervened, during which Spiridon cleared 
 his throat several times. Finally he broke 
 out abruptly in an unnatural voice : 
 
 " Barbandone, you 're in love, are you 
 not?" 
 
 " Is that what your honour came out here 
 
Constantine 69 
 
 to speak to me about ? " asked Barbandone, 
 looking up quickly. 
 
 " We '11 see. But I know all about it. Lit- 
 tle Sophia Vlakos. Ah ! I don't blame you. 
 She is a beauty, with her black eyes and red 
 cheeks. And those lips! when she eats cher- 
 ries they don't stain her mouth. She loves 
 you too, I am sure. But why won't her par- 
 ents let her marry you ? You, a big, fine 
 fellow, with the hearts of half the young girls 
 in Andros under your little finger ! " 
 
 " They say I 'm too poor for such a beauty. 
 They laugh at me and tell me that when I 
 come back with ten thousand drachmas in my 
 belt I can have Sophia." 
 
 " You shall have the ten thousand drach- 
 mas, Barbandone," said Spiridon. 
 
 " What ? " cried the young man, springing 
 to his feet. " Oh! tell me how I can get them. 
 But your honour is making fun of me. You 
 do not know how serious a matter this is to 
 me. Those ten thousand drachmas are the 
 one desire of my life, the prayer of my every 
 breath. I would go down into hell for them; 
 I would fight vampires for them; I would 
 swim from here to Stamboul for them. Since 
 
70 Constantine 
 
 old Vlakos told me that, I have pinched 
 every pendare as though it were my soul's 
 ransom. It is two years now, and I have 
 only five hundred drachmas. Oh, effendi! 
 Think of it; perhaps Sophia will be forced to 
 marry some one else, and then " 
 
 "Steady, steady," interrupted Spiridon; 
 "you shall have the money for half an hour's 
 work." 
 
 Barbandone did not seem for the moment 
 to comprehend these words. He gazed at his 
 employer stupidly for a few seconds without 
 speaking. Suddenly a wave of intelligence 
 passed over his face, and a frightened look 
 came into his eyes. 
 
 " You wish me to commit some great crime, 
 effendi, to avenge you on one of your ene- 
 mies, perhaps " said he in a despairing tone. 
 
 " Bah, bah, bah, bah, man ! What enemies 
 have I ? I merely wish you to help me in a 
 perfectly honest matter, which I will explain 
 to your satisfaction later, and to keep a 
 secret." 
 
 " Then," exclaimed Barbandone, " we can- 
 not commence too soon. What do we do 
 first? Behold, I am ready." 
 
Constantine 71 
 
 "First," replied Spiridon, "you must run 
 over with me to that rock on which stands the 
 little Church of the Virgin, and swear never 
 to reveal the thing that we do this night." 
 
 " I 'm afraid, effendi, the thing looks 
 crooked. One is not paid ten thousand 
 drachmas every day for doing right." 
 
 Spiridon seized a little gold chain about 
 his neck, and pulled his baptismal cross from 
 his bosom. 
 
 "See here, Barbandone," said he, kissing 
 the cross, "I swear to you by my hopes of 
 eternal life, that it is n't in my heart to do 
 wrong to any one. I have important business 
 which I can transact better alone than if the 
 whole world were mixed up in it. If I choose 
 to pay you ten thousand drachmas for your 
 assistance, that 's my business. Of course, 
 if you don't want the money " 
 
 " I want it; God knows I want it ! " 
 
 " Come along then; you must swear before 
 the Virgin to secrecy, because, if you don't, 
 Sophia will worm the matter out of you, and 
 when a woman knows a secret, the world 
 knows it." 
 
 Thereupon he took down from the cabin 
 
72 Constantine 
 
 wall the eikon of St. Nicholas, and placing it 
 reverently under his arm, he climbed down 
 into the boat, followed by the doubting but 
 eager helmsman. Silently the boat crept 
 through the darkness to the island rock on 
 which stood the church. While Barbandone 
 was making fast the boat, Spiridon hurried 
 up to the door and cautiously pushed it open. 
 
 " Perhaps," thought he. " some solitary 
 monk may have taken possession and be sleep- 
 ing on the floor." 
 
 But no, the place was empty. He took a 
 candle from his pocket, lit it, and set it in 
 drippings from its own wax upon the shelf 
 where stood the Virgin's picture painted on 
 a small board. Then he placed St. Nicholas 
 on the shelf by the side of the Blessed Mary, 
 and called softly to Barbandone to come in. 
 The latter obeyed tremblingly, removing his 
 hat, and crossing himself three times. He 
 was greatly overcome with the solemnity of 
 the hour and the loneliness of the place. The 
 two sacred images, side by side in the uncer- 
 tain light, seemed to look into his very soul. 
 Besides, the church was a very holy one, as the 
 Virgin had been known to manifest herself 
 
Constantine 73 
 
 miraculously there. Spiridon turned to the 
 two images. " Kiss them," said he. Barban- 
 done obeyed. "Now repeat what I say." 
 The helmsman repeated, sentence by sentence, 
 the following crude oath, which he remem- 
 bered all the rest of his life. 
 
 " I call upon the sacred Virgin Mother of 
 Christ, and the most holy St. Nicholas, to 
 witness that I swear never to tell to any soul, 
 living or dead, on sea or on land, the things 
 which I see, hear, and do this night. If I fail 
 to keep this oath, may I be unlucky in love 
 and in hate. May my race be servants for- 
 ever. May my children all be born girls, and 
 my grandchildren cripples. May my father 
 and grandfather be tormented in Hell forever. 
 May I grow old in poverty and be despised in 
 my age. Finally, may I die without the Holy 
 Sacrament, and be buried in a foreign land." 
 
 Barbandone shuddered when he had fin- 
 ished these words. 
 
 " Provided I am asked to do nothing 
 wrong," added he, feebly. 
 
 "That I told you in the beginning that's 
 understood," replied Spiridon. " Now come, 
 and I '11 show you what we have to do." 
 
74 Constantine 
 
 Back to the schooner, accordingly, the two 
 men went. A coil of rope was laid in the boat, 
 two buckets, a shovel, and a lantern. 
 
 "Where are we to go?" asked the young 
 helmsman. 
 
 "To Loukas's house," replied Spiridon; 
 " around to the back of the house, and up 
 the back way." 
 
 Twenty minutes more found them at the 
 cistern. No one was stirring. The lights 
 were out in the whole town, and all the in- 
 habitants were sleeping. The lantern was 
 lighted and let down into the empty cistern 
 by means of a string. The buckets were fas- 
 tened to one end of the rope, and lowered 
 after it. Then the rope was tied around the 
 plank to which the pump was screwed, and the 
 two men descended hand over hand. They 
 took the more solid mud from the reservoir 
 at the bottom of the cistern, and with it 
 formed a temporary dam on the sloping 
 cement floor. Behind this they piled the 
 refuse from the reservoir, Spiridon handing 
 the buckets up and Barbandone emptying 
 them. Spiridon worked with feverish haste. 
 In a remarkably short space of time his shovel 
 
Constantine 75 
 
 scraped on the bottom of the shallow recep- 
 tacle. 
 
 "There 's nothing there, effendi," said Bar- 
 bandone, holding up the lantern and peering 
 curiously in. Spiridon made no reply, but 
 tapped vigorously on the side of the recep- 
 tacle with the handle of his shovel. The wall 
 emitted a dull and solid sound. He tried 
 the opposite side with the same result. Then 
 the third, which gave forth a hollow sound 
 startlingly different from the other two. 
 
 " Here, quick," he shouted to Barbandone, 
 "give me something to break it in with." 
 
 Barbandone shrugged his shoulders. " What 
 shall I give you, effendi? There is nothing 
 here." 
 
 Spiridon sprang out of the hole. " Climb 
 up and drop down one of the pump handles." 
 
 Barbandone went up the rope hand over 
 hand. " Look out below there," he cried, a 
 moment later, and the pump handle dropped 
 into the hole with a "chug " and a " ching." 
 
 Spiridon sprang in after it, and seizing the 
 pump handle as if it were a crowbar, had 
 made a hole through the thin masonry ere 
 Barbandone had again slid down the rope. A 
 
76 Constantine 
 
 few more vigorous blows, and that side of the 
 wall had fallen in. Spiridon dropped the 
 pump handle and reached in his hand. 
 "Hand me the lantern here, quick!" he 
 shouted to Barbandone. Holding the light 
 in his left hand, he grasped some object with 
 his right, and tugged violently, but without 
 avail. 
 
 " Stop ! let me help," said Barbandone, 
 overpowered by curiosity. Uniting their ef- 
 forts, the two men succeeded in dragging 
 forth what proved to be an old-fashioned 
 trunk heavily bound with iron hoops. Spiri- 
 don pried loose the hasp with the blade of 
 the shovel, and lifted the lid. 
 
 " Whose money is this ? " asked Barban- 
 done, huskily, as soon as he recovered his 
 power of speech. 
 
 "Ten thousand francs of it are yours, if we 
 only get it safely on board," replied the other. 
 
 Gold and silver bars, strings of pearls and 
 amber beads, a few old Greek knives and 
 pistols heavily mounted in solid silver, a 
 sword with a jewelled handle, various small 
 boxes, bags, and bundles, and, plainly visible 
 below all this, a great heap of gold and silver 
 
Constantine 77 
 
 coin. That is what the trunk contained. 
 The two men seized the iron handles, but 
 could not lift it. Spiridon spoke quickly and 
 with decision. 
 
 " I will go above," said he; you load the 
 stuff into the bucket, and I will pull it up. 
 Be lively: people will be stirring before long." 
 
 A few seconds later he pulled the first 
 bucketful up, and laid it in one corner of the 
 kitchen while Barbandone was preparing the 
 other. They made short work. After a few 
 excited trips to the kitchen and back, Spiri- 
 don was surprised to find the pump handle at 
 the end of the rope. 
 
 "Hello! what's the matter?" he called 
 down in a subdued voice. 
 
 "That's all, effendi; I'm sending up the 
 things." 
 
 Spiridon immediately slid down the rope 
 and cast a searching glance about him. 
 " Sure you haven't left anything behind, eh?" 
 said he, eyeing Barbandone sharply. With- 
 out waiting for reply he took up the shovel 
 and began pushing the refuse back into the 
 hole, Barbandone assisting with one of the 
 pails. This finished, the rope was passed 
 
78 Constantine 
 
 through the handles of the two buckets and 
 that of the shovel, and securely tied to one 
 end of the trunk. The men then climbed 
 out, and pulled the rope up after them. Ere 
 morning dawned, the treasure had been car- 
 ried in the buckets to the little boat, restored 
 to the trunk, and safely locked up in the cap- 
 tain's cabin on board the schooner. 
 
 "This money," said Spiridon piling ten 
 thousand francs' worth of Turkish pounds 
 upon the table, " was partly mine and partly 
 Loukas's. Now half of it belongs to the boy, 
 and he shall have his share. Loukas didn 't 
 trust anybody but me, and before he died he 
 made me promise I 'd take out Maroula's share 
 privately, and do the best I could with it for 
 her. Now that she 's dead, I '11 do the best I 
 can with it for the boy. I '11 educate him, 
 and make a gentleman of him, and when he 
 comes of age I '11 give him back his money 
 with interest. Here 's a gold watch for your- 
 self and a diamond for Sophia. Are you 
 satisfied ? " 
 
 Barbandone thought of Sophia's white 
 throat and red lips, and said that he was. 
 
 The next day, in the presence of half a 
 
Constantine 79 
 
 dozen small boys and several of the soberer 
 citizens of Poros, the sediment receptacle in 
 Loukas's cistern was cleaned out. Barban- 
 done himself went down and filled the 
 buckets. 
 
 "No wonder the water tasted so bad," said 
 one householder to another, seeing the mud 
 come up. 
 
 " I must clean out my cistern before the 
 rains set in," remarked another; "for my 
 whole family will be sick." 
 
 A few days later Spiridon compromised 
 with old Papas Antoni, Elene, and his 
 mother, on the understanding that he was to 
 make one more voyage, after which he would 
 return, sell the schooner, and marry black- 
 eyed Loukia Kastriotes. All this he did ac- 
 cording to promise. But to the no small 
 surprise of the Poriotes, he removed soon 
 after his marriage to Athens, taking with him 
 his mother and little Constantine, as well as 
 his wife. In the capital city he bought a fine 
 house in a beautiful garden, and hung up in 
 his bedroom the eikon of St. Nicholas, which 
 had brought him so much good fortune in 
 The Two Brothers. 
 
8o Constantine 
 
 Here he lived as much at ease as is possible 
 for a man who is rich, and who has married a 
 woman with black eyes and a determined 
 character. One year after his marriage he 
 became the father of a girl who was destined 
 to become famous for beauty, even in a city 
 where beautiful women are a matter of course. 
 
 Soon after this event his mother died, thus 
 severing the last link which bound him to 
 Poros, the island which he always referred to, 
 in Greek fashion, as " My native land." 
 
 Barbandone married his sweetheart, and be- 
 came a prosperous wine merchant. For many 
 years his conscience was troubled by a bundle 
 of papers hidden in his house, which he could 
 not read, and dared not show to any one. He 
 had taken them surreptitiously from the trunk 
 in Loukas's cistern, and had put them in his 
 pocket on that memorable night. 
 
Chapter VII 
 
 " What delight ! O, what delight ! 
 
 You have come, O swallow, 
 On your wing so glossy bright " 
 
 Sang a voice in a garden. It was a high, flat 
 voice, that fell very distinctly on the accented 
 syllables, and evidently belonged to a little 
 girl. The song, of which we have translated 
 the first few words, was a pretty burst of en- 
 thusiasm over the coming of the swallow in 
 early springtime. It was written in a lan- 
 guage which a learned college professor might 
 not have understood, unless he were a disci- 
 ple of the great Blackie of Edinburgh. Yet 
 the singer understood the song, for it was in 
 the language which she had learned at her 
 mother's knee, and talked familiarly with her 
 school-fellows modern Greek ; a tongue 
 that is as clearly Greek as the swallow of 
 to-day is a descendant of the swallow of the 
 ancient proverb. 
 
82 Constantine 
 
 The sound of the word almost tells its 
 meaning. It suggests the swift, graceful flight 
 of the swallow, and, if the word is prop- 
 erly pronounced, the sudden rush of his wing 
 as he passes near. 
 
 The garden was surrounded by a high wall 
 of adhesive mud, so that curious people could 
 not see in from the street. The garden was 
 not carpeted with green grass, but possessed 
 a smooth floor of hard beaten earth, cleanly 
 swept. Here and there within the enclosure 
 were several tall vases in which grew tropical 
 plants, and a number of small flower-pots 
 were arranged in a square. On the wall a 
 few blood-red poppies stood up straightly on 
 their slender stems as though the tiny legions 
 of the Spring had taken the place by assault 
 and set their banners there. A pleasant spot 
 is this garden, into which we are now peep- 
 ing, and the little singer has reason to feel 
 very proud, for it has been assigned to her by 
 her father as her own special haunt and play- 
 ground. We shall therefore name the place 
 as her friends do, " Aneza's garden." 
 
 But we have dropped into the present 
 tense, and are saying "now," not realizing 
 
Constantine 83 
 
 for the moment how time flies, and how men 
 and women change. The miniature garden 
 is here in Athens still, and every April the 
 legions of the springtime set their poppy 
 banners on the wall. Every springtime, too, 
 the swallow comes, and the almond-tree, 
 dressed all in white, spreads out her arms to 
 give it welcome, as says the song which little 
 Aneza used to sing in her high, flat voice. 
 Even the circular seat which Spiridon built 
 round the tree, and on which she used to sit, 
 still exists; but Aneza herself is by this time 
 an old woman, and has children, and even 
 grandchildren, of her own. King George 
 and good Queen Olga reign now in the big 
 palace at Athens. When Aneza was a little 
 girl, Otho the Bavarian was ruler of Greece 
 an impulsive, visionary man, whom the 
 Greeks drove away, but for whom they have 
 a lingering affection. 
 
 On the mud wall of the garden, and on the 
 two gate-posts at that end of the house which 
 formed a portion of the enclosure, were set 
 numerous flower-pots, from which vines trailed 
 down, looking very green against the back- 
 ground of neatly whitewashed mud. Besides 
 
84 Constantine 
 
 the almond there was a spreading shade-tree, 
 that curled up its leaves every night, and 
 opened them again in the morning, to the per- 
 petual delight and wonder of Miss Aneza. 
 But perhaps the most pleasant feature of this 
 miniature garden was its retired situation, by 
 which it escaped the clouds of dust that have 
 gone whirling about the streets of Athens from 
 the earliest times till now. It was cool and 
 shady too when the white houses and the white 
 streets of the city glared intolerably in the sun. 
 
 " What delight ! O, what delight ! " 
 continued the careless voice, as the little girl 
 ran from one flower-pot to another with a 
 water-sprinkler. 
 
 " Anezaki," called another voice, evidently 
 that of a boy. The girl turned round once 
 like a top, whirling the sprinkler about her, 
 like those toys which are made to show the 
 effects of centrifugal force. Seeing nobody, 
 she called out, " O, you need n't try to fool 
 me, Mr. Constantine; I can see you behind 
 the post there," at which a sturdy boy of 
 eight advanced, laughing merrily. 
 
 " I was n't behind the post, and I did fool 
 you; so there, now." 
 
Constantine 85 
 
 " I don't care," replied the girl, a rosy- 
 cheeked, black-eyed maiden of six summers; 
 "I can beat you playing mora, anyhow." 
 
 The sprinkler was instantly dropped, for 
 the challenge was accepted, and for several 
 minutes two chubby right hands were open- 
 ing and closing rapidly, disclosing a different 
 number of fingers each time, while their 
 owners shouted "two," "four," "five," 
 "eight," loud enough to be heard a block 
 away. But Aneza, though very bright for a 
 girl of her age, continued to be beaten at the 
 ancient game; she was too young to compre- 
 hend numbers. 
 
 "This is n't any fun," said she; " let 's play 
 something else." 
 
 Just then String-Bean, her big white cat, 
 appeared on the top of the wall, slid down a 
 rose-vine and walked majestically through 
 the garden. 
 
 " String-Bean ! String-Bean ! " cried Aneza; 
 " the mean old thing, she knows I have n't 
 got anything for her to eat; besides, she is 
 going to see her kitten." 
 
 " Has n't she weaned that kitten yet? " 
 asked Constantine. " It 's about time; it 's 
 
86 Constantine 
 
 big enough to be baptized." Both laughed 
 heartily at the thought. Suddenly Aneza 
 jumped up and down, clapping her hands. 
 
 " I know, I know, I know. We '11 baptize 
 the kitten; I '11 be mamme" (midwife). 
 "I'll be koumbaros then," said Constan- 
 tine, "and name the child." 
 
 "What '11 we do for a priest?" inquired 
 Aneza. 
 
 "I '11 tell you," replied the ready Constan- 
 tine. " I '11 be the priest, and I '11 announce 
 that I've just come from the koumbaros' 
 house; that he 's sick; but that this baptism 
 must go on, for this child might get the 
 measles and die, and then he 'd stand no more 
 chance of going to heaven than a Turk." 
 
 " Oh, won't that be fun!" cried the girl, 
 her big eyes dancing with delight. " I '11 
 steal the olive-oil and a basin out of the 
 kitchen now, while cook is taking her after- 
 noon nap." 
 
 The boy went around to the kitchen door, 
 while the girl tiptoed in, handing out soon 
 after a large earthen bowl, and a tin dish 
 partly filled with olive-oil. These Constan- 
 tine carried into the garden, and the two con- 
 
Constantine 87 
 
 federates filled the bowl with water. The 
 next thing in order was to bring the victim. 
 Poor String-Bean was found in the store- 
 room at the back of the house, teaching her 
 only remaining offspring how to play. Her 
 family had consisted of five, but an old Herod 
 of a tom-cat belonging next door had rushed 
 in one morning during String-Bean's absence, 
 and torn all her children in shreds except 
 one. The mother returned just in time to 
 attack Herod with great fierceness, and to 
 save one child, which she henceforth guarded 
 as the apple of her eye. Seeing the boy and 
 girl, she instinctively felt that mischief was in 
 the air, for she rubbed against their legs, and 
 purred noisily, to propitiate them if possible. 
 
 "What '11 we call it?" whispered Aneza, 
 looking at the cunning little animal, which 
 had just tried to put its paw on a fly, and 
 stood looking wistfully after the buzzing 
 insect. 
 
 " Why, it 's the image of old Cinnamon, 
 that fell in the quicklime and got burned to 
 death. Let's name it Cinnamon," replied 
 the boy, 
 
 "All right," assented his companion; "I '11 
 
88 Constantine 
 
 take it around into the garden, and you 
 walk in a minute afterwards, and pretend 
 you're a papas," saying which, she departed 
 with the kitten, closely followed by the anxious 
 cat. A few moments later Constantine en- 
 tered the garden with a slow and dignified 
 step. 
 
 " Peace be unto this house," said he; " we 
 are here to baptize a child into the true 
 Church ; but there are no candles. Woman, 
 where are the candles? " 
 
 " O, sure enough," replied the little 
 mamme; " good father, do you hold the child 
 a moment while I bring them. " And soon 
 two candles, purloined from the kitchen, were 
 handed to the amateur priest. These he lit 
 and set up in the imaginary church one 
 in a cleft in the bark of a tree, the other in a 
 convenient crutch of a limb; then he dipped 
 his finger in the oil and made the sign of the 
 cross on poor pussy's nose, eyes, and ears in 
 succession, saying : 
 
 " Cinnamon String-Bean, I mark thee with 
 the sign of the cross, and I command thee 
 to be a good Christian." Nor was the bless- 
 ing of the water forgotten. The same sacred 
 
Constantine 89 
 
 sign was made over it three times, both with 
 the fingers and with the breath. 
 
 " Give me the child," said Constantine, in 
 an awful voice. 
 
 Pussy was unwrapped from a fold of 
 Aneza's jacket, and held out at arm's-length. 
 Constantine grabbed the oil-tin and emptied 
 its contents over the victim. 
 
 " Cinnamon String-Bean," he continued, 
 " I baptize thee in the name of the Father, 
 Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen." And down 
 went the unfortunate kitten three times under 
 the water in the earthen basin. When it 
 came up after the completion of the ordeal, 
 it looked so funny, and struggled so franti- 
 cally, that Aneza burst out laughing. 
 
 " Woman," said the priest sternly, " where 
 is the holy garment in which to wrap this 
 child ? " 
 
 " Here it is," answered the woman, pro- 
 ducing one of cook's clean, white aprons, 
 which was immediately wrapped around the 
 miserable kitten, dripping oil and water. 
 Suddenly the thought occurred to the two 
 children that no incense had been used. 
 Aneza therefore proposed to tiptoe into the 
 
90 Constantine 
 
 cook's bedroom, and purloin the earthen in- 
 cense-cup from the altar of the Virgin. She 
 was afraid to go alone on so dangerous a 
 mission, and Constantine again accompanied 
 her as far as the kitchen door, leaving the 
 kitten wrapped up in the apron. The cup 
 was taken, also a little pinch of incense-pow- 
 der, and the two conspirators hurried back to 
 the garden, intent upon devising some scheme 
 for burning the powder. What was their dis- 
 gust, on their return, to see the old cat disap- 
 pearing over the garden wall, holding her 
 newly baptized infant in her mouth! 
 
 "Here, come back, you heathen!" screamed 
 Aneza, stamping her foot ; " are n't you 
 ashamed to act that way ? Come back, I 
 say!" 
 
 "What's up now ? " cried the cook, rushing 
 into the garden, and picking up her apron 
 and the incense-cup. "Holy Virgin! Never 
 in my life did I see anything like this. I '11 
 tell the mistress, and you '11 both eat wood." 
 
 "Don't, don't," pleaded the little priest, 
 suddenly changing into a little gentleman. 
 " It was all my fault. I took your things, 
 and I did it all. Aneza only looked on." 
 
Constantine 9 1 
 
 As a result of this gentlemanly falsehood, 
 he received several cuffs on the ear, after 
 which the cook waddled off, threatening to 
 report the matter if it ever occurred again; 
 for she was a fat, good-natured individual 
 who had had children of her own. 
 
 " O Constantine," exclaimed the little 
 girl, crossing herself, "didn't you tell a 
 whopper ! " 
 
 " I did it," replied the whilom priest, " be- 
 cause no gentleman would allow a lady to be 
 whipped. Besides, are you not Aneza, and 
 am I not Constantine? " 
 
Chapter VIII 
 
 Spiridon had been about thirty when he 
 was married to Loukia Kastriotes, and as that 
 event occurred soon after the baptism of his 
 godson, he must have been approaching 
 thirty-eight at the time of the scene narrated 
 in the last chapter. His union with the black- 
 eyed Poriote had not been his most happy 
 venture in life. But nothing had altered his 
 conduct towards Constantine, not even the 
 birth of little Aneza, so named in honour of 
 her maternal grandmother. The two chil- 
 dren were always together, and passed their 
 childhood in loving, innocent comradeship. 
 Constantine was a fine boy from the start, 
 and the passing years only added to his 
 sturdy beauty. Like his father before him, 
 he was blonde, with hair in short croppy 
 curls, and a face like that of Hermes. His 
 godfather dressed him in fustanellas, and de- 
 lighted in calling him " My Palikaraki." 
 92 
 
Constantine 93 
 
 We have said that Aneza became a cele- 
 brated beauty, and, like most southern women, 
 she very early began to give promise of love- 
 liness. Even as a child of ten, there was a 
 voluptuous charm about her. She had a low, 
 broad forehead, and her eyes were wide apart, 
 and surmounted by long-arching brows that 
 nearly met over her nose. Her cheeks were 
 quite plump, and tapered down to the sweet- 
 est chin imaginable. Her lips were red and 
 full, and her teeth, when she laughed, which 
 was often, seemed the whitest and evenest 
 teeth that ever were. Her hair was luxuriant 
 and softly glossy, corresponding in colourwith 
 her eyes, which were the crowning glory of 
 her face. As the skies of Greece are the most 
 lovely in the world, so are the eyes of its 
 people unequalled elsewhere. In children 
 and in tender youth they are seen in their 
 highest perfection. Aneza had glorious eyes, 
 large and limpid, perfect mirrors of her pass- 
 ing moods. When her feelings were hurt, 
 they looked like the eyes of a wounded animal; 
 when she was angry, they blazed beautifully, and 
 when she was pleased, something like sunshine 
 lit up and danced in them, and then died out 
 
94 Constantine 
 
 again. Her nose came straight down from 
 her forehead, with but the slightest depression 
 between her eyes, while her nostrils were full 
 and not too thin. One can gain an idea of 
 how necessary a feature a good nose is by 
 wandering among the museums of the old 
 world which contain collections of Greek 
 sculpture. The early Christians, in their zeal 
 to destroy heathen gods, seem to have 
 spent much of their time running about with 
 stones and hammers pecking off the noses 
 of the divine statuary of the ancient masters. 
 How a religion that is ennobling and spirit- 
 ualizing in its tendencies could have inspired 
 such vulgar vandalism is as hard to under- 
 stand as are many other outrages that have 
 been perpetrated in the name of Christianity. 
 
 Anezawas a Greek divinity whose nose was 
 in perfect repair and of unquestionable sym- 
 metry. Her complexion was dark, but the 
 skin was so soft and clear that the vague colour 
 flushed very richly under it at the least ex- 
 citement. 
 
 Aneza lived in a large house situated in 
 a park, from one corner of which her own 
 little garden had been walled off. In the 
 
Constantine 95 
 
 park were orange-trees which were white with 
 fragrant blossoms in the spring, and whose 
 boughs were laden with oranges in November 
 and December. There were palms whose 
 long, gracefully curving branches languished 
 outward from the trunk in symmetrical ar- 
 rangement, and other palms whose tall shafts 
 bore only a cluster of spiny greenness at the 
 top; clambering clematis covered one whole 
 end of the house with bright verdure in win- 
 ter and with scented snow in summer, and 
 luxuriant rose-vines climbed by its side, hang- 
 ing blood-red and yellow roses among the 
 snow. Here a bower had been constructed, 
 under which the family dined late on summer 
 evenings by candle-light, and even when the 
 nights were quite chilly, for the Greek never 
 stays in when he can be out of doors. In 
 front of the house stood a huge cedar-tree, 
 in which hundreds of cedar-birds chattered, 
 feasted, and fussed all winter, beginning their 
 din at the earliest dawn and continuing it 
 through the day until darkness set in. The 
 house itself was a large three-storied struc- 
 ture, with very thick walls, and was built, like 
 all Athenian dwellings, of mortar and stones 
 
96 Constantine 
 
 of irregular shape. On the outside it was 
 whitewashed, and, where it faced the street, 
 formed one of a hundred other buildings just 
 like it. 
 
 When the sun shone and the dust was dry, 
 the sidewalks would be white and the houses 
 white, making all the vista of the long 
 monotonous street intolerable to the eye. 
 
 Within, though Kurios Spiridon Leonidas 
 was a rich man, the rooms were scantily fur- 
 nished. Over the door was an archaic slab 
 of Pentelic marble, bearing a partially erased 
 inscription in ancient characters. Had Kurios 
 Leonidas been able to read the slab before it 
 was put into place, it would probably have 
 gone into the lime-kiln that barbarous and 
 ignorant monster that has swallowed up so 
 many of the records of ancient Greece and so 
 much of the heyday of human achievement 
 in art. For the queer old inscription an- 
 nounced that the building which it adorned 
 was mortgaged for a certain sum, and it tes- 
 tified to human rapacity and human suffering 
 two thousand or more years old; for it had 
 originally been built into the wall of some 
 ancient Greek's dwelling, according to the 
 
Constantine 97 
 
 custom of those days. Its dim and difficult 
 letters no longer told the truth, for the man 
 who used to read them with so much shame 
 and worry had long been dust, and there was 
 no mortgage on the property of Kurios 
 Leonidas. 
 
 Just above the slab the face of an archaic 
 head of Hermes looked forth, with that inim- 
 itable expression of wisdom, youth, and ex- 
 quisite beauty which the mind of Praxiteles 
 conceived for the admiration of men to all 
 time. This also had been found on the 
 premises and built into the wall, in accord- 
 ance with the almost universal custom in 
 modern Greece. 
 
 On opening the big iron doors you came 
 into a hall with a mosaic floor, and wide 
 marble staircase leading to the upper regions. 
 In the dining-room was a large table, besides 
 a sufficient number of chairs of crude work- 
 manship, and in this room was hung, high up, 
 the family Panageia, a picture of the Blessed 
 Mother of Christ, in a square silver frame. 
 The face looked forth from an opening in an 
 ornamental sheet of silver, in which other 
 apertures were cut for the hands. Below the 
 
98 Constantine 
 
 frame hung a lantern containing a small glass 
 of olive-oil, on whose surface floated a bouget 
 those little contrivances that burn so long, 
 and that one so often sees in the dim hall- 
 ways of small European hotels. 
 
 The kitchen was an immense room with 
 a stone floor. In one corner was built the 
 range, a cube of masonry on the top of which 
 were half a dozen shallow depressions. In 
 these, when cooking was in process, charcoal 
 was placed, and a draught was secured by 
 means of small tunnels that ran down and 
 out of one side of the range. The boilers 
 and pots were set on the fires, and the kitchen- 
 boy stood patiently by and fanned the lower 
 ends of the tunnels with a wing or short 
 broom. 
 
 Every morning Kurios Leonidas, rich as 
 he was, went to market with a little maid- 
 servant carrying a basket. He bought each 
 item of the day's fare himself, and gave 
 minute orders as to the cooking of the din- 
 ner. His wife never went into the kitchen, 
 and rarely knew what was coming on the 
 table until she sat down before it. 
 
 The upper story of the house was as barely 
 
Constantine 99 
 
 furnished as the lower. In the large recep- 
 tion-room alone was there anything in the 
 nature of a carpet. The floor of this apart- 
 ment was partially covered by a Turkish rug, 
 which the master had brought home years 
 before on his return from a trading voyage 
 in The Two Brothers. The walls were high, 
 and a few crude pictures of the Virgin and of 
 various saints hung not far from the ceiling. 
 The most gorgeously framed saint in the 
 house peered benevolently forth from a gilded 
 box suspended over the bed of Kurios Leoni- 
 das himself. This was St. Nicholas, the 
 patron deity of those who go forth upon the 
 great sea in ships. 
 
 There were no fireplaces or stoves any- 
 where. The Athenians then held to the tra- 
 dition, as they do now, that they lived in a 
 tropical climate. When Parnes and Hymet- 
 tus become covered with snow, and the cold 
 wet winds howl through the streets, chilling 
 one to the marrow, they huddle together in 
 their cheerless homes, and say, " What an ex- 
 ceptional winter! " This they have done reg- 
 ularly every winter from time immemorial. 
 The existence of foufous and mangals in 
 
TOO Constantine 
 
 Athens picturesque, though unsatisfactory 
 for heating purposes must be attributed to 
 the prevalence of this idea. The mangal of 
 Kurios Leonidas was a huge bowl of ham- 
 mered brass set upon a standard of the same 
 metal about a foot and a half high. This re- 
 ceptacle was surmounted by a dome-shaped 
 cover, also of beaten brass, ornamented at 
 the top with a bronze eagle spreading its 
 wings. When the mangal was in use it was 
 filled with live coals, which kept red for some 
 time. Two brass handles were attached to 
 the contrivance, to carry it where needed. As 
 a device for diffusing heat, it was not a great 
 success, if viewed by modern standards; but 
 was regarded as invaluable by Kurios Leoni- 
 das, who had brought it all the way from 
 Smyrna. In its reservoir of coals he could 
 always find a light for his narghile, a huge 
 pipe, on which he sucked noisily for two hours 
 each night after drinking his cup of black 
 Turkish coffee. When brightly polished, this 
 queer stove was a very gorgeous affair. 
 
 The foufous were little mangals without 
 covers. They were made of black sheet-iron, 
 and stood on four legs. They were used for 
 
Constantine 101 
 
 boiling pots, heating flat-irons, and for warm- 
 ing the servants' toes when the cold became 
 insufferable. 
 
 We have seen that Kuria Leonidas took no 
 part in the preparation of her husband's meals; 
 neither did she trouble her head about other 
 household cares. And why should she? Had 
 she not brought her husband a fine proek, or 
 dot, as the French call it fifty thousand 
 drachmas in ready money? It was her boast 
 that she did not know a leg of lamb from a 
 soup-bone, and could not boil an egg. She 
 was no cook indeed! Had she admitted the 
 least knowledge of housewifely wisdom, her 
 envious friends would have declared that she 
 came of humble origin, and had been obliged 
 to work at some time in her life. She would 
 have considered this a greater disgrace than 
 the brand of crime itself. Perhaps some of 
 the gossips might have hinted that she had 
 been a servant in her youth! Horrible! The 
 very thought was enough to make her shud- 
 der. 
 
 On the windows of the drawing-room that 
 looked out into the street, long slender elbow- 
 pillows had been fitted. On these Kuria 
 
IO2 Constantine 
 
 Leonidas would rest her arms for hours while 
 she peered into the street, chatting with her 
 daughter or some female friend. These con- 
 versations were generally the reverse of edi- 
 fying. They usually turned on the character 
 or family history of some acquaintance, and 
 the most scandalous surmises were advanced 
 with all the plausibility of truth. The simplest 
 happenings were magnified into the most dis- 
 graceful affairs. Early in her married life 
 Kuria Leonidas developed into a creature 
 differing greatly from the spirited, though 
 plump and pretty Loukia Kastriotes. Pic- 
 ture a short meagre woman with big, snap- 
 ping black eyes, luxuriant hair of the same 
 colour, and without a grey thread in it. Add 
 to these features thin lips, which she seemed 
 to have some difficulty in keeping closed 
 over her white but rather prominent teeth, 
 a loud voice, and an irascible temper, and 
 you have a fair idea of the lady as God in 
 His wisdom had seen fit to make her. The 
 power and quality of her voice she exhibited 
 frequently when gossiping with occupants of 
 windows across the way or at a considerable 
 distance down the street. Several of her 
 
Constantine 103 
 
 neighbours were endowed by nature with 
 similar vocal powers, and had improved the 
 gift by continual practice, so that these ladies 
 had established a primitive telephone system 
 from one window to the other, in which the 
 wire was quite unnecessary. It was truly a 
 convenient arrangement for making calls, en- 
 tirely obviating the necessity of dressing and 
 going out. 
 
 Although Aneza's mother took no thought 
 of the management of her household, she 
 descended occasionally into the lower regions 
 and gave the servants a voluble and high- 
 pitched tongue-lashing. These descents were 
 not due to any interest she took in culinary 
 affairs, but were attributable directly to a 
 psychological cause. The wrath which was 
 continually gathering in her, vented itself 
 periodically in storms of great violence. At 
 such times the lady fairly danced in her rage 
 and flung her arms about in many nervous 
 Greeky gestures. The servants, so wise in 
 such matters, understood the cause of these 
 thunderstorms, and kept discreetly out of the 
 way as much as possible. When the air was 
 clear, everything went on as before, until the 
 
104 Constantine 
 
 Kuria found her nature again overcharged 
 with electricity. 
 
 Spiridon himself, as he advanced in years, 
 took on more and more the physical charac- 
 teristics of a Greek of the best type. His 
 stature was commanding, his eye bright, and 
 his complexion florid. Although he had trav- 
 elled in many countries, and seen the fashions 
 of the principal races of men, he adhered to 
 the Greek costume. He looked very pictu- 
 resque in the voluminous fustanellas, while the 
 Byronic collar and tight leggings became 
 well his mighty chest and sturdy calves. The 
 sea is ever the mother of strong old men. 
 Hearing his laugh, like the roar of a lion, or 
 feeling the grip of his nervy hand, one would 
 have thought, " Here indeed is a Greek with- 
 out guile." There are those in Athens to- 
 day who recall the uprightness of his deal- 
 ings with his fellow-citizens, and maintain 
 that his intentions were righteous, even 
 towards his godson. 
 
 Certain it is that he always treated the boy 
 in the most affectionate manner, and that 
 during Spiridon's life not even the Kuria 
 dared to display her real feelings towards 
 
Constantine 105 
 
 that "young beggar," as she called Constan- 
 tine under her breath, and whom she regarded 
 as her daughter's rival in Spiridon's affec- 
 tions. Perhaps, she thought, the boy would 
 even rob the girl of a portion of her inheri- 
 tance. 
 
 " Who knows," she would ask her confi- 
 dential friends, " to what length my husband's 
 infatuation may carry him?" 
 
 His childish instinct taught Constantine 
 very early to turn to Spiridon as his natural 
 protector. His little lips learned to pro- 
 nounce the word " Noune " (godfather) al- 
 most as soon as other children say " mamma." 
 It was " Noune" " here and " Noune " there 
 all day long, much to Spiridon's delight; and 
 when the latter was not about the house, 
 " Where 's nounos now? " was a question that 
 must be answered every few minutes. When 
 Constantine reached the age of five years he 
 had already developed into a very sturdy 
 little fellow; so manly and bright did he 
 grow, and so sweetly his character unfolded 
 from day to day, that he would easily have 
 won his way into a harder heart than that of 
 his godfather. Almost from the first the 
 
106 Constantine 
 
 boy assumed an air of proprietorship over 
 Aneza, and of protection, comical to see. 
 Very early he showed himself an instinctive 
 gentleman. When the pair went out to walk 
 together with their dada (nurse), Constantine 
 would run and gather wild poppies or anem- 
 ones for Aneza; if the old patriarch of a 
 flock of goats raised his bewhiskered face from 
 the pasturage, and looked inquiringly at them, 
 the boy would step boldly to the front, and 
 cry: " Don't be afraid; I '11 protect you." 
 
 As Aneza grew older, her dark beauty be- 
 came the talk of the town, and people often 
 looked back at her admiringly as they passed 
 her on the street. Thus she became vain, 
 even in her childhood, for a female of the 
 human species learns that she is beautiful 
 early in life if such be the fact, and then all 
 at once she becomes a woman. Unfortunately, 
 beauty can even be vain without growing 
 wearisome, so Aneza grew into a creature of 
 moods. She was sweet and sunny of dis- 
 position one moment, and pursing her pretty 
 lips into a pout the next. She was exacting 
 with her parents and with Constantine, and 
 flew into a passion or a sulk if her slightest 
 
Constantine 107 
 
 wish were not gratified. Through it all Con- 
 stantine treated her as though he were her 
 natural superior in strength and intellect, and 
 as though she were a weaker and more beau- 
 tiful being privileged to do as she pleased. 
 Aneza, on her part, admired Constantine 
 more for his courage than for any other 
 quality. 
 
 One first of May, when the boy was ten and 
 the girl eight years of age, the family were 
 returning in a carriage from a picnic in the 
 country. They had lunched in a beautiful 
 grove above the town of Marousi, and were 
 bringing back flowers and a wreath to hang 
 over the door; a tribute to that sweet goddess, 
 Flora, who is still honoured, though a thousand 
 years forgotten. The children, finding their 
 limbs cramped in the carriage, asked per- 
 mission to run by the wayside, that they might 
 pluck the blood-red poppies and bunches of 
 fragrant wild thyme. They lingered behind, 
 unnoticed of the others, and suddenly two 
 fierce shepherd-dogs, of the gaunt, wolfish 
 kind so common in Greece, glided from 
 among the pines and came snarling towards 
 them. Aneza was too frightened even to 
 
loS Constantino 
 
 scream. She dropped her bouquet, and stood 
 helpless, looking with blanched face at the 
 really dangerous animals. 
 
 "Don't be afraid, Anezaki," said Con- 
 stantine stoutly, " I 'm here to protect you. 
 I '11 pitch into them, and you run and cry 
 'Help!'" 
 
 Who shall say that the very blood that 
 flowed in the veins of Leonidas and the 
 Spartan heroes had not trickled down the 
 ages into the heart of this young Palikari? 
 Picking up a stick he advanced on the 
 animals. They did not run, but stood grin- 
 ning with white teeth. 
 
 " Come on, you brutes," he cried, bran- 
 dishing his club; "I'm no girl I'm Con- 
 stantine, and I 'm not afraid of you. Do you 
 hear? I 'm not afraid of you." He struck a 
 sharp blow at one of them, and, backing 
 against an olive-tree, stood on the defensive. 
 The savage animals kept running in at him, 
 and jumping back again, snapping at his legs. 
 The contest, fortunately for Constantine, was 
 of short duration, for Aneza had in the mean 
 time found her voice, and was running and 
 shrieking with all the force of a very excel- 
 
Constantine 109 
 
 lent pair of lungs. Spiridon looked around, 
 and seeing the boy, ran to his assistance. 
 Two or three well-directed stones sent the 
 dogs off growling, and Spiridon picked Con- 
 stantine up and carried him back to the con- 
 veyance. He had been severely bitten on 
 one leg, and the red blood began to show in 
 a spreading stain on his white leggings. 
 
 "O, why didn't you let me alone?" he 
 cried. " I 'd have killed them both if you 
 only had left me alone." 
 
 " My Palikaraki," said Spiridon proudly, 
 "the cry of 'The Turk!' will never be a 
 bugaboo to you." 
 
Chapter IX 
 
 By the time Constantine had reached his 
 sixteenth year he had made great progress in 
 his studies at the Gymnasium of Athens. He 
 had learned to write fairly good modern 
 Greek, and to read Xenophon at sight. As his 
 mind developed, so also his deep religious 
 character grew in intensity. In the creed of the 
 Greek Church he found everything necessary 
 to fulfil his higher yearnings, and its beauti- 
 ful ceremonials appealed to his mystical and 
 poetic nature. A Christian in the best sense 
 of the term, it is a high tribute to his intel- 
 lect that he soon discredited many of those 
 superstitions which the ignorant of all nations 
 attach to their religions, and which are far 
 from wanting among the Greek pe'ople. He 
 and Aneza held many juvenile discussions 
 concerning the supernatural. Wonder not 
 that children of so tender an age should con- 
 verse on such a subject, for here is ground on 
 no 
 
Constantine 1 1 1 
 
 which the oldest of us meet as children. 
 Moreover, the observance of religious form 
 cuts a larger figure in Greek life than in that 
 of any other country. Every day in the year 
 is consecrated to some saint or other, while 
 fast and feast days follow each other with be- 
 wildering frequency. Amusements so com- 
 mon in Europe and America are almost 
 unknown in Greece. This deficiency is sup- 
 plied to a great extent by the theatrical 
 ceremonials of the Church. The Greek nation 
 is, and always has been, the Greek religion. 
 While Constantine's mind seized instinctively 
 the kernel of truth, Aneza's found its natural 
 food in superstition. She had, for one thing, 
 a more than wholesome fear of the Father of 
 Lies, and always referred to him by the pe- 
 riphrasis, "The-go-away-from-here." If she 
 heard any one say the word " devil," she 
 hastily crossed herself; for she believed that 
 the evil one smiled whenever his name was 
 pronounced, regarding the circumstance as 
 evidence of his popularity on earth. 
 
 She also believed that each house had its 
 " iskios," or element, which became angry if 
 left to its own devices, and manifested its 
 
H2 Constantine 
 
 presence at night by uncanny noises. She 
 had even heard of cases where people had 
 seen the " iskios," and had suddenly dropped 
 dead. The only way, according to Aneza, 
 to rid the house of this unwelcome presence 
 was to call in the priest to say a prayer and 
 sprinkle the rooms with holy water. When 
 the " iskios " was tranquil, Aneza said that 
 the house was "light "; when angry, " heavy." 
 She also believed that it was good to have a 
 rooster about the premises, as the spirit might 
 go into the body of this fowl, as of yore the 
 devils took refuge in swine. Aneza received 
 all this curious lore from her fat friend and 
 confidant, the cook a native of the Isle of 
 Andros. Spiridonhad secured this domestic 
 from Andros, that island being celebrated for 
 its excellent servants, especially cooks. 
 
 It is a curious fact that each island is fa- 
 mous in some one particular. Tenos sup- 
 plies the best nurses; Chios, the best mastic; 
 Hydra, the best sailors; Naxos, the shrewdest 
 rogues, etc. 
 
 It may seem strange that Christian priests 
 were found willing to connive at the laying 
 of " spooks "; but there are two sides even to 
 
Constantine 113 
 
 this question. Perhaps it is well to teach the 
 ignorant to seek Divine protection against 
 imaginary dangers, and, for that matter, the 
 wisest of us do not always distinguish be- 
 tween "spooks" and realities. 
 
 Constantine, among other things, did not 
 believe in the"iskios"; and he usually re- 
 ferred to the Devil without circumlocution. 
 One day he told Aneza that he was not afraid 
 of the Devil, because God was stronger than 
 the evil spirit, and would not allow him to 
 hurt a good Christian. 
 
 " As for the ' iskios,' " said he, " that 's all 
 nonsense, and my teacher says it 's the priest's 
 duty to tell cook so. If he does n't, then it 's 
 because he 's afraid he won't get another two 
 drachmas for blessing the house." 
 
 It is the commonest thing in the world for 
 Greek children to engage in protracted dis- 
 cussions on political or religious subjects, 
 using words and sentences whose length 
 would cause Macaulay to turn green with 
 envy. Such a discussion now arose between 
 Aneza and Constantine. The former, becom- 
 ing worsted, finally took refuge in a fit of 
 sulks. 
 
114 Constantine 
 
 "You 're a heathen! " said she. 
 
 " And you 're a silly girl," responded Con- 
 stantine. " You ought to learn more letters 
 and less nonsense." 
 
 " O, you think because you can read and 
 write better than I, that you 're very smart, 
 don't you, Mr. Bladderhead? I '11 never 
 speak to you again, long 's I live; so there, 
 now," and Aneza ran off crying. 
 
Chapter X 
 
 Aneza pouted all day, and broke out with 
 the subject that night at the dinner table. 
 " What do you think? " she exclaimed to her 
 father and mother, her glorious eyes opened 
 wide with excitement; " Constantine says he 
 is n't afraid of the ' Old-go-away-from-here,' 
 and he does n't believe such a thing as an 
 * iskios ' exists at all." Here she crossed her- 
 self and paused, awaiting the effect produced 
 by this extraordinary statement. 
 
 " Holy Virgin!" exclaimed her mother. 
 
 " And he says that the priest does n't be- 
 lieve in the ' iskios ' either, but only blesses 
 the house for the two drachmas he gets." 
 
 "Holy Virgin!" repeated her mother, 
 devoutly crossing herself in turn. " Don't you 
 see, Spiridon, what comes of sending that boy 
 so many years to school, where he gets his 
 head filled with new-fangled ideas? How 
 does it come that you, a good Christian, 
 
 "5 
 
n6 Constantine 
 
 should permit such things? Who knows 
 what misfortune may befall us?" 
 
 But Spiridon was discussing a particularly 
 good dolma (chopped meat, mixed with rice 
 and garlic, wrapped in cabbage leaves and 
 boiled), a dish of which he was extremely fond, 
 and therefore found it difficult to become in- 
 terested in any less material subject. It was 
 hard to stop the flow of his wife's eloquence 
 when once she had gotten fully under way, so 
 he merely exclaimed, " Boh, boh, boh," occa- 
 sionally, in a conciliatory tone, devouring 
 meanwhile dolma after dolma with an equa- 
 nimity which exasperated the lady to still 
 greater fluency. 
 
 " Did n't Mrs. Condoyannes, who sleeps up- 
 stairs with her husband and two children, in 
 their house, in the same room, in another bed, 
 hear some one with heavy boots on walk by 
 her door every night slowly, slowly; then 
 creak! creak! down the stairs; and then slowly, 
 slowly, the whole length of the hall below; 
 and then seem to go right on out through the 
 end of the house? And did n't her husband, 
 who is a brave man, go out into the hall with 
 a light and a gun two or three times, and 
 
Constantine 117 
 
 though he still heard the steps, never a thing 
 could he see?" 
 
 " Boh, boh, boh," said Spiridon, taking 
 another dolma. 
 
 "And then they called in a priest, and had 
 the house blessed, and not a sound has been 
 heard since. And no wonder, for a foreigner, 
 a German, had been living there for three 
 years before the Condoyannes moved in, and 
 not a drop of holy water had been scattered 
 about the place in all that time. And did not 
 Mrs. Kallioropoulos,who sleeps downstairs in 
 her house, hear something go kruk! kruk! 
 overhead every night? and did she not once 
 open the door softly, softly, and peep out, 
 and there, standing at the head of the first 
 flight of steps, was a tall, white thing?" 
 
 " Holy Virgin! " whispered Aneza, crossing 
 herself hurriedly. 
 
 Spiridon helped himself to another dolma. 
 
 "I tell you, she closed the door bang! 
 and locked it, and the next morning called 
 the good father in very early. You will no 
 doubt say that all this is mere superstition. 
 Indeed," she continued, with a snort of indig- 
 nation, though Spiridon had not said a word, 
 
1 1 8 Constantine 
 
 " you will be saying next that the very mir- 
 acles are superstitions. Does not all the world 
 know how once your ship sprung a leak ? " 
 
 " But I said nothing about superstitions, 
 mother," interrupted Spiridon mildly. " My, 
 but these are good dolmathes! " 
 
 " No, but you thought it don't tell me you 
 did n't think it, and you encourage this boy in 
 his blasphemous ideas, which is worse. Did n't 
 your ship once spring a leak, and the water 
 run into the hold faster than the men could 
 bail it out, and when you thought you were 
 sinking you cried, 'Holy Virgin, help us!' 
 and all at once the water ceased to come in, 
 and soon the men had the ship dry, and then 
 what did you find? Why, that a mullet had 
 darted into the hole and stopped it up com- 
 pletely. And who but Spiridon Leonidas 
 hung up a silver mullet in the Church of Our 
 Lady of Miracles at Tenos? And there it hangs 
 to this day. And who was with you but the 
 father of this very boy? And a good Chris- 
 tian he was, too, as all the world knows. What 
 would he think if he knew his son was being 
 brought up a heathen? And what did you 
 tell us all last summer, on your return from 
 
Constantine 119 
 
 your pilgrimage to this same Tenos? Did 
 not a man of Syra come there to hang up in 
 the church a silver image of his baby? He 
 had been making loukoumi, and the little one 
 had fallen into a kettle of boiling sugar; but 
 he called on the Virgin, and the sugar cooled 
 instantly, and there lay the babe unharmed, 
 cooing and laughing as though it were in its 
 own cradle. You and this educated young 
 man of yours will be denying the miracles of 
 the Virgin next, I fear. Surely, Callirrhoe is 
 right, 't is high time indeed to have the house 
 blessed, now that we have two heathens in 
 it!" 
 
 That evening, while Spiridon was seated by 
 the mangali, puffing away peacefully at his 
 narghile, he found himself alone with Con- 
 stantine a few moments. 
 
 " Well, my boy," said he, " what a tempest 
 you brought about my ears with your new- 
 fangled notions. Are you then really be- 
 coming such a heathen?" 
 
 "Why, no, Noune"," replied the boy; "I 
 don't believe I 'm becoming a heathen at all. 
 I certainly believe in the miracles of the Holy 
 Virgin." 
 
Constantine 
 
 "So do I, so do I!" ejaculated the other 
 heartily; " when did I ever say the contrary? 
 But I 've been long on sea, my lad, and long 
 on land, and I have learned there are two 
 things which human power cannot control 
 one is the wind, and the other a woman's 
 tongue." 
 
Chapter XI 
 
 Constantine was of so kindly and ingenuous 
 a nature that he could not endure the thought 
 that any one whom he cared for was angry 
 with him, and Aneza's displeasure caused him 
 peculiar discomfort. Why, he could not un- 
 derstand. Finding her still sulking, despite 
 all his efforts to propitiate her, he comforted 
 himself with the thought that Easter Day was 
 drawing near, when Christian brothers and 
 sisters exchanged the kiss of holy love and 
 all the world makes peace. 
 
 On the evening of the Great Saturday, Con- 
 stantine went into the church and listened 
 faithfully to the long Easter service. He did 
 this, partly because he understood the words, 
 and they seemed very beautiful to him, and 
 partly because he hoped Aneza would see him 
 when he lighted his candle with all the others, 
 and would notice how devout he was. At a 
 quarter to twelve the worshippers within the 
 121 
 
122 Constantine 
 
 building set their candles burning simulta- 
 neously, and, as if by magic, the nave and 
 pillared aisles glowed with a soft radiance. 
 The golden frames of the sacred images, the 
 innumerable candlesticks, the splendid figure 
 of the Metropolitan, reflected back the yellow 
 rays. The painted saints upon the walls be- 
 came distinguishable, venerable old men 
 with long beards, and chubby-faced women 
 with conventional halos about their heads, 
 while the personages of the gigantic tableau 
 bended on the dome high above looked dimly 
 down, as though from that heaven of shadows 
 which too often exists in the doubting minds 
 of men. 
 
 Constantine looked eagerly about him, and 
 his disappointment was great at not being 
 able to see Aneza anywhere. Then the pro- 
 cession with the square banners, the cross, and 
 the holy symbols held aloft, filed slowly down 
 the main aisle and into the open air. Con- 
 stantine followed with the others, his candle 
 still burning, and a beautiful sight met his 
 gaze without. The square in front of the 
 building was ablaze with thousands of lighted 
 candles, twinkling bewilderingly, as though 
 
Constantine 123 
 
 a patch of heaven, where stars are thickest, 
 had fallen to earth, and the streets and lanes 
 leading off from the central throng seemed 
 so many milky ways, more sparsely bestarred 
 as the distance increased, and finally dying 
 out in space and limitless darkness. 
 
 A temporary platform had been erected 
 in front of the sacred edifice, and there the 
 principal personages of the State and of 
 the Civic Government were waiting. Among 
 these, after majestically mounting the steps, 
 the reverend Metropolitan took his place, and 
 continued the reading of the service. Finally 
 he raised his eyes and looked about over the 
 expectant throng, and a great hush fell, in 
 the midst of which his voice could be heard, 
 solemn, distinct, exultant, like the voice of 
 some prophet of old. 
 
 He proclaimed in the beautiful language 
 of Greece, "Christ is arisen!" No mere 
 prophecy now, but the declaration of that 
 sublime fulfilment for which the ages had 
 awaited. As he said the word, every man, 
 woman, and child replied, as with one voice, 
 "Indeed He is arisen!" And all the myriad 
 stars were raised and lowered three times in 
 
124 Constantine 
 
 unison once for the Father, once for the 
 Son, and once for the Holy Ghost. Then 
 immediately the little patch of heaven, and 
 the milky ways, scattered through space. 
 Soon, in the principal thoroughfares, in the 
 byways, in the distant streets leading up to 
 the Hill of Lycabettus and the Acropolis, 
 could be seen wandering stars, either singly 
 or in groups, and when one Christian met 
 another the kiss of peace was given, and the 
 salutation was heard: "Christ is arisen!" 
 followed by the reply, " Indeed He is, my 
 brother," or "Indeed He is, my sister!" 
 
 Such of the worshippers as were most 
 devout returned into the church, where they 
 partook of communion, and listened to a 
 continuation of the services, even till day- 
 light. These Constantine followed, expecting 
 to find Aneza and the remainder of the family 
 within. What was his disappointment to see 
 only the Kuria there, in company with several 
 other ladies. The object of his search had 
 evidently gone forth with her father to ex- 
 change salutations with such friends as they 
 might meet. Constantine started on a vague 
 tramp about the town, in hopes of meeting 
 
Constantine 125 
 
 Aneza, still carrying his candle, whose feeble 
 light assisted his footsteps in the shadow of 
 buildings, or when the moon went under a 
 cloud. Street lamps were few and far between, 
 and consisted only of lanterns held out from 
 the corners of houses by long arms of iron. 
 Lamps were supplied with olive oil, and gave 
 forth but a dim and smoky glimmer. 
 
 Many people greeted Constantine, and he 
 replied as a good Christian should, but with- 
 out pausing for further conversation. As he 
 went on, the desire to see Aneza increased 
 within him and hurried his footsteps. First 
 love, that wine of Adam's vintage, and old as 
 the world itself, was working in his young 
 veins. He was like one who has drunk of 
 some rare liquor, which he did not feel at the 
 moment, but whose influence suddenly thrilled 
 through him afterwards. He had kissed 
 Aneza many times, but never as he would kiss 
 her now. 
 
 Finally he beheld her standing at a street 
 corner with her father and a number of 
 friends. The group were holding lighted 
 candles and chatting together gaily. She 
 was above him, for that part of the city lay 
 
126 Constantine 
 
 on the side of a hill. At the moment of 
 recognizing her among the group, a strange 
 thing happened to Constantine. His heart 
 suddenly stopped beating, and a pain shot 
 through it as at the thrust of a keen knife. 
 He became faint for an instant, and felt him- 
 self reeling as one wounded to the death. 
 Then he recovered himself with a gasp, and 
 knew that he loved Aneza. 
 
 He remembered afterwards that her posi- 
 tion above him seemed to give her a sort of 
 spiritual exaltation. 
 
 One moment, and all the world was 
 changed for him, and he comprehended his 
 new world at a glance something as a life 
 history flashes through the brain of a dying 
 man. In the near deep sky of Attica the 
 moon was riding as gloriously as when in old 
 days its splendour begot worship in the souls 
 of men. The great golden orb was low 
 down over Hymettus, which lay distinct as a 
 silhouette, and straight against the lighter 
 background of sky. All the heavens were 
 full of great white stars that shook and 
 trembled like priceless diamonds at a prince's 
 throat, or dewdrops that blaze into sudden 
 
Constantine 127 
 
 beauty at the coming of the morning sun. 
 All was familiar, and yet everything seemed 
 different. 
 
 He could plainly see Aneza's pretty little 
 slippers embroidered in gold, and her dainty 
 ankles beneath the short skirt. She wore a 
 jacket, also embroidered, and a fez like her 
 father's, with a tassel that drooped over one 
 shoulder as low as her waist. As she held 
 aloft her candle, her immense open sleeve, 
 filled with white lace, fell away from the 
 plump arm. Constantine thought of the 
 dimple at her elbow, and knew that he could 
 have seen it had he been nearer. About her 
 neck was a double string of pearls, that 
 gleamed in the moonlight, and intensified 
 the dark loveliness of her face. Finally the 
 others of the party went their -way, leaving 
 Aneza and her father standing alone. 
 
 While they gazed about them for a 
 moment, as though undecided where to go 
 next, Constantine came up, and kissing his 
 godfather on the lips, said: "Christ is 
 arisen, Noune," and the older man replied, 
 " Indeed He is arisen, my son." Then he 
 kissed Aneza, stammering, " Christ is arisen, 
 
128 Constantine 
 
 my sister," and she started, and, looking shyly 
 at him, whispered demurely, " Indeed He is 
 arisen, my brother." 
 
 " Well, my boy," cried Spiridon heartily, 
 " so you have been prowling around alone, 
 have you? This is fortunate; now that we 're 
 all together, we '11 go home. Our candles 
 are just about long enough to last us till we 
 get there." 
 
 They walked in silence together through 
 the narrow and crooked streets, till finally, at 
 a crossing, Spiridon stopped suddenly, and 
 asked, " Where did you leave your mother? 
 Did she go home, or is she still at the church? " 
 Being informed that she was at the latter 
 place, he directed Constantine, to his un- 
 speakable joy, to take Aneza home, adding, 
 " I '11 go over to the church and bring your 
 mother." 
 
 The young people walked on alone for a 
 while in silence, holding their candles straight 
 before them, and watching intently the flicker- 
 ing flames as though fascinated. Then, with- 
 out a word of warning, Constantine blew them 
 both out, and putting his arm about Aneza, 
 held her yielding body closely to his side. 
 
Constantine 129 
 
 Thus they went on until they had passed 
 through the iron gate of their own yard. 
 Down the crunching gravel walk they went, 
 where the white moonlight sifted through trees 
 and vines. Beneath their feet lay leaves and 
 branches in fantastic tracery, like the designs 
 of some barbaric carpet, but when the great 
 pine tree threw its cloak of fragrant shade 
 about them, Constantine pressed Aneza to his 
 breast, and called her many sweet Romaic love 
 names. " My soul ! " he whispered, " my light ! 
 my life! my eyes! my heart! my love! " and at 
 every sweet name that he called her he kissed 
 her unresisting lips. There was no impas- 
 sioned burst of love eloquence, no fervent 
 pleading; simply the sweet names and the 
 kisses. All at once Constantine paused, 
 4< But you must say that you love me," he 
 whispered; "you do love me, don't you, 
 Anezaki?" This question he repeated sev- 
 eral times, without eliciting any reply from 
 Aneza, who seemed provokingly interested in 
 digging a little hole in the gravel with the 
 the toe of her slipper. 
 
 "'Sh!" she exclaimed at last, "I hear 
 father and mother coming." Constantine lis- 
 
130 Constantine 
 
 tened, but could hear nothing. Two or three 
 times was the question repeated, two or three 
 times did Aneza repeat her coquettish ruse, 
 and deeper and deeper grew the little hole in 
 the gravel. Finally the iron gate actually 
 creaked on its hinges, and well-known voices 
 were heard at the other end of the garden. 
 Aneza glanced shyly up at Constantine with 
 her starry eyes, hesitated, then threw both 
 her plump, bare arms about his neck. How 
 brief was that supreme moment! Yet Con- 
 stantine remembered it afterwards in the soli- 
 tude of the distant city, on the sea, and on the 
 mountains. All the happiness and all the mis- 
 ery of the rest of his life centred about that 
 tiny fragment of time. Ere he realised that 
 she was gone, Aneza had kissed him and fled 
 noiselessly into the house. He still felt the 
 dew of her caress delicately evaporating upon 
 his lips; there was a sense of cold about his 
 neck where her arms had been taken away, 
 and he was faintly conscious that he was 
 breathing a familiar perfume. 
 
 He was surprised a moment afterwards to 
 hear the crunch of his own feet on the gravel, 
 
Constantine 131 
 
 and to find that he was walking briskly to 
 meet his godfather and Kuria Leonidas. 
 
 The next morning at coffee Constantine 
 did not see Aneza, and at the noon breakfast 
 she did not look at him, but kept her eyes 
 fixed intently on her plate. 
 
 In the afternoon, on his return from school, 
 he saw Aneza sitting in her little garden, em- 
 broidering a piece of cloth with gold thread, 
 and singing a song familiar to her childhood: 
 
 " What delight ! O, what delight ! 
 Since you come, O swallow " 
 
 He sat down by her, and putting up his 
 closed hand said, because he felt awkward 
 and could think of nothing else to do, "Let 's 
 play 'Mora.'" 
 
 " No," she replied, without raising her 
 eyes; " we're too old now." 
 
Chapter XII 
 
 Constantine remained but a short time in 
 Greece after this. His mind was active, in- 
 quiring, and independent, and by the time 
 he was nineteen years of age there was not 
 much more for him to learn in the schools of 
 Athens, as they then existed. His remark- 
 able progress was a source of great pleasure 
 to Spiridon, who, a man of natural ability, 
 though uneducated, loved to sit over the 
 mangali and talk with the boy about the 
 " new ideas " which the latter was absorbing. 
 Nor were these conversations entirely one- 
 sided as to interchange of thought. Spiridon 
 had visited all the ports of the Mediterranean, 
 the Black Sea, and the Sea of Azov, and had 
 made journeys in the Two Brothers up 
 the Danube River. He had visited Vienna at 
 one extreme of his wanderings, and Marseilles 
 at the other, so that his mind was not stub- 
 born and provincial, like that of his wife or 
 132 
 
Constantine 133 
 
 daughter. He had, moreover, many enter- 
 taining stories to tell of peoples whom he had 
 seen, and he was even inclined to be tolerant 
 to the religious beliefs of others. Between 
 the old man and the young there grew up an 
 intimacy of comradeship more touching than 
 that which usually exists between father and 
 son. 
 
 One day Constantine came home from 
 school very much amused over an incident 
 that had occurred during the recitation in 
 astronomy. He related the circumstance to 
 his godfather and the Kuria. It seemed that 
 the instructor had been explaining that the 
 majority of the visible stars were suns light- 
 ing other worlds, and the very natural specu- 
 lation had arisen as to whether those other 
 planets were inhabited. Constantine, who 
 was of a poetical turn, of course took the 
 affirmative in the discussion which followed. 
 He was bitterly opposed by three young stu- 
 dents for the priesthood, who maintained that 
 the sun, moon, and stars were made simply 
 to show forth the glory and goodness of 
 God to man. The instructor took the part 
 of Constantine, and at this the embryo priests 
 
134 Constantine 
 
 became greatly excited, and flounced from 
 the room, declaring that they would not 
 remain to be instructed in blasphemy. 
 
 "And quite right they were too," said 
 Kuria Leonidas. " What nonsense, indeed, 
 to say that men live in the stars! In the first 
 place they are not big enough. Even the 
 moon, which is the biggest of them all, is 
 no larger than a Kaskavali cheese. That 
 men should live on it, indeed! " 
 
 "But, mana," said Constantine, pleasantly, 
 "the moon is a long way off, and seems 
 smaller than it is. Most of the stars are 
 many times bigger than our world that we 
 live on. They are millions of miles away, 
 and so seem mere points of light. 
 
 "Bah, bah, bah!" exclaimed the Kuria, 
 for the Greek invariably breaks out into a 
 series of " bah, bah, bahs " whenever he 
 wishes to throw discredit on your statements. 
 
 " Even if they are as far away as Poros, 
 and as large as you say, they would n't seem 
 so small as they do. It takes a day to go 
 to Poros when the wind is fair. I could walk 
 to the moon in two hours if there was any 
 way to get there." 
 
Constantine 135 
 
 Spiridon sighed but said nothing. If he 
 regretted that such a way did not exist, he 
 was too good-natured to make an unkind 
 remark. 
 
 The Kuria went to the window and looked 
 up at the glorious sky. 
 
 "What idiocy!" she cried. " Can I not 
 see how far away the stars are?" Then she 
 crossed herself devoutly, and went into a work- 
 room where a hand-loom for weaving much 
 of the cloth worn by the family was kept 
 busy many hours of the day; for, to tell the 
 truth, the Kuria had not been allowed to pass 
 so idle a youth as she would fain have had 
 her neighbours believe. She could not read a 
 line, and there were not always others of her 
 own sex near at hand with whom to gossip. To 
 the weaving-room she repaired for diversion, 
 therefore, when her aristocratic indolence 
 became insupportable; and it was said that 
 she sometimes worked the machine herself, 
 with her own bird-claw-like hands, and that, 
 too, with great skill. 
 
 After she was gone Spiridon puffed away 
 for many minutes upon his narghile, making 
 the water bubble vigorously in its glass reser- 
 
136 Constantine 
 
 voir. Such was his habit when thinking. 
 The louder the water bubbled in his narghile, 
 the harder he was thinking. 
 
 " That 's a wonderful thought about the 
 stars, my boy," said he, at last. " And I can 
 easily understand it. When you are at sea, a 
 distant mountain at first seems like the small- 
 est object imaginable. As you sail towards 
 it, it grows larger and larger, until by and by 
 the shores of an island appear to grow out of 
 the water. And when you come to the island, 
 you cruise along by its side for two or three 
 days, or maybe a week. Perhaps many of the 
 inhabitants have never been to sea, and think 
 of their own little patch of land as the whole 
 world. So it is likely enough with the stars, 
 who knows?" 
 
 It is not probable that Spiridon, left to 
 himself, would ever have noticed any change 
 in the relations between Aneza and Con- 
 stantine. In obedience to Aneza's earnest 
 injunction, the boy had said nothing to his 
 godfather of the scene in the garden, and to 
 the Kuria he could not have mentioned a 
 matter that seemed so sacred and so delicate 
 to him. That lady, however, soon suspected 
 
Constantine 137 
 
 that something was on foot of which she had 
 not been informed. Possibly her first inti- 
 mation arose from feminine instinct from 
 that power of second-sight which all women 
 possess to a greater or less degree. After the 
 idea had once occurred to her, she watched 
 the couple closely, and it seemed to her that 
 they were very often together of late; that 
 Constantine's colour heightened when he 
 heard Aneza's step or voice, and the girl her- 
 self was not so frank and childish in her de- 
 portment towards Constantine as formerly. 
 To the latter she said nothing; judging from 
 what her own conduct would be in such a 
 case, she took for granted that he would lie 
 to her. Aneza she questioned, but the girl 
 was too sharp for her; she therefore attacked 
 Spiridon on the subject, with a course of 
 henpeckery more persistent and more annoy- 
 ing than anything he had ever before expe- 
 rienced in the whole course of his married 
 life. 
 
 She chose the seclusion of the nuptial 
 chamber for these pleasing diversions, and 
 filled those hours which he would have gladly 
 devoted to sleep with the clatter of her cease- 
 
138 Constantine 
 
 less tongue. Often Spiridon, before getting 
 into bed, would look up at the benevolent 
 countenance of his patron saint, and, crossing 
 himself devoutly, would whisper to himself: 
 " O holy Nicholas, who so often didst pro- 
 tect me on the great deep, save me this night 
 from the squalls of matrimony!" 
 
 " You need n't tell me," said the Kuria, one 
 night after a long tirade, " that there is noth- 
 ing going on between that boy and girl, and 
 who knows how it may turn out? Perhaps 
 they will run away and get married; perhaps 
 something worse will happen, and then you 
 will never be able to marry our Aneza without 
 giving half you possess as a proeka" 
 
 "O, bah, bah, bah!" replied Spiridon; 
 "you don't know that boy; he would n't do 
 anything dishonourable." 
 
 ' 'O, he would n't, hey he, with his heathen 
 ideas, and I don't suppose the beggar would 
 run away with Aneza and marry her? I tell 
 you, Spiridon, you have been warming a viper 
 in your bosom all these years." 
 
 " No; I don't even believe he would run 
 away with her without telling me beforehand; 
 and if the two should get married, what harm 
 
Constantine 139 
 
 would it do? I, for one, should be pleased," 
 blurted out Spiridon stoutly, but the next 
 moment he regretted his courage, and was 
 inclined to believe that he had been foolhardy 
 instead of brave. 
 
 " What! " screamed his wife, now thoroughly 
 aroused, " have you gone crazy ? Holy Virgin ! 
 But I '11 have you know, sir, that this girl is 
 my daughter, and I '11 not have you marry her 
 to a beggar; I 'm a very mild and peaceable 
 woman, as you well know, but I shall not 
 permit you to drag us all down into disgrace; 
 you put a nice sum of money into your pocket 
 when you married me, and now for once in 
 my life, I '11 have something to say." And 
 so on for a good hour, Spiridon discreetly 
 remaining quiet. "Why don't you say any- 
 thing, you animal?" she demanded at last. 
 "Are you asleep?" 
 
 "No, my soul," he groaned; "I'm not 
 asleep surely not asleep." Here the lady 
 broke into a violent storm of tears. 
 
 " Holy Nicholas! " muttered Spiridon ; " first 
 wind and then rain, what next?" 
 
Chapter XIII 
 
 About this time Spiridon was making his 
 memorable run for the Voule, or Greek House 
 of Parliament. With what vigour he con- 
 ducted his campaign some of the old resi- 
 dents of Athens still remember. There are 
 those living to-day who have sat for hours 
 with him in Barbandone's wineshop, or in 
 one of the principal cafes, or have heard him 
 harangue the people from Constitution 
 Square. But he was bitterly opposed; dark 
 hints were thrown out by political adversaries 
 as to the source of his wealth, while his 
 homely and ungrammatical efforts as a public 
 speaker were much ridiculed. In this latter 
 function Constantine was of great assistance 
 to him. 
 
 Spiridon would stride up and down 
 
 the drawing-room, rehearsing his intended 
 
 speeches, while the boy listened, correcting 
 
 pronunciation, substituting pure Greek for 
 
 140 
 
Constantine 141 
 
 the rude, mixed idioms of the sailor class; and 
 even making shrewd hints as to what should 
 or should not be said. Under this tuition the 
 would-be Congressman really made great 
 improvement in every particular except that 
 of pronunciation. His vocal organs had been 
 trained in youth among the simple and igno- 
 rant fisher-folk of the Western ^Egean, and 
 nothing could prevent his talking in their 
 guttural style. Often Constantine, after his 
 godfather had finished a long oration, would 
 repeat the substance of the entire speech, 
 embellishing it with the pedantic language of 
 the schools, and adorning his delivery with 
 gestures which he was wont to imagine when 
 reading the speeches of Demosthenes; then 
 his pupil would become greatly excited, and 
 would clap his hands, crying, " That 's right, 
 give it to 'em, my boy!" After Constantine 
 had finished he would sigh, and say, " Ah, if 
 you could speak in my place, my boy, we 
 should win." 
 
 Despite all his efforts, Spiridon was de 
 feated and forced to retire into private life. 
 It may have been partly the result of this, and 
 partly to remove the cause of his wife's con- 
 
142 Constantine 
 
 tinual henpecking, that he announced his in- 
 tent of sending Constantine to Germany to 
 complete his education. Since the accession 
 of King Otho to the throne, much interest 
 had been aroused in Greece in the German 
 language and letters, and Spiridon declared 
 that he would give his godson the best educa- 
 tion possible. 
 
 " Do so," exclaimed the Kuria with a sneer. 
 " Make him a thorough barbarian while 
 you 're about it." 
 
 " He shall come back," replied Spiridon, 
 " and become Prime Minister. If I 'd have 
 known more than I do, I 'd be in the Voule* 
 to-day." 
 
 When Constantine was first informed of 
 his godfather's intention, his delight knew 
 no bounds; but as the time for departure ap- 
 proached, sadness at the idea of parting from 
 Aneza, whom he had thus far seen every day 
 of his life, increased within him until he be- 
 came almost ill with a sort of anticipatory 
 homesickness. That the girl loved him 
 devotedly at that time there can be no doubt. 
 She occupied herself during the last days 
 making little mementos of fancy work for 
 
Constantine 143 
 
 him, and he often saw tears in her big brown 
 eyes. Then he would whisper, if they were 
 alone together for the moment, " Don't cry, 
 Anezaki; I '11 come back before you know it, 
 and be a great man, and you shall be my 
 wife." Whereupon she would smile, and he 
 would declare that he saw rainbows in her eyes. 
 
 One afternoon Spiridon and Constantine 
 took a walk out beyond the ancient theatre of 
 Dionysus, then buried beneath the sands 
 that had fallen from the feet of two thousand 
 hurrying years. They climbed the hill where 
 stands the ruined monument of Philopappos, 
 and sitting down looked upon the distant 
 sea, red in the rays of the setting sun. The 
 older man pointed to the ocean with his staff, 
 and his heart leaped with joy. He even in- 
 haled a long breath, as though he could 
 smell the sweet salt-water from afar. But 
 Constantine, when he saw the glimmering 
 stretches of silver and blood-red, and the 
 ships that looked so little in the distance, 
 suddenly burst into tears. 
 
 "What is it, my boy?" asked Spiridon, 
 " are you so sorry at the thought of leaving 
 your Nounos? " 
 
144 Constantine 
 
 "Yes, Noune*," replied Constantine, con- 
 trolling his emotion with a brave effort. " I 
 am very sorry indeed to part with you." 
 
 Spiridon laid his hand tenderly on that of 
 his godson, and the two sat in silence for 
 some time. Finally the boy confessed boldly, 
 like the manly young fellow that he was. 
 
 " Noune"," said he, " you 've always dealt 
 so honestly with me, and so tenderly, that 
 I '11 not deceive you, even by a half-truth. 
 You 've been father and mother to me, when 
 I had n't any one else on earth; and more, 
 you 've been my dear old Nounos. I am in- 
 deed sorry to part with you, and I should be 
 very ungrateful if the thought of going away 
 did not make tears come into my eyes. ' But 
 I was not thinking of you just then, when I 
 saw the great .sea, and the ships that seem 
 fading away into the sky. Don't be angry 
 with me. It was of Aneza I was thinking. 
 We 've been together always. I can scarcely 
 remember a day that I 've not seen her. 
 When I think of leaving you, dear old Noune, 
 I 'm very sad, for I love you; but then I am 
 at the same time filled with joy, because I 
 know I shall strive to do great things and be 
 
Constantine 145 
 
 worthy of you. I know also that I am a man, 
 and a true Greek, and must take my part in 
 the world as such, and that by so doing I will 
 make you proud of me. But with Aneza it is 
 different. I try to reason in the same way 
 when her image comes up in my mind, but I 
 can't. In leaving her behind, I feel as though 
 I were going away without my soul my 
 heart. I feel as though my body would be 
 living in a foreign land and my life would be 
 here in Greece. I try to reason that the time 
 will pass quickly till I come back again, which 
 is no doubt the truth, but the thought of 
 being away from her at all is like death to 
 me." 
 
 " Does Aneza know this ? " asked Spiridon. 
 
 " She does. I have told her that I love 
 her I could n't help it." 
 
 " And what did she say ? " 
 
 "She said she loved me. She said she 
 would be my wife when I returned and be- 
 came a great man." 
 
 Spiridon sat in reflection for many minutes, 
 and during that time Constantine imagined 
 that he could hear his own heart beating 
 plainly. 
 
146 Constantine 
 
 " I am very glad you told me all this," said 
 the older man at last, heartily, and without 
 the least show of displeasure, " because it 
 proves to me again, what I already believed, 
 that my boy would not deceive me in any- 
 thing. And now that you have opened your 
 heart to me, I will say to you frankly that 
 this matter pleases me greatly. I have long 
 since hoped for this very thing. You are the 
 son of my best friend, and my own godson, 
 bound to me closer even than if by ties of 
 blood" 
 
 " Oh, Noune"," cried the young man, leap- 
 ing to his feet, "how good you are, and how 
 happy I am." 
 
 "This arrangement," continued Spiridon, 
 " will make you indeed my son, and will 
 allow me to carry out to the fullest degree the 
 promise I made to your poor father." 
 
 " How I will work and study over there," 
 exclaimed Constantine. " I '11 make even 
 mana proud of me." 
 
 " We '11 say nothing to mana at present," 
 replied Spiridon, with a sigh. "Some day 
 she will look at matters as I do. In the 
 mean time you must be as kind and gentle- 
 
Constantine 147 
 
 manly to your rnana as you always have been, 
 and do your work. Everything will come 
 out right in the end." 
 
 The mention of the Kuria threw a re- 
 straint over both Spiridon and his godson 
 that resulted in silence during most of the 
 walk home. 
 
 But just before they arrived at the familiar 
 gate Constantine suddenly stopped, as is the 
 custom of Greeks when an idea occurs dur- 
 ing a walk, and said with much earnestness: 
 " Noune*, the day after to-morrow I go away. 
 I would n't do anything to deceive mana, and 
 yet I would like to have just one little talk 
 with Aneza before I leave, just to have her 
 to myself for a little while and no one to 
 spoil our parting. 
 
 And to this, too, Spiridon agreed. Perhaps 
 he had been in love himself when young, who 
 knows? If so, let us hope it had not been 
 with the Kuria; for death itself is not so sad 
 as disillusionment. 
 
 The next day the three took a walk, and 
 when they had come into the country, Spiridon 
 went off by himself and left the lovers to say 
 their farewell alone. Then Constantine told 
 
148 Constantine 
 
 Aneza what so many a woman and girl has 
 heard before. It is true he had already told 
 her once, but this is a story that bears repeti- 
 tion. Very hopefully he talked. While he held 
 his beloved in his arms, it seemed as though 
 the years of separation were a mere episode. 
 Yes, they seemed to him already passed, and 
 for the moment he regarded himself returned, 
 covered with honour and claiming her as his 
 very own, with no one to say him nay. A feel- 
 ing of tenderness came over him for all the 
 world, even his godfather's wife. He could 
 feel Aneza tremble in his arms as he called 
 her again all the sweet Romaic love-names, 
 and told her it was surely fixed that she was 
 to be his wife, because her father was their 
 friend in the matter. "And we must bring 
 mana around by kindness," he said. " You 
 must be ever so good to her while I 'm gone, 
 and I shall always treat her with the greatest 
 respect, no matter what she says, and so she 
 will come to agree to it." Then he bent back 
 her head and tried to see her eyes, but she 
 kept them covered with the long, dark lashes. 
 He kissed them both many times and told her 
 to open them, because it was dark while they 
 
Constantine 149 
 
 were shut, and in that sweet moment she be- 
 lieved Constantine was the only man in the 
 world, and said: " I do love you, Constantine; 
 I do, I do. I will always love you and be 
 your Anezaki, and nobody else's. And I '11 
 do whatever you say, and pray our blessed 
 Lady every day to bless you and keep you, 
 and I '11 only live for the time when you come 
 back." 
 
 "And I shall be back soon, as if it were 
 to-morrow, and then we shall be married, as 
 God intended from the beginning of the 
 world; for am I not Constantine, and are you 
 not Aneza? And now, our good-bye kiss." 
 
 And she kissed him with her whole soul, 
 as a woman kisses the accepted king of her 
 life. 
 
Chapter XIV 
 
 So Constantine went to Munich to study the 
 classics and Bavarian law, and to dream of 
 Aneza. His nounos accompanied him in a 
 caique down the Saronic Gulf to Kalamaki, 
 and the two crossed the isthmus together on 
 mules to the ancient city of Corinth. There 
 Constantine parted from his godfather, and 
 went on board a sailing-vessel bound for 
 Venice by way of the Adriatic Sea. From 
 Venice he crossed the Tyrol by stage, and 
 found himself at last in Munich. Of his life 
 there it is not our purpose to give an ex- 
 tended account. Suffice to say that he greatly 
 distinguished himself as a student, winning 
 high praise, especially in the Greek classics. 
 German he had studied at the young Uni- 
 versity of Athens, and soon spoke it with 
 perfect command, and without any trace of a 
 foreign accent. His clear and vital compre- 
 hension of Greek was shown by the fact that 
 150 
 
Constantine 151 
 
 often, when asked to explain a passage of 
 ^Eschylus or Sophocles, difficult to the other 
 students, he would look puzzled, and repeat 
 the lines in Greek, replying respectfully in 
 the same tongue, "Why, it means what it 
 says; I cannot express it better." On the 
 other hand, if asked to translate into German, 
 he would do so immediately. Following the 
 advice of a German instructor of the Uni- 
 versity of Athens, he laid aside his native 
 dressbefore appearing in the streets of Munich. 
 His first recitation in a Greek class in the 
 latter city is still a legend among college 
 men. Being asked to read a passage of 
 Demosthenes, he complied with much fluency 
 and considerable fire. For several moments 
 after he had taken his seat profound silence 
 ensued, broken at last by the professor, who 
 inquired sternly, " Where in the world did 
 you learn your extraordinary pronunciation 
 of Greek, sir?" "In Athens," innocently 
 replied Constantine; and was astonished a 
 moment afterwards to hear his fellow-students 
 burst into a loud shout of laughter, as though 
 a particularly good thing had been said at 
 somebody's expense. The professor should 
 
152 Constantine 
 
 be given the credit of having shown himself 
 a sensible man in Constantine's case, for he 
 made an exception, and allowed the young 
 Greek to pronounce his native tongue as he 
 had learned it in childhood. This was wise, 
 for when Constantine pronounced Greek as 
 he knew it, he proved himself the only student 
 in the class who could actually speak the 
 language, and who could read it at sight with 
 perfect understanding. It must be added, 
 however, that the German professor never 
 would admit that Greek was anything but 
 a dead language, and he insisted that all his 
 other pupils should pronounce it according 
 to a dead method. But then, when a Ger- 
 man professor gets an idea into his head, 
 there is no way of removing the idea without 
 removing the head, and that method is fatal. 
 So, as the Greeks say, "What can you do?" 
 Constantine's student life, on the whole, 
 was similar to that of hundreds of other 
 young men who have studied in Germany, 
 with the exception that he pursued his work 
 with unflagging zeal, which, unfortunately, 
 does not always happen. The letters that he 
 wrote home were directed to his nounos, and 
 
Constantine 153 
 
 were written in the colloquial style best fitted 
 for the old man's understanding. They con- 
 tained cheerful, manly descriptions of his life 
 in a foreign land, and were enlivened by 
 many amusing incidents. They spoke often, 
 also, of his ambitions and hopes, and had 
 now and then a touching bit of homesick- 
 ness, showing that his heart was still in that 
 beautiful land which no true Greek ever forgets. 
 The feature of nature which he seemed most 
 to miss during his exile was Mount Hymettus. 
 In every one of his letters he spoke of it, 
 showing that he had vivid memories of its 
 appearance at all seasons of the year and 
 under all circumstances. " How I long," he 
 said, in one letter written in the month of 
 August, "once more to see the light that 
 comes on Mount Hymettus, just after the set- 
 ting of the summer sun, when all the world 
 is cool and quiet and dim, and off there in 
 the mysterious distance lies a huge bank of 
 violet more lovely than the mountains of 
 earth. No wonder our great forefathers 
 peopled the hills, streams, and winds with 
 immortal beings. Nature is at all times so 
 lovely in Greece, it suggests a happier race 
 
154 Constantine 
 
 than ours." At another time, writing in the late 
 autumn, he longed to see Hymettus wreathed 
 fantastically in clouds along its entire summit; 
 and once, in the spring, he spoke of the 
 mountain standing out distinct and dark 
 against the sky, while the great yellow moon 
 peeped cautiously from behind it, and then 
 glided boldly into the carnival heavens. An 
 incident referred to in one of his letters shows 
 how serious a thing to Constantine was his 
 love for Aneza. He did not himself describe 
 his duel with the bully of the junior class in 
 boastful language, nor in fact give a very 
 full account of it, but one of the tutors wrote 
 of the matter to Spiridon in bombastic and 
 pedantic ancient Greek. 
 
 It seems that the affair had come to the 
 ears of the faculty, who, after hearing both 
 sides of the question, had inflicted upon Con- 
 stantine nothing severer than a reprimand, 
 coupled with the warning not to commit the 
 offence again. Duelling was against the rules, 
 but the serious old Herr doctors had all been 
 rollicking students in their younger days, 
 and the details of a spirited encounter 
 thrilled them like a strain of martial music 
 
Constantine 155 
 
 does an old war-horse when it floats faintly 
 into the solemn domains of his pasture. Their 
 voices were severe and dry, but their eyes 
 flashed betrayingly, and they fidgetted uneasily 
 in their seats. 
 
 The facts in the case appear to have been 
 about as follows: 
 
 One evening a number of students, among 
 whom was Constantine, were sitting around a 
 table in a favourite resort, smoking huge 
 pipes, and discussing the excellent beer for 
 which the town is noted. As the hour grew 
 late, the merriment grew louder. Toasts were 
 proposed and replied to. Mugs were noisily 
 rapped on the table, and rollicking songs 
 were roared out in chorus. A President of 
 the Board having been elected, that func- 
 tionary decided that every one present must 
 either tell an original story, or sing a song 
 never before heard by the remainder of the 
 company. When Constantine's turn arrived, 
 he announced, amidst a chorus of " hochs ! " 
 that he would sing a song which he had him- 
 self composed and set to music. He explained 
 modestly, that although the song was a poor 
 little thing, the toastmaster's hard conditions 
 
156 Constantine 
 
 obliged him to give it. He then sang, in a 
 deep bass voice, the following, as nearly as 
 the words can be translated into English: 
 
 I know a cellar where the wine 
 Like prisoned sunshine gleams, 
 
 And some old legend of the Rhine 
 In every bottle dreams. 
 
 There, while the smoke wreaths interlace, 
 
 Or settle thin and grey, 
 We troll brave songs in German bass 
 
 To frighten care away. 
 
 We care no whit for prince or king, 
 
 Nor praise of fickle crowds ; 
 We puff our meerschaums while we sing, 
 
 And dwell among the clouds. 
 
 "Bravo, bravo!" shouted the students gaily. 
 " Who ever knew that Constantine was a 
 poet?" 
 
 " He 's a genuine troubadour," said one; 
 "he writes a song and sings it himself." 
 
 " Shall we have a second Tyrtaeus? " asked 
 another. 
 
 " Hardly that, for Greece is done fighting 
 for the present." 
 
 " I '11 write drinking-songs," said Constan- 
 tine good-humouredly. 
 
Constantine 157 
 
 "Oh, that won't do," exclaimed the bully, 
 winking at his neighbour, "we could not let 
 you waste your great talents on so trivial a 
 subject. After war, the only worthy theme 
 is love. What a pity the Greek women are 
 not charmers, as they were in the days of 
 Phrynne and Aspasia. With such inspiration 
 we should expect to hear something great 
 from you in the future!" 
 
 "I assure you," replied Constantine, "my 
 countrywomen are as beautiful as they ever 
 were; indeed, I believe they are the most 
 beautiful women in the world, and if I do 
 not sometime write a suitable poem about 
 them, it will be because I 'm unworthy the 
 subject." 
 
 A sudden hush fell upon the gay assembly. 
 The bully was well known as a skilful swords- 
 man, and one of those present bore upon his 
 cheek a mark of his skill. Constantine, on 
 the other hand, though an unknown quantity 
 in brawls, was foremost in manly exercises, 
 and very fond of practice with the foils, 
 which he handled with great address. It re- 
 mained to be seen if he possessed sufficient 
 nerve to defend his convictions., 
 
158 Constantine 
 
 " I 've an uncle now in Greece," continued 
 the bully, "who went over there to a little 
 town called Herakleia, near Athens, to teach 
 the natives something about wine culture. 
 " He 's in despair, however; he finds them 
 very stupid." 
 
 " Herakleia is peopled with German colo- 
 nists. Perhaps that 's the trouble," said Con- 
 stantine. 
 
 This retort raised a laugh from the good- 
 natured students and infuriated the bully. 
 "But to return to the women," continued the 
 latter, " my uncle writes that they are a set of 
 scarecrows; that there is n't a handsome 
 woman in Greece. He even intimates that 
 their much-vaunted virtue is attributable to 
 their unattractive appearance. Ah, well, every 
 one to his taste. It 's strange, since you ad- 
 mire your countrywomen so, that one has n't 
 captivated your poetic soul. Ah, behold 
 those telltale blushes, gentlemen. I propose 
 a vote of thanks to Constantine's little Greek 
 sweetheart. I see her now, round face, thick 
 lips, swarthy skin " 
 
 "Stop!" cried Constantine in a loud voice, 
 suddenly pushing back his chair; then, con- 
 
Constantine 159 
 
 trolling himself as far as possible, he said, 
 " If your uncle has given you such an opin- 
 ion of Greek women, he 's a blackguard and 
 a liar, and I 'm sorry that he is n't here, so 
 that I could pull his nose." 
 
 "Don't let that disturb you," said the bully 
 sarcastically; " I know my uncle to be a gen- 
 tleman of truth, and will assume all respon- 
 sibility for his statements." 
 
 "Then," said Constantine, "I shall pull 
 your nose." 
 
 He arose, pushed his chair back with de- 
 termination, and walked rapidly around the 
 table. When he had reached the side on 
 which the bully was seated, that gentleman 
 leaped to his feet, and hurled a half-emptied 
 beer-mug at Constantine's head. The latter 
 dodged, and in a moment the two closed. 
 Great excitement prevailed. The non-com- 
 batants sprang to their feet crying, " Gentle- 
 men ! Gentlemen! Shame! Shame!" and 
 rushed forward to pull the two apart. Before 
 this was effected, the table was tipped over, 
 beer-mugs and chairs being scattered about 
 the room. Finally Constantine found him- 
 self on one side of the table and his ad- 
 
160 Constantine 
 
 versary on the other, each panting with rage 
 and violent exertion, and each held by about 
 one half the occupants of the cellar. 
 
 "I challenge you to meet me to-morrow 
 with swords," cried the bully. 
 
 " I '11 fight you now," shouted Constantine, 
 " but first I must pull your nose. I said I 
 would, and I will." Here he made a despe- 
 rate but unavailable effort to free himself. 
 
 " Save your strength," said a young man, 
 who was always foremost in advocating fight- 
 ing when he was not personally concerned in it; 
 "save your strength for the field of honour." 
 Then leaping upon a chair, he continued, 
 " Gentlemen, words have been said here to- 
 night, deeds have been committed that can 
 only be wiped out with blood. That 's the 
 way I should feel were I one of the princi- 
 pals; that 's the way any one of you would 
 feel. Thus, I 'm sure, being men of cour- 
 age, the principals themselves feel. The 
 sooner, therefore, we have this unpleasant 
 business over, the better." To this all agreed. 
 Adjournment was made to the apartments of 
 a well-known fencing-master, who willingly 
 furnished everything necessary for the en- 
 
Constantine 161 
 
 counter. Seconds were chosen, and the two 
 young men, stripped to the waist, stood fac- 
 ing each other, their swords in their hands. 
 German students' duels have been described 
 so many times, it would be a mere repetition 
 to give a detailed account of this. Suffice to 
 say that the opponents seemed very evenly 
 matched at first, and that Constantine gave 
 and received several of those ugly cuts which 
 adorn the faces of so many graduates of the 
 German universities. Gradually, however, he 
 gained the advantage of his adversary, and 
 finally, by a skilful turn of his powerful 
 wrist, succeeded in disarming him. Spring- 
 ing forward, he placed his foot upon the 
 fallen weapon, and holding his own aloft 
 cried, " Whoever interferes now, be it one or 
 all, must settle with me." 
 
 Dropping his sword to the floor with a 
 clang, he sprang upon the bully, seizing him 
 around the waist. None of the spectators 
 moved from his place except the fencing- 
 master, who danced back and forth in pro- 
 fessional agony, wringing his hands and ex- 
 claiming: "But this is so irregular! So irreg- 
 ular!" 
 
1 62 Constantine 
 
 The contest was of short duration, Con- 
 stantine's superior strength showing itself 
 immediately; his sinewy arms sank into the 
 bully's sides and bent him back until it 
 seemed as though each convulsive hug would 
 crack the bully's spinal column. During 
 perhaps half a minute, which seemed at least 
 half an hour to the onlookers, the two con- 
 testants swayed back and forth, and then fell 
 heavily to the floor. There was a short, 
 vicious struggle on the hard boards, and then 
 Constantine appeared on top, holding his op- 
 ponent's arms pinioned to the floor. Unex- 
 pectedly he let go with his right hand, and 
 seizing the bully's nose, gave the unoffending 
 organ an artistic tweak. 
 
 " Greek women don't suit you, eh?" said 
 Constantine between his teeth. Springing 
 nimbly to his feet he recovered his hat and 
 sword, and making a low bow, asked, " Has 
 any gentleman anything to say? " No gentle- 
 man having anything to say, Constantine left 
 the smoky and dusty room, followed by the 
 most of the students, who insisted upon re- 
 turning to the drinking-cellar with him, 
 where they made a lion of him. 
 
Constantine 163 
 
 The bully remained with his second and 
 two or three particular friends, but what 
 plans for revenge were plotted was never 
 known, as no demonstration was made by 
 the defeated party. 
 
 " But why on earth did you pull his nose ?" 
 asked a student of mental and moral philos- 
 ophy, a close friend of Constantine's. 
 
 " Because," replied the latter, " he had 
 publicly slandered my countrywomen, an in- 
 sult which could only be wiped out by pub- 
 licly disgracing or killing him. I chose the 
 former course." 
 
 Whereupon the student of mental and 
 moral philosophy embarked upon a two- 
 years' course of original research on the sub- 
 ject of the " human nose," the result of which 
 he published in a paper now on file in the 
 university library. His title literally trans- 
 lated means, " The nose as the seat of honour 
 in the Human Biped," and the theory sug- 
 gested is ably defended by the inductive 
 method of reasoning. 
 
 Spiridon had not been able to make much 
 sense of the German professor's letter, written 
 as it was in stilted ancient Greek. He there- 
 
164 Constantine 
 
 fore called in Constantine's Athenian teacher, 
 who translated it into the modern vernacular 
 in the presence of Aneza, the Kuria, and 
 Spiridon himself. Aneza's cheeks burned 
 during the reading, and her eyes glowed, but 
 she said nothing. The professor paused fre- 
 quently to shout, "Zeto, Palikari, zeto!" 
 Spiridon joining in. 
 
 " He 's a ruffian," said the Kuria, as she 
 flounced out of the room at the end of the 
 reading. She could see no good in Con- 
 stantine. 
 
Chapter XV 
 
 Constantine sometimes took advantage of 
 the Kuria's inability to read to enclose a few 
 lines to Aneza in his letters to his nounos, and 
 the contraband missives were faithfully turned 
 over to the girl without her mother's knowl- 
 edge, although the latter no doubt suspected 
 that she was being deceived, and this fact 
 added to her hatred of Constantine. 
 
 Love letters are sacred literature; more- 
 over, they can only be understood by the 
 heart that writes and the heart that reads. 
 They are the special, intimate language of 
 the two souls concerned. Even if we wished 
 to publish the messages sent from time to 
 time from Constantine to Aneza, we should 
 find the task difficult; for who could translate 
 into a foreign tongue the true meaning of a 
 Greek love letter? The sweet expressions 
 can be translated, but not the effect which 
 they produce on a Greek maiden's heart. So 
 165 
 
1 66 Constantine 
 
 an artificial flower can be made to deceive 
 the eye, but it has no fragrance. Letters of 
 this nature are poetry, and all poetry is un- 
 translatable. The love letter of a Greek far 
 from the land of his birth is especially affect- 
 ing, for in it are mingled the longings of pas- 
 sion, with a homesickness so intense as to be 
 incomprehensible to people of other nations. 
 Constantine said always the same things in 
 his letters to Aneza, for the language of love, 
 as every one knows, is made up of sweet repe- 
 titions. 
 
 "My eyes," he would write, "but a little 
 while longer, and I shall see your dear face 
 again, and hold you in my arms. Oh, how I am 
 dying to kiss your lips once more! There are 
 two places sacred on earth to me: that place 
 where I kissed you on Easter night, when the 
 knowledge of love first came to me; and the 
 great pine tree in our yard, where you put 
 your arms around my neck and kissed me. I 
 think of you constantly, because everything 
 in nature reminds me of you. The sky here 
 is not so bright as the sky of Greece, and I 
 say to myself, this is because Aneza is not 
 here. The moon and the stars are not so glo- 
 
Constantine 167 
 
 rioushere; and I think nothing is fair where 
 Aneza is not. Oh, how I long for Greece, 
 and everything in Greece: the beautiful 
 heavens and the far-away sea; the light on 
 the hills at sundown; the smell of the orange- 
 blossoms and the song of the nightingale; 
 and more than all these, how I long for 
 Anezaki. You are sweeter than cold water; 
 you are dearer than life; my little bird, my 
 orange. 
 
 " And now, my soul, I have one favour to 
 ask of you. Do you remember the pretty 
 childish song you used to sing, sitting be- 
 neath the tree in your own little garden? 
 Ah! I remember it well; it begins : 
 "What delight, O, what delight! 
 You have come, O swallow ' 
 
 " Do you sing it yet? If so, think always 
 of me. Say to yourself, Constantine is my 
 swallow; what delight I shall have when he 
 comes. Then will be true springtime for me; 
 then will my heart bloom like the almond 
 tree. A thousand times your own 
 
 " CONSTANTINE." 
 
 Let no Englishman or American smile at 
 these terms of endearment; the vocabulary 
 
1 68 Constantine 
 
 of affection is more beautiful in Greek than 
 in any other tongue. 
 
 Aneza did not find many opportunities of 
 escape from her mother's watchful eye to 
 write to Constantine, but she usually managed 
 to send him a few words, crudely written, it 
 is true, but more welcome to their recipient 
 than the finest rhetoric could have been. " I 
 have no thought but for you," she would say; 
 " I am waiting for you day and night; I send 
 you a thousand kisses." And Constantine 
 put each message with the others, and took 
 them out and read them each night; they 
 were his Bible. 
 
Chapter XVI 
 
 And now we are come to the turning-point 
 in Constantine's life; to the one great event 
 which changed his destiny. One morning 
 he received a letter whose envelope was di- 
 rected in Aneza's handwriting. This was 
 extraordinary, as she invariably gave her mes- 
 sages to her father, who sent them under the 
 same cover with his own letters to the young 
 man. 
 
 " Ah, she has written me a letter all by 
 herself," said Constantine, "what happiness"; 
 and he tore open the envelope with eager, 
 trembling hands. He read and did not com- 
 prehend. Then he read again, and sank 
 into a chair as though stunned, his face pale 
 as death. 
 
 "What's the matter, Constantine?" asked 
 his friend the philosopher, who was in the 
 Greek's room. "Good heavens, man, you 
 look like a corpse. Bad news?" 
 169 
 
170 Constantine 
 
 For answer Constantine held out the letter 
 without speaking. 
 
 " But I can't read this," said the philos- 
 opher, glancing at the manuscript. " It 's 
 written in Greek, and not too plain at that." 
 
 " My nounos is dead," replied Constantine; 
 and having found his voice, he gave way to a 
 violent fit of sobbing. 
 
 " Oh, I say," said the other, putting his 
 arm around him, " don't do that, old man; 
 we '11 all stand by you here and help you to 
 bear it. Come now, old fellow, come now. 
 It might have been worse, you know; it might 
 have been Aneza." 
 
 "You don't know howl loved him," re- 
 plied Constantine. " You don't understand." 
 
 At last he started to his feet, and grasped 
 his friend's hand. 
 
 " Leave me, dear friend," he said. " I 
 want to be alone with my dead." The Ger- 
 man gave the extended hand a long pressure, 
 and went from the room on tiptoe. Then 
 Constantine read his letter again, after which 
 he sat with his head in his hands, trying to 
 realize its meaning. This is what it said: 
 
 " Oh, my Constantine ! how shall I tell you 
 
Constantine 171 
 
 the dreadful news? Papa is dead. Early 
 this morning mamma woke up and found 
 papa breathing so heavily that she was fright- 
 ened, and so she got up and lit a candle. 
 She called him and shook him, but he was 
 unconscious. By the time the doctor could 
 get to the house he had died heart disease, 
 the doctor said. It was all over so quick, and 
 now we are alone the house is so dreadful 
 without papa in it. Mamma says you must 
 come home, and I want you to come too. I 
 will tell you all about it when you are here. 
 From your heartbroken Aneza." 
 
 " He died without my seeing him," sobbed 
 Constantine. " My dear old iiounos, my 
 father. O God, he is even now lying out 
 in the graveyard, and I, who loved him so, 
 was not there to kiss him for the last time, or 
 to follow him to the grave. Oh, noune ! 
 noune ! you will never know now how much 
 I loved you, and how hard I have studied to 
 do you honour ! " 
 
Chapter XVII 
 
 A month after the receipt of Aneza's letter, 
 Constantine pushed open the big iron gate of 
 the garden he knew so well, and walked in. 
 He paused for a moment, and looked eagerly 
 among the trees. Then he hurried down the 
 walk, and peeped through into Aneza's little 
 garden. Love is stronger than sorrow, and 
 for that first moment he was thinking only of 
 his sweetheart. But soon the thought of his 
 nounos rose in his mind, and, hanging his 
 head like a guilty person, he walked up to 
 the front door and knocked. Tremblingly 
 he heard the iron bolt slide back, the heavy 
 door opened slowly, and Aneza stood before 
 him in the hall. 
 
 "Aneza!" he cried, springing forward to 
 catch her in his arms. But the girl stepped 
 back, and put up her right hand warningly. 
 " Be careful," she said, " mamma may be 
 looking." Constantine had dreamed for two 
 172 
 
Constantine 173 
 
 years of his first meeting with his sweetheart 
 after their long separation. The reality was 
 so different from his dream! He entered the 
 house with a heavier weight on his heart than 
 he had yet felt, and went to pay his respects 
 to the Kuria. He found her dressed in the 
 deepest mourning, which caused her to look 
 even paler and more angular than her wont. 
 She was singularly undemonstrative to his 
 words of condolence and affection, nor did 
 she express any joy at his return. The next 
 morning Constantino proposed to go to his 
 godfather's grave, and asked Aneza to walk 
 there with him. The Kuria spoke up in a 
 hard, unnatural voice, as though she were 
 playing a part, and had just heard her cue. 
 
 "You will have no difficulty in finding my 
 husband's grave," she said. " I will tell you 
 where it is. But there is no need that my 
 daughter should accompany you." 
 
 So Constantine went alone to the grave of 
 his nounos, and shed many bitter tears upon 
 it. 
 
 " Noune f Noune!" he cried, "shall I 
 never see your dear face again? Oh, how 
 lonely I am in the world now! I have neither 
 
174 Constantine 
 
 father nor mother, and my only friend lies 
 here in the dark grave! There is no one to 
 speak a kind word to me, now that you are 
 dead." But the thought of Aneza again arose 
 in his mind, a radiant image even among the 
 clouds of grief, and his feet bore him almost 
 unconsciously to the spot where he had 
 kissed her on that Easter night. Thence he 
 walked back as in a dream, imagining her 
 with him all the way, till he found himself 
 under the great tree in the garden, where 
 she had thrown her warm arms around him. 
 
 His second day at the house passed in 
 growing misery, and in loneliness greater 
 than he had dreamed of. He felt like a 
 stranger in the house. The Kuria did not 
 speak to him, and Aneza dared not. At 
 night he retired early to his chamber, and 
 threw himself without undressing upon the 
 bed. But he could not sleep. For hours he 
 tossed about, tortured by grief, love, and 
 wounded pride. Finally he arose, stole 
 down the stairs and out of the house. A 
 moment later he was standing under the 
 great tree which had been for two years his 
 soul's trysting-spot. The moon was shining 
 
Constantine 175 
 
 brightly, and in places on the white sanded 
 walk he saw again the shadows of tiny twigs. 
 The persistence of the most unreal and un- 
 substantial things seemed to mock him. So 
 absorbed was he in thought that he did not 
 hear a light footfall on the gravel. But when 
 two warm arms were thrown about his neck 
 and a soft, palpitating bosom was pressed to 
 his, he did not even start. His dream had 
 been so real, and now, O joy ! it was com- 
 plete. He bent down and kissed the dewy 
 lips upturned in the shadow. 
 
 " My soul ! My eyes ! " he murmured. 
 
 Who shall say how long these two lovers 
 stood thus entranced in one another's arms? 
 Love is the only good in life, and the moments 
 of bliss are very brief in a drear eternity. 
 
 "But you're weeping, my light," said 
 Constantine; " my cheek feels that yours is 
 wet. Is it for poor nounos? Let us not weep 
 now. This is what he wished, and we have 
 a right to our joy. If he knows, he is rejoi- 
 cing with us." 
 
 " Oh, Constantine, you don't know," 
 whispered Aneza, " what a difference poor 
 papa's death has made. I wanted to see you 
 
176 Constantine 
 
 so bad and tell you about it. I heard you go 
 down the stairs, and I followed you out. 
 But, oh, I am so afraid! Mother hates you, 
 and things are not at all the same now as 
 they were. If you could have only taken 
 your degree and got started! Oh, why did 
 he die so soon and leave us in such trouble?" 
 
 And Aneza, burying her head on Con- 
 stantine's shoulder, sobbed violently. Con- 
 stantine could feel the soft form trembling in 
 his arms, and his heart was rent by mingled 
 pity at her grief and by a terrible fear awak- 
 ened by her words. 
 
 So immersed were the lovers in their sad 
 thoughts that they did not hear the light 
 tread of the Kuria, who had missed Aneza and 
 stolen out to look for her. She stood in the 
 shadow silently observing the pair. 
 
 " I must be going in now," said Aneza, 
 " mother will be missing me." 
 
 "Good-night, my beloved," said Con- 
 stantine; " whatever happens, we love each 
 other. Give me one more kiss before you 
 go. After all, nothing but death can come 
 between us; for am I not Constantine, and 
 are you not Aneza? " 
 
Constantine 177 
 
 "You shameless hussy!" hissed the Kuria. 
 
 "It's mother!" screamed Aneza, and she 
 ran for the house as though at sight of a 
 tigress. 
 
 Constantine removed his hat and faced the 
 Kuria. He was pale, and looked very tall and 
 noble in the moonlight. The long pent-up 
 torrent of hatred and maternal jealousy broke 
 forth on him at last. 
 
 " So, you viper, this is what you learned 
 over in Germany, is it, living on my daugh- 
 ter's money? A pretty scheme you 've got in 
 your head, haven't you? But you'll find 
 you've a different person to deal with now 
 than you had in my husband. You have 
 been living on the bread of others so long, 
 you great lazy vagabond, that you expect the 
 thing to go on forever, do you? I '11 show 
 you different. My daughter shall marry a 
 gentleman, and the quicker you make your- 
 self scarce and go to work, the better." 
 
 This was Aneza's mother, and Constantine 
 felt that more than life was at stake. 
 
 " What have I ever done to you, mana," he 
 pleaded, "that you should hate me so? I 
 have always been respectful to you. I would 
 
178 Constantine 
 
 have loved you if you had let me. Besides, 
 you should n't blame me so much. It was 
 my nounos's wish that Aneza and I should 
 marry 
 
 "Oh, was it indeed! Strange that I never 
 heard anything about it. Well, I 'm Aneza's 
 mother, and it 's my wish that Aneza should 
 not marry a beggar and a charity orphan. 
 You have lived long enough on others. It is 
 time now that you went to work." 
 
 With that she whirled about and was gone. 
 Each of the cruel words had pierced him like 
 the stabs of a blunt knife. He wandered on 
 and on; as long as darkness lasted he walked, 
 as though trying to flee from his despair. 
 
Chapter XVIII 
 
 But hope dies hard in the young. The first 
 grey of dawn found Constantine standing on 
 a little hill, gazing at the leaden distances of 
 sea. A fresh breeze blew out of the east, and 
 cooled his aching brow. The sea, too, is a great 
 inspirer of hope. It is the mother of enter- 
 prise. It tells of change and unrest. Its 
 vastness alone lifts us out of our petty groove, 
 and inspires us to larger endeavour. If we 
 are not happy as we are, we think, in presence 
 of the sea, that there is still hope for us in 
 some other world, in some other way. So 
 came into the mind of man that legend of 
 the blessed isles. Ah, let us not always think 
 they are imaginary! Perhaps some who have 
 sailed away have found them who knows? 
 
 "Aneza loves me," cried Constantine when 
 
 he saw the sea; " she will wait for me. I '11 
 
 get some work to do something, anything. 
 
 I '11 study night and day. I will succeed. 
 
 179 
 
180 Constantine 
 
 The world shall speak so highly of me that 
 mana will be ashamed of herself." 
 
 Just then the sun's disk slid above the rim 
 of the horizon, and the sea laughed and 
 blushed a rosy red. 
 
 " Yes," shouted Constantine, doubling his 
 fist and shaking it in the air, " I will succeed! " 
 
Chapter XIX 
 
 Why follow Constantine's fruitless search for 
 employment? This is a sad story that has 
 been told again and again; a history that has 
 been lived in too many cases. Little by little, 
 as he descended the scale of occupations, he 
 felt his confidence, even his self-esteem, slip 
 away from him, until at last he came to believe 
 that there was no place for him in all the 
 world. The foundations of his education had 
 been laid on a liberal scale, and he had been 
 intended for a large and honourable career, 
 but nothing had been finished. For practical 
 work in his profession he required yet to 
 finish the course in Germany and then to 
 have at least two years' training in a lawyer's 
 office in Athens. He was not, therefore, ready 
 to do anything. He had a little money, from 
 the last allowance given him by Spiridon, 
 but gradually this dwindled away. The only 
 thing that remained to him was the conscious- 
 181 
 
1 82 Constantine 
 
 ness that Aneza was waiting for him, and that, 
 somehow or other, he must succeed. One day 
 he passed her in the street in company with 
 her mother. She flushed a conscious red, 
 and stole a glance at him from her great 
 dark eyes that cheered him for a week. 
 Finally, when he was about at the end of his 
 resources and nearly in despair, he met Bar- 
 bandone on the street. The latter had suc- 
 ceeded in his wine business and was prosper- 
 ous-looking. 
 
 " Hail, Constantine!" he cried; " how goes 
 it? When do you return to Germany?" 
 
 " Not at all," said Constantine. " There 's 
 been a great change since the death of my 
 nounos." 
 
 "So! So! "said Barbandone, putting his 
 arm through the younger man's. " Come 
 over to my place and tell me all about it." 
 Constantine soon found himself seated in the 
 ex-sailor's wine-garden. It was a pleasant 
 place, shaded by pine trees. At one end was 
 a small building facing the street. Within, 
 a dozen huge tuns were ranged in a row on 
 the platform the faucets were even with the 
 drawer's head. People who wished wine when 
 
Constantine 183 
 
 Barbandone was absent drew the required 
 quantity and left the money on the table. 
 Barbandone never lost anything by this con- 
 fidence in his fellow-citizens. The Greek is 
 shrewd in business, but he seldom steals. 
 
 " How much did the old gentleman leave 
 you?" asked Barbandone. 
 
 " Nothing. I did n't expect anything. He 
 did more than enough for me as it was. But 
 the Kuria treats me very cruelly." 
 
 " So you don't get on with the Kuria, eh?" 
 asked Barbandone. Constantine said that the 
 Kuria had driven him from the house, and 
 gave an account of his fruitless search for 
 employment. Barbandone crossed himself 
 several times during the recital, and for a 
 long time afterwards sat thinking; occasion- 
 ally he ejaculated " Boh, boh, boh! " 
 
 "My boy," said he finally, "your father 
 and godfather were both friends of mine, and 
 I 'd gladly help you if I could, but I can't 
 offer you anything worthy of your foreign 
 education. There 's only one thing, if you 
 care to take it. I am opening a new garden 
 and hotel out on the Kephissia road. It will 
 be a beautiful place for picnics, weddings, 
 
184 Constantine 
 
 parties, and the like. I expect to gain much 
 money by the enterprise. If you care to man- 
 age the place, I '11 give you sixty drachmas 
 a month and a share in the proceeds. If you 
 do not like the idea, you can make your 
 home with me until you get something better 
 to do." 
 
 " I shall never forget your kindness, Bar- 
 bandone," said the young man. " I '11 accept 
 your proposition of a home for the present, 
 for I am come to my last drachma. But I 
 owe it to the memory of my nounos to try 
 and find some place where I can use my edu- 
 cation." 
 
 Thus began another week of fruitless 
 search, at the end of which Constantine an- 
 nounced that he would accept the position 
 offered. 
 
 " I can find time there to study, and pre- 
 pare for my examinations for the bar," he 
 thought. So Constantine became the man- 
 ager of a road-house on the Kephissia road; 
 but the bright image of Aneza was a constant 
 inspiration to him, and he robbed himself of 
 half his sleep to study law. When the Kuria 
 
Constantme 185 
 
 heard where he was, she sniffed contemptu- 
 ously. 
 
 " He has found his level at last," she said. 
 And Aneza for the first time in her life felt 
 ashamed of Constantine. 
 
Chapter XX 
 
 A year passed away, and Constantine be- 
 gan to think of trying the examinations 
 for the bar. His studies in Germany had 
 made him fit for effective work, and he had 
 been spurred on by an enthusiasm that had 
 intensified his faculties. There had been no 
 communication with Aneza in the mean time. 
 Girls are more closely watched in Greece 
 than they are in other countries. Moreover, 
 he made no attempt to see his sweetheart. 
 He would pass his examination brilliantly, 
 and become a full-fledged lawyer, he thought. 
 He had saved enough out of his wages and 
 the business to live for a year, with economy. 
 If he needed more, Barbandone would help 
 him, he knew, for Barbandone had been 
 strangely kind to him. Once established in 
 an honourable profession, no fear for him. He 
 would astonish the city with his skill and 
 eloquence. Nothing should keep him down, 
 1 86 
 
Constantine 187 
 
 and the very first thing he would do would 
 be to go boldly to Aneza's house and say to 
 the Kuria: 
 
 " See, I 'm a lawyer now, and on the high 
 road to success. You can no longer call me 
 a beggar. I love Aneza, and Aneza loves 
 me, and it was the wish of my nounos that 
 we should marry," and if she does not treat 
 me kindly, I '11 tell Aneza in her presence, 
 " Do not be discouraged, my love. But a 
 little while longer and even mana will be 
 proud of me." 
 
 And what had been happening to Con- 
 stantine's sweetheart all this time? That she 
 had not lived a happy life one may be sure. 
 She was sad at heart, and yet forced to as- 
 sume a gaiety she did not feel. When she 
 sighed, or when tears suffused her beautiful 
 dark eyes, her mother would say sneeringly: 
 
 " What 's the matter, Aneza? Are you 
 grieving for your waiter-boy?" 
 
 One day, about a year after Constantine's 
 return, a notorious old matchmaker came to 
 the Kuria in great excitement. A splendid 
 parti had announced himself as a candidate 
 for Aneza's hand. He had no money, and 
 
1 88 Constantine 
 
 was deeply in debt, but he was a " nice young 
 man." He desired to marry immediately, 
 because his debts must be paid and his social 
 position kept up. This latter was so high 
 that he demanded a large proeka, and there 
 were few girls in Athens able to aspire to his 
 hand. 
 
 "What is his position?" asked the Kuria, 
 much interested. 
 
 " He is the son of one of our noblest fam- 
 ilies, and, although young, is a lieutenant 
 of cavalry. You should see him prancing 
 through the streets on his fine horse, all in 
 his magnificent uniform," replied the match- 
 maker. " Besides, he is a favourite at Court, 
 and has even dined with the Royal Family. 
 If Aneza marries him she will get invitations 
 to all the Court balls. Perhaps you '11 be in- 
 vited yourself who knows? You have all 
 the money you want now, as everybody 
 knows. High social position is only to be 
 obtained through the marriage of your 
 daughter." 
 
 The Kuria was greatly impressed, but it 
 was not proper to appear too anxious. 
 
 " It will at least do no harm to see the 
 
Constantine 189 
 
 young man," said she, with dignity. The 
 matchmaker hobbled away much elated. 
 She felt a professional pride in her calling. 
 Also, the consummation of the affair meant 
 a handsome present for herself as soon as 
 the groom should get the dowry safely in 
 his hands. The very next day Lieutenant 
 Christopher Skouzes presented himself for 
 inspection. He was a slender young blade, 
 straight as an arrow, and undeniably hand- 
 some. He was clad in a uniform of European 
 design, and his gold-hilted sword clanked 
 impressively on the floor as he walked. Edu- 
 cated in Paris, his manners were irreproach- 
 able, and he bore himself towards the Kuria 
 with the most flattering deference. 
 
 " If your ladyship favours my suit," said 
 he, with a low bow, his hand over his heart, 
 " I shall be as happy in my mother-in-law 
 as in my wife." 
 
 Inquiry proved that the young man's social 
 position was indeed irreproachable, and that 
 he had often been assigned to escort and 
 other show duty by the king. The Kuria 
 made up her mind without delay. 
 
 " This," she said, " will save Aneza from 
 
190 Constantine 
 
 her infatuation for that waiter-boy. Once 
 she is married I shall feel safe, but never till 
 then. Besides, we are rich. Why should n't 
 we unite ourselves with one of the best 
 families?" 
 
 " Aneza, I have found a husband for you," 
 said she to the girl, as soon as she had ar- 
 rived at this determination. "A suitable 
 husband, of high social position. He is even 
 a special favourite of the king. He is, more- 
 over, everything that a girl could wish 
 young, handsome, and of good disposition." 
 
 Aneza made no reply. She so feared her 
 mother's contempt when reference was made 
 to Constantine that she did not even dare to 
 interpose the objections natural to a maiden. 
 She knew that the least word would be greeted 
 with, " Oh, you 're still yearning for your 
 hotel-keeper, are you? " 
 
 As soon as she found herself alone she 
 sobbed, " O Constantine, Constantine! What 
 would poor papa say if he knew?" 
 
 Aneza had not seen Constantine for several 
 months at the time when her mother an- 
 nounced that a suitable husband had been 
 found. The girl could not realize Constan- 
 
Constantine 191 
 
 tine's difficulties, and her nature was not suffi- 
 ciently deep to have appreciated his grand 
 struggle, had she known of it. The reader 
 will have perceived long ere this, it is hoped, 
 that the depth of his love was worthy of a far 
 nobler object. Besides, the officer had the 
 advantage. He was allowed to see Aneza 
 every day, contrary to the Greek custom, for 
 the Kuria had an object in view. All his 
 surroundings and appointments were honour- 
 able, showy, and romantic. Constantine was 
 absent, in a position menial, and, according 
 to Aneza's unhealthy views, disgraceful. It 
 must be remembered that the Kuria was 
 Aneza's only living parent, and that, in Greece, 
 the will of a parent is almost a supreme law 
 in the matter of marriage. So Constantine's 
 sweetheart yielded to circumstances and to 
 her mother's stronger will, and consented to 
 become the officer's bride. After once having 
 made up her mind, she soon began to think 
 proudly of her betrothed, and to regard with 
 pleasure the prospect of her early union with 
 so gallant a cavalier, even if she occasionally 
 let fall a tear and sighed: 
 
 "Oh, my Constantine, how unhappy we 
 
192 Constantine 
 
 are! " She regarded the emotion with satis- 
 faction, as doing credit to her heart. She 
 even imagined herself as the sufferer, and at 
 times felt sorry for herself. 
 
 The betrothal was accomplished without 
 delay, and some of the groom's irreproach- 
 able friends and relatives were present on the 
 occasion, to the Kuria's unspeakable delight. 
 She imagined herself, for the time being, as 
 good as at the palace itself. 
 
Chapter XXI 
 
 The news of the betrothal came to Con- 
 stantine on the very day before his intended 
 examination. He was sitting at the desk in the 
 cafe 1 of the inn, with a law book on his knee. 
 Two guests came in, and took seats at a 
 table. One of them tapped sharply on the 
 floor with the point of his sword. Constantine 
 looked up. They were cavalry officers, and 
 their horses were being held outside by a 
 mounted orderly. Constantine observed all 
 this at a glance, and then went on with his 
 reading; for one of his two waiters had just 
 hurried in from the garden to take the orders. 
 Suddenly, out of the confused murmur of 
 conversation, of which Constantine was 
 scarcely conscious in his absorption, there 
 came a name that he would have heard had 
 it been whispered. 
 
 From the indistinct flow of talk one word 
 sounded out clear as a bell, and sent all the 
 
194 Constantine 
 
 blood in his body rushing back upon his 
 heart : that word was " Aneza." Constantine 
 looked up, pale as death, his every faculty on 
 the alert now. 
 
 " They say she 's uselessly rich," said one 
 of the officers. 
 
 " She can't be too rich for Christo," said 
 the other; " he '11 make her parades fly fast 
 enough." 
 
 " He '11 eat them." 
 
 " There 's a boy for you ! Do you remem- 
 ber the time that he feigned insanity to 
 escape his creditors?" 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 "What '11 he do with Josie? " 
 
 " Oh, he '11 give her a slice of the proeka 
 to keep her quiet. Never fear for Christo; 
 he 's a smooth lad." 
 
 " Ah, she 's a stunner," said the elder, 
 raising his eyes to the ceiling and smacking 
 his lips appreciatively. 
 
 " Here, boy, where are you? Two little 
 wines. Here 's to Josie." 
 
 " I 'm with you," said the other, raising his 
 glass, "and what's her name? Josie and 
 Aneza, though I '11 warrant Josie 's the finer 
 
Constantine 195 
 
 woman of the two. Ah, if our mistresses only 
 \\z.&proeka! This matrimony 's a bore." 
 
 Constantine rose, and his law book slid to 
 the floor. He came from behind the desk 
 and walked up to the two officers; he was 
 trembling, and his lips were white. 
 
 " May I ask you," he inquired, " to what 
 Aneza you refer? " 
 
 The officers set down their half-emptied 
 glasses and stared at him in amazement. 
 
 " Well, this is too good," said one. 
 
 "The impudence of the fellow," said the 
 other. 
 
 "I asked you a civil question," persisted 
 Constantine, " and I propose to be answered." 
 
 " Off with you," said the younger officer, 
 " or I '11 call in my groom to kick you." 
 
 Constantine struck him in the face. The 
 officer sprang to his feet with an oath, and 
 drew his sword. But before he had an oppor- 
 tunity to use it Constantine snatched the older 
 man's weapon from its sheath, and attacked 
 him with great fury. The civilian's training 
 aided him in his blind rage. Ere the officer 
 realized that he had met a formidable antago- 
 nist, he received a wound in the sword-arm, 
 
196 Constantine 
 
 and felt his weapon fly from his hand. Then 
 Constantine drove both of them pell-mell 
 from the room; but he did not pursue his 
 advantage. On the contrary, he dropped the 
 sword to earth, and started on a run for 
 Athens. 
 
 "After him, quick," cried the younger 
 officer; "cut him down; don't you see my 
 arm 's disabled? " 
 
 " Better say nothing about it," replied his 
 comrade; "the other fellows would laugh at 
 us. Here, take off your coat and I '11 bind 
 up your arm with my handkerchief." 
 
 "He's a devil," said the wounded man; 
 "a crazy devil"; and they picked up their 
 weapons, mounted their steeds, and rode 
 away. 
 
Chapter XXII 
 
 Twenty minutes later Constantine rushed 
 into Barbandone's place in town. He was hat- 
 less and dusty, and looked wild as to his eyes. 
 
 " Tell me," he cried, catching Barbandone 
 by the shoulder, " tell me, is it she? " 
 
 "Saints preserve us!" exclaimed the wine 
 dealer, " has the boy gone mad?" 
 
 Constantine shook him fiercely. 
 
 " Answer me, answer me," he implored. 
 
 Barbandone led him to a seat and pushed 
 him gently into it. 
 
 " Now, tell me what you have on your 
 mind," he said. " Poor boy, I fear you have 
 been studying too hard." 
 
 " It 's about Aneza," explained Constan- 
 tine; "tell me, is she to be married?" 
 
 "Why, of course," replied Barbandone, 
 innocently. "Didn't you know to Chris- 
 topher Skouzes. Christo, the beautiful, they 
 call him. He 's a lieu " 
 197 
 
198 Constantine 
 
 But Constantine was gone. 
 
 " Phew! " said Barbandone, looking after 
 the retreating form; and for a long time he 
 sat thinking. 
 
 Constantine hurried to his former home and 
 knocked furiously on the door. Some one 
 ran down the hall and slid the bolt. He 
 pushed the door open rudely and almost 
 fell inside. "Holy Virgin!" exclaimed the 
 cook. Constantine heard voices upstairs. 
 He bounded up, and in the reception-room 
 he found her in company with her mother. 
 On the table lay a bridal dress and veil, and 
 other unaccustomed finery was scattered about 
 upon chairs. Aneza had tied a pink scarf 
 about her head, and her eyes were bright with 
 unwonted excitement. She was maddeningly 
 beautiful. She gave a little scream when she 
 saw Constantine. She noticed at a glance 
 that he had grown thin. 
 
 " Aneza," he cried, " I 've come to save 
 you. They shall not make you marry any 
 one but me. I Ve studied day and night, 
 and now I'm ready to become a lawyer. 
 Don't be afraid of them, Aneza; they can't 
 make you marry against your will." 
 
Constantine 199 
 
 " Now, what 's he talking about," broke in 
 the Kuria's strident voice, " about marrying 
 against one's will? And who are 'they,' any- 
 way? My daughter, sir, is marrying the man 
 of her choice a man of her own social posi- 
 tion. And you '11 kindly leave the house at 
 once, or I shall call in the police. We have 
 ordered the wine of your master, so there is 
 no need of your coming here." 
 
 Constantine paid no heed to the taunt. He 
 turned to Aneza. 
 
 " I '11 not believe what she says. She was 
 always hard and cruel, and always hated me. 
 Let me know from your own lips. Do you 
 love this other man? You know it was your 
 father's dearest wish that we should marry. 
 If you should marry any one else, you would 
 be opposing the wishes of the dead. You 
 said you loved me so often. Was it not 
 true?" 
 
 Aneza stood trembling, with eyes cast 
 down. 
 
 "You do not speak. Don't be afraid, 
 Aneza. I 've loved you every minute. I 've 
 suffered humiliation for you. Every day I 've 
 lived a year for you. Never for a moment 
 
2OO Constantine 
 
 have I doubted you. And this other man 
 You must see the difference between his love 
 and mine. My love for you is all-powerful. 
 It will make me a great man with you. With- 
 out you, it will kill me." 
 
 " Speak to this idiot, Aneza, and send him 
 about his business. Tell him that you are 
 to be married to-morrow to the man you 
 love." 
 
 " Say it is not so," cried Constantine, " say 
 it is not so! Or if it is, let me hear it from 
 your own mouth. Yes," he continued, sud- 
 denly lowering his voice, and speaking with 
 forced calmness, " if you love this man, say 
 so, and I '11 go away forever. Do you love 
 him, Aneza?" 
 
 Aneza, without looking up, shrugged her 
 shoulders and murmured, "What can I do?" 
 
 Constantine turned quickly and walked 
 from the room. His boots sounded heavy 
 on the stairs as he went down. 
 
 " Glory to God, that 's over! " sighed the 
 Kuria, piously. 
 
 " Oh, mana, was n't it dreadful," said Aneza, 
 shivering; " I did n't think he would feel so 
 bad." 
 
Constantine 201 
 
 "He wants your money," explained her 
 mother. " When one has plotted all his life 
 for a fortune, it is pretty hard to see it slip 
 out of his clutches all at once." 
 
Chapter XXIII 
 
 Barbandone was sitting in his garden when 
 Constantine hurried past. 
 
 " Constantine," he called; "Constantine!" 
 No answer. He sprang to his feet, ran into 
 the road, and seized the young man by the 
 arm. " Where are you going so fast, my 
 brother? " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Where are you going so fast? " 
 
 " Oh, yes; where am I going so fast? " 
 
 " That is what I asked you," said Barban- 
 done; "and where is your hat? You look 
 like a wild man." 
 
 " Like a wild man," repeated Constantine, 
 putting his hand mechanically to his head. 
 Barbandone gazed at him for a moment sor- 
 rowfully, then put his own hat on Constan- 
 tine's head. The act of kindness brought 
 back the young man's wandering senses. 
 
 "Thank you, Barbandone," said he; "I 
 202 
 
Constantine 203 
 
 want to be alone. O God! O God! " And 
 he hurried away. 
 
 Barbandone went slowly back to the gar- 
 den, shaking his head and crossing himself. 
 
 "That oath," he muttered, "that terrible 
 oath." 
 
 Constantine wandered far from the city 
 again that night, up the side of Mount 
 Hymettus. True to the instincts of the 
 Greek, he sought consolation in solitude, 
 and in communion with Nature. He thought 
 over all his past life the kindness of his 
 godfather, his studies in Germany. The 
 moon and the stars helped him, as they had 
 helped his ancestors thousands of years before. 
 They were so calm, they soothed him; they 
 were so great, they strengthened him. The 
 sea air also blew upon his brow and cooled 
 the fever. When morning came again, he 
 had resolved to live up to his godfather's 
 memory, and to be a great man without 
 Aneza. He thought also of his own father, 
 lying there in his lonely grave in the Isle of 
 Andros, and determined to make a brave 
 fight for the honour of his own name and 
 family. 
 
204 Constantine 
 
 " I will stay out here in the wilderness," he 
 said, " with the mountains and the stars till 
 she is married; then I will go back and begin 
 again. They shall all see their mistake. They 
 shall be sorry for this." 
 
 But when he would feel strongest, when he 
 would set his teeth and throw out his chest, 
 the thought of Aneza would force itself upon 
 him, and he would see again her dark, oval 
 face and glorious eyes, and he would even 
 seem to feel her ripe lips warm upon his own; 
 then he would fall as one stricken down, with 
 his face in the dust, and moan. 
 
 All that day he passed without food and 
 drink. 
 
 " Now they are being married," he would 
 say; " now they are putting the orange wreath 
 about her brow my love, my little love! Now 
 they are dancing with the groom, and I am 
 not he. Now the maidens are making merry 
 with her, and she does not blush for me. Oh, 
 God, let me die! " 
 
 When the bridal night came, he thought of 
 his love in the arms of another, and his suf- 
 ferings seemed greater than he could bear. 
 The preceding night he had prayed, now he 
 
Constantine 205 
 
 cursed. Again the better man within him 
 rose, and again he remembered his great 
 resolve. 
 
 When Barbandone came into his garden 
 early in the morning, he found Constantine 
 sitting under a tree. He was bending over a 
 table, his face in his hands. Barbandone 
 shook him softly and he looked up. His 
 face was pale and haggard, his eyes blood- 
 shot. He shivered as with a chill. The wine 
 dealer said not a word, but hurrying inside, 
 soon appeared with a cup of hot coffee and a 
 biscuit. These he gave to Constantine, who 
 ate and drank; after which he took the young 
 man, led him into a bedroom above the wine- 
 store, and locked the door. Then he began 
 to talk very fast, fearing that if he paused, 
 the memory of that dreadful oath would 
 weaken his resolve. The whole story of the 
 cistern, the ten thousand drachmas, the oath, 
 was told. 
 
 " I would have had nothing to do with the 
 affair," added Barbandone, " but I was crazy 
 with love for my Sophia, and I saw no other 
 way to win her. It was not the ten thousand 
 drachmas he was offering me, you see, but 
 
206 Constantine 
 
 Sophia. And I took a paper out of the cis- 
 tern which shows plainly who all that money 
 belonged to. I could not read at the time, 
 but I have learned letters since, and I 've 
 made out the most of it. I would have 
 shown you this at first, but I did n't know 
 what it was. Then by the time I had learned 
 to read, my Yannaki came, and afterwards the 
 little girl, and I was afraid the terrible curse 
 would fall upon my children. But I said in 
 the oath, 'provided I 'm not committing any 
 crime.' I don't fear the curse so much now, 
 for I 'm sure we were committing a crime 
 against you." 
 
 Constantine's eyes had been wandering 
 around the room at first. Now he stared at 
 Barbandone like one in a trance. The latter 
 opened an old leather trunk in the corner of 
 the room, and took therefrom a yellow paper, 
 which had fallen nearly in two at one of its 
 folds. He opened this, and smoothed it out 
 with much respect on the bed by the side of 
 Constantine. 
 
 " Read," said the wine dealer, tracing the 
 lines with his fat finger. Constantine read 
 mechanically, like a child reciting a lesson. 
 
Constantine 207 
 
 Now, if this were a romance instead of a 
 record of events, we should give word for 
 word the contents of the paper, and should 
 accompany the ostensible translation by a 
 copy of the original document in Greek. 
 By such devices as these romances are 
 often rendered more specious than reality 
 itself. The truth of the matter is, how- 
 ever, that Constantine carried the paper away 
 with him, as we shall shortly see, and no 
 doubt lost it, for Barbandone never saw it 
 again. 
 
 We must therefore trust to the wine mer- 
 chant's memory, according to which the paper 
 contained a brief history of various extremely 
 profitable voyages in a brig called the Adia, 
 eighteen thousand kilos burthen. In the year 
 1802, for example, a cargo of wheat had been 
 taken through the English blockade of the 
 Spanish coast, and sold at an enormous price 
 inhabitants of a besieged city. The writer 
 to the explained that, owing to the great 
 amoun of Spanish silver dollars taken in at the 
 time, he did not stop to count them, but 
 divided themaccording to fezfuls one fezful 
 to each of the crew, three fezfuls to himself, 
 
208 Constantine 
 
 and so on till each man had his share (so 
 Barbandone says). There was also a brief ac- 
 account of a fight with a pirate ship off the coast 
 of Morocco, followed by the capture and de- 
 struction of the pirates. Constantine's grand- 
 father took possession of the chiefs sword with 
 a jewelled hilt, and much other rich booty fell 
 to his share, including strings of pearls, dia- 
 monds, etc. Fearing confiscation by the 
 Turkish authorities, he buried this booty with 
 great secrecy in his cistern at Poros. It 
 amounted to about five hundred thousand 
 drachmas, the money being mostly in gold 
 dovpia (doubloons) and silver colonata (Span- 
 ish dollars with two columns). 
 
 Among other things taken from the pirate, 
 evidently stolen from some church, were four 
 immense candlesticks. Three of these the 
 Poriote captain had melted into bars, and the 
 other he had set up in the church of the 
 Virgin at Tenos, to whose assistance he at- 
 tributed his success in the battle. Barban- 
 done remembered distinctly that the paper 
 ended with the following words: 
 
 " In case of my death this property belongs 
 to my son Loukas, whom I have instructed to 
 
Constantine 209 
 
 leave it untouched until such time as he can 
 remove it safely and enjoy it without fear. 
 In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy 
 Ghost. Amen. CARILAOS DIEMEZES." 
 
 Constantine read through to the end, as 
 though he did not hear, sighed deeply, and 
 sat for several minutes staring vacantly. At 
 last he started violently, snatched the curious 
 document, and read the last part of it again. 
 Then he sprang to his feet, and shouted, 
 " 'This property belongs to my son Loukas'! 
 If it belonged to my father, it belonged to me. 
 Oh, why did n't I know of this before? Too 
 late, too late!" He fell into a chair and rocked 
 to and fro, moaning, "Too late, too late!" 
 
 "Come, come," said Barbandone, "just 
 give this to a lawyer, and he '11 see that you 
 have your rights; you '11 be revenged on the 
 lot of them." 
 
 " I don't want revenge; I want Aneza. 
 Too late, too late! " 
 
 Barbandone went to the young man's side, 
 and in his rough way tried to soothe him, 
 but all in vain. From that moment Con- 
 stantine's excitement increased. Finally he 
 burst out laughing. " That was funny, was n't 
 
2io Constantine 
 
 it, Barbandone?" he cried; "You knowing I 
 was so rich, and all the world thinking me 
 poor." 
 
 Barbandone crossed himself, and tears came 
 into his eyes. 
 
 "A fine joke indeed; yes, curse you!" 
 shouted Constantine, springing to his feet, 
 his lips turning white. " You have robbed 
 me of my love, of my love, and I will choke 
 your life out of you!" Ere Barbandone could 
 utter an exclamation of surprise, he felt him- 
 self seized by the throat and hurled against 
 the wall. 
 
 "Holy Mother!" gasped Barbandone. 
 
 The violent physical exertion for the mo- 
 ment called back the unfortunate young man's 
 wandering senses. 
 
 " Forgive me, Barbandone," he said; " my 
 brain is on fire. So my nounos was a thief 
 and a swindler, was he? My dear old nounos; 
 O God!" 
 
 "Come, come," pleaded Barbandone; "we 
 mustn't be too hard on him; blood is thicker 
 than water, you know." 
 
 Constantine's eye caught the paper on the 
 floor, where it had fallen. He picked it up. 
 
Constantine 211 
 
 "Too late, too late! " he screamed, rushing 
 from the room. 
 
 Barbandone followed, calling vainly. The 
 young man strode on, talking to himself. He 
 paused with clenched fists, then he hurried 
 forward again. When Barbandone finally 
 overtook him he was horrified to hear that 
 Constantine was blaspheming in the most 
 impious manner. He was calling down curses 
 in turn upon the Kuria, Aneza, and her hus- 
 band, and upon Spiridon's soul. Barbandone 
 walked by his side, trying to reason with him. 
 
 " Constantine, Constantine, don't you hear 
 me, your old friend Barbandone? Come, 
 come; don't go on like this. Come back to 
 the house with me, there 's a good boy, and 
 let 's talk it over." 
 
 At last, partly leading him and partly by 
 entreaty, he took Constantine back to the 
 house, and induced him to go upstairs and 
 lie down on the bed. Barbandone came 
 downstairs, crossing himself repeatedly. 
 
 He was met at the lower door by a woman 
 with an oily complexion and a huge stomach, 
 who walked with a waddle. 
 
 "What is it, my love?" said she. 
 
212 Constantine 
 
 "Poor Constantine," replied Barbandone, 
 " he is gone mad because Aneza is married 
 to another. How sad it must be to lose one 
 we love! " 
 
 The woman with an oily complexion and a 
 huge stomach had once been Sophia Vlakos, 
 the irresistible. 
 
 "Poor fellow, we must give him a good 
 dinner and try to cheer him up." 
 
 Barbandone was busy with customers for 
 the next hour or so, and the good-hearted 
 Sophia was occupied in preparing a tempting 
 meal for Constantine. Being an Andriote, 
 she was a famous cook, and believed that a 
 good dinner was a cure for all ills. When 
 she went up to call Constantine the room was 
 empty. From that time on he disappeared 
 from the eyes of those who knew him in 
 Athens. Friends, in that sense of the term 
 which implies deep enough interest to expend 
 money and time in searching for him, he had 
 not; mother and father he had never known. 
 Barbandone had wished to befriend him, but 
 experienced a feeling of relief when he did 
 not return. He felt guilty because of the 
 
Constantine 213 
 
 part he had taken, and Constantine's presence 
 was a continual reproach to him. 
 
 To those who inquired, Kuria Leonidas 
 explained that the young man had aspired to 
 the hand of Aneza, and had left the country 
 through chagrin. To which her gossip friends 
 replied, "Poh, poh, poh! " with an inflection 
 which made the expression correspond in 
 meaning to our " The very idea! " 
 
Chapter XXIV 
 
 About two years after Constantine's disap- 
 pearance, a small party of ladies and gen- 
 tlemen were passing along an unfrequented 
 road in Boeotia. That they were people 
 much out of the ordinary in that region 
 was evident from their appearance. They 
 were, in the first place, mounted upon horses 
 of great beauty and spirit a thing itself 
 sufficient to attract attention in a land of 
 donkeys. In the second place, although the 
 men wore fustanellas, these were spotlessly 
 clean, and the garments of the entire party 
 were of rich material. There was some- 
 thing in the bearing of these people, too, 
 which would have impressed an observer used 
 to the ways of the world with the idea that 
 these were persons of rank; and he would 
 not have been mistaken, for at the head of 
 the procession rode two of the most interest- 
 ing characters in modern history, a man and 
 214 
 
Constantine 215 
 
 a woman. The former, like his male com- 
 panions, wore the well-known fustanella. The 
 latter was also in Greek costume, and a jaunty 
 red fez with a long tassel adorned her head. 
 She was a young matron with a well-developed 
 figure; her face was beautiful, and yet so good 
 that the one who looked forgot the beauty 
 and thought only of the goodness. Her 
 complexion was florid, and the fairness of 
 her skin betrayed the fact that she was not of 
 Southern blood. The man who rode by her 
 side sat very erect upon his horse. He was 
 something over forty, with broad shoulders 
 and a manly chest; his abundant hair was 
 chestnut in colour, and his moustache of a 
 reddish brown; he was otherwise clean-shaven, 
 and his fair cheeks were thin and somewhat 
 colourless. 
 
 When he spoke, his words were received 
 with the greatest deference, and his slightest 
 suggestion was considered a command. But he 
 seldom spoke in terms of authority. His voice 
 was, on the contrary, pleasantly modulated. 
 His eyes were kindly, and their restless glances 
 reminded one of the shifting sunshine some- 
 times reflected from moving water. 
 
21 6 Constantine 
 
 " I will never believe," he was saying to his 
 companion, " that the history of Greece lies 
 all in the past. Centuries of barbarism and 
 oppression have swept the toilers and flocks 
 from these plains, have destroyed the ancient 
 cities, but the Greek nation still lives. Greeks 
 have had their tongues cut out as punishment 
 for speaking their language, but that language 
 has come to us out of the remotest antiquity 
 the only one of the ancient tongues that still 
 exists in a distinctive form. The flower of 
 the Hellenic youth has been snatched away 
 and educated at the Moslem court, yet the 
 spirit of liberty has never died in Greece. 
 Hordes of barbarians have overrun the coun- 
 try; the young men have been butchered, and 
 the maidens carried away to harems, yet the 
 strain of Greek blood has never run dry. And 
 now this people has a glorious future, because 
 it has a glorious mission; in all the years of 
 oppression it represented Christianity and 
 progress, while its oppressors stood for bar- 
 barism and vice. The Greek civilisation 
 to-day is the hope of the East. If I can do 
 anything to restore the ancient splendour, I 
 
Constantine 217 
 
 shall be happier than the greatest monarch 
 on earth." 
 
 As he warmed with his subject, the speak- 
 er's eyes brightened, his gestures became 
 nervous, his whole air excited. There are 
 those who say that he was an enthusiast and 
 a dreamer. There are others who claim he 
 was rich in theory, but impatient and pre- 
 mature in practice. It is not safe to speak 
 ill of him to-day in the country districts of 
 Greece. 
 
 The reverie which followed the above out- 
 burst of enthusiasm continued for several 
 moments, and was interrupted at last by his 
 companion's sweet and sympathetic, "God is 
 with us, my love, and when He is with us, 
 who shall be against us? " It was evident by 
 the way in which she looked at him, that one 
 person at least believed in him with all her 
 heart. 
 
 As the cavalcade proceeded, one of the 
 riders announced that he heard music. 
 None of the others had heard it, but soon 
 after, the sound of a tune, shrill and monot- 
 onous, came faintly to the ears of all. 
 
ii 8 Constantine 
 
 " It is the shepherd's pipe," said one. 
 
 "A rural wedding, probably," said another. 
 
 "Lieutenant! " called the enthusiast. 
 
 A young officer rode up and, sweeping 
 his hat from his head, bent low over the sad- 
 dle-bow. 
 
 " We would see this wedding if wedding 
 it be and not interrupt it. I do not wish 
 to be known. Some of you ride on ahead." 
 
 The bow was repeated and the hat replaced, 
 after which the speaker and his fair companion 
 were quickly surrounded by the rest of the 
 company. 
 
 The music became shriller and shriller, and 
 ere long the cavalcade, turning around the 
 side of a steep hill, at whose foot they were 
 riding, came upon a strange spectacle. About 
 twenty shepherds in a straggling line were 
 dancing along the road. They were dressed 
 in white woollen jackets, white leggings, and 
 scanty fustanellas of the same colour. At 
 their head pranced two of their number with 
 fantastic steps, playing the same double pipes 
 that cost Marsyas his skin. One of the shep- 
 herds wore a green wreath upon his head. 
 About twenty huts, of boughs, roofed with 
 
Constantine 219 
 
 skins, were scattered along a gentle slope at 
 varying distances from each other. Several 
 huge kettles for the boiling of milk sat upon 
 the ground, and on a level place a corral had 
 been constructed for confining the sheep at 
 night. At sight of so many strangers the 
 music ceased, and the shepherds huddled to- 
 gether as though in fear. 
 
 "Hail, Christian brothers!" cried the 
 lieutenant, lifting his hat. " We are good 
 Greeks, like yourselves, from Athens. We 
 are come in time to see a merry gathering, 
 and ask leave to join you, and to drink the 
 health of the bride and groom, if this be a 
 wedding." 
 
 One of the boldest stepped out from among 
 the shepherds, and commenced a series of 
 questions of the most personal and searching 
 nature, inspired partly by caution and partly 
 by bucolic curiosity. Satisfactory answers 
 were given: " The strangers were a company 
 of Athenians escorting a very rich effendi 
 and his wife, who were travelling to Thebes 
 on pleasure," etc. Before the questioning 
 was finished an immense number of children, 
 for so small a village, came running from one 
 
lio Constantine 
 
 of the most distant of the huts, and gathered 
 about in a semi-circle. The Athenians were 
 finally warmly invited to dismount. The 
 ladies were directed to the hut from which 
 the children had come, and about which 
 was collected a throng of girls and women. 
 There they were told they would find the 
 new-made bride receiving the congratulations 
 of her friends. They set off in that direc- 
 tion, therefore, and as they proved the greater 
 attraction, they were followed by the entire 
 pack of youngsters the latter silent and 
 breathless with wonder. The men joined the 
 shepherds, the pipes of Pan again tuned up, 
 and the procession was resumed to the hut 
 of the koumbaros, where a special goatskin of 
 wine was awaiting the occasion. Here all 
 formed in line, hand in hand; the pipes con- 
 tinued and dancing began. One after 
 another of the shepherds headed the line, 
 leading it continually around in a circle. 
 Each new leader strove to surpass his prede- 
 cessors in liveliness, grace, or difficulty of 
 steps. They lifted high their feet, they 
 leaped in the air, they whirled around, diving 
 their heads under the linked hands. Shriller 
 
Constantine 221 
 
 and shriller sounded the primitive flutes. The 
 players puffed out their cheeks ; they bent 
 low and rose erect again, shaking their heads 
 to the shrill quavering of the monotonous 
 melody; their fingers squirmed upon the slim 
 reeds like serpents. The strangers joined 
 the dance, and showed themselves true Greeks, 
 adding to the good-fellowship. Not one of 
 them but could lift the gourd of wine to his 
 lips and drain it off without missing a step. 
 "Zeto! Zeto!" cried the shepherds again 
 and again. 
 
 After more than half an hour had been 
 consumed in this innocent merriment, a 
 gawky boy announced that the feast was 
 ready. Hereupon the koumbaros begged the 
 rich effendi and his companions to honour 
 the spread with their presence. The proces- 
 sion was again formed, and marched or danced 
 to the hut where the bride's party was assem- 
 bled. There the Athenian ladies were found 
 comfortably seated under a huge pine tree, 
 talking with the shepherd-women concerning 
 their life and their curious superstitions and 
 customs. Near by, two lambs were roasting 
 on wooden spits, over a fire of fragrant wood. 
 
222 Constantine 
 
 As the party of the bridegroom approached, 
 the bride, with all her friends, came forth. 
 Some seated themselves on skins, others 
 remained standing. The two lambs were 
 lifted from the fire and set upright on the 
 spits against a tree. The koumbaros carved, 
 and pieces of the delicate meat were distrib- 
 uted. 
 
 The bride's father had done the roasting, 
 for his skill at preparing lambs a la palikari 
 was known for miles around. Four and one 
 half hours he devoted to the operation, and 
 when he cried " ready " in a loud voice, one 
 had need to lift the spit carefully from the 
 fire or the flesh would drop from the bones. 
 Pieces of delicious Pheta cheese were also 
 passed around, as well as wine in abundance, 
 honey, hard-boiled eggs, and black bread. 
 Hearty food, perhaps; but does not the Greek 
 proverb truly say, " Hunger is the best 
 cook"? 
 
 Many were the toasts drunk to the bride- 
 groom and bride, a pretty maiden of thirteen 
 years. Frequently a matron would lift her 
 cup to some damsel and say, " Here 's to 
 yours," meaning, " May you, too, be married 
 
Constantine 223 
 
 soon." Then the girl would blush, and all the 
 company would laugh, except some young 
 man, who would blush too. 
 
 While the festivities were in progress, a tall 
 youth strode into the midst, leading a donkey 
 by the bridle, and carrying in his hands two 
 shepherd's crooks the one his own, the 
 other the staff of a very old man seated on 
 the animal's back. The rider was a queer 
 figure. His face was wrinkled like the sea, 
 and his bird-like hands trembled visibly, 
 though clasped in front of him. He wore a 
 great cloak of white wool, whose peaked hood 
 was drawn up over his head. 
 
 ' Behold," shouted the younger of the new- 
 comers, triumphantly, " here is old Grand- 
 father Stamados. I have brought him all the 
 way from Thebes." 
 
 "What luck! what luck! "cried a dozen 
 voices. The patriarch was lifted tenderly 
 from his donkey, and placed on a pile of soft 
 skins. There he was plied with wine and the 
 daintiest morsels of the feast. No one asked 
 why he was treated with so great considera- 
 tion, nor why such trouble had been taken to 
 bring him. Does not every one know that 
 
224 Constantine 
 
 the presence of an old man at a wedding feast 
 assures to the newly wed couple years equal 
 to his? 
 
 The wife of the rich effendi from Athens 
 fed Grandfather Stamados with her own 
 white hands, and herself held the winecup to 
 his withered lips. 
 
 "How old are you, Grandfather Stamados?" 
 she asked sweetly; but he did not know. 
 
 "Ninety," volunteered several of the shep- 
 herd-women. 
 
 "More, more! " shouted others. "A hun- 
 dred at least." 
 
 "Bravo, bravo, Grandfather Stamados!" 
 said the great lady, patting him gently on 
 the shoulder. 
 
 But the young man from Thebes had in 
 the mean time been whispering to the koum- 
 baros. The koumbaros had whispered to an- 
 other, and soon a strange story had spread 
 among the simple shepherds and their fami- 
 lies. The merriment ceased; all who were 
 sitting rose to their feet, and those who were 
 wearing hats took them off. Every eye was 
 fixed in curiosity, and yet in great respect, 
 upon the effendi and his wife. 
 
Constantine 225 
 
 " What is this? " asked the former of one of 
 his attendants. 
 
 "This shepherd comes from Thebes," was 
 the reply, "and he says that the king is 
 expected there. They believe that he is with 
 us." 
 
 " Zeto! Zeto!" broke from every rustic 
 throat. " Long live the people's friend; long 
 live the people's king! " 
 
 " My children," said Otho, rising for it 
 was indeed he " I beg of you to treat me 
 as your guest. I cannot tell you how I and 
 Queen Amalie have enjoyed your society. 
 May you always be as happy as I have found 
 you to-day, and as happy as you have made 
 us. For this palikari and his beautiful bride 
 I wish a hundred years of health and peace. 
 May they come down to an honourable old 
 age, surrounded by fair daughters and strong 
 sons. Kuria," turning to the bride, " I drink 
 to your health." 
 
 He spoke in perfect modern Greek, and 
 was understood by all. None were able to 
 answer at length, but all shouted, " Long live 
 the king!" with unmistakable earnestness, and 
 not a few eyes were filled with tears. 
 
226 Constantine 
 
 "Who says 'Long live the king'?" de- 
 manded a loud voice, and a tall man rushed 
 in among the rustics. " What king? I am 
 the king of this country." 
 
 "It's the crazy man!" screamed several 
 throats, and the shepherd-women shrank back 
 in fright. The new-comer's face was covered 
 with hair, like an animal's, and his fustanellas 
 were torn and filthy. His locks curled about 
 his hatless head, and hung down like a wom- 
 an's over his shoulders. 
 
 "Let me go, let me go! " he cried, strug- 
 gling desperately in the hands of several 
 shepherds who were attempting to hold him. 
 "How dare you lay hands on the king! I 
 will roast you one by one in my copper bull. 
 I '11 order you thrown from the Leucadian 
 Rock. I '11 send you to Crete, and tell my 
 brother Minos to feed you to the Minotaur." 
 
 " Here 's a queer mixture of rags and clas- 
 sics," observed Otho, in German, to the 
 young lieutenant. " He speaks good Greek 
 too." 
 
 "Poor man, poor man!" said Queen 
 Amalie, also in German. 
 
 What was their surprise when the crazy man, 
 
Constantine 227 
 
 whose unnaturally sharp ears had caught the 
 last remark, ceased his struggles, and ad- 
 dressed himself to the King in the latter's 
 native tongue. 
 
 " Being a king yourself, you must know 
 what I am by instinct. I come to the wed- 
 ding feast like Homer's father. I am a king 
 in tatters a king in rags. All night and all 
 day I wander over my dominions. I sleep 
 with the stars. Are you ever cold very cold, 
 and sometimes hungry? " 
 
 Otho and his queen were greatly affected 
 to hear their native language spoken so per- 
 fectly, and under such circumstances. Here 
 was evidently a bright and well-stored mind 
 in ruins. The royal couple questioned the 
 shepherds concerning 'the unfortunate man's 
 history, but learned nothing that would 
 throw any light on his family or antece- 
 dents. About two years ago he had come to 
 a shepherd-boy and said, " Water! Water! " 
 many times. The boy was frightened, but gave 
 the water. The crazy man then went away, 
 mumbling to himself, but had appeared from 
 time to time to solitary shepherds and at the 
 villages. He was always given food and 
 
228 Constantine 
 
 water. Strange to say, the dogs did not at- 
 tack him. At first he had said nothing except 
 " Bread! Bread! " or " Water! Water! " But 
 of late the notion that he was a king had 
 come into his head, and he had been very 
 talkative. Often for days he would talk in a 
 foreign language, and at other times he used 
 a kind of Greek unfamiliar to his hearers, and 
 of which they understood only now and then 
 a word. 
 
 Queen Amalie was moved to tears. 
 
 " He must be taken care of," said Otho, de- 
 cisively. " It is a shame that he should hun- 
 ger and be exposed to the elements. Per- 
 haps with quiet and kind treatment his 
 reason will return. I will send him to some 
 monastery, where the monks can care for him, 
 and I will also have a physician examine him." 
 
 " Your Majesty's kind heart will ever speak 
 in kind deeds," said the queen. " Why not 
 send him to the beautiful monastery of Poros? 
 The monks there are celebrated for their 
 goodness. It is the loveliest spot on the earth. 
 Perhaps the trickling of the water, the grand 
 view of the sea, and the grand quiet of the 
 mountain woods will help to heal his troubled 
 
Constantine 229 
 
 mind. We go there so often, we shall be able 
 to see him. I am much interested in the 
 poor man." 
 
 The king patted her lovingly on the cheek. 
 
 " You are always interested in the unfortu- 
 nate," said he. " To Poros he shall go." 
 
Chapter XXV 
 
 Twenty years after King Otho's adventure 
 with the crazy man, a party of Athenians were 
 enjoying a picnic by the spring which supplies 
 the Poros Monastery with water. They had 
 spread their table on a platform of rock that 
 juts out from the side of the mountain. This 
 platform is shaded by a large oak tree, and 
 the hill above is. covered thick with fragrant 
 pines. 
 
 The spring gushes out from the side of the 
 mountain, and runs away in a tiny stream 
 that tinkles like a bell. Its water is clear as 
 air, and is believed by the Poriotes to possess 
 almost miraculous properties. 
 
 The Athenians had come to roast a lamb, 
 to sing and dance, and to deck their heads 
 with greenery and floral wreaths; for it was the 
 first of May. The younger members of the 
 party were wandering below in the monks' 
 olive grove, or above among the pines. A 
 230 
 
Constantine 231 
 
 fat and rather coarse-looking matron, forty 
 years of age or more, sat holding a child, and 
 gazing pensively at the sea. The mother had 
 magnificent dark eyes. A little girl-servant 
 was arranging the lunch, and an old woman 
 with a shrill voice was scolding her. A sword 
 lay across one end of the table, and the owner 
 of the weapon, a cavalry officer in undress 
 uniform, was turning the lamb, and replying 
 as wittily as he could to the badinage of two 
 friends who stood near. Occasionally one of 
 the party would break into song, and all three 
 would execute a few steps of a Greek dance. 
 
 Meanwhile a man came slowly down the 
 path from the monastery, mumbling to him- 
 self. He was on his way to the spring to get 
 water, and carried an earthen jug upon his 
 back. At the same time the matron's babe 
 became restless. To quiet it, she rocked the 
 little thing to and fro in her arms and sang to 
 it a song of childhood, beginning: 
 
 " What delight, O, what delight, 
 Since you come, O swallow." 
 
 The man had mounted to the platform of 
 rock had passed half across it on his way to 
 the spring. Suddenly he stopped, and ceased 
 
23 2 Constantine 
 
 his mumbling. A moment thus he stood 
 motionless, listening. Then the water-jug 
 dropped to the earth with a crash, and he 
 advanced to where the matron sat, his arms 
 extended, his eyes shining with intelligence. 
 
 "Am I not Constantine," he said, in the 
 old voice, "and are you not Aneza?" 
 
 The matron uttered a series of piercing 
 screams, and fainted away. She was soon 
 surrounded by her friends, who carried the 
 insensible form into the church. 
 
 " Poor thing," they said, " she was fright- 
 ened by the crazy man, and he quite harm- 
 less too." 
 
 Constantine dropped his hands slowly to 
 his sides, and turned back towards the mon- 
 astery. When he came to the fragments of 
 the broken jug, he stood looking at them for 
 a long time, shaking his head. 
 
 Aneza never went to Poros again. 
 
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CONSTANTINE 
 
 BY 
 
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 CHICAGO 
 MDCCCXCVII-