CHAPTER IX
THE SINGER FROM THE DARKNESS
November went out with a fortnight of cold showers and biting winds,and the woodcock came down in hundreds to the plain of Nauplia. Oftenwhen the curtain of cloud which veiled Mount Elias day by day was rentraggedly in two by some blast in the upper air, the higher slope ofthe mountain, it could be seen, was sprinkled with snow. Then the peakwould again wrap itself in folds of tattered vapors as a beggar throwshis torn cloak over his shoulder, and perhaps would not peer throughthe mists again for a couple of days. Down in the plain scuddingshowers swept across from north to south and east to west, and theearth, still thirsty from the long drought of the summer, drank them infeverishly as a sick man drains the glass by his bedside and turns tosleep again.
Mitsos had many round oaths for this horrible weather, but like a wiselad cursed and had done with it. The bay and the sweet possibilitiesof the bay were only in the range of thought, but the woodcock weremore accessible, and with something of the air of a martyr he wouldpass a long day on the uplands towards Epidaurus, and come back, afterthe fall of dark, with a leash of woodcock, and an appetite whichbordered on the grotesque, singing and contented. But later in theevening he would be twitched by an eager restlessness, and make manyjourneys to the door to see if the weather had cleared, or showed signsof clearing, only to be met by a buffeting clap of windy rain in theface, which made him close it again quickly, for where was the use,he argued, of lying rolling and rocking off the white wall if he wasto be alone there? Once or twice during this fortnight he had sailedby it, but his wages were only a wetting. Constantine was somewhatpuzzled and perplexed at Mitsos' behavior about this time, but he tookit all with his habitual serenity of tolerance, and likened him inhis own mind to a colt who is just beginning to find out that he is ahorse, and, knowing his own strength and learning his needs, whinniesand kicks up his heels. He knew that it would be useless to try toextract unvolunteered information out of Mitsos, and he guessed morenearly to the truth than he knew, that Mitsos' somewhat spasmodic moodswere merely the natural results of his budding manhood, and were asinexplicable to him as they were to his father. Meantime, though theyhad neither heard nor seen anything more of Nicholas, Constantine feltthat Mitsos was growing in the way he would have him grow, and wasincreasing in self-reliance and surefootedness of mind just as he wasincreasing in bodily strength and stature.
But Mitsos was exercising more self-control than his father gave himcredit for. That acquaintance with Suleima, the Greek girl in the haremof the Turk, begun so strangely, had ripened no less strangely. He hadsat below the wall night after night and talked to her from his boat,rocking gently in the swell, or standing still and steady in the calmwater, till with a sign she motioned him away, seeing some other womanof the harem or one of the servants come out into the garden.
Then Suleima had made a confidante of one of the elder women, who,seeing Mitsos' handsome, laughing face, had given her sympathy, and,what was better, a practical exhibition of it, and had promisedto watch in the garden so that they might talk without fear ofinterruption; stipulating, however, through Suleima as interpreter,half laughing, yet half in earnest, that Mitsos should give her a kissfor every time she watched for them. Suleima had felt herself flushingas she interpreted this into Greek, but Mitsos' tone reassured her ashe answered,
"She might as well do it for nothing. Oh, don't translate that, but saywe are very much obliged. Pay-day is long in the house of a Turk."
Then there came an evening, only just before the weather had broken,when Mitsos took down to the boat a little rope ladder. Suleima hadtold him that he was to come there late, not before midnight, and shewould have gone to her room early, saying she was not well. Then, ifpossible, she would come out to him, and they would go for a sailtogether.
It was an evening to be remembered--to be lived over again inmemory. Her reluctance and eagerness to come; the terrorizing riskof discovery, which none the less was a whetstone to her enjoyment;her delight at getting out, though only for an hour or two; herhalf-frightened, childish exclamations of dismay as Mitsos put about,when the water began to curl back from the forefoot of the boat asthey went hissing out to sea before the wind; her face looking as ifit was made of ebony and ivory beneath the moonlight, with its thin,black eyebrows, and long, black eyelashes; her sense of innocentwickedness, as in response to Mitsos' entreaties she unveiled italtogether; her curious, fantastic story of how she was carried offyears ago by a Turk, and had forgotten all about her home, exceptthat her father was a tall man with a long, black dress; her pretty,hesitating pronunciation of Greek; her bewildering treatment of himselfas if he was a boy, as he was, and she a person of mature experience,as she was not, being a year younger than he; the view which she tookof this moonlight sail as just a childish freak, heavily paid for ifdiscovered, and to be repeated if not, while to him it was the openingof heaven. Then, as he still remained serious, looking at her withwide eyes of shy adoration, she too became just a little serious asthey turned homewards, and said that she liked him very much, and thatold Abdul Achmet was a fat pig. Then in answer to him--Oh, no, she wasquite content where she was, except when Abdul was in a bad temper orthe eunuch beat her. There was plenty to eat, nothing to do, and theywere all much less strictly looked after than in other harems, forAbdul was old and only cared for one of them. For herself she was afavorite servant of his chief wife, and not really in the harem. It wasnot very exciting, but if Mitsos would come again now and then and takeher for sails she would be quite happy. Finally, it was useless for himto come except when it was fine, for the harem was always locked up inwet weather, and she would not be able to get into the garden. Also,she hated rain like a cat.
Then intervened the fortnight when the climate of Nauplia, which forthe most part is that of the valley of Avilion, gave way to the angrymoods of a child--to screaming, sobbing, and steady weeping. Thesurface of the bay was churned up by the rain and streaked with foam bythe wind, and the big poplar-tree, under which Maria had slept, shookitself free of its summer foliage and stood forth in naked, gnarledappeal to the elements. For a fortnight the deluge continued, but onthe night of the 1st of December, Mitsos, waking at that strange momentwhen the earth turns in her sleep, and cattle and horses stand up andgraze for a moment before lying down again, saw with half an eye theshadow of the bar of his window cast sharply onto the floor of hisbedroom by the slip of the crescent moon, which rode high in a starrysky, and when he woke again it was to see a heaven of unsullied bluewashed clean by the rain.
Half the day he spent dreaming and dozing in the veranda, for he meantto be out on the bay that night, and after his mid-day dinner he wentdown to overhaul the boat, taking with him his fishing-net and a bagof resin. He had wrapped up in the centre of the net the pillow fromhis bed, for Suleima had said that the net on which she sat beforesmelled fishy. But after supper that night he found himself beset by astrange perplexity, the like of which he had never felt. His fustanellawas old and darned; it was hardly suitable. It did very well before,but somehow now--and the moon would be larger to-night. The perplexitygained on him, and eventually he took out and put on his new clothes,only worn on festa days, which were thoroughly unsuitable for roughfishing by night. He brushed his hair with extreme care, and wished itwas sleek and smooth like Yanko's, instead of growing in crisp, strongcurls, put his red cap rakishly on the side of his head, and laced uphis brown cloth leggings to the very top. All this was done with thegreatest precision and seriousness, and he went down-stairs on tiptoefor fear of wakening his father, who was already abed, and had leftinjunctions with him to lock the door and take the key with him if hewas likely to be late.
It was about half-past ten when he set off, and the moon had risen.It took him an hour or more to reach the dim, white wall, for thebreeze was yet but light and variable. As he neared it he began tofeel his heart pulsing in his throat, as it had done one night beforewhen he passed the scene of the hanging by the wayside, but somehowdifferent
ly, and he peered out anxiously into the darkness to see ifthere was any one there. Something white glimmered on the wall, downwent his sail, and a few minutes later the nose of his boat gratedagainst the stone-work.
She gave a little chuckling laugh.
"I thought you would come," she said, "on the first night of stars.They are all in bed. I listened at Mohammed's door; he was Mohammed nomore--only a grunt and a snore."
Mitsos said nothing, but threw the ladder and rope on the wall andsprang up himself.
"Yes, I have come," he said. "Ah, how I have been cursing thisrain--may the saints forgive me!--but I cared not, and cursed."
Suleima looked at him a moment.
"Why, how smart you are!" she said. "Is it the Greek use that a mangoes fishing in his best clothes? Oh, my clean fustanella!" she cried,looking sideways on him.
Mitsos smiled. The best clothes had been a good thought, in spite of amomentary confusion.
"Hush!" he whispered, "we will talk in the boat. I will hold theladder. There, it is quite steady."
The girl stepped lightly down the rungs, and Mitsos, directing her tosit still, threw the ladder and rope back and let himself down onto theside of the boat.
"Where shall we go to-night?" he asked.
The girl laughed gently--the echo, as it were, of a laugh.
"Oh, out, out to sea," she said; "right away from this horrible place.Where shall I sit?"
Mitsos took the pillow out of the net and put it for her at the sternof the boat.
"See," he said. "I remembered that you said the net smelled fishy,and I have brought you my pillow to sit on. There--is there a morecomfortable seat in all Greece?"
She sat down, and the boy busied himself with the boat for a fewminutes. He had to row out a dozen strokes or so until they got fromunder the lee of the wall, and the wind, catching the sail, slowlybulged it out taut; the boat dipped and bowed a moment and then beganto move quickly forward towards the mouth of the bay. He stood a fewseconds irresolute until Suleima spoke.
"Well, have you finished?" she asked.
"Yes. We shall run straight before the wind as far as you like."
She pointed with her hand to the seat beside her.
"Come and sit by me," she said.
There was silence between them for several minutes--she with a smilehiding in the depths of her dark eyes; he, serious and tongue-tied. Theair was full of the freshness of the night and of the sea, but acrossthat there came to him some faint odor from her--a warm smell of a livething, too delicate to describe. Then she drew from her pocket a smallbox and opened it.
"See what I have brought you," she said--"Rahat-la-koom. How do youcall it in Greece? Sweets, anyhow. Do you like sweets?"
She took a lump of the sticky, fragrant stuff out of the box andoffered it to Mitsos as a child offers sweets to another child.
"Do you like it?" she asked again. "Abdul gave me the stuff last night.I was afraid when he gave it to me, but he did not stop. As I told you,I am not of the harem."
Mitsos flushed. Suleima spoke with the _naivete_ of a child, and yetsomehow it made him ashamed to think that even he was sitting alonewith her, and furious at the thought that that fat Turk, whom he hadseen at Nauplia only a few days before, should dare to give her sweets.
"How silent you are, Mitsos!" she went on. "Tell me what you have beendoing all this time. For me, I have done nothing--nothing--nothing. Ihave never been so dull."
Mitsos looked up suddenly.
"Are you less dull now?" he said. "Do you care to come out like thiswith me?"
"Surely, or else I should not come. I think I have even missed you,which is odd, for I never missed any one before. I care for none ofthose in the house, and some I hate."
Mitsos took her hand in his.
"Promise you will never hate me," he said.
Suleima laughed.
"That is a big thing to promise," she said, "for 'never' is thegreatest of all words, greater even than 'always'; but I don't feel asif I should ever hate you. I liked you since the first, even before Ihad ever seen you, when you sang that song out of the darkness. It wasvery rash and foolish of you, for Abdul would make nothing of having asailor-boy shot. Supposing I had been--well, some one else--I shouldhave told Abdul, and thus there would have been no more songs forMitsos."
"But because it was you, you did not?" asked Mitsos, awkwardly. "Yet ifit had not been you, I should not have sung to you."
The girl's hand still rested in his, but suddenly she disengaged it.
"You are talking nonsense," she said, quickly, yet finding nonsensesomehow delightful; "of course, if you had not sung to me you would nothave sung to me. By the way, Zuleika--"
She stopped suddenly.
"Who is Zuleika?" said Mitsos; "and what of her?"
"Oh, nothing. Zuleika is the woman who watched to see that no one camewhile we talked. She's quite old, you know, though not as old as Abdul.Well, why shouldn't I tell you? Zuleika is getting impatient for herpayment. She watched four times, she said, but I am sure it was onlythree. Won't you pay her?"
Mitsos got up and stood in front of her.
"Zuleika, what is Zuleika to me?" he said again.
The girl stared at him for a moment. "Are you angry, Mitsos? Why shouldyou be angry? But--but--"
Mitsos turned away impatiently.
"Why are you angry?" repeated the girl. "Is it because of what Zuleikasaid? I told you because I thought it would please you. Most men, Ithink, would like to hear that sort of thing. Zuleika says you are thehandsomest boy she ever saw, and she is pretty herself--at least Isuppose she is pretty."
Mitsos had the most admirable temper, and though it had been touched ina quarter where he could not have anticipated attack, he regained it ina moment.
"Never mind Zuleika," he said, sitting down again; "go on talking tome. I like to hear you talk, and give me your hand again. Put it inmine; it is so soft and white. I never saw a hand like yours!"
Suleima laughed.
"There you are, then. Oh, Mitsos, don't squeeze it so; you hurt me!What shall I talk about? I have nothing to talk about. Nothing everhappened to me. Zuleika--"
"Don't talk about Zuleika!" said Mitsos, between his teeth.
"Well, you told me to talk. I don't want to talk about Zuleika. Oh,Mitsos, look how far we are out! There is Nauplia behind us. We must goback!"
"No, not yet."
"But we must! It will take us an hour or more to get back! Please letus go back, Mitsos?"
Mitsos sat still a moment.
"Tell me you don't want to go back," he said, in a whisper.
"Of course I don't; why should I tell you that? I should like to bethus with you always, you alone, and no other."
Mitsos sprang up.
"I'll put about," he said.
There were two or three moments of confusion, as the heavy sail flappedand shook. The wind had veered a point towards the east, and theycould get back in a couple of tacks. Mitsos stood up till the boat hadsettled down on the homeward journey, and then, with the tiller in onehand, he sat down again by Suleima's side.
"It will be fine weather now," he said, "and will you come out with meagain? You tell me you like it."
Suleima nestled a little closer to him. "Yes, I like it," she said,"but we must not go too often. But if you care to, you can come tothe wall in fine weather always, and I will tell you whether it ispossible. And, Mitsos, next time we go out bring your spear and resin,and let me see you fish. I should like to see you do that. Do you catchmany?"
"The devil fly away with the fish!" said Mitsos. "I would sooner talkto you."
"How funny! I would sooner you fished; and, you see, we can talk, too.Will you let me help?"
Mitsos took up one of her hands again.
"It would be a heavy net you could draw in!" he said. "You have neverfelt the tug of a shoal."
"A whole shoal?" asked Suleima. "How many fish go to the shoal?"
Mitsos laughed. "Fifty for each
of your fingers," he said, "and ahundred to spare. Sometimes they all swim together against the net, andthough they are very little, many of them are strong, and pull like ahorse. I cut my finger to the bone once against the net-rope. Look,here is the mark."
He held up his great brown hand, and Suleima traced with her littlefinger a white scar running up to the second joint of his forefinger.
"How horrid!" she said, concernedly, still drawing her finger up anddown his. "Did it bleed much?"
"Half a bucketful. I must put the boat on the other tack. Take care;the sail will come across again."
The air struck cold as they went more into the wind, and Suleimawrapped her black bernouse more closely round her and nestled undershelter of the lad.
"You are cold?" he asked, suddenly.
"No, Mitsos, not if you sit like that. But isn't it ice to you? Haveanother piece of Rahat-la-koom?"
"SHE KISSED HIM LIGHTLY ON THE FOREHEAD"]
Mitsos grinned, showing his white teeth. "That will keep out the coldfinely," he said. "Give it me yourself!"
They were rapidly approaching the wall, and in ten minutes more Mitsosstood up and took in the sail. The speed slackened, and, standing atthe bows, he leaned forward, and, thrusting out with the pole, hebrought the boat alongside. Then, springing up again, with the ropein his hand, he told Suleima to throw him up the end of the ladder.This he held down with his foot on the far side of the wall while sheclimbed up, pleasantly feeling the muscles of his leg strain as shestepped onto the rope.
The ground on the inside was a foot or two below the top of the wall,and, standing on the top a moment before stepping down, she suddenlybent her head down to him, and, brushing back his curls with her hand,kissed him lightly on the forehead.
"Good-night, little Mitsos," she whispered.
Then all in a flash her face flushed. "Mitsos," she said, quickly, andwith a curious shyness, "promise me you will never kiss Zuleika; she isan old witch!" and without waiting for his reply she ran across to thedark house.
Mitsos sat perfectly still, tingling and alert, and he felt the bloodthrob and beat in his temples. He half started from his place to runafter her, and half raised his voice to call, but remembered in timethat he was close to the Turk's house. Something which let the two sittogether like children was dead, but something had taken its place, andhis heart sang to him.
He dropped down again into the boat, and for half an hour more he satthere without stirring, hearing the ripples tap against the side, andseeing them break in dim phosphorescent gleams of light. Then, withwonder on his lips and a smile in his eyes, he went silently homethrough the still night.
It was the night of the 1st of January, 1821, and Mitsos and Suleimawere again sailing across the bay; this time, however, not out to sea,but to the shelving bays underneath the Tripoli hills, the scene ofthe fishing with Nicholas. It was the first time the two had been ableto go out together since the night last recorded, for on that occasionSuleima had been caught by the eunuch coming in from the garden.Luckily for them both, Mitsos had not been seen, and her excuse wasthat she had a headache and could not sleep, so had sat in the gardenfor a while. Nothing more could be got out of her, and Zuleika, forone reason or another, had been loyal enough to preserve silence. ButSuleima got beaten, and she judged it more prudent not to have any moreheadaches for a time. But as the fate that watches over wooings wouldhave it, one night a fortnight afterwards the eunuch was found drunk, aparticularly heinous crime, and, to one of his religion, blasphemous;and he was, therefore, dismissed. Suleima was sedulous to note thehabits of his successor, and observed with much approval that he wentto bed early and slept soundly, and at length she ventured to resumeher excursions. She had more leisure than usual after her detection,for she was solitary behind lock and key; she had no sweets to eat, andher thoughts were ever with Mitsos. She, who had hardly seen a man,and had certainly never in the last ten years spoken to one except tothe black, thick-lipped eunuch and Abdul Achmet, whose small, sensualeyes looked at her like a mole's about his fat, pendulous cheeks, couldhardly believe that they and Mitsos, with his sun-browned, boyish faceand fit, slender limbs, were creatures of the same race. From thefirst time that she had seen him only dimly as he sat in his boat,swaying regularly and gracefully to its motion, and heard him singingthe old song which she remembered from her childhood, she had thoughthow charming it would be to live on his pattern, as free as the springswallows, wholesomely and cleanly in the open air. Surely he hadcaught something, indefinable perhaps, but none the less certain, fromwind and sun--a something which reminded her of a clear, light summermorning, when it was so pleasant to come out of the close, perfumedhouse, to have a breath of a more airy fragrance thrown at her by thesea-breeze, and feel with a cool shock a few dew-drops from the greatclimbing rose about the door shaken onto the bare flesh by the wind;for, unlike the Turks, she came of an outdoor race, and the inheritedinstinct had not been altogether eradicated by her hot-house, enclosedlife.
Then by degrees this feeling had grown less general, but more personal.It was doubly delightful to be able to talk confidentially andnaturally, as one child talks to another, to some one of her own age.She liked talking to Zuleika, but she preferred talking to Mitsos; itwas a pleasure to make him laugh and show the milkiness of his whiteteeth, and she could always make him laugh. Zuleika had hideous teeth;one was all black and discolored, and for whole days together she wouldsit, a sloppy, dishevelled object, by the fire, saying it ached. Shefelt quite sure that Mitsos' teeth never ached, and for herself shedid not know what aching meant. Again, when Abdul Achmet laughed, hischeeks wrinkled up till his eyes were nearly closed, and two queerestlittle dimples were dug one on each side of his mouth. What wouldhappen, she had thought once, if she made him laugh and then held hiseyes open so that they could not shut? She would have liked to try.
Then Mitsos--she felt it in her bones--evidently liked her very much,in quite a different way from which any one had liked her before.Zuleika liked her in a tepid, intermittent manner; but when her toothached she ignored her altogether, and had once slapped her in the facefor a too obtrusive sympathy. And when Abdul came and took her chinbetween his fingers and turned up her face to his, and told her thatshe was getting very pretty, she turned cold all over. It reminded herof the way he had pointed at one of the turkeys in the yard and said itwas becoming beautifully fat. Again, it had been quite unaccountablydelightful to sit close to Mitsos and shelter under him from the wind,to be close to him and know him near. Finally, when they parted thatnight, and she had brushed back the curls from his forehead and kissedhim, her feeling had been more unaccountable still. She had done itunthinkingly, but the moment it was done a whole mill-race of thoughtswent bubbling unbidden through her head. She wanted to do it again,she wanted him to take her in his arms and press her close to him--shewould not mind if it hurt. She hated Zuleika. She understood in amoment why, if Mitsos knew the least part of what she felt, he shouldhave been angry when she told him what Zuleika said, and the next wordshad come out of her mouth outstripping, so it seemed, her thought. Thenshe had felt suddenly shy and frightened; she longed to stop where shewas, for surely Mitsos understood what was so intimate to her. And so,being a woman, she instantly ran away, and never looked behind.
To-night she had sat by the wall for half an hour before he came, andthe thought that perhaps he would not come had brought into her eyessilent, childish tears. He must come; she could not do without him. Forherself she would have sat on the wall every night for months to go outwith him; surely he could not be tired in a week or two of coming andnot finding her there. But with the rising of the moon she had seena sail far away that got nearer, and at last the boat grated gentlyagainst the wall.
"Is it you, Mitsos?" she whispered, and for answer the rope was flungup to her, and her young, black-eyed lover sprang to her side. Shedescended the ladder silently and stood in the stern; while he joinedher, and with a vigorous push they were floating again alone in thecentre of the va
st, dim immensity. He set the sail and came and stoodin front of her.
"Suleima," he whispered, "last time you kissed me. Will you let me kissyou?"
"Yes, Mitsos," she said, with a great, shy, bold joy in her heart, andput her face up, and he would have kissed her lightly on the foreheadas she had kissed him. But suddenly that was impossible; they were nolonger children, but lovers, and the next moment his arms were flunground her neck, her mouth pressed close to his, and each kiss left themhungrier for the next.
The wind was straight behind them, and they sat where they had satbefore, and talked in low voices as if in fear of the jealousy ofthe stars and the night. Mitsos had got his fishing-spear and bag ofresin on board, and after a while, at Suleima's suggestion, they wentstraight before the wind to the bay, where Mitsos said he could catchfish if she cared to see him. Half an hour's sail brought them across,and, grounding the boat by a bush of blackthorn that grew thick on thetop of the rocks on the edge of the tideless sea, he took Suleima inhis arms and waded through the shallow water to the head of the baywhere he would fish, to save her the tramp through the undergrowth,which was thick and soaked with the night dews. She was but a feather'sweight in his strong arms, her head lay on his shoulder, and she threwone arm round his neck for greater security. He made her a nest undera clump of rushes that grew on the edge of the dry sand, and then wentback for his fishing things. To carry Suleima to land, he had only theshallowest water at the edge of the sea to walk through, and he hadjust turned up the bottom of his trousers; but where he was going tofish it would be deeper, and, as usual, he slipped them off, bucklinghis shirt, which reached to his knees, round his waist. He then lit hisflare, and, stepping off into the deeper water, which was half-thighdeep, he went slowly along, peering cautiously at the bright circle oflight cast by the resin.
Fish were plentiful, and Suleima, from her nest near, clapped her handsand laughed delightedly when Mitsos speared one larger than usual, andheld it up flapping and wriggling to show her. She got so excited inhis proceedings that she left her seat, and walked along the edge ofthe sand parallel with him, observing with the keenest interest what hedid. Then, when she got tired of watching, Mitsos declared he was tiredof fishing, and waded to shore with a creel full of fish.
Suleima had brought with her some Turkish tobacco, which she had takenfrom the house, and gave it to Mitsos to smoke. The other women of theharem all smoked, she said; for herself she had tried it once, butthought it horrid to the taste. But Mitsos might smoke it--yes, shewould even light his pipe for him; and with a little pout of disgustshe lit it at the flare and handed it to him, and he smoked it whilethey looked the fish over.
It was a night for the great lovers of romance to be abroad in; the airwas of a wonderful briskness, making the pulse go quick, yet gentle andsoft; the moon had set behind the hills to the west, and they sat closetogether beneath the wonderful twilight of stars, in a little shelterednook beneath a great clump of tall, singing rushes. On the ground, infront, lay the resin flare, already burning low; but as Mitsos wouldfish no more that night he did not replenish it. Lower and lower itburned, but now and then it would shoot up with a sudden leap of flame,revealing each to the other, and Suleima would smile at Mitsos; butbefore she could see his mouth smile in answer, the flame would diedown again into a flickering spot on the glowing, bubbling ash. But inthe darkness she knew he smiled back at her; a whispered word wouldpass from one to the other, and the last flicker of flame showed alover to the sight of each. Then drawing closer in the darkness, as ifby some law which was moving each equally, their lips met again in thekiss that seemed to have never ceased between them. And the wind sanggently in the rushes, while before them spread the broad waters of thebay, just curdled over by the breeze; above, the austere stars burneddown on them; behind, rose the empty-wooded hills, where once the softarmies of Dionysus revelled in love and wine, rising into the peaksabove Tripoli.
* * * * *
The wind dropped for a moment, the rushes were silent, and in the lullMitsos heard a mule bell behind them no great way off. He sat up andpeered across the vine-grown strip of plain which lay between them andthe mountain, but the skeins of night mist hung opaque and pearly grayabove it.
In a few minutes, however, the sound got sensibly nearer, and the tworose and moved a score of yards farther down the beach, for a footpathround the head of the bay to Nauplia led across the top of it. Thenacross the sound of the bell they could hear the pattering footsteps ofthe mule, and in a few minutes more it and its rider emerged from thepath which lay through the vineyards onto the open ground at the headof the beach. Just then the rider checked his beast, dismounted, andtied some grass round the tongue of the bell in order to muffle it, andstruck a light with a flint and steel which he caught in tinder, andblew it gently till it sufficed to light his short chibouk. His facewas towards them, and in the glow of the kindled tobacco it stood outvividly from the dark. It was Nicholas.
He mounted again and rode on, but Mitsos sat still, breathing hard andvacantly, and seeing only Nicholas's face standing out like a ghost inthe darkness. Suleima touched him gently on the arm.
"Who was it?" she said. "He did not see us."
"It was my uncle," said Mitsos, in a dry voice. "No, he did not see us."
Then his self-control gave way, and he flung himself back on the ground.
"I am afraid," he said--"I do not know what is going to happen. He hascome for me. I know it."
"For you?" asked Suleima. "What do you mean?"
"I shall have to go," said Mitsos. "Holy Virgin, but I cannot. I knownothing about what he wants me to do. I only know that I may--that Ishall have to go away; that I shall have to leave you and perhaps neversee you again. Oh," he cried, "I cannot, I cannot!"
Suleima was frightened.
"Mitsos, do not talk like that," she said, half sobbing; "do not be sounkind."
Mitsos recovered himself and felt ashamed.
"Oh, dearest of all and littlest," he said, soothingly, "I am a stupidbrute to frighten you. Everything will be all right--I will comeback--it is sure that I will come back. Only I promised him to do whathe told me, and help him in something--it does not matter what--and Iexpect he has come to tell me he wants my help."
"Will not you tell me what it is?" asked Suleima, willing to becomforted.
"No, I promised I would keep it secret. But this I may tell you.You know they say--never repeat this--that the Greeks are going torise against the Turks and turn them out. There may be fighting andbloodshed. But you hate the Turks as much as I do, darling, so you willbe as glad as I if this comes true. Perhaps it might even happen thatAbdul's house may be attacked, but you are quite safe if you will onlydo one thing. If ever it is attacked do not be afraid, but call out inGreek that you are a Greek and no Turk. And, oh, Suleima, pray to theVirgin and the Blessed Child that that day may come soon, for it willbe thus and then that we shall be able to go together always."
"Is it about that you are going away?" said Suleima, with a suddenintuition.
Mitsos longed to tell her, but his promise to Nicholas kept him dumb.Then, as he had to answer, he lied boldly and unreservedly.
"It has nothing whatever to do with it," he said. "But oh, Suleima,forgive me for so frightening you--I did not mean what I said. Andwill you come to the wall again as often as you can? I may have to goaway--indeed, I am afraid that is sure, but I do not know for how long.The first night I am back I shall come again to the wall, the dearwhite wall where we first met."
Suleima felt quite comforted. She was sure that nothing could go reallywrong as long as Mitsos drew breath, and she bent down his head andkissed him.
"Yes, Mitsos, I will come to the wall whenever I can, hoping only thatyou may be there, because, you know, I care for you more than all therest of the world. And now carry me back to the boat, strong-armed one.It is time I went back."
Mitsos stooped and lifted her up. As his hands were full, he hung thecreel round his neck, and Suleima carried
the extinguished flare. Hisheart was a dead weight within him, for he felt certain why Nicholashad come; but he was apparently his old cheery self, and Suleima forgotabout the rather disquieting moments just after Nicholas had passed.What he should do he could not form the least idea; at present itseemed to him impossible that he should go away and leave her. He feltwilling to throw to the winds all he had promised Nicholas. Nicholashad told him that he should be one of the foremost of his country'savengers. He shrugged his shoulders, for just now the desire forvengeance on Turks was less than the memory of a dream. Were therenot plenty of others to avenge Greece? Why should he give up all thatwas dearest to him, this dear burden that was his, and go out on anundesired adventure?
But as long as Suleima was with him he stifled all these thoughts,while the boat skimmed seawards on the outward tack. They put aboutopposite the island and ran straight for the wall. The wind hadfreshened, and to Mitsos the boat seemed to be going terribly fast, forhe grudged each moment. But he had quite lulled Suleima's disquietude,if not his own, and she lay with her head on his shoulder, half asleep,looking up now and then into his wide-open eyes, and pressing her armmore closely round his neck. He had to rouse her when he must get upto take in the sail, and she smiled at him sleepily like a child justwakened.
Then he fixed the ladder, and she climbed up, clung to him for a momentwithout words, for there was no need of speech between them, and wentquickly and silently across the garden.
It was after two when Mitsos landed opposite his house, and he saw withsome surprise that there were lights still burning. He opened the door,and, bending his head to pass under the low jamb, entered. Constantineand Nicholas were sitting there, Constantine silent, Nicholas talkingeagerly, and Mitsos observed that he held his pipe unlit in his hand.His uncle sprang up when he came in.
"Ah, he is here! Mitsos, the time has come. You must go at once."
Mitsos looked at him a moment steadily and silently--their eyes were ona level--and then he turned aside and put down the fishing-creel in thecorner. His decision, though the result of years, was the deed of onlya moment.
Then he faced Nicholas again.
"I am ready," he said; "tell me what I have to do."
Part II
THE EVE OF THE GATHERING