BY THE SEA
A MONTH in Argolis found Zoe rosy, happy and quite unlike the sad-faced
little maid who had tended the babycoula in far-away Thessaly. Uncle
Andreas soon went to sea again, taking Marco with him; but Aunt
Angeliké was kindness itself and Zoe's cousin, a merry boy of ten,
proved such a delightful playfellow that the two soon became fast
friends.
Their home was on a pleasant village street, where a huge plane tree
hundreds of years old shaded the little balcony which extended from the
second story out over the street. Near-by was the village fountain, a
meeting place for old and young, for all the water used for cooking
had to be carried from the fountain in water-jars.
[Illustration: "THEY WASHED BENEATH A HUGE PLANE TREE."]
Aunt Angeliké was young and full of laughter. She was much younger
than her husband, and seemed to Zoe almost like her cousin Maria. She
entered into everything the children did, and added to their enjoyment
by her pleasure in their happiness. She made play even of work, and Zoe
enjoyed nothing more than the family washing-day. This occurred only
once a month, but that was far oftener than many of their neighbours
washed their household linen.
Aunt Angeliké went to the mountain stream which gurgled down to the sea
over rocks and pebbles, clear and limpid, reflecting the blue sky and
white clouds.
They washed beneath a huge plane tree, the largest one Zoe had ever
seen, and about whose trunk she and Petro together with arms extended
could not reach. The linen had been brought up the hill on the back
of a little donkey which the children often rode. First Aunt Angeliké
soaked the clothes in lye water, then boiled them and laid each piece
upon the stones to be beaten with a paddle.
"Now, Zoe and Petro, it is your time to help," she said laughing. "Beat
them until they are clean and white. Your uncle's _fustanellas_, Child,
take great pains with them. Of all things they must be clean."
"I shall make them perfect," said Zoe, "and Marco's also." And she beat
and paddled the skirts until they were as white as the snow on Mount
Olympus.
"There, that will do. Now spread them out to dry," said Aunt Angeliké,
and Zoe and Petro laid the clothes about on the grass and bushes, the
_fustanellas_ alone covering yards and yards of the green.
"Let us rest," said Petro, throwing himself down beneath the tree. "I
am tired."
"You are a lazy one," said his mother, seating herself beside him.
"Next you will want to eat."
"That I do," cried Petro, sitting up hastily and forgetting his
fatigue. "What have you, little mother?"
"Now you are a greedy," said his mother, laughing at him.
"But tell me," he said coaxingly, laying a hand on her arm.
"Nay, Zoe is quiet and polite, she shall be helped first," said the
mother, and she drew a basket of luncheon from its hiding-place within
the hollow trunk of a tree. There was bread, cheese, olives and fresh
_mousmoula_, the most delicious of Grecian fruits, yellow as gold, with
four huge seeds within and a juice cool and refreshing. They ate with
health and laughter for sauce, and then Zoe begged for a story. "Just
one, my aunt, before we take a siesta."
"I shall tell you of the good Saint Philip," said the aunt, who was
very pious and thought that children should always be told holy tales
to make them think of good things.
"St. Philip was always very sorry for the poor. He was himself very
good, and though he had once had many _drachmas_ he had given away so
much that he had hardly a _lepta_ left. He had even given away his
food, and kept for himself only a cow, living upon the milk to keep
himself from starving. One night he slept and dreamed a strange dream.
He thought that he went to heaven and that our Lord did not smile upon
him. Instead he turned away his face. But the great St. Petro said,
'Our Lord, this is Felipo, lover of the poor. Wilt thou greet him?' 'He
loved the poor, but himself he loved more,' said our Lord with sadness,
and St. Philip awoke with a start. At that moment there came a loud
'moo!' from without his hut, and he jumped to his feet and said,
"'It is the cow! I have no need for a cow when God's poor starve! I
will kill her and let the starving eat!' So with grief in his heart,
for he loved the animal dearly, he slaughtered her and divided the
meat among his poor. That night he went to bed hungry, for he had no
milk for his supper, but his heart was full of joy, for he felt the
satisfaction of those who 'give to the poor and lend to the Lord.'
"He slept without dreaming and was awakened in the morning by a
familiar sound. It was the 'moo moo' of his cow without his door, and
he said to himself, 'Of a truth I dream, my poor cow is dead!' but
again he heard the call, 'Moo moo!' and he looked out of the window.
There stood his friend and favourite, at the door of her little shed,
awaiting her morning meal. He could not believe his eyes, but the
cow was hungry and did not at all like being left to stand at the
door until her master made up his mind that she was not a ghost. She
stamped the ground with her foot and mooed again, this time very loud.
'It is indeed she,' cried the saint. 'Now is the good God good indeed!
I have fed his poor and he has rewarded me by restoring life to my
favourite. Always hereafter shall I believe in his mercy.'"
"Oh, what a nice story!" cried Zoe, but Petro said,
"If God could do anything, why didn't He keep the cow from being
killed. It must have hurt her!"
"You are a heathen!" said his mother. "You talk like an unbelieving
Turk! Since God can do anything He doubtless kept the knife from
hurting her when she was killed. It is not well to talk so of the
stories of the saints."
"I like stories of battles better," said Petro, still dissatisfied, but
his mother said,
"I tell no more stories to boys who do not like holy things, and now
it is siesta time." So they slept beneath the great tree, and all was
still, save the splash of the waterfall and the hum of the bees, in
the hearts of the scarlet poppies. When they awoke it was late in the
afternoon and many of the clothes were already dry.
"Let us go down to the beach and fish!" said Petro.
"But you will fall in!" said his mother.
"Oh, no, Mother," said Petro. "But if I do it will not hurt."
"Wait a little and I will go with you, that at least I may be there to
pull you out," said Aunt Angeliké, laughing. She had not great faith
in her boy's promises, for she had lived with him for ten years and
knew that he was always in head-first when there was any danger. Petro
was a gay little fellow--happy and full of laughter, and he and Zoe
played together always pleasantly. So they ran about under the trees
while Aunt Angeliké sorted her linen into piles ready to pack upon the
donkey's back for their return.
"We shall catch a fish and roast him for supper, then go back by
moonlight," she said, always ready to give the children pleasure, and
both thought the plan delightful.
"You can't catch me," shouted Petro as he darted away from Zoe, and she
chased him about until both fell panting upon the grass.
"See that boat," said Zoe. "How pretty it looks! Its sails look like
great wings spread over the sea. Look! It is coming here!"
"No," said Petro. "I think it will anchor and send in a boat. Yes,
there come two men. They have a fishing-net set here and are coming to
see what they have caught. See!"
Two sailors sprang from their boat on the beach and started to haul in
a seine. Zoe gave one look at them and was off like an arrow from a
bow, crying, "Marco! It is Marco!" Petro following not less quickly,
calling,
"Father! We are here! Mother and I are here!" The two men turned in
astonishment to see the two flying figures, and gay Uncle Andreas cried,
"Beware, Marco! The Turks are upon us!" As the two little folk hurled
themselves into the arms awaiting them.
"Oh, Marco, my own dear Marco! I am so glad to see you! It is so long
since you went away!" cried Zoe, while Petro said,
"Were you coming home tonight? What did you bring me?"
"We were coming home tonight to surprise you, but it seems we are the
ones to be surprised," said his father. "How came you here?"
"Mother brought the washing and we have been here since morning,"
said Petro. "We hoped to catch a fish for our supper and walk home by
moonlight."
"We shall do better than that," said his father, as his mother came
hastily down the hill to greet them. "How would it please you to eat
one of my fish, when we have cooked it, and then sail home with us in
the boat?"
"Oh!" squealed Zoe.
"That will be fine!" cried Petro, but Aunt Angeliké said,
"The fish and the supper, yes--but what will we do with my white
clothes and the donkey?"
"We shall send the donkey home on his four feet and the clothes on his
back, both in charge of one of my sailors," laughed kind Uncle Andreas,
and so it was settled.
They had a merry supper on the beach, and the fresh _lithrini_[22] made
a delicious meal, roasted over a fire laid on the stones. Other good
things were brought from the ship until Zoe declared she had never seen
such a feast.
"Does she not look well, Marco?" said Aunt Angeliké, and Marco replied,
"Like a different child. Naughty Zoe, you did not like Thessaly!"
"But I like you," said Zoe sweetly, and Uncle Andreas said teasingly,
"Thessaly! Who could like Thessaly! It has been ruled by the Turks! Our
Argolis has never known the heel of the Unspeakable!"
"Then it was not worth their wanting," said Marco in return. "And
Thessaly has cast them out!"
"Do not quarrel," said Aunt Angeliké. "It is all our own land and the
sea is always ours."
So they started homeward over the dancing waves, blue as heaven and as
peaceful, and Zoe's little heart was filled to the brim with happiness.
FOOTNOTE:
[22] A Grecian fish.