"Well, I will tell you about it. Listen:--
"When Alexander the King had conquered all the Kingdoms of the world,
and when all the universe trembled at his glance, he called before
him the most celebrated magicians of those days and said to them:--
"'Ye who are wise, and who know all that is written in the Book of
Fate, tell me what I must do to live for many years and to enjoy this
world which I have made mine?'
"'O King!' said the magicians, 'great is thy power! But what is
written in the book of Fate is written, and no one in Heaven or on
Earth can efface it. There is one thing only, that can make thee enjoy
thy kingdom and thy glory beyond the lives of men; that can make thee
endure as long as the hills, but it is very hard to accomplish.'
"'I did not ask ye,' said the great King Alexander, 'whether it be
hard, I asked only what it was.'
"'O King, we are at thy feet to command! Know then that he alone who
drinks of the Water of Life need not fear death. But he who seeks this
water, must pass through two mountains which open and close constantly,
and scarce a bird on the wing can fly between them and not be crushed
to death. The bones lie in high piles, of the kings' sons who have
lost their lives in this terrible trap. But if thou shouldst pass
safely through the closing mountains, even then thou wilt find beyond
them a sleepless dragon who guards the Water of Life. Him also must
thou slay before thou canst take the priceless treasure.'
"Then Alexander the King smiled, and ordered his slaves to bring
forth his horse Bucephalus, who had no wings yet flew like a bird. The
king mounted on his back and the good horse neighed for joy. With one
triumphant bound he was through the closing mountains so swiftly that
only three hairs of his flowing tail were caught in between the giant
rocks when they closed. Then Alexander the King slew the sleepless
dragon, filled his vial with the Water of Life, and returned.
"But when he reached his palace, so weary was he that he fell into a
deep sleep and left the Water of Life unguarded. And it so happened
that his sister, not knowing the value of the water, threw it away. And
some of the water fell on a wild onion plant, and that is why, to
this day, wild onion plants never fade. Now when Alexander awoke,
he stretched out his hand to seize and drink the Water of Life and
found naught; and in his rage he would have killed the slaves who
guarded his sleep, but his sister, being of royal blood, could not
hide the truth, and she told him that not knowing, she had thrown
the Water of Life away.
"Then the king waxed terrible in his wrath, and he cast a curse upon
his sister, and prayed that from the waist downward she might be
turned into a fish, and live always in the open sea far from all land
and habitation of man. And the gods granted his prayer, so it happens
that to this day those who sail over the open sea in ships often see
Alexander's sister, half a woman and half a fish, tossing in the waves.
"Strange to say, she does not hate Alexander, and when a ship passes
close to her she cries out:--
"'Does Alexander live?'
"And should the captain, not knowing who it is that speaks, answer,
'He is dead,' then the maid in her great grief tosses her white arms
and her long golden hair wildly about, and troubles the water, and
sinks the ship.
"But if, when the question comes up with the voice of the wind, 'Does
Alexander live?' the captain answers at once, 'He lives and reigns,'
then the maid's heart is joyful, and she sings sweet songs till the
ship is out of sight.
"And this is how sailors learn new love songs, and sing them when
they return to land."
When the old man ceased speaking Aleko waited a moment and then
said slowly,--
"That is not true--but I like it."
"Do you know, my lad," said Kyr Themistocli, "that with a name such
as yours you ought to grow up a great man."
"But if one cannot?"
"That is only if one is not born so," said the old man shaking his
head, "but if one is born with brains, and will, one always can."
"No!" burst out Aleko, "without learning one cannot and when one is
poor how is one to get learning?"
"We live in a country, my boy, where learning is free."
"And must not one live while one is learning? And must one not keep
one's mother and the little ones who cannot work?"
"Did you not say that you go to the Parnassos School?"
"Of course I go, but already I am in the third class, next year I shall
be in the fourth, which is like the first Hellenic class in municipal
schools, and after that, there are no more classes at the Parnassos."
Kyr Themistocli thought for a moment.
"How old are you?"
"In August, on the Virgin's Day, I close my twelve years."
"Why are you in the third class if you have only been here two years?"
"Oh, the first is only for those who cannot read, I did not pass
through it at all."
"You could read already, when you came from your village?"
"Long before that."
"Who taught you?"
Aleko shifted from one bare foot to another and thought for a moment.
"I do not know," he said at last. "My father had three books, and
there were newspapers which the coffee-house keeper threw away,
and ... I learnt."
"If you finish the fourth class of the Parnassos, you will know a
good many things."
"What will be the benefit? When there is no more night school and I
have to work with my hands all day, as the years pass I shall forget
all they have taught me, and I shall be an unlearned man. The member
who spoke at the examinations last year, told us that an unlearned
man is like wood that has not been hewn."
The boy pushed back his chair and stood up.
"Why do they say such things to us? Can we help it if we are poor? It
is bad to know only the beginning of things! It is worse I think
than to know nothing. Sometimes I am sorry that I went to the
Parnassos!" And Aleko turned towards the window and began drawing
his finger over the dust on the pane. But the old schoolmaster
called him:--
"Find the Hestia," he said, "and read to me, will you?"
So Aleko read for some time by the fading light. He read of many
things, and amongst others of how a great big warship had been launched
and was soon to be brought to Greece ... the Averoff.
"Why do they call it the Averoff? What does it mean?"
"It is the name of a very good, and very rich man, who gave the money
to build it."
"Will it fight the Turks?" asked Aleko eagerly.
"Good grant it, my boy! And may I be alive to hear of it."
"When it does, I will read all about it to you."
"Thank you," said the old man very seriously.
Then Aleko went on reading till he could see no longer.
"You read well," said Kyr Themistocli slowly. "Will you come again? you
will give me pleasure."
"I will come every day." Then Aleko got up and began carrying the
plates off the table into the kitchen at the back. He returned with
a lighted candle.
"Now," he said, "I will tidy up a little so that the cross woman will
not have so many words to say to-morrow. As for her floor ..." and
he looked at it with disgust, "it is so dusty that anyone who walks
over it will take dust away instead of adding any! Does she come
every day?" he asked suddenly.
"Yes, she cleans and cooks for me."
"And you pay her?"
"Naturally."
"Kyr Themistocli, you must find another woman who will have a little
conscience; this one, because you cannot see ... she lets you live
in dirt." He took up the cover and shook it vigorously out of the
window. "But what dust! It is a sin to take money for such dirty
work! Ah," he continued, polishing the window panes with a piece of
torn newspaper, "you ought to have my mother to work for you! Then
you would see what your house would be like!"
"Your mother is a good housewife?"
"She is the best in Megaloupolis; all say it. What would she say if
she saw this room? And my clothes also," he added, looking at them
ruefully. "But when one works, what can one do?"
When he had finished, he blew out the candle. "Since it is useless to
you," he remarked, "why should it burn in vain?" Then he came close
to the old man and laid his hand on his knee.
"I thank you for the good food. To-morrow, then, I shall come at
three."
The old man stood up and felt for Aleko's head.
"I want to see how tall you are. Ah, you are well above my shoulder,
that is a good height for twelve. Are you strong? Do you have
gymnastics at the Parnassos?"
"Yes, in the square outside. I know all the movements; and there is
one member--not the one who comes to the lessons, another who has
been abroad--and he is teaching us boxing."
"Boxing?" echoed the old man. This was new for him.
"It is how to fight with your hands; and he says that I shall learn
well and soon."
"That is not real learning," objected Kyr Themistocli, "that is play."
"I do not know," answered Aleko, "but it is very useful for me,
because there are some of the boys who will not understand things
unless you explain with your fists. Now I go," he added. "I must be
at the school at eight o'clock. Good night, master."
"Good night, my child."
But from the door he rushed back again.
"What is that statue in the Zappion Gardens, of the man who stands
at the woman's knee; she who is putting a crown of leaves on his head?"
Kyr Themistocli put his hand to his forehead in a bewildered fashion.
"At the Zappion? A crown of leaves? Oh, I see; you mean Byron. Well,
he was a great poet--a stranger--and because he left his own country
and came and fought for us against the Turks, and helped us, and sang
about us, and loved us, the woman, who means Greece, is crowning him
with laurels."
"Is it like when you take your hat off--to the flag--to show respect?"
"Well, in a way, perhaps," said the old man smiling.
"Is he dead now, that poet?"
"Yes."
Aleko thought for a moment.
"I will fight for his country when I grow up if they want me."
Then he ran very fast because he was afraid he would be late for
school. In winter the hours were from seven to nine in the evening,
but in summer they were from eight to ten, for the members of the
Parnassos who arranged all about the night school, knew that the little
shoeblacks and newspaper boys could find work in the streets much
later, now that the days were long and people dined at such late hours.