A little older and wiser, and she would have detected a certain urgency

there was in the tone with which he directed the inquiry.

"I cannot say yet. I have not seen my father since the invitation was

received; he has been with the Emperor; but I know how greatly he

admires the Princess. I think he will consent; if so, I will go up to

Therapia to-morrow."

Sergius, silently resolving to betake himself thither early next

morning, replied with enthusiasm: "Have you seen the garden behind her

palace?"

"No."

"Well, of course I do not know what Paradise is, but if it be according

to my fancy, I should believe that garden is a piece of it."

"Oh, I know I shall be pleased with the Princess, her garden--with

everything hers."

Thereupon Lael settled back in her chair, and nothing more was said

till the sedan halted in front of the Prince's door. Appearing at the

window there, she extended a hand to her escort. The pinkish pearls did

not seem so far away as before, and they were now offered directly. He

could not resist taking them.

"I want you to know how very, very grateful I am to you," she said,

allowing the hand to stay in his. "My father will speak to you about

the day's adventure. He will make the opportunity and

early.--But--but"--

She hesitated, and a blush overspread her face.

"But what?" he said, encouragingly.

"I do not know your name, or where you reside."

"Sergius is my name."

"Sergius?"

"Yes. And being a monk, I have a cell in the Monastery of St. James of

Manganese. I belong to that Brotherhood, and humbly pray God to keep me

in good standing. Now having told you who I am, may I ask"--

He failed to finish the sentence. Happily she divined his wish.

"Oh," she said, "I am called Gul-Bahar by those who love me dearest,

though my real name is Lael."

"By which am I to call you?"

"Good-by," she continued, passing his question, and the look of doubt

which accompanied it. "Good-by--the Princess will send for me

to-morrow."

When the chair was borne into the house, it seemed to Sergius the sun

had rushed suddenly down, leaving a twilight over the sky. He turned

homeward with more worldly matter to think of than ever before. For the

first time in his life the cloister whither he was wending seemed

lonesome and uncomfortable. He was accustomed to imagine it lighted and

warmed by a presence out of Heaven--that presence was in danger of

supersession. Occasionally, however, the girlish Princess whom he was

thus taking home with him gave place to wonder if the Greek he had

saved from Nilo could be a son of the saintly Hegumen; and the

reflection often as it returned brought a misgiving with it; for he saw

to what intrigues he might be subjected, if the claim were true, and

the claimant malicious in disposition. When at last he fell asleep on

his pillow of straw the vision which tarried with him was of walking

with Gul-Bahar in the garden behind the Homeric palace at Therapia, and

it was exceedingly pleasant.

CHAPTER VII

A BYZANTINE HERETIC

While the venerable Chapel on the way up the heights of Blacherne was

surrounded by the host of kneeling monastics, and the murmur of their

prayers swept it round about like the sound of moaning breezes, a

messenger found the Hegumen of the St. James' with the compliments of

the Basileus, and a request that he come forward to a place in front of

the door of the holy house. The good man obeyed; so the night long,

maugre his age and infirmities, he stayed there stooped and bent,

invoking blessings upon the Emperor and Empire; for he loved them both;

and by his side Sergius lingered dutifully torch in hand. Twelve hours

before he had engaged in the service worshipfully as his superior, nor

would his thoughts have once flown from the Mystery enacting; but

now--alas, for the inconstancy of youth!--now there were intervals when

his mind wandered. The round white face of the Princess came again and

again looking at him plainly as when in the window of the sedan on the

promenade between the Bucoleon and the sea. He tried to shut it out;

but often as he opened the book of prayers which he carried in common

with his brethren, trying to read them away; often as he shook the

torch thinking to hide them in the resinous smoke, the pretty, melting,

importunate eyes reappeared, their fascination renewed and unavoidable.

They seemed actually to take his efforts to get away for encouragement

to return. Never on any holy occasion had he been so negligent--never

had negligence on his part been so obstinate and nearly like sin.

Fortunately the night came to an end. A timid thing when first it

peeped over the hills of Scutari, the day emboldened, and at length

filled the East, and left of the torches alive on the opposing face of

Blacherne only the sticks, the cups, and the streaming smoke. Then the

great host stirred, arose, and in a time incredibly brief, silently

gave itself back to the city; while the Basileus issued from his

solitary vigils in the Chapel, and, in a chastened spirit doubtless,

sought his couch in one of the gilded interiors up somewhere under the

Tower of Isaac.

The Hegumen of the St. James', overcome by the unwonted draughts upon

his scanty store of strength, not to mention the exhaustion of spirit

he had undergone, was carried home in a chair. Sergius was faithful

throughout. At the gate of the monastery he asked the elder's blessing.

"Depart not, my son; stay with me a little longer. Thy presence is

comforting to me."

The adjuration prevailed. Truth was, Sergius wished to set out for

Therapia; but banishing the face of the little Princess once more, he

helped the holy man out of the chair, through the dark-stained gate,

down along the passages, to his apartment, bare and penitential as that

of the humblest neophyte of the Brotherhood. Having divested the

superior of his robes, and, gently as he could, assisted him to lay his

spent body on the narrow cot serving for couch, he then received the

blessing.

"Thou art a good son, Sergius," the Hegumen said, with some cheer.

"Thou dost strengthen me. I feel thou art wholly given up to the Master

and His religion--nay, so dost thou look like the Master that when thou

art by I fancy it is He caring for me. Thou art at liberty now. I give

thee the blessing."

Sergius knelt, received the trembling hands on his bowed head, and

kissed them with undissembled veneration.

"Father," he said, "I beg permission to be gone a few days."

"Whither?"

"Thou knowest I regard the Princess Irene as my little mother. I wish

to go and see her."

"At Therapia?"

"Yes, Father."

The Hegumen averted his eyes, and by the twitching of the fingers

clasped upon his breast exposed a trouble at work in the depths of his

mind.

"My son," he at length said, "I knew the father of the Princess Irene,

and was his sympathizer. I led the whole Brotherhood in the final

demand for his liberation from prison. When he was delivered, I

rejoiced with a satisfied soul, and took credit for a large part of the

good done him and his. It is not to magnify myself, or unduly publish

my influence that the occurrence is recalled, but to show you how

unnatural it would be were I unfriendly to his only child. So if now I

say anything in the least doubtful of her, set it down to conscience,

and a sense of duty to you whom I have received into the fraternity as

one sent me specially by God.... The life the Princess leads and her

manners are outside the sanctions of society. There is no positive

wrong in a woman of her degree going about in public places unveiled,

and it must be admitted she does it most modestly; yet the example is

pernicious in its effect upon women who are without the high qualities

which distinguish her; at the same time the habit, even as she

illustrates it, wears an appearance of defiant boldness, making her a

subject of indelicate remark--making her, in brief, a topic for

discussion. The objection, I grant, is light, being at worst an offence

against taste and custom; much more serious is her persistence in

keeping up the establishment at Therapia. A husband might furnish her

an excuse; but the Turk is too near a neighbor--or rather she, a single

woman widely renowned for beauty, is too tempting to the brutalized

unbelievers infesting the other shore of the Bosphorus. Feminine

timidity is always becoming; especially is it so when honor is more

concerned than life or liberty. Unmarried and unprotected, her place is

in a holy house on the Islands, or here in the city, where, aside from

personal safety, she can have the benefit of holy offices. Now rumor is

free to accuse her of this and that, which charity in multitude and

without stint is an insufficient mantle to save her from. They say she

prefers guilty freedom to marriage; but no one, himself of account,

believes it--the constitution of her household forbids the taint. They

say she avails herself of seclusion to indulge uncanonized worship. In

plain terms, my son, it is said she is a heretic."

Sergius started and threw up his hands. Not that he was surprised at

the charge, for the Princess herself had repeatedly admitted it was in

the air against her; but coming from the venerated chief of his

Brotherhood, the statement, though a hearsay, sounded so dreadfully he

was altogether unprepared for it. Knowing the consequences of heresy,

he was also alarmed for her, and came near betraying himself. How

interesting it would be to learn precisely and from the excellent

authority before him, in what the heresy of the Princess consisted. If

there was criminality in her faith, what was to be said of his own?

"Father," he remarked, calmly as possible, "I mind not the other

sayings, the reports which go to the Princess' honor--they are the

tarnishments which malice is always blowing on things white because

they are white--but if it be not too trying to your strength, tell me

more. Wherein is she a heretic?"

Again, the gaunt fingers of the Hegumen worked nervously, while his

eyes averted themselves.

"How can I satisfy your laudable question, my son, and be brief?" and

with the words he brought his look back, resting it on the young man's

face. "Give attention, however, and I will try.... I take it you know

the Creed is the test of orthodoxy, and"--he paused and searched the

eyes above his wistfully--"and that it has your unfaltering belief. You

know its history, I am sure--at least you know it had issue from the

Council of Nicaea over which Constantine, the greatest of ail Emperors,

condescended to preside in person. Never was proceeding more perfect;

its perfection proved the Divine Mind in its composition; yet, sad to

say, the centuries since the august Council have been fruitful of

disputes more or less related to those blessed canons, and sadder

still, some of the disputes continue to this day. Would to God there

was no more to be said of them!"

The good man covered his face with his hands, like one who would shut

out a disagreeable sight. "But it is well to inform you, my son, of the

questions whose agitation has at last brought the Church down till only

Heaven can save it from rupture and ruin. Oh, that I should live to

make the acknowledgment--I who in my youth thought it founded on a rock

eternal as Nature itself!... A plain presentation of the subject in

contention may help you to a more lively understanding of the gravity

and untimeliness of the Princess' departure.... First, let me ask if

you know our parties by name. Verily I came near calling them

_factions_, and that I would not willingly, since it is an opprobrious

term, resort to which would be denunciatory of myself--I being one of

them."

"I have heard of a Roman party and of a Greek party; but further, I am

so recently come to Constantinople, it would be safer did I take

information of you."

"A prudent answer, by our most excellent and holy patron!" exclaimed

the Hegumen, his countenance relaxing into the semblance of a smile.

"Be always as wise, and the St. James' will bless themselves that thou

wert brought to us.... Attend now. The parties are Greek and Roman;

though most frequently its enemies speak of the latter as _azymites_,

which you will understand is but a nickname. I am a Romanist; the

Brotherhood is all Roman; and we mind not when Scholarius, and his

arch-supporter, Duke Notaras, howl _azymite_ at us. A disputant never

takes to contemptuous speeches except when he is worsted in the

argument."

The moderation of the Hegumen had been thus far singularly becoming and

impressive; now a fierce light gleamed in his eyes, and he cried, with

a spasmodic clutch of the hands: "We are not of the forsworn! The curse

of the perjured is not on our souls!"

The intensity of his superior astonished Sergius; yet he was shrewd

enough to see and appreciate the disclosures of the outburst; and from

that moment he was possessed of a feeling that the quarrel between the

parties was hopelessly past settlement. If the man before him, worn

with years, and actually laboring for the breath of life, could be so

moved by contempt for the enemy, what of his co-partisans? Age is

ordinarily a tamer of the passions. Here was an instance in which much

contention long continued had counteracted the benign effect. As a

teacher and example, how unlike this Hegumen was to Hilarion. The young

man's heart warmed with a sudden yearning for the exile of the dear old

Lavra whose unfailing sweetness of soul could keep the frigid

wilderness upon the White Lake in summer purple the year round. Never

did love of man for man look so lovely; never did it seem so

comprehensive and all sufficient! The nearest passion opposition could

excite in that pure and chastened nature was pity. But here! Quick as

the reflection came, it was shut out. There was more to be learned. God

help the heretic in the hands of this judge at this time! And with the

mental exclamation Sergius waited, his interest in the definition of

heresy sharpened by personal concern.

"There are five questions dividing the two parties," the Hegumen

continued, when the paroxysm of hate was passed. "Listen and I will

give them to you in naked form, trusting time for an opportunity to

deal with them at large.... First then the Procession of the Holy

Ghost. That is, does the Holy Ghost proceed from the Son, or from the

Father and the Son? The Greeks say from the Son; the Romans say the

Father and the Son being One, the Procession must needs be from both of

them conjunctively.... Next the Nicene Creed, as originally published,

did undoubtedly make the Holy Ghost proceed from the Father alone. The

intent was to defend the unity of the Godhead. Subsequently the Latins,

designing to cast the assertion of the identity of the Spirit of the

Father and the Spirit of the Son in a form which they thought more

explicit, planted in the body of the Creed the word _filioque_, meaning

_from the Son._ This the Greeks declare an unwarranted addition. The

Latins, on their part, deny it an addition in any proper sense; they

say it is but an explanation of the principle proclaimed, and in

justification trace the usage from the Fathers, Greek and Latin, and

from Councils subsequent to the Nicene.... When we consider to what

depths of wrangle the two themes have carried the children of God who

should be brethren united in love, knowing rivalry only in zeal for the

welfare of the Church, that other subjects should creep in to help

widen the already dangerous breach has an appearance like a judgment of

God; yet it would be dealing unfairly with you, my son, to deny the

pendency of three others in particular. Of these we have first, Shall

the bread in the Eucharist be leavened or unleavened? About six hundred

years ago the Latins began the use of unleavened bread. The Greeks

protested against the innovation, and through the centuries arguments

have been bandied to and fro in good-natured freedom; but lately,

within fifty years, the debate has degenerated into quarrel, and

now--ah, in what terms suitable to a God-fearing servant can I speak of

the temper signalizing the discussion now? Let it pass, let it pass!...

We have next a schism respecting Purgatory. The Greeks deny the

existence of such a state, saying there are but two places awaiting the

soul after death--Heaven and Hell."

Again the Hegumen paused, arrested, as it were, by a return of

vindictive passion.

"Oh, the schismatics!" he exclaimed. "Not to see in the Latin idea of a

third place a mercy of God unto them especially! If only the righteous

are admitted to the All Holy Father immediately upon the final

separation of body and spirit; if there is no intermediate state for

the purgation of such of the baptized as die sodden in their sins, what

shall become of them?"

Sergius shuddered, but held his peace.

"Yet another point," the superior continued, ere the ruffle in his

voice subsided--"another of which the wranglers have made the most; for

as you know, my son, the Greeks, thinking themselves teachers of all

things intellectual, philosophy, science, poetry, art, and especially

religion, and that at a period when the Latins were in the nakedness of

barbarism, are filled with pride, like empty bottles with air; and

because in the light of history their pride is not unreasonable, they

drop the more readily into the designs of the conspirators against the

Unity of the Church--I speak now of the Primacy. As if power and final

judgment were things for distribution amongst a number of equals! As if

one body were better of a hundred heads! Who does not know that two

wills equally authorized mean the absence of all will! Of the

foundations of God Chaos alone is unorganized; and to such likeness

Scholarius would reduce Christendom! God forbid! Say so, my son--let me

hear you repeat it after me--God forbid:"

With an unction scarcely less fervid than his chief's, Sergius echoed

the exclamation; whereupon the elder looked at him, and said, with a

flush on his face, "I fear I have given rein too freely to disgust and

abhorrence. Passion is never becoming in old men. Lest you misjudge me,

my son, I shall take one further step in explanation; it will be for

you to then justify or condemn the feeling you have witnessed in me. A

deeper wound to conscience, a grosser provocation to the divine

vengeance, a perfidy more impious and inexcusable you shall never

overtake in this life, though you walk in it thrice the years of

Noah.... There have been repeated attempts to settle the doctrinal

differences to which I have referred. A little more than a hundred

years ago--it was in the reign of Andronicus III.--one Barlaam, a

Hegumen, like myself, was sent to Italy by the Emperor with a proposal

of union; but Benedict the Pope resolutely refused to entertain the

proposition, for the reason that it did not contemplate a final

arrangement of the question at issue between the Churches. Was he not

right?"

Sergius assented.

"In 1369, John V. Palaeologus, under heavy pressure of the Turks,

renewed overtures of reconciliation, and to effectuate his purpose, he

even became a Catholic. Then John VI., the late Emperor, more

necessitous than his predecessor, submitted such a presentation to the

Papal court that Nicolos of Cusa was despatched to Constantinople to

study and report upon the possibilities of a doctrinal settlement and

union. In November, 1437, the Emperor, accompanied by Joseph, the

Patriarch, Besserion, Archbishop of Nicaea, and deputies empowered to

represent the other Patriarchs, together with a train of learned

assistants and secretaries, seven hundred in all, set out for Italy in

response to the invitation of Eugenius IV, the Pope. Landing at Venice,

the Basileus was escorted to Ferrara, where Eugenius received him with

suitable pomp. The Council of Basle, having been adjourned to Ferrara

for the better accommodation of the imperial guest, was opened there in

April, 1438. But the plague broke out, and the sessions were

transferred to Florence where the Council sat for three years. Dost

thou follow me, my son?"

"With all my mind, Father, and thankful for thy painstaking."

"Nay, good Sergius, thy attention more than repays me.... Observe now

the essentials of all the dogmatic questions I named to you as to-day

serving the conspiracy against the Unity of our beloved Church were

settled and accepted at the Council of Florence. The primacy of the

Roman Bishop was the last to be disposed of, because distinguishable

from the other differences by a certain political permeation; finally

it too was reconciled in these words--bear them in memory, I pray, that

you may comprehend their full import--'The Holy Apostolic See and Roman

Pontiff hold the Primacy over all the world; the Roman Pontiff is the

successor of Peter, Prince of Apostles, and he is the true Vicar of

Christ, the head of the whole Church, the Father and Teacher of all

Christians.' [Footnote: Addis and Arnold's Catholic Die. 349.] In

Italy, 1439--mark you, son Sergius, but a trifle over eleven years

ago--the members of the Council from the East and West, the Greeks with

the Latins--Emperor, Patriarchs, Metropolitans, Deacons, and lesser

dignitaries of whatever title--signed a Decree of Union which we call

the _Hepnoticon_, and into which the above acceptances had been

incorporated. I said all signed the decree--there were two who did not,

Mark of Ephesus and the Bishop Stauropolis. The Patriarch of

Constantinople, Joseph, died during the Council; yet the signatures of

his colleagues collectively and of the Emperor perfected the Decree as

to Constantinople. What sayest thou, my son? As a student of holy

canons, what sayest thou?"

"I am but a student," Sergius replied; "still to my imperfect

perception the Unity of the Church was certainly accomplished."

"In law, yes," said the Hegumen, with difficulty rising to a sitting

posture--"yes, but it remained to make the accomplishment binding on

the consciences of the signatories. Hear now what was done. A form of

oath was draughted invoking the most awful maledictions on the parties

who should violate the decree, and it was sworn to."

"Sworn to?"

"Ay, son Sergius--sworn to by each and all of those attendant upon the

Council--from Basileus down to the humblest catechumen inclusive, they

took the oath, and by the taking bound their consciences under penalty

of the eternal wrath of God. I spoke of certain ones forsworn, did I

not?"

Sergius bowed.

"And worse--I spoke of some whose souls were enduring the curse of the

perjured. That was extreme--it was passion--I saw thee shudder at it,

and I did not blame thee. Hear me now, and thou wilt not blame me....

They came home, the Basileus and his seven hundred followers. Scarcely

were they disembarked before they were called to account. The city,

assembled on the quay, demanded of them: 'What have you done with us?

What of our Faith? Have you brought us the victory?' The Emperor

hurried to his palace; the prelates hung their heads, and trembling and

in fear answered: 'We have sold our Faith--we have betrayed the pure

sacrifice--we have become Azymites.' [Footnote: _Hist. de l'eglise_

(L'Abbe Rohrbacher), 3d ed. Vol. 22. 30. MICHEL DUCAS.] Thus spake

Bessarion; thus Balsamon, Archdeacon and Guardian of the Archives; thus

Gemiste of Lacedaemon; thus Antoine of Heraclius; thus spake they all,

the high and the low alike, even George Scholarius, whom thou didst see

marching last night first penitent of the Vigils. 'Why did you sign the

Decree?' And they answered, 'We were afraid of the Franks.' Perjury to

impiety--cowardice to perjury!... And now, son Sergius, it is said--all

said--with one exception. Some of the Metropolitans, when they were

summoned to sign the Decree, demurred, 'Without you pay us to our

satisfaction we shall not sign.' The silver was counted down to them.

Nay, son, look not so incredulous--I was there--I speak of what I saw.

What could be expected other than that the venals would repudiate

everything? And so they did, all save Metrophanes, the Syncelle, and

Gregory, by grace of God the present Patriarch. If I speak with heat,

dost thou blame me? If I called the recusants forsworn and perjured,

thinkest thou the pure in Heaven charged my soul with a sin? Answer as

thou lovest the right?"

"My Father," Sergius replied, "the denunciation of impiety cannot be

sinful, else I have to unlearn all I have ever been taught; and being

the chief Shepherd of an honorable Brotherhood, is it not thy duty to

cry out at every appearance of wrong? That His Serenity, the Patriarch,

receives thy acquittal and is notably an exception to a recusancy so

universal, is comforting to me; to have to cast him out of my

admiration would be grievous. But pardon me, if from fear thou wilt

overlook it, I again ask thee to speak further of the heresy of the

Princess Irene."

Sergius, besides standing with his back to the door of the cell, was

listening to the Hegumen with an absorption of sense so entire that he

was unaware of the quiet entrance of a third party, who halted after a

step or two but within easy hearing.

"The request is timely--most timely," the Hegumen replied, without

regarding the presence of the newcomer. "I had indeed almost forgotten

the Princess.... With controversies such as I have recounted raging in

the Church, like wolves in a sheepfold, comes one with new doctrines to

increase the bewilderment of the flock, how is he to be met? This is

what the Princess has done, and is doing."

"Still, Father, you leave me in the dark."

The Hegumen faltered, but finally said: "Apart from her religious views

and novel habits, the Princess Irene is the noblest nature in

Byzantium. Were we overtaken by some great calamity, I should look for

her to rise by personal sacrifice into heroism. In acknowledgment of my

fatherly interest in her, she has often entertained me at her palace,

and spoken her mind with fearless freedom, leaving me to think her

pursued by presentiments of a fatality which is to try her with

terrible demands, and that she is already prepared to submit to them."

"Yes," said Sergius, with an emphatic gesture, "there are who live

martyrs all their days, reserving nothing for death but to bring them

their crowns."

The manner of the utterance, and the thought compelled the Hegumen's

notice.

"My son," he said, presently, "thou hast a preacher's power. I wish I

foreknew thy future. But I must haste or"--

"Nay, Father, permit me to help you recline again."

And with the words, Sergius helped the feeble body down.

"Thanks, my son," he received, in return, "I know thy soul is gentle."

After a rest the speech was resumed.

"Of the Princess--she is given to the Scriptures; in the reading, which

else would be a praiseworthy usage, she refuses light except it proceed

from her own understanding. We are accustomed when in doubt--thou

knowest it to be so--to take the interpretations of the Fathers; but

she insists the Son of God knew what He meant better than any whose

good intentions are lacking in the inspirations of the Holy Ghost."

A gleam of pleasure flitted over the listener's countenance.

"So," the Hegumen continued, "she hath gone the length of fabricating a

creed for herself, and substituting it for that which is the foundation

of the Church--I mean the Creed transmitted to us from the Council of

Nicaea."

"Is the substitute in writing, Father?"

"I have read it."

"Then thou canst tell me whence she drew it."

"From the Gospels word and word.... There now--I am too weak to enter

into discussion--I can only allude to effects."

"Forgive another request"--Sergius spoke hastily--"Have I thy

permission, to look at what she hath written?"

"Thou mayst try her with a request; but remember, my son"--the Hegumen

accompanied the warning with a menacious glance--"remember proselyting

is the tangible overt act in heresy which the Church cannot

overlook.... To proceed. The Princess' doctrines are damnatory of the

Nicene; if allowed, they would convert the Church into a

stumbling-block in the way of salvation. They cannot be tolerated.... I

can no more--the night was too much for me. Go, I pray, and order wine

and food. To-morrow--or when thou comest again--and delay not, for I

love thee greatly--we will return to the subject."

Sergius saw the dew gathering on the Hegumen's pallid forehead, and

observed his failing voice. He stooped, took the wan hand from the

laboring breast, and kissed it; then turning about quickly to go for

the needed restoration, he found himself face to face with the young

Greek whom he rescued from Nilo in the encounter on the wall.

CHAPTER VIII

THE ACADEMY OF EPICURUS

"I would have a word with you," the Greek said, in a low tone, as

Sergius was proceeding to the door.

"But thy father is suffering, and I must make haste."

"I will accompany thee."

Sergius stopped while the young man went to the cot, removed his hat

and knelt, saying, "Thy blessing, father."

The Hegumen laid a hand on the petitioner's head.

"My son, I have not seen thee for many days," he said; "yet in hope

that thou hast heard me, and abandoned the associates who have been

endangering thy soul and my good name, and because I love thee--God

knows how well--and remember thy mother, who lived illustrating every

beatitude, and died in grace, praying for thee, take thou my blessing."

With tears starting in his own eyes, Sergius doubted not the effect of

the reproof upon the son; and he pitied him, and even regretted

remaining to witness the outburst of penitence and grief he imagined

forthcoming. The object of his sympathy took down the hand, kissed it

in a matter-of-fact way, arose, and said, carelessly: "This lamentation

should cease. Why can I not get you to understand, father, that there

is a new Byzantium? That even in the Hippodrome nothing is as it used

to be except the colors? How often have I explained to you the latest

social discovery admitted now by everybody outside the religious

orders, and by many within them--I mean the curative element in sin."

"Curative element in sin!" exclaimed the father.

"Ay--Pleasure."

"O God!" sighed the old man, turning his face hopelessly to the wall,

"Whither are we drifting?"

He hardly heard the prodigal's farewell.

"If you wish to speak with me, stay here until I return."

This Sergius said when the two passed out of the cell. Going down the

darkened passage, he glanced behind him, and saw the Greek outside the

door; and when he came back with the Hegumen's breakfast, and reentered

the apartment, he brushed by him still on the outside. At the cot,

Sergius offered the refreshment on his knees, and in that posture

waited while his superior partook of it; for he discerned how the aged

heart was doubly stricken--once for the Church, deserted by so many of

its children, and again for himself, forsaken by his own son.

"What happiness to me, O Sergius, wert thou of my flesh and blood!"

The expression covered every feeling evoked by the situation.

Afterwhile another of the Brotherhood appeared, permitting Sergius to

retire.

"I am ready to hear you now," he said, to the Greek at the door.

"Let us to your cell then."

In the cell, Sergius drew forth the one stool permitted him by the

rules of the Brotherhood.

"Be seated," he said.

"No," the visitor returned, "I shall be brief. You do not know my

father. The St. James' should relieve him of active duty. His years are

sadly enfeebling him."

"But that would be ungrateful in them."

"Heaven knows," the prodigal continued, complainingly, "how I have

labored to bring him up abreast of the time; he lives entirely in the

past. But pardon me; if I heard aright, my father called you Sergius."

"That is my monastic name."

"You are not a Greek?"

"The Great Prince is my political sovereign."

"Well, I am Demedes. My father christened me Metrophanes, after the

late Patriarch; but it did not please me, and I have entitled myself.

And now we know each other, let us be friends."

Sergius' veil had fallen over his face, and while replacing it under

the hat, he replied, "I shall strive, Demedes, to love you as I love

myself."

The Greek, it should be remembered, was good featured, and of a

pleasant manner; so much so, indeed, as to partially recompense him for

his failure in stature; wherefore the overture was by no means

repulsive.

"You may wonder at my plucking you from my father's side; you may

wonder still more at my presumption in seeking to attach myself to you;

but I think my reasons good.... In the first place, it is my duty to

acknowledge that but for your interference yesterday the gigantic

energumen by whom I was unexpectedly beset would have slain me. In

fact, I had given myself up for lost. The rocks at the foot of the wall

seemed springing out of the water to catch me, and break every bone in

my body. You will accept my thanks, will you not?"

"The saving two fellow beings, one from murder, the other from being

murdered, is not, in my opinion, an act for thanks; still, to ease you

of a sense of obligation, I consent to the acknowledgment."

"It does relieve me," Demedes said, with a taking air; "and I am

encouraged to go on."

He paused, and surveyed Sergius deliberately from head to foot, and the

admiration he permitted to be seen, taken as a second to his continuing

words, could not have been improved by a professed actor.

"Are not flesh and blood of the same significance in all of us? With

youth and health superadded to a glorious physical structure, may we

not always conclude a man rich in spirit and lusty impulses? Is it

possible a gown and priestly hat can entirely suppress his human

nature? I have heard of Anthony the Anchorite."

The idea excited his humor, and he laughed.

"I mean no irreverence," he resumed; "but you know, dear Sergius, it is

with laughter as with tears, we cannot always control it.... Anthony

resolved to be a Saint, but was troubled by visions of beautiful women.

To escape them, he followed some children of Islam into the desert.

Alas! the visions went with him. He burrowed then in a tomb--still the

visions. He hid next in the cellar of an old castle--in vain--the

visions found him out. He flagellated himself for eighty and nine

years, every day and night of which was a battle with the visions. He

left two sheepskins to as many bishops, and one haircloth shirt to two

favorite disciples--they had been his armor against the visions.

Finally, lest the seductive goblins should assail him in death, he bade

the disciples lose him by burial in an unknown place. Sergius, my good

friend"--here the Greek drew nearer, and laid a hand lightly on the

monk's flowing sleeve--"I heard some of your replies to my father, and

respect your genius too much to do more than ask why you should waste

your youth"--

"Forbear! Go not further--no, not a word!" Sergius exclaimed. "Dost

thou account the crown the Saint at last won nothing?"

Demedes did not seem in the least put out by the demonstration;

possibly he expected it, and was satisfied with the hearing continued

him.

"I yield to you," he said, with a smile, "and willingly since you

convince me I was not mistaken in your perception.... My father is a

good man. His goodness, however, but serves to make him more sensitive

to opposition. The divisions of the Church give him downright

suffering. I have heard him go on about them hours at a time. Probably

his proneness to lamentation should be endured with respectful

patience; but there is a peculiarity in it--he is blind to everything

save the loss of power and influence the schisms are fated to entail

upon the Church. He fights valorously in season and out for the old

orthodoxies, believing that with the lapse of religion as at present

organized the respectability and dominion of the holy orders will also

lapse. Nay, Sergius, to say it plainly, he and the Brotherhood are fast

keying themselves up to a point in fanaticism when dissent appears

blackest heresy. To you, a straightforward seeker after information, it

has never occurred, I suspect, to inquire how far--or rather how

close--beyond that attainment lie punishments of summary infliction and

most terrible in kind? Torture--the stake--holocausts in the

Hippodrome--spectacles in the Cynegion--what are they to the enthused

Churchmen but righteous judgments mercifully executed on wayward

heretics? I tell you, monk--and as thou lovest her, heed me--I tell you

the Princess Irene is in danger."

This was unexpected, and forcibly put; and thinking of the Princess,

Sergius lost the calmness he had up to this time successfully kept.

"The Princess--tortured--God forbid!"

"Recollect," the Greek continued--"for you will reflect upon

this--recollect I overheard the close of your interview with my father.

To-morrow, or upon your return from Therapia, be it when it may, he

will interrogate you with respect to whatever she may confide to you in

the least relative to the Creed, which, as he states, she has prepared

for herself. You stand warned. Consider also that now I have in part

acquitted myself of the obligation I am under to you for my life."

The simple-mindedness of the monk, to whom the book of the world was

just beginning to open, was an immense advantage to the Greek. It

should not be surprising, therefore, if the former relaxed his air, and

leaned a little forward to hear what was further submitted to him.

"Have you breakfasted?" the prodigal asked, in his easy manner.

"I have not."

"Ah! In concern for my father, you have neglected yourself. Well, I

must not be inconsiderate. A hungry man is seldom a patient listener.

Shall I break off now?"

"You have interested me, and I may be gone several days."

"Very well. I will make haste. It is but justice to the belligerents in

the spiritual war to admit the zeal they have shown; Gregory the

Patriarch, and his Latins, on the one side, and Scholarius and his

Greeks on the other. They have occupied the pulpits alternately, each

refusing presence to the other. They decline association in the

Sacramental rites. In Sta. Sophia, it is the Papal mass to-day;

to-morrow, it will be the Greek mass. It requires a sharp sense to

detect the opposition in smell between the incense with which the

parties respectively fumigate the altars of the ancient house. I

suppose there is a difference. Yesterday the parabaloni came to blows

over a body they were out burying, and in the struggle the bier was

knocked down, and the dead spilled out. The Greeks, being the most

numerous, captured the labarum of the Latins, and washed it in the mud;

yet the monogram on it was identical with that on their own. Still I

suppose there was a difference."

Demedes laughed.

"But seriously, Sergius, there is much more of the world outside of the

Church--or Churches, as you prefer--than on the inside. In the tearing

each other to pieces, the militants have lost sight of the major part,

and, as normally bound, it has engaged in thinking for itself. That is,

the shepherd is asleep, the dogs are fighting, and the sheep, left to

their individual conduct, are scattered in a hunt for fresher water and

greener pasturage. Have you heard of the Academy of Epicurus?"

"No."

"I will tell you about it. But do you take the seat there. It is not

within my purpose to exhaust you in this first conference."

"I am not tired."

"Well"--and the Greek smiled pleasantly--"I was regardful of myself

somewhat in the suggestion. My neck is the worse of having to look up

so constantly.... The youth of Byzantium, you must know, are not

complaining of neglect; far from it--they esteem it a great privilege

to be permitted to think in freedom. Let me give you of their

conclusions. There is no God, they say, since a self-respecting God

would not tolerate the strife and babble carried on in his name to the

discredit of his laws. Religion, if not a deceit, is but the tinkling

of brazen cymbals. A priest is a professor eking out an allowance of

fine clothes and bread and wine; with respect to the multitude, he is a

belled donkey leading a string of submissive camels. Of what account

are Creeds except to set fools by the ears? Which--not what--_which_ is

the true Christian Faith? The Patriarch tells us, 'Verily it is this,'

and Scholarius replies, 'Verily the Patriarch is a liar and a traitor

to God for his false teaching'--he then tells us it is that other thing

just as unintelligible. Left thus to ourselves--I acknowledge myself

one of the wandering flock--flung on our own resources--we resorted to

counselling each other, and agreed that a substitute for religion was a

social necessity. Our first thought was to revive Paganism; worshipping

many gods, we might peradventure stumble upon one really existent:

whether good or bad ought not to trouble us, provided he took

intelligent concern in the drift of things. To quarrel about his

qualities would be a useless repetition of the folly of our elders--the

folly of swimming awhile in a roaring swirl. Some one suggested how

much easier and more satisfactory it is to believe in one God than in

many; besides which Paganism is a fixed system intolerant of freedom.

Who, it was argued, would voluntarily forego making his own gods? The

privilege was too delightful. Then it was proposed that we resolve

ourselves each into a God unto himself. The idea was plausible; it

would at least put an end to wrangling, by giving us all an agreeable

object to worship, while for mental demands and social purposes

generally we could fall back on Philosophy. Had not our fathers tried

Philosophy? When had society a better well being than in the halcyon

ages of Plato and Pythagoras? Yet there was a term of indecision with

us--or rather incubation. To what school should we attach ourselves? A

copy of the Enchiridion of Epictetus fell into our hands, and after

studying it faithfully, we rejected Stoicism. The Cynics were proposed;

we rejected them--there was nothing admirable in Diogenes as a patron.

We next passed upon Socratus. _Sons of Sophroniscus_ had a lofty sound;

still his system of moral philosophy was not acceptable, and as he

believed in a creative God, his doctrine was too like a religion.

Though the Delphian oracle pronounced him the wisest of mankind, we

concluded to look further, and in so doing, came to Epicurus. There we

stopped. His promulgations, we determined, had no application except to

this life; and as they offered choice between the gratification of the

senses and the practice of virtue, leaving us free to adopt either as a

rule of conduct, we formally enrolled ourselves Epicureans. Then, for

protection against the Church, we organized. The departure might send

us to the stake, or to Tamerlane, King of the Cynegion, or, infinitely

worse, to the cloisters, if we were few; but what if we took in the

youths of Byzantium as an entirety? The policy was clear. We founded an

Academy--the Academy of Epicurus--and lodged it handsomely in a temple;

and three times every week we have a session and lectures. Our

membership is already up in the thousands, selected from the best blood

of the Empire; for we do not confine our proselyting to the city."

Here Sergius lifted his hand. He had heard the prodigal in silence, and

it had been difficult the while to say which dominated his

feeling--disgust, amazement, or pity. He was scarcely in condition to

think; yet he comprehended the despairing cry of the Hegumen, Oh, my

God! whither are we drifting? The possibilities of the scheme flew

about him darkly, like birds in a ghastly twilight. He had studied the

oppositions to religion enough to appreciate the attractive power there

was for youth in the pursuit of pleasure. He knew also something of the

race Epicureanism had run in the old competitions of philosophy--that

it had been embraced by more of the cultivated Pagan world than the

other contemporary systems together. It had been amongst the last, if

not in fact the very last, of the conquests of Christianity. But here

it was again; nor that merely--here it was once more a subject of

organized effort. Who was responsible for the resurrection? The Church?

How wicked its divisions seemed to him! Bishop fighting Bishop--the

clergy distracted--altars discredited--sacred ceremonies

neglected--what did it all mean, if not an interregnum of the Word? Men

cannot fight Satan and each other at the same time. With such

self-collection as he could command, he asked: "What have you in

substitution of God and Christ?"

"A Principle," was the reply.

"What Principle?"

"Pleasure, the Purpose of this Life, and its Pursuit, an ennobled

occupation."

"Pleasure to one is not pleasure to another--it is of kinds."

"Well said, O Sergius! Our kind is gratification of the senses. Few of

us think of the practice of virtue, which would be dreaming in the

midst of action."

"And you make the pursuit an occupation?"

"In our regard the heroic qualities of human nature are patience,

courage and judgment; hence our motto--Patience, Courage, Judgment. The

pursuit calls them all into exercise, ennobling the occupation."

The Greek was evidently serious. Sergius ran him over from the pointed

shoes to the red feather in the conical red hat, and said in accents of

pity:

"Oh, alas! Thou didst wrong in re-entitling thyself. Depravity had been

better than Demedes."

The Greek lifted his brows, and shrugged his shoulders.

"In the Academy we are used to taking as well as giving," he said,

wholly unembarrassed. "But, my dear Sergius, it remains for me to

discharge an agreeable commission. Last night, in full session, I told

of the affair on the wall. Could you have heard my description of your

intervention, and the eulogium with which I accompanied it, you would

not have accused me of ingratitude. The brethren were carried away;

there was a tempest of applause; they voted you a hero; and, without a

dissent, they directed me to inform you that the doors of the Academy

were open"--

"Stop," said Sergius, with both hands up as if to avert a blow. After

looking at the commissioner a moment, his eyes fiercely bright, he

walked the floor of the cell twice.

"Demedes," he said, halting in front of the Greek, a reactionary pallor

on his countenance, "the effort thou art making to get away from God

proves how greatly He is a terror to thee. The Academy is only a

multitude thou hast called together to help hide thee from Christ. Thou

art an organizer of Sin--a disciple of Satan"--he was speaking not loud

or threateningly, but with a force before which the other shrank

visibly--"I cannot say I thank thee for the invitation on thy tongue

unfinished, but I am better of not hearing it. Get thee behind me."

He turned abruptly, and started for the door.

The Greek sprang after him, and took hold of his gown.

"Sergius, dear Sergius," he said, "I did not intend to offend you.

There is another thing I have to speak about. Stay!"

"Is it something different?" Sergius asked.

"Ay--as light and darkness are different."

"Be quick then."

Sergius was standing under the lintel of the door. Demedes slipped past

him, and on the outside stopped.

"You are going to Therapia?" he asked.

"Yes."

"The Princess of India will be there. She has already set out."

"How knowest thou?"

"She is always under my eyes."

The mockery in the answer reminded Sergius of the Academy. The prodigal

was designing to impress him with an illustration of the Principle it

had adopted in lieu of God. The motto, he was having it thus early

understood, was not an empty formula, but an inspiring symbol, like the

Cross on the flag. This votary, the advertisement as much as said, was

in pursuit of the little Princess--he had chosen her for his next

offering to the Principle which, like another God, was insatiable of

gifts, sacrifices, and honors. Such the thoughts of the monk.

"You know her?" Demedes asked.

"Yes."

"You believe her the daughter of the Prince of India?"

"Yes."

"Then you do not know her."

The Greek laughed insolently.

"The best of us, and the oldest can be at times as much obliged by

information as by a present of bezants. The Academy sends you its

compliments. The girl is the daughter of a booth-keeper in the

bazaar--a Jew, who has no princely blood to spare a descendant--a dog

of a Jew, who makes profit by lending his child to an impostor."

"Whence hadst thou this--this--"

The Greek paid no attention to the interruption.

"The Princess Irene gives a fete this afternoon. The fishermen of the

Bosphorus will be there in a body. I will be there. A pleasant time to

you, and a quick awakening, O Sergius!"

Demedes proceeded up the passage, but turned about, and said:

"Patience, Courage, Judgment. When thou art witness to all there is in

the motto. O Sergius, it may be thou wilt be more placable. I shall see

to it that the doors of the Academy are kept open for thee."

The monk stood awhile under the lintel bewildered; for the introduction

to wickedness is always stunning--a circumstance proving goodness to be

the natural order.

CHAPTER IX

A FISHERMAN'S FETE

The breakfast to which Sergius addressed himself was in strict

observance of the Rules of the Brotherhood; and being plain, it was

quickly despatched. Returning to his cell, he let his hair loose, and

combed it with care; then rolling it into a glistening mass, he tucked

it under his hat. Selecting a fresher veil next, he arranged that to

fall down his back and over the left shoulder. He also swept the dark

gown free of dust, and cleansing the crucifix and large black horn

beads of his rosary, lingered a moment while contemplating the five

sublime mysteries allotted to the third chaplet, beginning with the

Resurrection of Christ and ending with the Coronation of the Blessed

Virgin. In a calmness of spirit such as follows absolution, he finally

sallied from the Monastery, and ere long arrived at the landing outside

the Fish Market Gate on the Golden Horn. The detentions had been long;

so for speed he selected a two-oared boat.

"To Therapia--by noon," he said to the rower, and, dropping into the

passenger's box, surrendered himself to reflection.

The waterway by which the monk proceeded is not unfamiliar to the

reader, a general idea of it having been given in the chapter devoted

to the adventures of the Prince of India in his outing up the Bosphorus

to the Sweet Waters of Asia. The impression there sought to be

conveyed--how feebly is again regretfully admitted--was of a panorama

remarkable as a composition of all the elements of scenic beauty blent

together in incomparable perfection. Now, however, it failed the

tribute customary from such as had happily to traverse it.

The restfulness of the swift going; the shrinking of the flood under

the beating of the oars; the sky and the wooded heights, and the

stretches of shore, town and palace lined; the tearing through the blue

veil hanging over the retiring distances; the birds, the breezes, the

ships hither coming and yonder going, and the sparkles shooting up in

myriad recurrence on the breaking waves--all these pleasures of the

most delicate of the receiving senses were tyrannically forbidden him.

The box in which he sat half reclining was wide enough for another

passenger side by side with him, and it seemed he imagined the vacant

place occupied now by Demedes, and now by Lael, and that he was

speaking to them; when to the former, it was with dislike, and a

disposition to avoid the touch of his red cloak, though on the sleeve

ever so lightly; when to the latter, his voice would lower, his eyes

soften, and the angry spots on his brow and cheeks go out--not more

completely could they have disappeared had she actually exorcised them

with some of the sweet confessions lovers keep for emergencies, and a

touch of finger besides.

"So," he would say, Demedes for the time on the seat, "thou deniest

God, and hast a plot against Christ. Shameful in the son of a good

father!... What is thy Academy but defiance of the Eternal Majesty? As

well curse the Holy Ghost at once, for why should he who of preference

seeketh a bed with the damned he disappointed? Or is thy audacity a

blasphemous trial of the endurance of forgiveness?".... Exit Demedes,

enter Lael.... "The child--she is a child! By such proof as there is in

innocence, and in the loveliness of blushing cheeks, and eyes which

answer the Heavenly light they let in by light as Heavenly let out, she

is a child! What does evil see in her to set it hungering after her? Or

is there in virtue a signal to its enemies--Lo, here! A light to be

blown out, lest it disperse our darkness!".... Reenter Demedes....

"Abduct her!--How?--When? To that end is it thou keepest her always

under eye? The Princess Irene gives a Fisherman's Fete--the child will

be there--thou wilt be there. Is this the day of the attempt? Bravos as

fishermen, to seize her--boats to carry her off--the Bosphorus wide and

deep, and the hills beyond a hiding-place, and in the sky over them the

awful name Turk. The crime and the opportunity hand in hand! Let them

prosper now, and I who have from the cradle's side despatched my soul

faith in hand to lay it at Heaven's gate may never again deny a merit

in the invocation of Sin virtuous as prayer".... To Lael in the

seat.... "But be not afraid. I will be there also. I"... A sudden fear

fell upon him. If the abduction were indeed arranged for the afternoon,

to what might he not be led by an open attempt to defeat it?

Bloodshed--violence! He whose every dream had been of a life in which

his fellow-men might find encouragement to endure their burdens, and of

walking before them an example of love and forbearance, submissive and

meek that he might with the more unanswerable grace preach obedience

and fraternity to them--Merciful Heaven! And he shuddered and drew the

veil hastily over his face, as if, in a bloody tumult, the ideal life,

so the ultimate happiness, were vanishing before his eyes. Taking the

confessions of such as have been greatly tried, few men, few even of

those renowned for courage and fine achievement, ever pass their

critical moments of decision unassailed by alternative suggestions due

to fear. Sergius heard them now. "Return to thy cell, and to thy beads,

and prayer," they seemed to say. "What canst thou, a stranger in a

strange land, if once the Academy of which thou wert this morning

informed, becomes thy enemy? Ay, return to thy cell! Who is she for

whom thou art putting thyself in the way of temptation? The daughter of

a booth-keeper in the bazaar--a Jew, who hath no princely blood to

spare a descendant--a dog of a Jew, who maketh profit by lending his

child to an impostor."

The suggestion was powerful. In the heat of the debate, however, an

almost forgotten voice reached him, reciting one of the consolations of

Father Hilarion: "Temptations are for all of us; nor shall any man be

free of them. The most we can hope is to be delivered from them. What

vanity to think we can travel threescore and ten years from our

cradles, if so long we live, without an overture of some kind from the

common enemy! On the other side, what a triumph to put his

blandishments by! The Great Exemplar did not fly from Satan; he stayed,

and overcame him."

"Be not afraid," Sergius said, as if to Lael, and firmly, like one

resolved of fear and hesitation. "I will be there also."

Then looking about him, at his left hand he beheld the village of

Emirghian, bent round a mountain's base, in places actually invading

the water. In face of such a view a susceptible nature must needs be

very sick of soul to go blindly on. The brightly painted houses cast

tremulous reflections to a vast depth in the limpid flood, and where

they ceased, down immeasurably, the vivid green of the verdure on the

mountain's breast suggested the beginning of the next of the seven

Mohammedan earths. Above this borrowed glory he seemed afloat; and to

help the impression, the sound of many voices singing joyously was

borne to him. He waved his hand, and the rowers, resting from their

labor, joined him in listening.

The little gulf of Stenia lies there landlocked, and out of it a boat

appeared, skimming around the intervening promontory. In a mass of

flowers, in a shade of garlands hanging from a low mast, its arms and

shrouds wreathed with roses, the singers sat timing their song with

their oars. The refrain was supported by zitheras, flutes and horns.

The vessel turned northwardly when fairly out in the strait; and then

another boat came round the point--and another--and another--and many

others, all decorated, and filled with men, women and children making

music.

Sergius' boatmen recognized the craft, deep in the water, black and

long, and with graceful upturned ends.

"Fishermen!" they said.

And he rejoined: "Yes. The Princess Irene gives them a fete. Make

haste. I will go with them. Fall in behind."

"Yes, yes--a good woman! Of such are the Saints!" they said, signing

the cross on breast arid brow.

The singing and the gala air of the party put Sergius in his wonted

spirits; and as here and there other boats fell into the line,

similarly decorated, their occupants adding to the volume of the

singing, by the time Therapia was sighted the good-natured, happy

fishermen had given him of their floral abundance, and adopted him.

What a scene the Therapian bay presented! Boats, boats, boats--hundreds

of them in motion, hundreds lining the shore, the water faithfully

repeating every detail of ornature, and apparently a-quiver with

pleasure. The town was gay with colors; while on the summit and sides

of the opposite promontory every available point answered flaunt with

flaunt. And there were song and shouting, gladsome cries of children,

responses of mothers, and merriment of youth and maiden. Byzantium

might be in decadence, her provinces falling away, her glory wasting;

the follies of the court and emperors, the best manhood of the empire

lost in cloisters and hermitages, the preference of the nobility for

intrigue and diplomacy might be all working their deplorable

results--nay, the results might be at hand! Still the passion of the

people for fetes and holidays remained. Tastes are things of heredity.

In nothing is a Byzantine of this day so nearly a classic Greek as in

his delicacy and appreciation where permitted to indulge in the

beautiful.

The boatmen passed through the gay entanglement of the bay slowly and

skilfully, and finally discharged their passengers on the marble quay a

little below the regular landing in front of the red pavilion over the

entrance to the Princess' grounds. The people went in and out of the

gate without hindrance; nor was there guard or policeman visible. Their

amiability attested their happiness.

The men were mostly black-bearded, sunburned, large-handed, brawny

fellows in breeches black and amply bagged, with red sashes and light

blue jackets heavily embroidered. The legs below the knees were

exposed, and the feet in sandals. White cloths covered their heads.

Their eyes were bright, their movements agile, their air animated. Many

of them sported amulets of shell or silver suspended by ribbons or

silken cords around their bare necks. The women wore little veils

secured by combs, but rather as a headdress, and for appearances. They

also affected the sleeveless short jacket over a snowy chemise; and

what with bright skirts bordered with worsted chenille, and sandal

straps carried artfully above the ankles, they were not wanting in

picturesqueness. Some of the very young amongst them justified the

loveliness traditionally ascribed to the nymphs of Hellas and the fair

Cycladean Isles. Much the greater number, however, were in outward

seeming prematurely old, and by their looks, their voices ungovernably

shrill, and the haste and energy with which they flung themselves into

the amusement of the hour unconsciously affirmed that fishermen's wives

are the same everywhere. One need not go far to find the frontiers of

society--too frequently they are close under the favorite balcony of

the king.

Something on the right cheek of the gate under the pavilion furnished

an attraction to the visitors. When Sergius came up, he was detained by

a press of men and women in eager discussion; and following their eyes

and the pointing of their fingers, he observed a brazen plate overhead

curiously inscribed. The writing was unintelligible to him as to his

neighbors. It looked Turkish--or it might have been Arabic--or it might

not have been writing at all. He stayed awhile listening to the

conjectures advanced. Presently a gypsy approached leading a bear,

which, in its turn, was drawing a lot of noisy boys. He stopped,

careless of the unfriendly glances with which he was received, and at

sight of the plate saluted it with a low salaam several times

unctuously repeated.

"Look at the hamari there. He can tell what the thing means."

"Then ask him."

"I will. See here, thou without a religion, consort of brutes! Canst

thou tell what this"--pointing to the plate--"is for? Come and look at

it!"

"It is not needful for me to go nearer. I see it well enough. Neither

am I without a religion. I do not merely profess belief in God--I

believe in Him," the bear-keeper replied.

The fisherman took the retort and the laugh it occasioned

good-humoredly, and answered: "Very well, we are even; and now perhaps

thou canst tell me what I asked."

"Willingly, since thou canst be decent to a stranger.... The young

Mahommed, son of Amurath, Sultan of Sultans"--the gypsy paused to

salute the title--"the young Mahommed, I say, is my friend." The

bystanders laughed derisively, but the man proceeded. "He has resided

this long time at Magnesia, the capital of a prosperous province

assigned to his governorship. There never was one of such station so

civil to his people, and much learning has had a good effect upon his

judgment; it has taught him that the real virtue of amusement lies in

its variety. Did he listen exclusively to his doctors discoursing of

philosophy, or to his professor of mathematics, or to his poets and

historians, he would go mad even as they are mad; wherefore, along with

his studies, he hunts with hawk and hound; he tilts and tourneys; he

plays the wandering minstrel; and not seldom Joqard and I--hey, fellow,

is it not so?" he gave the bear a tremendous jerk--"Joqard and I have

been to audience with him in his palace."

"A wonderful prince no doubt; but I asked not of him. The plate,

man--what of this plate? If nothing, then give way to Joqard."

"There are fools and fools--that is, there are plain fools and wise

fools. The wise fool answering the plain fool, is always more

particular with his premises than his argument."

The laugh was with the hamari again; after which he continued: "So,

having done with explanation, now to satisfy you."

From the breast of his gown, he brought forth a piece of bronze

considerably less than the plate on the gate, but in every other

respect its counterpart.

"See you this?" he said, holding the bronze up to view.

There was quick turning from plate to plate, and the conclusion was as

quick.

"They are the same, but what of it?"

"This--Joqard and I went up one day and danced for the Prince, and at

the end he dismissed us, giving me a red silk purse fat with gold

pieces, and to Joqard this passport. Mark you now. The evil minded used

to beat us with cudgels and stones--I mean among the Turk--but coming

to a town now, I tie this to Joqard's collar, and we have welcome. We

eat and drink, and are given good quarters, and sped from morning to

morning without charge."

"There is some magic in the plate, then?"

"No," said the hamari, "unless there is magic in the love of a people

for the Prince to be their ruler. It certifies Joqard and I are of

Prince Mahommed's friends, and that is enough for Turks; and the same

yonder. By the sign, I know this gate, these grounds, and the owner of

them are in his protection. But," said the bear-keeper, changing his

tone, "seeing one civil answer deserves another, when was Prince

Mahommed here?"

"In person? Never."

"Oh, he must have been."

"Why do you say so?"

"Because of the brass plate yonder."

"What does it prove?"

"Ah, yes!" the man answered laughingly. "Joqard and I pick up many odd

things, and meet a world of people--don't we, fellow?" Another furious

jerk of the leading strap brought a whine from the bear, "But it is

good for us. We teach school as we go; and you know, my friend, for

every _solidus_ its equivalent in _noumia_ is somewhere."

"I will give you a _noumia_, if you will give me an answer."

"A bargain--a bargain, with witnesses!"

Then after a glance into the faces around, as if summoning attention to

the offer, the hamari proceeded.

"Listen. I say the brass up there proves Prince Mahommed was here in

person. Wishing to notify his people that he had taken in his care

everything belonging to this property, the owner included, the Prince

put his signature to the proclamation."

"Proclamation?"

"Yes--you may call it plain brass, if you prefer; none the less the

writing on it is _Mahommed:_ and because such favors must bear his name

on them, they are reserved for his giving. No other man, except the

great Sultan, his father, would bestow one of them. Joqard had his from

the Prince's hand directly; wherefore--I hope, friend, you have the

_noumia_ ready--the brass on this post must have been fixed there by

the Prince with his own hand."

The fishermen were satisfied; and it was wonderful how interesting the

safeguard then became to them. By report they knew Mahommed the

prospective successor of the terrible Amurath; they knew him a soldier

conspicuous in many battles; and from the familiar principle by which

we admire or dread those possessed of qualities unlike and superior to

our own, their ideas and speculations concerning him were wild and

generally harsh. Making no doubt now that he had really been to the

gate, they asked themselves, What could have been his object? To look

at the plate was next thing to looking at the man. Even Sergius partook

of the feeling. To get a better view, he shifted his position, and was

beset by inquietudes not in the understanding of the fishermen.

The Princess Irene, her property and dependents, were subjects of

protection by the Moslem; that much was clear; but did she know the

fact? Had she seen the Prince? Then the Hegumen's criticism upon the

persistence with which she kept her residence here, a temptation to the

brutalized unbeliever on the other shore, derived a point altogether

new.

Sergius turned away, and passed into the well-tended grounds. While too

loyal to the little mother, as he tenderly called the Princess, to

admit a suspicion against her, with painful clearness, he perceived the

opportunity the affair offered her enemies for the most extreme

accusations; and he resolved to speak to her, and, if necessary, to

remonstrate.

Traversing the shelled roadway up to the portico of the palace, he

looked back through the red pavilion, and caught a glimpse of Joqard

performing before a merry group of boys and elders male and female.

CHAPTER X

THE HAMARI

The love of all things living which was so positively a trait of

character with the Princess Irene was never stinted in her dealings

with her own country folk. On this occasion her whole establishment at

Therapia was accorded her guests; yet, while they wandered at will

merry-making through the gardens, and flashed their gay colors along

the side and from the summit of the promontory, they seemed to have

united in holding the palace in respectful reserve. None of them,

without a special request, presumed to pass the first of the steps

leading up into the building.

When Sergius, approaching from the outer gate, drew nigh the front of

the palace, he was brought to a stop by a throng of men and women

packed around a platform the purpose of which was declared by its use.

It was low, but of generous length and breadth, and covered with fresh

sail-cloth; at each corner a mast had been raised, with yard-arms well

squared, and dressed profusely in roses, ferns, and acacia fronds. On a

gallery swung to the base of the over-pending portico, a troupe of

musicians were making the most of flute, cithara, horn, and

kettle-drum, and not vainly, to judge from the flying feet of the

dancers in possession of the boards.

Lifting his eyes above the joyous exhibition, he beheld the carven

capitals of the columns, tied together with festoonery of evergreens,

and relieved by garlands of shining flowers, and above the musicians,

under a canopy shading her from the meridian sun, the Princess Irene

herself. A bright carpet hanging down the wall enriched the position

chosen by her, and in the pleasant shade, surrounded by young women,

she sat with uncovered head and face, delighted with the music and the

dancing--delighted that it was in her power to bring together so many

souls to forget, though so briefly, the fretting of hard conditions

daily harder growing. None knew better than she the rapidity of the

national decadence.

It was not long until the young hostess noticed Sergius, taller of his

high hat and long black gown; and careless as usual of the

conventionalities, she arose, and beckoned to him with her fan; and the

people, seeing whom she thus honored, opened right and left, and with

good-will made way for him. Upon his coming her attendants drew

aside--all but one, to whom for the moment he gave but a passing look.

The Princess received him seated. The youthful loveliness of her

countenance seemed refined by the happiness she was deriving from the

spectacle before her. He took the hand she extended him, kissed it

respectfully, with only a glance at the simple but perfected Greek of

her costume, and immediately the doubts, and fears, and questions, and

lectures in outline he had brought with him from the city dropped out

of mind. Suspicion could not look at her and live.

"Welcome, Sergius," she said, with dignity. "I was afraid you would not

come to-day."

"Why not? If my little mother's lightest suggestions are laws with me,

what are her invitations?"

For the first time he had addressed her by the affectionate term, and

the sound was startling. The faintest flush spread over her cheek,

admonishing him that the familiarity had not escaped attention. Greatly

to his relief, she quietly passed the matter.

"You were at the _Pannychides?_" she asked.

"Yes, till daybreak."

"I thought so, and concluded you would be too weary to see us to-day.

The Mystery is tedious."

"It might become so if too frequently celebrated. As it was, I shall

not forget the hillside, and the multitude of frocked and cowled

figures kneeling in the dim red light of the torches. The scene was

awful."

"Did you see the Emperor?"

She put the question in a low tone.

"No," he returned. "His Majesty sent for our Hegumen to come to the

Chapel. The good man took me with him, his book and torch bearer; but

when we arrived, the Emperor had passed in and closed the door, and I

could only imagine him on his knees alone in the room, except as the

relics about him were company."

"How unspeakably dismal!" she said with a shudder, adding in sorrowful

reflection, "I wish I could help him, for he is a prince with a tender

conscience; but there is no way--at least Heaven does not permit me to

see anything for him in my gift but prayer."

Sergius followed her sympathetically, and was surprised when she

continued, the violet gray of her eyes changing into subtle fire. "A

sky all cloud; the air void of hope; enemies mustering everywhere on

land; the city, the court, the Church rent by contending

factions--behold how a Christian king, the first one in generations, is

plagued! Ah, who can interpret for Providence? And what a miracle is

prophecy!"

Thereupon the Princess bethought herself, and cast a hurried glance out

over the garden.

"No, no! If these poor souls can forget their condition and be happy,

why not we? Tell me good news, Sergius, if you have any--only the good.

But see! Who is he making way through the throng yonder? And what is it

he is leading?"

The transition of feeling, though sudden and somewhat forced, was

successful; the Princess' countenance again brightened; and turning to

follow her direction, Sergius observed Lael, who had not fallen back

with the other attendants. The girl had been a modest listener; now

there was a timid half smile on her face, and a glistening welcome in

her eyes. His gaze stopped short of the object which had inspired his

hostess with such interest, and dropped to the figured carpet at the

guest's feet; for the feeling the recognition awakened was clouded with

the taunt Demedes had flung at him in the hall of the monastery, and he

questioned the rightfulness of this appearance. If she were not the

daughter of the Prince of India, she was an--impostor was the word in

his mind.

"I was expecting you," she said to him, artlessly.

Sergius raised his face, and was about to speak, when the Princess

started from her seat, and moved to the low balustrade of the portico.

"Come," she called, "come, and tell me what this is."

Sergius left a friendly glance with Lael.

Where the roadway from the gate led up to the platform an opening had

been made in the close wall of spectators attracted by the music and

dancing. In the opening, the hamari was slowly coming forward, his

turban awry, his brown face overrun and shining with perspiration, his

sharp gypsy eyes full of merriment. With the leading strap over a

shoulder, he tugged at Joqard. Sergius laughed to see the surprise of

the men and women, and at the peculiar yells and screams with which

they struggled to escape. But everybody appearing in good nature, he

said to the Princess: "Do not be concerned. A Turk or Persian with a

trained bear. I passed him at the gate."

He saw the opportunity of speaking about the brass plate on the post,

and while debating whether to avail himself of it, the hamari caught

sight of the party at the edge of the portico, stopped, surveyed them,

then prostrated himself in the abjectest Eastern manner. The homage was

of course to the Princess--so at least the assemblage concluded; and

jumping to the idea that the bear-keeper had been employed by her for

their divertisement, each man in the company resolved himself into an

ally and proceeded to assist him. The musicians were induced to suspend

their performance, and the dancers to vacate the platform; then, any

number of hands helping them up, Joqard and his master were promoted to

the boards, sole claimants of attention and favor.

The fellow was not in the least embarrassed. He took position on the

platform in front of the Princess, and again saluted her Orientally,

and with the greatest deliberation, omitting no point of the

prostration. Bringing the bear to a sitting posture with folded paws,

he bowed right and left to the spectators, and made a speech in

laudation of Joqard. His grimaces and gesticulation kept the crowd in a

roar; when addressing the Princess, his manner was respectful, even

courtierly. Joqard and he had travelled the world over; they had been

through the Far East, and through the lands of the Frank and Gaul; they

had crossed Europe from Paris to the Black Sea, and up to the Crimea;

they had appeared before the great everywhere--Indian Rajahs, Tartar

Khans, Persian Shahs, Turkish Sultans; there was no language they did

not understand. The bear, he insisted, was the wisest of animals, the

most susceptible of education, the most capable and willing in service.

This the ancients understood better than the moderns, for in

recognition of his superiority they had twice exalted him to the

Heavens, and in both instances near the star that knew no deviation.

The hamari was a master of amplification, and his anecdotes never

failed their purpose.

"Now," he said, "I do not care what the subject of discourse may be;

one thing is true--my audience is always composed of believers and

unbelievers; and as between them"--here he addressed himself to the

Princess--"as between them, O Most Illustrious of women, my difficulty

has been to determine which class is most to be feared. Every

philosopher must admit there is quite as much danger in the man who

withholds his faith when it ought to be given, as in his opposite who

hurries to yield it without reason. My rule as an auditor is to wait

for demonstration. So"--turning to the assemblage--"if here any man or

woman doubts that the bear is the wisest of animals, and Joqard the

most learned and accomplished of bears, I will prove it." Then Joqard

was called on.

"For attend, O Illustrious Princess!--and look ye, O men and women,

pliers of net and boat!--look ye all! Now shall Joqard himself speak

for Joqard."

The hamari began talking to the bear in a jargon utterly unintelligible

to his hearers, though they fell to listening with might and main, and

were silent that they might hear. Nothing could have been more earnest

than his communications, whatever they were; at times he put an arm

about the brute's neck; at times he whispered in its ear; and in return

it bowed and grunted assent, or growled and shook its head in refusal,

always in the most knowing manner. In this style, to appearance, he was

telling what he wanted done. Then retaining the leading strap, the

master stepped aside, and Joqard, left to himself, proceeded to prove

his intelligence and training by facing the palace, bringing his arms

overhead, and falling forward. Everybody understood the honor intended

for the Princess; the bystanders shouted; the attendants on the portico

clapped their hands, for indeed never in their remembrance had the

prostration been more profoundly executed. Arising nimbly the performer

wheeled about, reared on his hind feet, clasped his paws on his head,

and acknowledged the favor of the commonalty by resolving himself into

a great fur ball, and rolling a somersault. The acclamation became

tumultuous. One admirer ran off and returned with an armful of wreaths

and garlands, and presently Joqard was wearing them royally.

With excellent judgment the hamari proceeded next to hurry the

exhibition, passing from one trick to another almost without pause

until the wrestling match was reached. This has been immemorially the

reliable point in performances of the kind he was giving, but he

introduced it in a manner of his own.

Standing by the edge of the platform, as the friend and herald of

Joqard, he first loudly challenged the men before him, every one

ambitious of honor and renown, to come up and try a fall; and upon

their hanging back, he berated them. Wherever a tall man stood

observable above the level of heads, he singled him out. Failing to

secure a champion, he finally undertook the contest himself.

"Ho, Joqard," he cried, while tying the leading strap around the

brute's neck, "thou fearest nothing. Thy dam up in the old Caucasian

cave was great of heart, and, like her, thou wouldst not quail before

Hercules, were he living. But thou shalt not lick thy paws and laugh,

thinking Hercules hath no descendant."

Retiring a few steps he tightened the belt about his waist, and drew

his leathern jacket closer.

"Get ready!" he cried.

Joqard answered promptly and intelligently by standing up and facing

him, and in sign of satisfaction with the prospect of an encounter so

to his taste, he lolled the long red tongue out of his jaws. Was he

licking his chops in anticipation of a feast or merely laughing? The

beholders became quiet; and Sergius for the first time observed how

very low in stature the hamari seemed.

"Look out, look out! O thou with the north star in the tip of thy tail!

I am coming--for the honor of mankind, I am coming."

They danced around each other watching for an opening. "Aha! Now thou

thinkest to get the advantage. Thou art proud of thy fame, and cunning,

but I am a man. I have been in many schools. Look out!"

The hamari leaped in and with both hands caught the strap looped around

Joqard's neck; at the same time he was himself caught in Joqard's ready

arms. The growl with which the latter received the attack was angry,

and lent the struggle much more than a mere semblance of danger. Round

and about they were borne; now forward, then back; sometimes they were

likely to tumble from the boards. The hamari's effort was to choke

Joqard into submission; Joqard's was to squeeze the breath out of the

hamari's body; and they both did their parts well.

After some minutes the man's exertions became intermittent. A little

further on the certainty of triumph inspired Joqard to fierce

utterances; his growls were really terrible, and he hugged so

mercilessly his opponent grew livid in the face. The women and children

began to cry and scream, and many of the men shouted in genuine alarm:

"See, see! The poor fellow is choking to death!" The excitement and

fear extended to the portico; some of the attendants there, unable to

endure the sight, fled from it. Lael implored Sergius to save the

hamari. Even the Princess was undecided whether the acting was real or

affected.

Finally the crisis came. The man could hold out no longer; he let go

his grip on the strap, and, struggling feebly to loose his body from

the great black arms, shouted hoarsely: "Help, help!" As if he had not

strength to continue the cry, he threw his hands up, and his head back

gasping.

The Princess Irene covered her eyes. Sergius stepped over the

balustrade; but before he could get further, a number of men were on

the stage making to the rescue. And seeing them come, the hamari laid

one hand on the strap, and with the other caught the tongue protruding

from Joqard's open jaws; as a further point in the offensive so

suddenly resumed, he planted a foot heavily on one of his antagonist's.

Immediately the son of the proud Caucasian dam was flat on the boards

simulating death.

Then everybody understood the play, and the merriment was heightened by

the speech the hamari found opportunity to make his rescuers before

they could recover from their astonishment and break up the tableau

they formed. The Princess, laughing through her tears, flung the victor

some gold pieces, and Lael tossed her fan to him. The prostrations with

which he acknowledged the favors were marvels to behold.

By and by, quiet being restored, Joqard was roused from his trance, and

the hamari, calling the musicians to strike up, concluded the

performance with a dance.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Prince of India, Volume I, by Lew. Wallace