And so, two hours before sunset, mounting their refreshed horses, Nicæus
and Iduna quitted, with many kind words, the cavern of the Eremite,
and took their way along the winding bank of the river. Throughout the
moonlit night they travelled, ascending the last and highest chain of
mountains and reaching the summit by dawn. The cheerful light of morning
revealed to them the happy plains of a Christian country. With joyful
spirits they descended into the fertile land, and stopped at a beautiful
Greek village, embowered in orchards and groves of olive-trees.
The Prince of Athens instantly inquired for the Primate, or chief
personage of the village, and was conducted to his house; but its
master, he was informed, was without, supervising the commencement of
the vintage. Leaving Iduna with the family of the Primate, Nicæus went
in search of him. The vineyard was full of groups, busied in the most
elegant and joyous of human occupations, gathering, with infinite bursts
of merriment, the harvest of the vine. Some mounted on ladders, fixed
against the festooning branches, plucked the rich bunches, and threw
them below, where girls, singing in chorus, caught them in panniers, or
their extended drapery. In the centre of the vineyard, a middle-aged
man watched with a calm, but vigilant eye, the whole proceedings, and
occasionally stimulated the indolent, or prompted the inexperienced.
“Christo,” said the Prince of Athens, when he had approached him. The
Primate turned round, but evidently did not immediately recognise the
person who addressed him.
“I see,” continued the prince, “that my meditated caution was
unnecessary. My strange garb is a sufficient disguise.”
“The Prince Nicæus!” exclaimed the Primate. “He is, indeed, disguised,
but will, I am sure, pardon his faithful servant.”
“Not a word, Christo!” replied the prince. “To be brief, I have crossed
the mountains from Roumelia, and have only within this hour recognised
the spot whither I have chanced to arrive. I have a companion with me.
I would not be known. You comprehend? Affairs of state. I take it for
granted that there are none here who will recognise me, after three
years’ absence, in this dress.”
“You may feel secure, my lord,” replied Christo. “If you puzzled me, who
have known you since you were no bigger than this bunch of grapes, you
will quite confound the rest.”
“‘Tis well. I shall stay here a day or two, in order to give them
an opportunity to prepare for my reception. In the meantime, it is
necessary to send on a courier at once. You must manage all this for me,
Christo. How are your daughters?”
“So, so, please your Highness,” replied Christo. “A man with seven
daughters has got trouble for every day in the week.”
“But not when they are so pretty as yours are!”
“Poh! poh! handsome is that handsome does; and as for Alexina, she wants
to be married.”
“Very natural. Let her marry, by all means.”
“But Helena wants to do the same.”
“More natural still; for, if possible, she is prettier. For my part, I
could marry them both.”
“Ay, ay! that is all very well; but handsome is that handsome does. I
have no objection to Alexina marrying, and even Helena; but then there
is Lais--”
“Hah! hah! hah!” exclaimed the prince. “I see, my dear Christo, that
my foster sisters give you a very proper portion of trouble. However, I
must be off to my travelling companion. Come in as soon as you can, my
dear fellow, and will settle everything. A good vintage to you, and only
as much mischief as necessary.” So saying, the prince tripped away.
“Well! who would have thought of seeing him here!” exclaimed the worthy
Primate. “The same gay dog as ever! What can he have been doing at
Roumelia? Affairs of state, indeed! I’ll wager my new Epiphany scarf,
that, whatever the affairs are, there is a pretty girl in the case.”