"I reached Pigadia, yesterday evening, with my six men; it is the
village of the Senator Zimbellis."
"Well!"
"Zimbellis was absent, as usual; but his relatives, his farmers, and his
tenants were all at home, and in bed."
"Well!"
"I entered an inn; I awakened the landlord; I bought twenty-five
bundles of straw, and for payment I killed him."
"Well!"
"We carried the straw to the houses, and spread it around; the houses
are of wood or osier, and we set fire to seven places at once. The
matches were good; the wind from the north; everything went."
"Well!"
"We retired quietly to the wells. The whole village awakened and rushed
out, shouting. The men came running with their leather buckets to get
water. We drowned four whom we did not know; the others escaped."
"Well!"
"We returned to the village. There was no one, only an infant forgotten
by his parents, and who cried like a little raven fallen from its nest.
I threw him into a burning house, and he cried no more."
"Well!"
"Then we took fire-brands, and placed them around the olive trees. The
thing was well-executed. We then started for the camp; we supped and
slept about half-way here, and we arrived at nine o'clock, in prime
condition without even a burn."
"Good! The Senator Zimbellis will not discourse against us again! The
next!"
Vasile withdrew, saluting me as he passed, as politely as the first
time; but I did not return his bow.
He was soon replaced by the great devil who had taken us. By a singular
caprice of chance, the first author of the drama in which I was called
to play a part, was named Sophocles. At the moment when he began his
report, I felt the blood congeal in my veins. I supplicated Mrs. Simons
not to risk an imprudent word. She replied, that she was English, and
that she knew how to behave herself. The King asked us to be silent, and
allow the man to speak.
He first spread out the booty which he had taken from us; then he drew
from his belt forty Austrian ducats, which made a sum of four hundred
and seventy francs, at the rate of 11 francs-15c.
"The ducats," he said, "came from the village of Castia; the rest was
taken from these nobles. Thou didst tell me to scour the boundaries, I
began with the village."
"Thou hast not done well," replied the King. "The people of Castia are
our neighbors, they must not be molested. How can we live in safety, if
we have enemies at our door? Moreover, they were brave people who have
given us aid when occasion demanded."
"Oh! I took nothing from the charcoal burners. They disappeared into the
woods, without giving me time to speak to them. But the padre had the
gout; I found him at home."
"What didst thou say to him?"
"I asked him for his money; he insisted that he had none. I shut him up
in a sack with his cat; and I do not know what the cat did, but he began
to cry out that his treasure was behind the house, under a huge stone."
"Thou wert wrong. The padre will incite all the village against us."
"Oh! no! In leaving him, I forgot to open the sack, and the cat ought to
have fixed him by this time."
"All in good time:----But listen to me well, all of you: I do not wish
anyone to trouble our neighbors. Thou mayst retire."
Our examination now began. Hadgi-Stavros, instead of having us come to
him, gravely rose, came and seated himself on the ground in front of us.
This mark of deference to us seemed a favorable augury. Mrs. Simons
prepared to question him herself. As for me, perceiving too well what
she was capable of saying, and knowing the intemperance of her tongue, I
offered my services to the King, as interpreter. He thanked me coldly,
and called the Corfuan, who knew English.
"Madame," the King said to Mrs. Simons, "you seem to be in great anger.
Have you any complaints to make of the men who brought you here?"
"It is a horror!" she cried. "Your rascals have arrested, dragged me
through the dirt, despoiled me, worn me out, and starved me."
"Will you accept my excuses? I am forced to employ men without
education. Believe me, my dear Madame, it is not by my orders they have
acted thus. You are English?"
"An Englishwoman from London."
"I have been to London; I know and esteem the English. I know that they
have good appetites, and you noticed that I was moved to offer you
refreshments. I know that ladies of your country do not like to run over
rocks, and I regret that you were not allowed to walk your own gait. I
know that people of your nation carry, while traveling, only such things
as are necessary, and I have not yet pardoned Sophocles for having
robbed you, above all, if you are a person of distinction."
"I belong to the best society of London!"
"Deign to take back your money. You are rich?"
"Assuredly."
"This traveling-case is yours, is it not?"
"It is my daughter's."
"Take, also, all that belongs to your daughter. You are very rich?"
"Very rich."
"Do these things belong to Monsieur, your son?"
"Monsieur is not my son; he is a German. Since I am English how could I
have a German son?"
"That is true. Have you twenty thousand francs income?"
"More."
"A carpet for these ladies! Are you rich enough to have thirty thousand
francs income?"
"We have more than that."
"Sophocles is a villain whom I shall chastise. Logothète, tell them to
prepare dinner for these ladies. May it be possible, Madame, that you
are a millionaire?"
"I am that."
"And I--I am annoyed at the way in which you have been treated. You
have, without doubt, fine friends in Athens?"
"I know the English Minister."
"Oh! Madame! You also know some merchants, some bankers?"
"My brother, who is at Athens, knows many bankers in the city."
"I am delighted. Sophocles, come here. Ask pardon of these ladies."
Sophocles muttered some words between his teeth, I know not what
excuses. The King replied:
"These ladies are Englishwomen of distinction; they are worth a million
or more; they have been received by the English Ambassador; their
brother, who is in Athens, knows all the bankers in the city."
"That is right!" cried Mrs. Simons. The King continued:
"Thou shouldst have treated these ladies with all the regard due their
fortune."
"Good!" Mrs. Simons cried.
"Have conducted them here carefully."
"For what purpose?" murmured Mary-Ann.
"And abstained from touching their baggage. When one has the honor of
meeting, in the mountains, two persons of the rank of these ladies, one
should salute them with respect, one should bring them to the camp with
deference, one should guard them circumspectly, and one should offer
them politely every necessary thing in life, until their brother or
their ambassador sends us a ransom of a hundred thousand francs."
Poor Mrs. Simons! dear Mary-Ann! Neither expected this termination. As
for me, I was not surprised. I knew with what a crafty knave we had to
do. I took up the word, and I said to him fiercely: "Thou canst keep
what thy men have taken from me, because it is all that thou wilt get
from me. I am poor, my father has nothing, my brothers often eat dry
bread. I know neither bankers nor ambassadors, and if thou keepest me
with the hope of a ransom, thou wilt reap no reward. I swear it to
thee!"
A murmur of incredulity was heard, but the King appeared to believe me.
"If that is true," he said to me, "I will not keep you. I will send you
back to the city. Madame will give you a letter for Monsieur, her
brother, and you may even leave to-day. If, however, you need to remain
a day or two in the mountains, I will offer my hospitality to you;
because I suppose that you have not come as far as this, with this large
box, in order to look over the country."
This little speech gave me a profound feeling of relief. I looked around
with satisfaction. The King, his secretaries, and his soldiers seemed
less terrible; the surrounding rocks more picturesque, since I viewed
them with the eye of a guest and not as a prisoner. The desire I had
experienced to see Athens suddenly subsided, and I decided to pass two
or three days in the mountains. I felt that my counsels would not be
useless to Mary-Ann's mother. The good woman was in a state of
excitement which might urge her to do something rash. If, perchance, she
determined to refuse to pay the ransom! Before England could come to
her aid, she would have ample time to draw dire calamity upon her
charming head. I must not leave her until I had an opportunity to relate
the history of Mistra's little daughters. Shall I say more? You know my
passion for botany. The flora of Parnassus is very enticing at the end
of April. One can find in the mountains five or six plants as rare as
they are celebrated. One especially: Boryana variabilis, discovered and
named by M. Bory de Saint-Vincent. Should I leave such a lacuna and
present my herbarium to the Museum of Hamburg, without the boryana
variabilis?