The only thing
that grieves me is that you cannot join our holy covenant. The Hellene
and the Circassian groan together beneath the yoke of a common tyrant.
And then you don't reflect who are on our side. Our northern neighbor
is always ready to liberate us. I say no more. To a wise man a hint is
a revelation. But do you not long for glory? You have no glorious
ancestors. With you there are no memories of a Marathon, a Plataea.
. . . God bless you, Kasi Mollah! Go on shooting lots of antelopes,
and I'll come back and buy the hides from you; mind you let me have
them cheap! Take this kiss for yourself, this for your son, and this
third one for your daughter. Then you won't give them to me, eh? Well,
God bless you, Kasi Mollah!"

The sheik felt as if a great stone had rolled off his breast when at
last he saw his guest depart, though even from afar the Greek turned
back and shouted all manner of things about Leonidas and the other
heroes. But the Circassian did not listen to him. He went back into
his house again, lest he should seem to be moping for his children.

Leonidas Argyrocantharides, on the other hand, whistling merrily,
proceeded with his asses on his way to the forest, and, when he found
himself quite alone there, began to sing in a loud voice the song of
freedom of the Hetairea, which put him into such a good humor that he
even began to flourish his weapon in the most warlike manner, though,
unfortunately, there was nobody at hand whom he could smite.

It would be doing a great injustice to the worthy merchant, however,
to suppose that he was fatiguing his precious lungs without rhyme or
reason, for during this melodious song he kept on looking continually
about him, now to the right and now to the left. He knew what he was
about.

Yes, he had calculated well. Any one who might happen to be hidden in
the forest was bound to hear the great blood-stirring song. He had not
advanced more than a hundred yards or so when a well-known suppliant
voice struck his ear. It came from among the thick trees.

"Oh, please! listen, please!"

At first he pretended not to know who it was, and, shading his eyes
with his hand, made a great pretence of looking hard.

"Oho, my little girl! so 'tis you, eh? Little Milieva, by all that's
holy! Come nearer, child."

The girl was not alone. She had found her brother, and was shoving and
pushing the lad on in front of her, who, sulkily and with downcast
eyes, was skulking abou