last she was obliged to try
the effect of her voice.

"It is I, your grandchild, Mila. Open the door, I say; open the door,
Vlacco!" she exclaimed; but no one answered to her call. "So he thought
I was going to remain some time with you, lady, and I verily believe he
has gone off his post. Now, if we could but have managed to get the
doors open, we might have gone out without his leave, and when he comes
back, he would find the birds flown."

"It is useless wishing that," said the Italian. "The door is too
strongly fastened, and it shows me that I am a prisoner, and no longer
trusted; let us return up-stairs."

The Greek girl thought a little, as if unwilling to give up their
object.

"We will do as you propose, lady," she said at last; "but we will not
let him know that we came down, and are aware that he leaves his post;
so, another day he may not fasten the gate, and we may get out, and
wander where we like, without asking his leave."

They were about returning, when little Mila exclaimed--

"Stay, I think I hear him coming, and we won't tell him we have been
waiting; but, after he has been here a little, I will ask to be let
out."

They waited accordingly for some time, during which some person was
heard moving slowly about outside, when little Mila again exclaimed, as
loud as she could call, "Vlacco, Vlacco! let me out, I say, grandfather;
you have bolted the door, as if a storm was blowing to burst it open."

At last the bolt was withdrawn, and the door opening, an old Greek, with
white locks escaping from under his red cap, and a thick, grey
moustache, stood before them. He had a rough, weatherbeaten
countenance, and dark eyes, deeply sunk in his head, with a very stern
expression. His appearance was altogether forbidding, and his
countenance was one which it would make any person very uncomfortable to
look at, who knew that his life depended on the amount of mercy and pity
to be found in his bosom. He must have been a powerful, active man in
his youth; but a weight of years had sadly pulled down his strength, and
palsied his once unfaltering hand.

"What a noise you make, little one. You seem to be in a great hurry to
get out of the gilded cage," he exclaimed, not seeing the Italian who
stood in the shade. When, however, she stepped forward, he altered his
tone, which became as courteous as his gruff nature would allow.
"Pardon, lady," he said, "I was not aware of your presence. What is it