They were now walking down the principal street of the village, a broad thoroughfare, running between two rows of red limestone houses, from the foot of the grand staircase to the blue lake, the distance in all being about a quarter of a mile. On each side, between the pathways and the road itself, ran two lines of elm trees, the foliage of which formed a pleasant shade, while the houses, built in a tropical fashion, with wide verandas, were gay with flowers. Helena had evidently inoculated her father’s subjects with a love for flowers, as on every side the eye was dazzled with a profusion of bright tints. At the lower end of the street was a wide semicircle, facing the lake, and planted with lines of beech, elm, and plane trees, while in the middle of this pleasantness stood a tall pedestal of white marble, bearing a huge bronze Zeus, seated half-draped, with thunderbolt and eagle beside him. Indeed, the statues of gods and goddesses were so frequent, that Maurice began to think his eccentric host, in order to complete his revival of ancient Athens, had re-established the hierarchy of Olympus, with himself as Pontifex Maximus. Evidently his face betrayed his thoughts, for, seeing his eyes fixed on the garlands decorating the base of the statue, the King laughed in an amused manner.
“No, no, Mr. Roylands, we are not pagans, in spite of the presence of the gods,” he said, with a smile. “All my people belong to the Orthodox Church, and we have a priest, a sacred building, and everything necessary for such religion.”
“Are you also of the Greek Church?”
“No, I am no renegade,” replied Justinian haughtily; “but, at the same time, I am not what you would call a Christian.”
“But I trust your religious principles are not those of Caliphronas?”
“No; I believe in working for the good of others, as you can see. Morally speaking, I am what you call an agnostic, though truly I believe in a supreme power. I erect my altar to τὸν ἄγναστον Θεόν, Mr. Roylands, and strive to propitiate him by helping my fellow-creatures.”
The conversation now becoming rather delicate in its trenching on religious beliefs, Maurice turned it dexterously by remarking on the number of mulberry trees.
“Those are for the silkworms,” explained Justinian, striking the trunk of one of these trees with his staff; “we export a great number of cocoons, and do a large trade with the mainland. We also weave silks for ourselves; the factory is to the right.”
There were a great number of people in the streets, all in a similar dress to their own—that is, the men, for the women were mostly arrayed in the graceful Greek dress of the Cretans, which consisted of full white trousers reaching to the ankle, brightly colored tunics, embroidered jackets, gaudy handkerchiefs twisted round the head, and long white veils, though the latter were but assumed for festive occasions. Both men and women were very fine-looking, with oval faces, olive skins, somewhat pointed chins, and aquiline noses, and their gait was remarkably graceful, with the stately bearing of a free race. The adults all saluted Justinian respectfully, and he acknowledged their greetings with haughty condescension, although he unbent somewhat towards the children, who crowded round him with cries of “Kalli imera Kyrion!”
“You are as populous as a hive of bees,” said Maurice, as they walked down to the lake; “soon the island will be too small.”