CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE BETTER PART OF VALOR
Aglaia stood irresolute, looking at the woman, who lay as quietly as though she were sleeping, upon the floor of hard-beaten earth. Her first impulse was to pick her up and drag her to one of the platforms at the fireplace, for her heart forgot its own bitterness for the moment, and was filled with pity for the Christian maiden who had taken refuge in her horrid home.
"No, no, I will not touch her," she murmured at last, "for so it is most frequently given and caught."
So she drew up a chair and sat watching Panayota. She did not have long to wait, for the young, vigorous constitution soon asserted itself. Panayota opened her eyes and stared straight up at the ceiling; then the light caught them and she looked at the eikon, murmuring, "Panayeia, save me!" She sat up and looked deep into Aglaia's large and mournful eyes. The latter said nothing, but she saw complete consciousness and recollection dawning in her guest's countenance.
"Do not be so frightened," said Aglaia. "I will not touch you nor come near you, and it is only by contact that one catches the—leprosy. The Virgin will shield you."
Panayota rose to her feet. She was a priest's daughter, and religion was her ever-present comfort. "She has saved me thus far in a wonderful manner," she replied, and, going over to the eikon, she prayed that the Panayeia would protect her from the horrible disease and help her to escape to the mountains and her own people. Aglaia brought bread, olives and cheese and set them upon the table.
"Na!" she said, "eat and gain strength, and we will devise some means for you to get away from here."
Panayota felt as though the very food were contaminated, but she managed to eat some of the bread, pulling morsels from the center of the loaf. Once again she heard voices from without, and started from her seat, whispering:
"The Turks are coming!"
"Fear nothing here," said Aglaia, in that calm, uncaring voice; "you are as safe here as if you were in your grave—safer, for the Turks sometimes exhume the bones of Christians, but they never disturb us. We are all dead in this village, dead to the hate of the world, to its love, to its friendship."