"Nothing, nothing. She would be—what you call him? She would suffer in her feelings. You are the guest of the village. Bid me to thank her for you."
"Sure. Tell her she's a regular old brick. Tell her my own mother couldn't have done it better."
"Ah, that, yes. I do not know what is that brick, but the mother will make her very glad."
Michali evidently knew what to say, for she patted Curtis' head affectionately, and tears ran down her cheeks.
"She says she had three boys, all big, strong fellows like you, and the Turks have kill them all," explained Michali.
"Yes," replied Curtis. "I understood the most of that myself. She speaks very plain."
The demarch now made a brief speech, which resulted in clearing the house. As the Ambellakians retired, a merry voice shouted:
"Perastika, Kyrie Pelarge!" (May you recover soon, Mr. Stork) and all took up the refrain, shouting the syllables over and over, amid great laughter. To Michali's unbounded delight, Curtis cried "Eucharisto!" (Thanks.)
"That was splendid," said Michali, when all had left except himself, Lindbohm, the demarch and Papa-Maleko. "How did you understand what they have said?"
"I studied modern Greek in college and used to practice on the Greeks in Boston. But I understand hardly anything. I'm disgusted with myself. I said "Eucharisto" because it was the only word I could think of."