“I remember,” closing his teeth upon the memory.
“I never had an opportunity of thanking you,” Constantine cried, jumping up and insisting on shaking Reineke’s hands as if they were pump handles. Gustav gravely endured the operation, but when the exuberant Greek, in his anxiety to discharge his conscience of arrears of gratitude, bent his head and bestowed two kisses on his cheeks, Reineke withdrew a little, and lifted his slow Oriental gaze in mild reproof.
“You owe me nothing,” he said, impassively.
“Nothing!” protested Constantine, noisily, “and the honour of our family vindicated! A miserable coward punished! By the Olympian gods! but you are a fellow! How my heart rejoiced! I could have danced!”
Gustav’s face sharpened in the shadow of lassitude. The unnecessary violence of Constantine’s mood oppressed and irritated him, but he simply gazed patient inquiry at him, and meekly awaited the promised news of Inarime.
“So you see, Herr Reineke—I suppose I may call you by that more familiar name?—(Gustav bowed) you have made me your friend in this matter, and I am resolved you shall have Inarime some day. It will be so easy, if you once forget that you are a Turk.”
“It is kind of you—most kind, but I fail to see how you will be able to accomplish it if Inarime’s father refuses his consent.”
“But, the chief bar removed, there will be no reason why he should withhold his consent. We’ll see, we’ll see,” continued the uncle. “There’s a way out of all difficulties. Pericles will come to his senses some day. But you are right to respect his prejudices, and so is she. In the abstract, that is. I would persecute him if it were my case. But lovers are ticklish creatures to advise or interfere with. In the meantime, if you will keep me informed of your whereabouts, I will let you know how matters progress, and will send for you on the slightest chance of success after acquainting him with your readiness to become one of us.”
“You will? Kyrie Selaka, I know not how to thank you. Oh, this is indeed much—it is much,” Gustav breathed fervently.
“Not at all. I like you, and I want to see you and my niece happy. Hope! it is I, Constantine Selaka, who bid you.”