Demetrius looked as if he had sufficiently clinched the matter. If travellers come to Greece for a purpose which certainly does not inspire the Greeks to go to foreign parts, it clearly proves the advantage on the side of Greece.
“True enough, Demetrius,” assented Michael, “and do we not know that Mr. Gladstone, the Prime Minister of England, is more anxious for our safety than that of his own people? And he would gladly exchange London for Athens to-morrow if he could, and mind you, he has seen both places. If we go to war this year, depend upon it, Mr. Gladstone will send us men enough to smash the Turks.”
“We will accept England’s aid when we need it,” said the village Lothario, condescendingly, with a dramatic gesture, as he threw away the end of his cigarette. “But we know very well that three hundred Greeks are more than a match for ten thousand Turks, as they were for the Persians in the olden days.”
Demetrius, you will perceive, was learned, and that was why he was president of the clubs.
“Where are you going shooting to-morrow?” asked Johannis, who knew nothing about the Persians, and resented their introduction with the unreasonable jealousy and bigotry of ignorance.
“I am going to shoot round Koumara,” said Demetrius, testily.
“It’s poor shooting you’ll get there,” remarked Johannis. “I am going to Mousoulou. I shot a lot of wild pigeons there last Sunday and bagged larks and sparrows by the dozen.”
In the meantime, through a running fire of continual comment, and under the gaze of every pair of eyes the village possessed, Reineke, conducted by the cheerful and voluble Aristides, was led down the torrent and round by the windmill upon the brow of the hill, to the little postern gate which led into Selaka’s vineyard. He was so exhausted that in dismounting he had to lean heavily upon Aristides, and slowly walked up the sloping path to the gate. It was opened by Annunziata, who flashed him a delightful smile of welcome, and at that moment Selaka himself hastened forward, and shook him cordially by the hand. But Reineke was too weak and fatigued to do more than smile faintly, and murmur some unintelligible phrase, upon which he was helped into the house, and there collapsed at once upon the sofa. Here we will leave him in the sleep of complete exhaustion, feeling shattered and bruised and as if a week’s sleep would be insufficient to recuperate him.