“What are your earnings, a year, do you know?” he asked Aleko.
“The ‘big one’ sends one hundred and fifty drachmæ to my mother; he feeds me, and I give him all I earn.”
“What would you do if you were free?”
“I want to learn.”
“To learn what?”
“To learn many things.”
“And out of the many,” said the old schoolmaster, “will grow the one; the one that fills the life of a man. It is well. Let him learn ‘many things.’ ”
“If,” said the banker slowly, “if I were to send three hundred drachmæ every year to your family, and if you were to go to school all day and live with Kyr Themistocli here, who should have three hundred more to keep you and help you with your lessons when you returned from school in the evenings, would you be pleased for the present? Later on we shall see again.”
But it was the old man who thanked and blessed Nico Spinotti, who stretched out tremulous hands to him, while tears of joy filled his sightless eyes.
Aleko stood still with wide open eyes. His wildest day dreams were coming true, and the magnitude of the joy suddenly made him feel faint. His heart seemed to be beating up in his throat, and he felt as though the throbs would choke him. His hands grew moist, his knees trembled and speech failed him utterly.