"STOOD BEFORE THEM IN THE BEAUTIFUL NATIONAL COSTUME OF GREECE."
"And so have we," and Marco's tone was a little curt.
"My business is to eat supper," said the man. "Will you join me?"
Marco was surprised, but Zoe whispered, "Do not make him angry," so he said,
"Thank you. Zoe has brought me to eat also. Will you not share with us?"
"We will eat together," said the stranger, so they seated themselves upon the green grass and Marco took from the basket Zoe had brought, black bread and cheese for all three.
"This is the best I have, but I am glad to give," he said, for he thought to himself, "He has not a bad face now that one sees him close. In any case it is best to be civil, for bees are not caught with sour wine."
The stranger threw aside his cloak and stood before them in the beautiful national costume of Greece. Zoe thought that she had never seen anything so fine as his clothes. He wore a white shirt, a little black jacket and fustanellas, the full white petticoat reaching to the knees, to which Grecian men cling in spite of the fact that it can be soiled in ten minutes while it takes a woman almost as many hours to make it clean again.
He carried a leather bag over one shoulder, and from this he took a parcel, seating himself beside Zoe and opening it with a gay smile.