As a rule they staid away cruising about the Adriatic and the Levant from November to the month of August; but when the harvest-time drew nigh, they returned home, where hands were wanted to reap and garner such fruits as the rich soil had yielded. After the vintage was over and the olives gathered, the earth was left bare; then they set off with the swallows, though not always for warmer climes. It was the time when sudden gales blow fiercely, when the crested waves begin to roll and the sea is most stormy.
A few months after that memorable Friday upon which Bellacic and Markovic had got shaved, exciting thereby everybody's astonishment, they themselves were surprised to see their sons return unexpectedly. The fact was that, upon reaching Cattaro, the ship on which they had embarked was sold and all the crew were paid off. As they did not think it worth their while to look for another ship, they seized this opportunity to go and spend the 24th of May at home, for St. John's is "the maddest, merriest day of all the glad New Year." Moreover, they were lucky, for the year before had been a plentiful one, whilst the new crops promised, even now, to make the pojata groan under their weight; for whilst an empty and a scanty larder can afford but a sorry welcome, a hospitable man becomes even lavish when his casks are full of wine, his bins are heaped with corn, his jars overflow with oil; when, added to this, there is a prospect of more.
Uros and Milenko had but just arrived home when a little boy—the youngest son of a wealthy neighbour, whose name's day was on the morrow—appeared on the threshold of their door, and, taking off his little cap demurely, said, in a solemn voice:
"Yours is the house of God. My father greets you, and asks you to come and drink a glass of wine with him. We'll chat to while away the evening hours, and we'll not withhold from you the good things St. John, our patron saint, has sent us."
Having recited his invitation, the little herald bowed and went off to bear his message elsewhere.
The family, who knew that this invitation was forthcoming, set off at once for their friend's house. Upon reaching the gate of their host's garden, all the men fired off their pistols as a sign of joy, amongst the shouts of "Zivio"; then, upon entering, they went up to the Starescina, the master of the house, and wished him, in God's name, many happy returns of the day.
A goodly crowd of people had now gathered together, all bent upon merry-making, and a fine evening they had of it; though, according to the old men, this was but moping compared to the festivities they had been used to in their youth. Then, hosts and guests being jolly together, they quite forgot that time had wings, and eight days would sometimes pass before anybody thought of leave-taking.
On that mystic evening almost all the amusements had an allegorical or weird character. In every game there was an attempt at divination. Thus the first one that was played consisted in throwing a garland amidst the branches of a tree. If it remained caught at the first throw, the owner was to get married during the year; if not, the number of times the wreath was tossed upwards corresponded with as many years of patient waiting. It was considered a bad omen if the garland came to pieces.
When Uros threw his chaplet of flowers up it came at once down again, bringing an old wreath that the wind and the winter storms had respected.
"Why," said the Starescina, turning to Milena, who had come to witness the game, "surely it is your husband's wreath!"