"My dear Son,—The present lines are to inform you that we are both well, your mother and myself, though, indeed, I have been suffering with rheumatic pains in my right shoulder and in my left leg, as well as occasional cramps in my stomach, for which the barber has cupped me several times. As for your mother, she always suffers with sore eyes, and though she tries to cure herself with vine-water and the dew which the flowers distil on St. John's Eve, which is a specific, as you know, still, it has not afforded her great relief. She is also often ailing with a pain in her side; but these are only trifles. Therefore, I hope that this letter will find you, Milenko and the captain in as good health as that which we at present enjoy, and that you have had a good and prosperous voyage. Here, at Budua, things are always about the same. The weather has hitherto been very favourable to the crops, and, with God's help, we must hope for a good harvest, though the wind having blown down almost all the blossoms of the almond-trees, there will be but little fruit. As for the vines, little can be said as yet; whilst having had a good crop of olives last year, we cannot expect much this autumn.
"Our town is always very quiet. A fire only broke out here not long ago, and it burnt down a few houses. As it was believed to have been caused on account of a karvarina, bloodshed, as usual, ensued. Another fact, which somewhat upset our town, was the death of Vranic, who was found murdered in Radonic's house whilst Milena was spending the evening with us. You may well understand how astonished every one was, for Radonic and Vranic had been friends from their youth. Although no one was ever very fond of Radonic, still nobody regretted Vranic, who, as you know, was gifted with the evil eye; and although I myself, not being superstitious, do not believe that persons can harm you simply by looking at you, still it is useless to go against facts. Poor Milena, who was the first to enter the house after the murder—although your mother had accompanied her thither—was seized by such a terrible fright that she remained soulless for many hours, and has been ill ever since, though with care and good food we hope to bring her round.
"I was marvelled to hear how you fell in with the Giulianics, and that your ship saved them from death. It is certainly a dispensation of Providence, and—not being an infidel Turk—I do not see Kismet in everything that happens; still, the hand of the Almighty God is clearly visible in all this.
"Giulianic and I were friends when he, Markovic and myself were poor folk, struggling hard to live and to put by a penny for a rainy day. All three of us have, thank Heaven, succeeded beyond our expectations, for I am glad to hear, by your account as well as his own, that he is in such good circumstances.
"One day—long before you were born—talking together and joking, we made each other a kind of promise, more for the fun of the thing than for anything else, that if we should have, the one a son, and the other a daughter, we should marry them to each other. Not to forget our promises, we exchanged tobacco-pouches. To tell you the truth, not having heard of the Giulianics for so many years, I had all but forgotten my promise, and I daresay he looked at his own pledge as a kind of joke. On receiving your letter, however, I at once wrote to this old friend, sending him back his gold-embroidered pouch and redeeming mine. He at once wrote back a most affectionate letter, saying that he was but too happy to give his daughter to the young man who had saved Ivanka's life, but, apparently, had stolen away her heart. Therefore, my dear son, you may henceforth consider yourself engaged to the girl of your choice; and may the blessing of God and of the holy Virgin rest on you both for ever.
"Your mother wishes me to tell you not to forget your prayers morning and evening, to try and keep all the fasts, and to light a candle to St. Nicholas whenever you go on shore, so that he may keep you from storms and shipwrecks. Besides, she bids me tell you, that if you want more underclothing, to write to her in time, so that she may prepare everything you need.
"Your loving father,
"Milos Bellacic."
Whilst Milenko was reading this letter, doubt returned several times within his heart, and began to gnaw at it. As soon as he had finished, he handed it back to Uros, and seeing his honest eyes fixed upon him, as if asking for consolation, all doubts were at once dispelled.
"Well," said Uros, "it isn't enough to think that Milena is ill, but all this complication must arise."