The rest I got by questions.
“No one could see her except my friend,” said the man of Ipek. “No one but he ever saw her. He built himself a beautiful house; there were rugs in it, and tables of carved wood, and bowls of copper and silver—all things that are beautiful. Cigarette holders of amber and silver with jeweled bowls, and sashes and turbans of silk, and cushions of silk, and beautiful jars for bringing water from the springs. All kinds of rich and beautiful things, and always great quantities of delicate and rich foods. The men of Ipek remember that house well.
“Yes, my friend is dead now. He lived in happiness with his wife for twenty years, and they had children whom he loved. But only he could see them, for to others they were invisible, like his wife. I have been in his house many times when she was there, but I never saw her. Others say they have seen strange things in that house; they have seen things moved by hands they could not see. But I never saw that. Only I know that my friend was happy with his wife and children. She was a lady ora, and kept his house well. The gypsy ora are dirty folk, but the lady ora love cleanliness and order. Everyone respected my friend and his lady wife. Whenever he entered a village, all guns were fired in his honor, for men said, ‘The man who married a lady ora is coming into the village.’ Oh, it was all very well known in Ipek, among the people of my tribe who are now slaves to the cursed Serbs.
“When he died, no doubt she went back to her own people, taking their children with her. His family came to take back his house, and they found all manner of beautiful things, but no money. No money anywhere.”
“What do you think of it?” I said to Frances. “Do you believe——Great Scott! Of course it isn’t true! I don’t know what’s wrong with my mind. Men don’t marry tree spirits. It’s absurd.”
But, frankly, my conviction was that of the man who whistles cheerfully while passing a graveyard at night, because, of course, he does not believe in ghosts.
“There’s some natural explanation,” said Alex. “The man went away for some reason—perhaps he actually had found some of the treasure they say is buried in these mountains—and when he came back he invented the story to account for it.”
“But he had told this man about seeing the ora three years earlier.”
“Well, they’re a very patient people. Perhaps he waited three years after he found the treasure before he dug it up.”
“I should say they’re patient!” cried Frances. “Perolli, if you don’t tell them we are simply dying of hunger, I will! It’s almost two o’clock in the morning. Do they think we are made of—cast iron? I want something to eat, and I want to go to sleep. Do they intend to talk until morning?”