“Yes,” I cried, struck by it. “You cut all the branches off the trees. Doesn’t it cripple or hurt the ora?”
“The ora is a spirit,” said the man of Ipek. “You cannot hurt a pure spirit that has no body. Ora are spirits of the forests, but they are not part of the trees. I understand it, but I do not say it very well. Even if you cut down a tree you do not kill the ora. An ora does not live, an ora simply is.”
We were interrupted by Cheremi, who approached, knelt mysteriously by Perolli’s side, and whispered. Perolli turned to us. “Our dinner is delayed,” he said, “because they can find nothing to give to Rexh. They have only pork in the house, and they have sent through all the village and cannot find any eggs or goat’s meat. A boy has gone now, over the mountains to the next village, to get something they can offer a Mohammedan. You see, their flocks were destroyed when the Serbs retreated through here, and if they kill one of the two sheep for us, it means losing the lambs next year.”
“But, Miss Hardy, I can eat corn bread. That is all I need,” said Rexh, earnestly.
“We can’t tell them that now. We should have thought of it sooner,” said Perolli. “We must wait at least until the boy comes back.”
“Oh, my sainted grandmother!” cried poor Frances. “Aren’t we going to have any dinner at all till breakfast time?”
“Is it because we are guests that our hosts are taking all this trouble to give Rexh the food a Mohammedan can eat?” I asked. “They’re Roman Catholics, aren’t they? Shouldn’t we have brought a Mohammedan into their house?”
AN ALBANIAN HODJI OF THE MATI
“Oh, that makes no difference,” said Perolli. “One religion or another—all religions are the same in the sight of God. Mohammedan or Catholic, we are all human, we all respect one another. No, our hosts don’t mind the trouble; they’re only sorry that they have nothing but pork in the house.”