“Speak!” he cried, believing her to be a spy from the Kastrati. “Tell me who sent you here to us? Whither are you going?”
“I know not,” was her reply in a sweet voice which told him at once that she was quite young, and he, being unmarried, became instantly interested.
“Where are you from?” he asked, expecting that she had come from Skodra, the nearest Turkish town.
“From Constantinople,” was her reply.
“Constantinople!” gasped Lûk, to whom the capital was so far off as to be only a mere city of legend. It was, indeed, many hundred leagues away. In the darkness he could not see her eyes. He could only distinguish that the lower part of her face was veiled like that of all Mahommedan women.
“And you have come here alone?” he asked.
“Yes, alone. I—I could not remain in Constantinople longer. Am I still in Turkey?”
“Nominally, yes. But the Sultan does not rule us here. We, of the Skreli, are Christians, and our country is a free one—to ourselves, but not to our captives.”
“Ah!” she said with failing heart. “I see! I am your captive—eh? I have heard in Constantinople how you treat the Turks whom you capture.”
“You may have heard many stories, but I assure you that the Skreli never maltreat a woman,” was the brigand’s proud answer. “This path is unsafe for you, and besides it is my duty to take you to our chief Vatt Marashi that he may decide whether we give you safe conduct.”