"I laughed gleefully like those who are always gay the night before a battle. Lobster became very merry at the thought of showing the bandits the progress he had made. Giacomo could not contain himself for joy; the corners of his mouth went around dangerously near his ears; he cracked nuts with the face of a nut-cracker of Nuremburg. M. Merinay had a halo around his head. He was no longer a man, but a pyrotechnic display.

"Except us, the guests resembled alder trees. The pastry-cook's huge wife made signs of the cross; Dimitri raised his eyes to heaven, Christodule advised us to think twice before we provoked the King of the Mountains. But the girl with the flat nose, the one to whom you gave the name of Crinolina invariabilis, was plunged in grief which was quite amusing. She fetched great sighs like a wood-splitter; she did this only to keep herself in countenance, and I could have put in my left eye all the supper which she put into her mouth."

"She is a good girl, Harris."

"Good girl as much as you wish, but I find that your indulgence for her pa.s.ses all bounds. I have never been able to pardon her for her dresses which thrust themselves obstinately under the legs of my chair, the odor of patchouli which she spreads around me, and the lackadaisical glances which she pa.s.ses around the table. One would say, upon my word, that she is not capable of looking at a carafe without casting sheep's eyes at it. But if you love her, such as she is, there is nothing to be said.

She left at nine o'clock for her boarding-school; I wished her bon voyage. Ten minutes afterward I shook hands with our friends, we made a rendezvous for the next day, I went out, I wakened my coachman and guess whom I found in my carriage? Crinolina invariabilis with the pastry-cook's servant.

"She placed her finger on her lips. I entered without saying a word, and we started. 'Monsieur Harris,' she said in very good English, by my faith, 'swear to me to renounce your plans against the King of the Mountains.'

"I began to laugh, and she began to weep. She declared that I would be killed; I replied that it was I who would kill the others; she objected to having Hadgi-Stavros killed; I wished to know why; at last, at the end of her eloquence, she cried out, as if in the fifth act of a play: 'He is my father!' Upon that I began to seriously reflect; once in a way does not count. I thought that it might be possible to recover a lost friend without risking two or three others, and I said to the young Palikar:

"'Your father loves you?'

"'More than his life.'

"'He never refuses you anything?'

"'Nothing that is necessary.'

"'And if you should write to him that you wanted M. Hermann Schultz would he send him to you with the message-bearer?'

"'No.'

"'You are absolutely sure of it?'

"'Absolutely.'

"'Then, Mademoiselle, I have but one thing to do. Set a thief to catch a thief. I will carry you on board The Fancy, and I will hold you as a hostage until Hermann is returned.'

"'I was about to propose it to you,' she said. 'At that price papa will send back your friend.'"

Here I interrupted John Harris' story.

"Oh, well! you do not admire the poor, young girl who loves you enough to give herself into your hands?"

"A fine affair!" he replied. "She wished to save that honest man, her father, and she well knew that once war was declared we would not let him escape. I promised to treat her with all the respect a gallant man ought to treat a woman. She wept until we reached Piraeus. I consoled her as best I could. She murmured: 'I am a lost girl!' I demonstrated to her by 'A' plus 'B' that she would find herself again. I made her get out of the carriage. I helped her and the servant into my boat, which now awaits us below. I wrote to the old brigand an explicit letter, and I sent an old woman with a little message to Dimitri.

"Since that time the beautiful weeper enjoys undisputed possession of my apartments. Orders were given that she was to be treated like the daughter of a king. I waited until Monday evening for her father's response; then my patience failed me; I returned to my first plan; I took my pistols; I notified my friends, and you know the rest. Now it is your turn; you ought to have a whole volume to recount."

"I must first speak to the King."

I approached him and said to him in a low tone: "I do not know why I told you that Photini was in love with John Harris. Fear must have turned my head. I have been talking with him, and I swear to you, on the head of my father, that she is as indifferent to him as if he had never spoken to her."

The old man thanked me with a motion of the hand, and I went back to John Harris, and related my adventures with Mary-Ann. "Bravo!" he exclaimed. "I find that the romance is not complete on account of the absence of a little love. A sufficient amount will do no harm."

"Excuse me," I answered. "There is no love in it at all! A firm friendship on one side, a little grat.i.tude on the other. But nothing more is necessary, I think, to make a reasonably suitable marriage."

"Marry, my friend, and permit me to be a witness to your happiness."

"You have well earned it, John Harris."

"When shall you see her again? I would give much to be present at the interview."

"I would like to surprise her and meet her by chance."

"That is a good idea! After to-morrow, at the Court Ball! You are invited. I am, too. Your note lies on your table, at Christodule's house. Until then, my boy, you must remain on board my ship in order to recuperate a little. Your hair is scorched and your feet are wounded; we will have time to remedy all that."

It was six o'clock in the evening when the boat belonging to Harris put off to The Fancy. They carried the King on deck; he could not walk.

Photini, weeping, threw herself into his arms. It was happiness to see that those whom she loved had survived the battle, but she found her father grown twenty years older. Possibly, also, she suffered from Harris' indifference. He delivered her to her father in a characteristic American fashion, saying: "We are quits! You have returned my friend to me; I have restored Mademoiselle to you. An even exchange is no robbery!

Short accounts make long friends! And now, most venerable old man, under what beneficent region of the earth will you search for the one who is to hang you?"

"Pardon me," he replied, with a certain hauteur. "I have bidden adieu to brigandage forever. What would I do in the mountains? All of my men are dead, wounded or scattered. I could form another band; but these hands which have been so powerful, refuse to act. Younger men must take my place; but I defy them to equal my fortune and my renown. What shall I do with what few years are left to me? I know not yet; but you may be sure that my last days will not be idle ones. I have to establish my daughter to dictate my memoirs. Possibly, even, if the shocks of this week have not wearied my brain too severely, I will consecrate to the service of the State my talents and my experience. May G.o.d give me health and strength! before six months have pa.s.sed I shall be President of the Ministry!"

VIII.

THE COURT BALL.

Thursday, May 15, at six o'clock in the evening, John Harris, in full uniform, took me to Christodule's house. The pastry-cook and his wife gave me a warm reception, not without many sighs on account of the King of the Mountains. As for me, I embraced them heartily. I was happy in being alive, and I saw only friends on all sides. My feet were cured; my hair trimmed, my stomach full. Dimitri a.s.sured me that Mrs. Simons, her daughter, and her brother were invited to the Court Ball, and that the laundress had taken a dress to the Hotel des Etrangers. I enjoyed, in advance, Mary-Ann's surprise and joy. Christodule offered me a gla.s.s of Santorin wine. In this glorious beverage I thought to drink to liberty, riches, happiness. I mounted the staircase to my room, but before retiring I knocked at M. Merinay's door. He received me in the midst of a medley of books and papers. "Dear sir, you see a man overwhelmed with work," he said. "I found, above the village of Castia, an antique inscription, which deprived me of the pleasure of fighting for you, and which for six days has puzzled me. It is absolutely unknown, I a.s.sure you of that. No one has seen it; I have the honor of discovering it; I intend to give it my name. The stone is a small monument of sh.e.l.ly limestone, 35 centimetres in height by 22, and set, by chance, on the edge of the path. The characters are of the finest period of art and cut to perfection. Here is the inscription as I copied it in my note-book:

"S. T. X. X. I. I.

"M. D. C. C. C. L. I.

"If I can translate it my fortune is made. I shall be made member of the Academy of Inscriptions and Belles-lettres of Pont-Audemer! But the task is a long and difficult one. Antiquity guards its secrets with jealous care. I greatly fear that I have come across a monument relative to the Eleusinian mysteries. In that case there may perhaps be two interpretations to discover; the one the vulgar or demontique; the other the sacred or hieratique. You must give me your advice."

I replied: "My advice is that of an ignorant man. I think that you have discovered a mile-stone such as one often sees on long roads, and that the inscription which has given you so much trouble can, without doubt, be translated thus:

"Stade, 22, 1851. Good evening, my dear M. Merinay; I am going to write to my father and then put on my red uniform."

My letter to my parent was an ode, a hymn, a chant of happiness. The exuberant joy which filled my heart overflowed upon the paper. I invited the family to my wedding, not forgetting good Aunt Rosenthaler. I implored my father to sell his inn at once; I ordered that Frantz and Jean Nicolas should leave the service; I advised my other brothers to change their business. I took everything upon myself; I a.s.sumed the responsibility of the future of the whole family. Without losing a moment I sealed the letter and sent it by special messenger to Piraeus, to catch the German-Lloyd steamer, which sailed Friday morning at 6 o'clock. "In this way," I said to myself, "they will rejoice in my happiness almost as soon as I shall."

At a quarter to nine sharp I entered the Palace with John Harris.

Neither Lobster, M. Merinay nor Giacomo were invited. My three-cornered hat was a little rusty, but by candlelight this little defect was not noticeable. My sword was seven or eight centimetres too short; but what of that? Courage is not measured by the length of a sword, and I had without vanity the right to pa.s.s for a hero. The red coat was tight-fitting; it pinched me under the arms, and the tr.i.m.m.i.n.g on the cuffs was quite a distance from my hands; but the embroidery showed to advantage, as papa had prophesied.

The ballroom, decorated with taste and brilliantly lighted, was divided into two sections. On one side behind the throne for the King and Queen were the fauteuils reserved for the ladies; on the other were chairs for the ugly s.e.x. With one glance I swept the s.p.a.ce occupied by the ladies.

Mary-Ann had not yet arrived.

At nine o'clock I saw enter the King and Queen, followed by the Grand Mistress, the Marshal of the Palace, the aides-de-camp, the Ladies of Honor, and the orderly officers, among whom I recognized M.

George-Micrommatis. The King was magnificently dressed in Palikar uniform, and the Queen was resplendent with exquisite elegancies which could come only from Paris. The gorgeousness of the toilets and the glitter of the national costumes made me almost forget Mary-Ann. I fixed my eyes on the door and waited.

The members of the Diplomatic Corps and the most distinguished guests were ranged in a circle around the King and Queen, who conversed pleasantly with those near them for a half hour or so. I was on the outside row with John Harris. An officer, standing in front of us, stepped back suddenly with his whole weight upon my foot and the pain drew from me an exclamation. He turned his head and I recognized Captain Pericles, freshly decorated with the Ordre du Sauveur. He made excuses and asked for news. I could not refrain from informing him that my health did not concern him. Harris, who knew my history entirely, politely said to the captain: "Is it not M. Pericles to whom I have the honor of speaking?"

"Himself!"