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From The King of the Mountains, by Edmond About, Translated from the French; with a Critical Introduction by Andrew Lang; a Frontispiece and Numerous Other Portraits with Descriptive Notes by Octave Uzanne; The French Classical Romances Complete in Twenty Crown Octavo Volumes, Editor-in-Chief Edmond Gosse, LL.D; New York : P. F. Collier & Son; 1902; pp. 244-287.
CHAPTER VII
JOHN HARRIS
HIS Majesty, King Stavros, absolutely gloated over his revenge, just as a man who has fasted for days would over the preparation of his initial meal. He appeared to take mental stock of his favourite methods of torture, and eyed me meanwhile with an uncanny expression that was the reverse of reassuring. He seemed in some quandary to make up his mind as to which to begin with so as to give me the greatest pain. Presently he clapped his head with his fist as if he imagined thereby to produce an idea. For the matter of that, ideas such as they were came rapidly enough, but so incoherently that it was difficult to devise from his expression what he intended doing.
“Speak, can’t you?” cried he savagely to his men. “Tell me what to do. What the devil’s the good of you if you can’t even make a suggestion? Must I wait till the fellow from Corfu returns, or until Vasili rises from his grave? 245 Brutes, beasts, idiots that you are! invent me a torture wherewith to punish this rascal as he deserves.”
The young chiboukji [pipe-bearer] spoke first. Addressing his master, he said : “I’ve an idea. One officer is dead, another absent, a third wounded. Let us compete for their late places, and promise that the one who suggests the best torment shall succeed to the honors of Sophocles, the Corfiote, and of Vasili.”
Hadji Stavros smiled sardonically at this proposal, and tapping the lad’s smooth cheek affectionately, answered : “You’re ambitious, little one. So much the better. Ambition is the mainspring of courage. We’ll do as you suggest. It’s a progressive — a European idea, and pleases me. To reward you, speak first, and if your inventive genius is worthy of the honour, you shall replace Vasili.”
“I should like to draw some of Milord’s teeth, put a bit in his mouth, and then make him run until he drops.”
“His feet are too sore, he would tumble down immediately,” answered the King sarcastically; “that won’t do. Let some one else try.”
“I,” broke in Caltzida, “would break burning-hot eggs under his arm-pits. I tried that once on 246 a woman of Megara, and I tell you it was good fun to watch her agony!”
“As for me!” cried Tambouris, “I’d lay him on the ground with a stone weighing five hundred pounds on his chest. It makes a fellow stick his tongue out and spit blood; it is an excellent idea, I assure you.
Milatis suggested injecting vinegar up the nostrils, and thrusting thorns under the nails, and declared that, thanks to these pleasant operations, the patient “sneezed without stopping, and didn’t know what to do with his hands.”
Moustakas was one of the cooks of the band, and his suggestion was possibly inspired by his profession. He was kind enough to wish to roast me by slow degrees, and this brilliant and humane suggestion evidently met with the King’s approbation.
The monk assisted at the conference, but did not give any sort of advice. Nevertheless to a certain extent he had pity on me, and within the limit of his intelligence came to my assistance.
“Moustakas,” said he gently, “is too cruel. The Milord can be tortured without being burned alive. If you feet him with salt meat and give him nothing to drink, he’d last a long time, and suffer enough to satisfy you. Thus the King 247 might reap his vengeance without offending God. My advice is quite disinterested, I gain nothing either way; but since you paid the tithe, I should like everybody to be satisfied.”
“Hold your peace!” interrupted the cafedji angrily. “I’ve a better idea than that. I want the milord to die of hunger. The others can do what they like to him — the worse the better. But I’ll keep guard over his mouth; not a crumb of bread or a drop of water shall pass his lips. Fatigue will make him ravenous, the wounds give him a burning thirst, and all the others do to him will help on my work admirably. What say you, O King? Is not my idea better than all the rest? — and shall I replace Vasili?”
“Go to the devil, all of you!” was the surly answer. “You would not talk so pleasantly if he’d robbed you of three thousand six hundred pounds. Take him away to the camp, and do with him what you like. But if one of you kills him by mistake, let him beware! The cursed dog shall die by my own hand, so that I may have some satisfaction for the loss of my money. I will shed his blood drop by drop, and watch his agony myself.”
You can’t imagine, my dear friend, how, when in imminent danger of loss of it, even the most 248 miserable wretch clings to life! No doubt I wished in a sense to die at once and not in lingering torments; but, on the other hand, a still, small voice seemed to bid me take heart even after these terrible words of the brigand King. They would give me time to think. A sort of vague hope thrilled my heart, and if at that moment a charitable soul had offered to blow my brains out, I should have expressed some hesitation before accepting the offer.
Four brigands now seized hold of my head and legs, and carried me out of the King’s cabinet. At this I bawled with pain, and my voice awoke Sophocles lying on his miserable truckle-bed. He called to his friends, asked them what was going on, and begged to have a nearer view of me. As this was evidently the caprice of a sick man, they threw me by his side.
“Milord, we’re both of us down on our luck, but I’d back myself to get out of this sooner than you. It seems that they’re already thinking of giving me a successor. Men are so unjust! My place is to be competed for. Well, I’ll take part in the competition too, and you can be a witness in my favour. Your groans will proclaim that Sophocles is not yet dead. You’re going to be bound, and I swear I’ll torment you with my 249 one hand as well as any of the others with their two.”
To please the villain my arms were tied together. He turned towards me, and began pulling out my hairs one by one, with the patience and regularity of a professional depilator. When I realized the nature of this torment, I thought that the man, touched by my misfortunes and softened by his own sufferings, wished to get me away from the others in order the better to give me some measure of relief. The extraction of a hair is not nearly so painful as a pin’s prick. The first twenty went without causing me much discomfort. But very soon I had to change my tune.
The skin of the head, irritated by a number of imperceptible lesions, became inflamed. An itching, at first slight, then more pronounced, and at last intolerable, maddened me. When I tried to touch my head, I understood why the brute had ordered my arms to be bound. Impatience only increased the suffering by driving the blood to the surface.
Each time that Sophocles’ hand approached my hair a shudder of pain coursed through my entire frame. It seemed as if my arms and legs were being pricked with thousands of pins and 250 needles. The nervous system, irritated at all points, made my whole body ache as though I had been confined in the poisoned tunic of Dejanira. I rolled on the ground, cried out, implored pardon, and regretted even the bastinado; but my tormentor continued until his strength failed him. When he felt his head becoming heavy and his arm tired, he tore out a whole handful of hair at once, and fell back on his bed, leaving me howling dismally with agony.
“Now,” cried Moustakas, “it’s my turn. You’ll decide, by the light of my fire, if I cannot beat Sophocles, and if I do not deserve to be raised to the rank of lieutenant.
He lifted me like a feather and carried me into the camp, where he placed me before a heap of resinous wood and dried bracken. Then my cords were untied, and my clothes taken off, leaving only my trousers.
“Now,” said he, “you’ll be my scullion. We’re going to make a rare blaze, and cook the King’s dinner.”
He put a light to the wood, and laid me on my back, about two steps from the flaming mass. The wood crackled, and the burning sparks fell in showers round me — the heat was intolerable. I dragged myself on my hands a little distance off, 251 but he returned with a frying-pan, and kicked me back to the place I had left.
“Look at me well,” said he, “and profit by my words of wisdom. There are the tit-bits of no less than three lambs, enough to feed twenty men, which we are about to stew. The King will choose the most delicate pieces for himself, and the rest will be given to his friends. As you’re not one of these, all you will be allowed to do will be to feast your eyes.”
The meat hissed in the pan, and the noise and smell reminded me that I had eaten nothing since the day before. And thus was hunger added to my torments. Moustakas put the frying-pan to my nose, to show me what a lovely colour the meat had acquired, and how temptingly it smelt!
Suddenly he found out that he had forgotten the seasoning, and ran off to fetch pepper and salt, leaving the frying-pan in my care. The first thing I thought of was to snatch a piece of meat and devour it, but the brigands were only a few steps off, and would have prevented me. “If only,” said I to myself, “I still had my packet of arsenic! What can I have done with it?” I had not put it back in my box. Plunging my two hands into my pockets, I drew out a dirty piece of paper and the remains of the lucky powder, 252 which might perhaps save and would certainly avenge me.
Moustakas returned at the moment I was holding my right hand over the frying-pan. He seized my arm, looked me straight in the face, and cried with a threatening voice : “I know what you’ve done!”
I let fall my arm, and he continued : “Yes, you’ve done something to the King’s dinner!”
“What?”
“You’ve bewitched it, but that is not much matter. My poor Milord! Hadji Stavros is a greater sorcerer than you. I’m going to serve his dinner, and shall have my share, and you — but you’ll get devil a bit.”
“I hope you’ll enjoy it,” I replied drearily. My head and body ached excruciatingly.
He left me before the fire, telling a dozen brigands, who were munching brown bread and olives, to watch me. These Spartans stayed with me for a couple of hours. They kept up the fire, and if I tried to get a little away from it, cried out : “Take care, you’ll catch a cold!” and then pushed me by means of burning logs of wood back to my place.
My back was by this time covered with red spots, my skin rose everywhere in blisters, my 253 eyelashes curled up with the heat, and my hair as well as the whole of my body smelt of burning flesh. Nevertheless I rubbed my hands with delight at the thought that the King would eat my dish, and that before the end of the meal something unpleasant would be sure to happen in the camp.
Soon Hadji’s guest began to return, well-fed, and smiling with the look of men who had enjoyed their dinner.
“Ah!” thought I, “your joy won’t last long; you’ll soon be making wry faces, and cursing the feast I seasoned for you!”
Even Locusta must have enjoyed a few enviable hours. I really felt almost cheerful at the thought of what was before me.
My charitable cogitations were presently interrupted by a singular tumult. The dogs barked frantically, as a breathless messenger rushed suddenly into the camp, followed by the whole pack in hot pursuit. It was Dimitrius, the son of Christodulos. Some stones thrown by the brigands delivered him from his pursuers, and so soon as he could make himself intelligible, he cried out : “The King! I must speak to the King.” When he came nearer I called him in a lamentable voice, and alarmed at the state in which he 254 saw me, he exclaimed : “Poor, poor girl! the fools! Poor girl!”
“My dear Dimitrius,” said I, “where do you come from? Is my ransom paid?”
“There’s no question of ransom. But all the same I bring good news. Good for you, bad for him, for her, for every one. I must see Hadji Stavros, there is not a minute to lose. Until my return they must not for their lives hurt a hair of your head.” Then turning to the brigands, he cried out : “Do you hear? Don’t touch Milord, it’s more than your life is worth. The King would have you cut to pieces if you scratched him even. Lead me to him.”
It’s the way of the world; a man who speaks with the tone of a master is nearly sure to be obeyed. There was so much authority in this servant’s manner, his earnestness rendered him so imperious, that my guardians were stupefied, even amazed, and actually forgot to keep me near the fire. I crawled a short distance and awaited, resting on a cool rock, the arrival of Hadji Stavros.
When he appeared he was apparently as greatly moved and agitated as Dimitrius. He took me in his arms as if I were a child, carried me straight to the very spot where Vasili was buried, placed me on his own carpet carefully, and taking two 255 steps backward gazed at me with a look of mingled hatred and pity.
“My son,” said he to Dimitrius, “it’s the first time that I shall have left such a crime unpunished. He tried to murder me : I forgive him. But the dog has robbed me. Three thousand six hundred pounds of Photini’s dowry! I sought a punishment equal to his crime, and should have found it, you may be sure of that.
“But, miserable wretch that I am, why didn’t I control my anger? I’ve been very hard upon him, and it is she who will pay for it. If she received twenty blows on her little feet, I never should see her again. A man does not die of that sort of thing — but a woman! — a child of fifteen!” — and he began to cry bitterly.
When he recovered himself a little he sent off the men who were pressing round us, undid gently the blood-soaked linen that covered my wounds, and sent his chiboukji for Luigi-Bey’s pomade. Seated on the damp grass, he took my feet between his hands, looked at them, and, incredible to relate, with eyes filled with tears he began to chafe them almost tenderly.
“My poor friend,” he said, “you must be suffering cruelly. Forgive me! I’m an old brute, a mountain bear, a Palikar. Since my youth I’ve 256 been inured to ferocity. But you see I’ve a good heart, since I regret what has occurred. I suffer more than you, for your eyes are dry, and I am weeping. You shall be free at once; or rather, no, you can’t leave here in your present condition. I must first cure you. The balm is a sovereign remedy. I’ll nurse you as if you were my son, and you will soon be well again. You must be able to walk to-morrow. She can’t remain any longer in your friend’s hands.
“I implore you,” he continued excitedly, “not to mention our quarrel of to-day to any one. You know personally I never hated you. I have often told you so. You were even sympathetic to me, and I gave you my confidence, told you my most important secrets. Remember that we were a pair of friends until Vasili’s death. An instant of impatience must not make you forget my precious kindness. You wouldn’t drive a father to despair. You’re a good young man, and I believe your friend must also be a good fellow.”
“Of whom are you talking?”
“Of whom? Why, this accursed Harris — this infernal American — this execrable pirate — this child-stealer — this infamous wretch that I should like to hold, and you, too, in my hands, that I might scrunch your brains out and scatter them to 257 the dogs! You Europeans are all alike — a race of traitors, only attacking creatures weaker than themselves. Read what he says, and tell me if there are any tortures cruel enough to punish such a crime?”
He threw me furiously a crumpled letter, and I read :
“Sunday, May 11.
“On board the ‘Fancy’ in
“Salamis Roads.”
“HADJI STAVROS :
“Photini is on board my ship, which is fully armed.
“I shall hold her as a hostage so long as Hermann Shultz is your prisoner. As you treat my friend, so shall I treat your daughter. She shall pay an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a head for a head.
“Send me an answer at once, or I shall start, and then beware.
“JOHN HARRIS.”
On reading this document I could not restrain myself from crying with joy : “What a good fellow!” said I aloud, “and I cursed him! But tell me, Dimitrius, why he did not help me sooner?”
“Because he was away, sir; he was pursuing some pirates. Unfortunately for us, he only returned 258 yesterday morning. Ah! why didn’t he stay away altogether?”
“Good old chap — he has not lost a day!” I answered delightedly. “But how did he discover this old villain’s daughter?”
“Why, she was in our house, Mr. Hermann. You know her well. You’ve dined with her more than once. She’s Photini.”
“What! Photini! That flat-nosed school-girl who ogled John Harris was then the daughter of the brigand!” Between ourselves — I thought that she had been taken away without much difficulty.
The chiboukji returned with a bundle of linen and a bottle filled with yellowish salve. The King dressed my feet like a practised hand, and I was immediately relieved. Hadji offered at this moment an interesting psychological study. There was brutality in his look — softness in his hands. He rolled the bandages round my ankle so gently that I hardly felt his touch, but his eyes said clearly : “How I should like to pass a cord round your neck!” He fastened the pins as lightly as a woman; but how much more willingly he would have stabbed me to the heart!
When he had finished dressing my feet, he held out his hand towards the sea, and shaking it menacingly, cried with a savage roar : “Am I then no 259 longer King, that I cannot satisfy my fury? Must I, who have always commanded, now obey a threat? I, before whom a million of men tremble — am afraid! They’ll boast, no doubt, and proclaim it to the world. How can I impose silence on those chattering Europeans? It will be put in the papers, perhaps even in books. But I deserve it! Why did I marry? Ought a man of my sort to have children? I was born to slaughter soldiers, not to nurse little girls.
“Well may John Harris laugh at me,” he continued. “But what if I declared war — if I boarded his vessel by surprise? Many and many a one have I surprised like that when I was a pirate; and this without asking whether they had guns or not.
“But my daughter was not on board! — my dear little girl! You know her then, Mr. Hermann? Why didn’t you tell me that you lived with Christodulos? I would have asked nothing from you, but have set you free at once for Photini’s sake. I wish her to learn your language. Sooner or later she will be a German Princess. Won’t she make a charming one? But, now I think of it, you’ll beseech your friend not to harm her. Would you have the heart to make my Photini cry? She has done you no harm. If any one 260 is to expiate your sufferings, it should be me. Tell your friend that you have hurt your feet on the stony roads, then do what you like to me!”
Dimitrius stopped this torrent of words. “It’s a great pity,” said he, “Mr. Hermann is wounded. Photini is not safe among those heretics, and I know Mr. Harris; he is capable of anything.”
The King knitted his brows; both the honour and heart of the father were in question.
“Leave at once,” said he : “If necessary, I’ll carry you to the foot of the mountain. You’ll wait in some village for a horse, a carriage, a litter; I’ll provide what is required. But let your friend know to-day that you are free, and promise me, on the head of your mother, that you will tell no one of what has been done to you.”
I did not quite know how I could support the fatigue of the move, but preferred anything to remaining with my tormentors. I was truly afraid that some new obstacle might rise between myself and liberty. So I answered : “Let us leave at once; and I swear by all that is most sacred, not a hair of your child’s head shall be touched.”
He took me in his arms, threw me across his shoulders, and mounted the steps. The whole band ran towards him and barred our passage. Moustakas, livid as a cholera patient, cried : 261 “Where are you going? The German bewitched the food, and we are all suffering like so many devils in hell; but he shall die for it!”
On hearing this, my hopes vanished. The coming of Dimitrius, the providential interruption of Harris, the sudden change in the King, the humiliation of this proud head before his prisoner — all these incidents crowded into the last quarter of an hour, had troubled my brain. I was forgetting the past, and thinking only of the future.
The sight of Moustakas recalled the poison to my mind. I felt that every moment was bringing us nearer to a catastrophe, and clung with all my might to the King. I pressed my arms round his neck, and implored him to carry me away at once.
“Your reputation is concerned,” said I. “Prove to these madmen that you are their master. Give no answer, words are useless. Pass over their bodies, if we must. You do not know how important my safety is to you. Your daughter loves John Harris : I know it!”
He put me down gently, and with closed fists ran towards the brigands. “Madmen! The first who touches the Milord will have to answer to me. What the devil do you mean by bewitching the meat? Didn’t I eat it too? — and am I ill? Let 262 him leave this — he’s an honest man, and my friend.”
Hardly had he said the words, when a change stole over his face, and his legs bent under him. He sat down near me, and whispered, with more regret than anger : “What confidence! Why didn’t you warn me that you had poisoned us?”
Seizing his hand I found it cold. His features were discomposed, his skin has assumed an earthy tint. On seeing this, I lost courage entirely, and felt as if all were over. There was nothing more to hope for. Hadn’t I, with my own hand, killed the only man whose interest it was to save me? My head fell on my breast, and I remained inert by the side of the livid, suffering old man.
Already Moustakas and some of the others had thrust forth their hands to seize me. Hadji had no longer strength to prevent them. At intervals a violent spasm shook his big frame as does the woodman’s axe a century-old oak. The brigands believed him to be dying, and the bonds of interest, fear, hope, or gratitude that attached them to their chief broke as the fragile threads of a spider’s web. The Greeks are the most unyielding race in the world.
Their enormous and absurd vanity bends sometimes, but like a spring only to fly back at the first 263 moment. They know how to lean on a strong, or follow modesty in the steps of a clever, man, but they never forgive the master who has protected or enriched them. For the last thirty centuries they have been a people composed of selfish and jealous unities, brought together by necessity, but one that no human power will ever be able to weld into a whole.
Hadji Stavros learned to his cost that one does not command sixty Greeks with impunity. His authority did not for an instant survive his moral vigour and physical strength. Besides the sick men, who shook their fists at us and cursed us as the cause of their sufferings, those who were well, grouped themselves round a big, brutal peasant named Colidza, opposite the King. He was the most talkative and shameless of the band, an impudent brute without talent or courage; in short, he was one of those cowards who hide during a fight, and afterward carry high the flag of victory. But, at certain moments, fortune favours the most contemptible. Colidza, proud of the strength of his lungs, proceeded to overwhelm the King with insult, and reminded me of the grave-digger who heaps earth over the dead.
“So then,” cried he, “there you are, clever man, invincible general, all-powerful King, invulnerable 264 mortal! Your glory was not usurped, and we were right to believe in you. And what have you gained by it? What good have you got? You gave us fifty-four miserable francs a month, the pay of a mercenary. You’ve fed us with black bread and mouldy cheese that the dogs would have refused, while you were making your fortune, and sending whole ships full of gold to foreign banks. What have we gained from all our victories, and the noble blood we have shed in these mountains? Nothing! You kept all — booty, spoils, and prisoners’ ransoms!
“It is true that you left us the bayonet-thrusts; the only things of which you never took your share. I have served you two years, and been wounded fourteen times in the back, and you haven’t a single scar to show us. If even you had been a skilful leader, had chosen good opportunities, where there is little to risk and much to gain! But, on the contrary, you caused us to be thrashed by the Line; you’ve been the ruin of your comrades, and led us into the lion’s mouth. You were then in a hurry to finish with it all and retire? You wanted us all to be killed, like Vasili, since you’ve delivered us up to this cursed Milord, who has bewitched our bravest soldiers.
“But do not imagine you will escape our 265 vengeance. I know why you want him to leave : he has paid his ransom. But what do you want with the money? You can’t take it into the other world? And you look very sick, my poor Hadji Stavros. The Milord hasn’t spared you any more than us; you’ll die too, for it is but just you should die.
“My friends,” he continued, turning to his men, “let us begin by throwing the old man and his dear Milord into the ravine; and afterward, I’ll tell you what to do.”
The assembly loudly applauded this proposal, and Colidza’s eloquence nearly cost us our lives. Hadji’s old companions, ten or twelve devoted Palikars, who would have come to his aid, had eaten the remains of his repast, and were contorting in frightful tortures on the ground. But a popular orator invariably excites jealousy, and when it seemed clear that Colidza would be elected chief of the band, Tambouris and several others of the more ambitious, turned suddenly round and ranged themselves on our side.
Captain for captain, they preferred he who had led them so well, to this prating fool whose pomposity they despised. They imagined also that the King had not long to live, and that he would choose his successor from among those 266 who remained faithful to him. And this was not unimportant point, since it would be safe to bet that the capitalists would ratify the choice of Hadji Stavros, rather than one made by the rebels. Eight or ten voices were consequently now lifted in our favour. I say “ours,” for in future we made but one. I clung to the King, and he put an arm round my neck.
Tambouris and his friends came to a rapid decision. A plan of defence was improvised. Three men took advantage of the tumult to run with Dimitrius to the arsenal of the robbers, to get arms and cartridges, and to lay across the path a long train of powder. They returned quietly and mixed with the crowd.
The division between the two parties now became more and more defined, and insults flew from group to group. Our champions, their backs turned to Mary-Ann’s room, guarded the steps, throwing back the enemy on the King’s office, and making a rampart between us with their bodies. Suddenly a line of fire ran along the ground, and the rock exploded with a frightful noise.
Colidza and his partisans, surprised by the detonation, ran in a body towards the arsenal. Then Tambouris, without losing a minute, took 267 up Hadji, flew down the steps, and in two strides placed him in safety. Then he returned, and carried me to where the King was, and deposited me by his side. Our friends entrenched themselves in the room, cut down some trees, barricaded the steps, and organized a thorough defence before Colidza had recovered from his amazement.
Then we counted our forces. Our army was composed of the King, Tambouris, eight other brigands, Dimitrius, and myself — altogether fourteen men, of whom three were useless. The cafedji, like his master, had taken poison, and was beginning to feel its effects. But we had two guns each, and a profusion of cartridges, while the enemy had only the arms and ammunition they carried about them, but they had the best of position and numbers. We didn’t exactly know how many fighting men they had, but counted at least upon twenty-five or thirty assailants.
I need not describe to you the beleaguered fortress, you have so often heard of it. Nevertheless, the aspect of the place had singularly changed since the days I breakfasted there for the first time with Mrs. Simons and Mary-Ann, under watchful vigilance of the Corfiote. Our fine trees were uprooted, and the nightingales had fled.
But to return to things more material, we 268 were defended to the right and left by inaccessible rocks, which even our enemies could not scale. They attacked us from the King’s cabinet above, and watched us from the ravine. On one side their fire plunged down upon us, on the other we commanded their sentinels; but the distance was so great, that it was not worth while to waste powder and shot.
If Colidza and his friends had had the least idea of strategy, they could easily have made an end of us. It was only necessary to carry the barricade, enter by force, and back us up against a wall, or throw us into the ravine. But the idiot, who had two men for our one, spared his ammunition and covered his advance with twenty men who did not know how to shoot. Our fellows were not much better, but they were at least obedient, and properly commanded. Before night they accounted for five or six of the enemy.
The combatants all knew each other by name. They shouted to one another from afar, like the heroes of Homer. One man tried to improve an old acquaintance by aiming at him, and was answered by a speech and a ball. In fact, the fight was but an armed discussion, in which, from time to time, powder had its share.
As for me, stretched on my back as I was in a 269 corner, sheltered from the balls, I tried to undo my fatal work, and recall to life the King of the Mountains. He complained of a burning thirst, and of a violent pain in the stomach, and he had, moreover, a terrible contraction in his ice-cold hands and feet. The pulse was low, the breathing painful. The stomach appeared to labour with a strange substance it could not belch. Yet he had lost none of his vivacity or presence of mind, while his piercing eyes gazed towards the Salamis road, as if trying to discern Photini’s floating prison.
Squeezing his hand round mine, he said : “Cure me, my son. You are a doctor, and should know how. I don’t reproach you. Right was on your side. You were justified in killing me, for I swear to you that without your friend Harris nothing could have saved you. Is there nothing to extinguish this fire which devours me? I don’t care to live, I’ve had enough of it; but if I die they’ll kill you, and Photini will be massacred. Ah! how I suffer! Feel my hands, they seem as if they did not belong to me. But do you think this American will execute his threats? What were you saying a short time since? — that Photini loves him. The wretched girl! I who have had her educated like a King’s daughter! I 270 would rather see her dead than — But no! I’m glad, after all, that she loves the young man — he will have pity on her.
“What are you to him? A friend; nothing more; not even his countryman. One has as many friends as one likes, but there are not two women in the whole world like Photini. If it would be any advantage to me, I’d strangle all my friends, but I could not kill a woman who loved me. If at least she only knew how rich she is! Americans are, they say, very matter-of-fact and practical. But the poor lamb knows nothing of her fortune — I ought to have told her. How can I let him know that she will have four millions of francs? And we are the prisoners of a brute like Colidza! Cure me, cure me, for the sake of the saints in Paradise, that I may crush the reptile!
I am not a doctor, and only know so much of toxicology as is to be learned from elementary treatises, yet I remembered that poisoning by arsenic might be cured by a method much resembling that practised by the celebrated Doctor Sangrado. I tickled the patient’s gullet; my fingers answered the purpose of an emetic, and soon I began to hope that he had got rid of the greater part of the poison. The phenomena of reaction 271 soon set in. The skin burned, the pulse was quicker, the face was a little coloured, and the eyes slightly injected with blood. I asked him if one of his men could bleed him?
He answered by binding his own arm, and in the midst of the noise of the shooting and the balls that spattered us with dust, he opened a vein, drew a large quantity of blood, and then in a quiet voice asked me what else was there to do? I told him to drink, and to drink incessantly, until all the particles of arsenic were carried away.
Fortunately, the skin of white wine, which had caused Vasili’s death, was still there. This, mixed with water, brought him back to life. He obeyed me like a child, and I do believe that at the first cup I gave him, the poor sick old King tried to kiss my hand.
Towards ten in the evening he was better, but the cafedji was dead. He had not been able to get rid of the poison, nor to become warm. So he was thrown from the top of the cascade into the ravine. All our defenders were well and unwounded, but ravenous as starving wolves in winter. I had not eaten for twenty-four hours, and was craving for food. Out of sheer bravado, the enemy passed the night feasting and in jollity — making a devilish row. They threw us gnawed 272 mutton-bones and empty wine-skins, and our people returned the compliment by a stray shot or so. We heard cries, both of rejoicing and death. Colidza was drunk; the wounded and the sick howled together. Moustakas had long since been silenced for ever. I watched by the old King, and the tumult kept me awake all night. Ah! my dear sir, how long seems the night to a man who is not sure of the morrow!
The morning of Tuesday broke dark and rainy. The sky began to cloud over at sunrise, and a thick grey rain fell impartially on our friends and our enemies. But if we were sufficiently wide-awake to keep our arms and cartridges dry, General Colidza’s army had not taken the same precautions, and at the first engagement we scored all along the line. The enemy did not shelter himself properly, and his fire was, thanks to the night’s potations, singularly unsteady. I was determined to join actively in the fray, so took up a gun, and I fear to no good purpose.
Hadji Stavros wanted to follow my example, and endeavour to use his gun, but the state of his hands rendered it impossible. His extremities were swollen and painful, and with my usual frankness I told him that this incapacity for work would perhaps last as long as himself. 273
Towards nine o’clock, the enemy, who answered our fire very methodically, suddenly turned their backs. I heard a furious discharge, evidently not meant for us, and concluded that our friend Colidza had allowed himself to be surprised in the rear. What unknown ally was rendering us such good service? Was it prudent to effect a junction, and demolish our barricades?
I desired nothing better, but the King thought of the Line, and Tambouris bit his moustache. All our doubts were soon dissipated. A voice I knew cried, “All right!” and three young men armed to the teeth sprang like so many tigers towards us, cleared the barricade, and fell pell-mell into our midst. Harris and Lobster had in each hand a six-chambered revolver, Giacomo a musket, the butt-end upwards, like a club — his only manner of using a fire-arm.
Had a thunderbolt fallen at our feet, it would have produced less effect than the entry of these men, who showered bullets right and left, and killed all who came within reach. My three comrades, drunk with excitement, noise, and victory, perceived neither Hadji nor myself. They saw only men to shoot, and God knows they shot them swiftly enough.
Our poor champions, surprised, amazed, confused, 274 were killed before they had time to look round, or to defend themselves. Even I, who would have wished to save them, could not make myself heard. My voice was covered by the noise of the shots, and the shouts of the victors. Dimitrius, hidden between Hadji and myself, joined his voice to mine, but in vain. Harris, Lobster, Giacomo, ran about, and fired, each one counting the shots in his own tongue.
“One!” said Lobster.
“Two!” answered Harris.
“Tre, quattro, cinque!” cried Giacomo.
The fifth was Tambouris. His head burst under the gun like a fresh nut ground by a stone, while his body fell into the fountain like a packet of rags a laundress throws into the water. My friends were terrible, yet gallant, and seemed to revel in their frightful work. They killed with a joyous ferocity, considering themselves instruments of justice. The wind and the rapidity of their march had carried away their caps, their eyes were full of hate and murder : this avenging trio might have passed for an incarnation of the genius of Destruction.
When they had mowed down all before them, and no enemies remained but three or four wounded lying on the ground, they paused to 275 take breath. Harris was the first to think of me. Giacomo had but one care, to know if among the others he had killed Hadji Stavros. Harris cried out with all his might :
“Hermann, where are you?”
“Here!” said I, and all three ran towards me.
The King of the Mountains, weak as he was, laid a hand on my shoulder, put his back to the rock, looked earnestly at these men who had killed so many to get to him, and said in a firm voice : “I am Hadji Stavros!”
You know that my friends had long desired the opportunity to punish the old Palikar. They had looked forward to his death as to a great triumph of justice. They wanted to avenge the girls of Mistra, and a thousand others, as well as myself. And yet, I was not obliged to restrain them.
There was still so much grandeur in this ruined hero, that their rage suddenly changed to astonishment. They were all three young, of an age when a disarmed enemy inspires compassion. I told them in a few words how the King had defended me against all his band, even in his dying state, and on the very day that I had poisoned him. I explained the nature of the fight they had interrupted, of the barricade they had cleared, and of 276 the strange war in which they had intervened to kill our defenders.
“So much the worse for them!” said John Harris. “Like justice, our eyes were blinded. If the rascals died with a good intention in their minds, no doubt they will be credited with it up above. I’ve no objection.”
“As to the help of which we have deprived you,” said Lobster, “don’t mind that. With two revolvers in our hands and two in our pockets, we’re as good as four-and-twenty men. We’ve killed these; the others have only to come. Isn’t that so, Giacomo?”
“Oh!” answered the Maltese, “my blood’s up, and I’d kill a drove of bulls. And when you think that I have to pass my life sealing letters with a pair of fists like that!”
The enemy, however, recovered from his stupor, had returned to the siege. Three or four brigands having looked over the rampart has seen the carnage.
Colidza did not know what to think of the three plagues whom he had seen strike his friends and his enemies, but thought that poison or the sword must have delivered him from the old King. He prudently ordered the destruction of our defensive works. We were out of sight, 277 sheltered against a wall, at ten paces from the stairs.
The noise of the falling stones warned my friends that it was time to reload their arms. Hadji allowed them to do so, and then asked Harris : “Where is Photini?
“On board my ship.”
“You have not done her any harm?”
“Do you think that I’ve taken lessons from you in torturing young girls?”
“Your reproach is just : I am a miserable old man. Forgive me, and promise to forgive Photini.”
“Why the devil shouldn’t I? Now that I have got Hermann, I’ll give her back to you when you like.”
“Without a ransom?”
“You old fool!”
“You’ll see,” said the King, “if I am only an old fool.”
He passed his left arm around Dimitrius’s neck, put out his trembling hand to the hilt of his sabre, drew it with difficulty from the sheath, and walked to the steps where the insurgents were hesitatingly showing themselves. On seeing him they drew back as if the earth had opened to allow the great judge of the lower regions to pass.
278There were fifteen or twenty of them, all armed, but not one dared to defend, excuse himself, or even attempt to fly. They trembled before their resuscitated King. Hadji Stavros marched straight to Colidza, who, paler and much more prostrated than the others, endeavoured to conceal himself. Hadji raised his arm with a painful effort, and with one blow cut off the villain’s ignoble head. Then another trembling fit seized him; he let fall his sabre near the corpse and did not deign to pick it up.
“Let us go,” said he; “my sheath is empty; the blade, henceforth, is useless like myself.”
His old companions approached to ask pardon. Some entreated him not to leave them, saying that they would not know what to do without him. He answered not a word, but begged us to take him to Castia to get horses, and then to Salamis to join Photini.
The brigands allowed us to leave without hindrance. At the end of a short distance my friends saw that I could hardly drag myself along. Giacomo helped me, and Harris asked if I was wounded. The poor King cast an imploring look towards me, and I told my friends that in trying to escape I had hurt my feet. We descended the mountain paths slowly, pursued by the cries of the 279 wounded and the loud voices of the bandits we had left behind us.
As we approached the village the weather cleared and the paths became drier. The first ray of sunshine delighted me, and seemed to give me back some of my strength. But Hadji paid no attention to what was passing around him; he was buried in his own reflections. It is not light thing to break with the habits of half a century.
Arrived at Castia we met the monk, who was carrying a swarm on his back. He was very civil, and excused himself for not having been to see us since the day before. The shots had frightened him. With a wave of his hand the King passed on.
My friends’ horses awaited them with their guide at the fountain. I asked why there were four of them, and learned that M. Mérinay had accompanied them, but that having dismounted to examine a curious stone, he had not since reappeared.
Giacomo put me on my horse; the King, aided by Dimitrius, mounted on his; Harris and his nephew jumped into their saddles; and the Maltese, Dimitrius, and the guide walked.
On the way I approached Harris, and he told me how Photini had fallen into his hands.
“I arrived,” said he, “from my cruise, glad to 280 have settled half-a-dozen pirates. I anchored at the Piræus at six o’clock, landed, and as I hadn’t seen a soul but my officers for a week, promised myself a good time. I took a cab for the evening, and when I got to our place found every one in a state of consternation. They were all there for supper — Christodulos, Maroula, Dimitrius, Giacomo, William, Mérinay, and the little girl who came every Sunday, more gorgeously dressed than ever. William told me what had happened to you. Guess if I was furious not to have been there! The little one assured me he had done all he could, and tried everywhere to find six hundred pounds; but his allowance and credit are small, and he failed. Then, in despair, he asked Mérinay, but the good saint declared his money was lent to intimate friends, and that he could do nothing.
“ ‘Oh!’ said I to Lobster, “ ‘that’s soon settled. We’ll pay the old villain in lead. Of what use is it to you to be a better shot than Nimrod, if you can only break pieces off the portico of Socrates’ prison? We must organize a Palikar hunt. Once I refused to go to Central Africa, and I still regret it. But this is better. It’s more amusing to hunt game that will defend itself. Make a provision of powder and balls, and to-morrow we will begin our campaign.’
281“As you may suppose, William took the bait at once. Giacomo struck the table one of his blows, and swore that he would accompany us; but the most ardent of all was M. Mérinay. He wanted to steep his hands in the blood of the rascals. His services were accepted, but I offered to buy of him all the game he could bring back. He forced his little voice in the most comical fashion, showed his lady-like fists, and said ‘that Hadji Stavros would have to count with him.’
“Of course I laughed; one always laughs on the eve of battle. Lobster was delighted to think he would show the brigands the progress he had made. Giacomo, nearly wild with fury, grinned from ear to ear, and cracked his nuts quicker than ever. M. Mérinay was radiant — no longer a man, he seemed a sort of demigod.
“Excepting ourselves, all those present pulled long faces. The fat Maroula did nothing but cross herself; Dimitrius raised his eyes to heaven, while the lieutenant of the phalanx advised us to think twice before attacking the King of the Mountains. But the flat-nosed girl, whom you’ve nicknamed ‘Crinolina invariabilis,’ was quite comical in her grief. She sighed lackadaisically, and only pretended to eat; in fact, didn’t make the supper of a sparrow.”
282“She’s a good girl, Harris.”
“Quite so, if you like; but you’re indulgent. I can’t forgive her those long dresses that are always getting under the feet of my chair, the horrible scent of patchouli that she spreads around her, and the languishing looks she bestows on us all.
“I really don’t think she can see a water-bottle without ogling it. But if she pleases you, I’ve nothing to say. She left us to return to her school at nine, and I wished her a safe journey. Two minute afterward I took leave of our friends, giving them rendezvous for next day, went out, woke up my cabby, and by all that’s wonderful! who should I find seated in the carriage but ‘Carolina invariabilis,’ with the confectioner’s servant.
“She put a finger on her lips, I got in without a word, and we started. ‘Mr. Harris,’ said she, and in tolerable English too, ‘swear to me that you will not carry out your plans against the King of the Mountains!’
“I began to laugh, and she to cry. She declared that I should be killed. I answered : ‘No, I shall do for the brigands.’ She entreated me not to harm Hadji Stavros. I asked why; and at last, finding nothing more to say, exclaimed as 283 they do in the fifth act of a melodrama : ‘He is my father!’
“Thereupon I began to think seriously — for once in a way. It occurred to me that I might get back one lost friend without risking the skins of two or three others, and I said to the young woman : ‘Your father loves you?’
“ ‘More than his life.’
“ ‘He never has refused you anything?’
“ ‘Nothing I really wanted.’
“ ‘And if you wrote that you want Mr. Hermann Schultz, would he send him to you at once?’
“ ‘No!’
“ ‘You are sure?’
“ ‘Absolutely sure.’
“ ‘Then, young lady, there is but one thing to do. I’ll beat him at his own game; carry you off on board the Fancy, and keep you as a hostage until Hermann’s return.’
“ ‘Just what I meant to propose,’ was the answer. ‘In that way, and in that way only, will my papa give you back your friend.’
“Well, and don’t you admire the poor girl who loves you enough to give herself thus into your hands?’
“What for? She wanted to save her rascal of 284 a father, and knew quite well that we should be too much for him. Besides, I promised to treat her with all due respect. She cried until we reached the Piræus, and I consoled her as best I could. She went on muttering, ‘I’m a lost girl!’ and I proved to her by A plus B that she’d be found again.
“On the quay I made her get out, and sent her on board my pinnace with the servant. Then I wrote a peremptory letter to the old brigand, which the servant took back to the town together with a message to Dimitrius.
“Since then the charming Niobe remains in undisturbed possession of my cabin, and orders have been given to treat her like a king’s daughter. Until Monday evening I waited for her father’s answer. Then I lost patience, and returning to my first idea, invoked the aid of our friends, and you know the rest. Now it’s your turn, and surely your yarn — well, it cannot be a short one!”
“In a moment,” said I; “I must first have a word with Hadji Stavros.”
I approached the King and whispered : “I can’t think why I told you that Photini loves John Harris. Fright must have turned my head. I’ve just been talking to him, and I swear to you 285 on the head of my father that she is as indifferent to him as if he never had spoken to her.”
The old man thanked me, and I went back to tell John my adventures with Mary-Ann.
“Bravo!” cried he. “I did think that the romance was not complete without a little love in it, and now I find a good deal.”
“Excuse me, there’s no love at all in this; but sincere friendship on one side, a little gratitude on the other. Nothing more, I think, is required to make a reasonable and well-assorted marriage.”
“Marry, my dear friend, and I’ll be your best man.”
“You richly deserve that honour, John.”
“When shall you see her again? I’d give much to be present at the meeting.”
“I should like to surprise her, and meet her as if by chance.”
“An excellent idea! The day after to-morrow there will be, as you know, a Court ball. You’re invited; so am I. the card is at Christodulos’s house on your table. Until then, old chap, you must remain on board with me to recover a little. Your hair is singed, and your feet are sore. There’s time to put all that to rights.”
It was six o’clock in the evening when the captain’s boat took us on board the Fancy. The 286 King was so weak that he had to be carried on deck. Photini, like Niobe, all in tears, threw herself into his arms. Doubtless she was relieved to find that those she loved had survived the battle; but her father looked a broken-down man, older by twenty years than when she last had seen him.
Perhaps also she suffered from the visible indifference of Harris. He led her up to the King with thorough American façon, saying : “Now we’ve settled up. You’ve given me back my friend, and I return you the young lady. One good turn deserves another. Ready reckonings make fast friends. And now, most venerable Chief, under what favoured sky will you go and get hanged? For I don’t believe you’re the sort of man to retire from business!”
“Excuse me,” said the King haughtily, “I have ended my career as brigand for ever. What should I do now in the mountain? All my men are dead, wounded, or dispersed. I might raise others, but these hands that have bent so many heads refuse to serve me any longer. I leave my place to younger men than myself, but I defy them to rival my success or renown.
“You ask what I am going to do with the few years remaining to me. I do not yet know, but be assured that my time will be well spent. I 287 have to settle my daughter in life, and to dictate my Memoirs. Perhaps, even if the shocks I have lately borne do not permanently weaken my brain, I may devote my experience and talents to the service of the State. Let the good God and the saints grant me a sound mind, and ere six months have passed I shall be President of the Cabinet!”
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