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“My dear papa, I will do all I can for you, but stop in that Khan—no.”

“Are there—fleas?” asked Mrs. Forman.

Ethel intimated that “fleas” was not the word.

“Well, I am afraid that settles it,” said Mrs. Forman, “I know how particular Mr. Lucas is.”

“It does not settle it,” said Mr. Lucas.”Ethel, you go on. I do not want you. I don’t know why I ever consulted you. I shall stop here alone.”

“That is absolute nonsense,” said Ethel, losing her temper.”How can you be left alone at your age? How would you get your meals or your bath? All your letters are waiting for you at Patras. You’ll miss the boat. That means missing the London operas, and upsetting all your engagements for the month. And as if you could travel by yourself!”

“They might knife you,” was Mr. Graham’s contribution.

The Greeks said nothing; but whenever Mr. Lucas looked their way, they beckoned him towards the Khan. The children would even have drawn him by the coat, and the old woman on the balcony stopped her almost completed spinning, and fixed him with mysterious appealing eyes. As he fought, the issue assumed gigantic proportions, and he believed that he was not merely stopping because he had regained youth or seen beauty or found happiness, but because in that place and with those people a supreme event was awaiting him which would transfigure the face of the world. The moment was so tremendous that he abandoned words and arguments as useless, and rested on the strength of his mighty unrevealed allies: silent men, murmuring water, and whispering trees. For the whole place called w
ith one voice, articulate to him, and his garrulous opponents became every minute more meaningless and absurd. Soon they would be tired and go chattering away into the sun, leaving him to the cool grove and the moonlight and the destiny he foresaw.

Mrs. Forman and the dragoman had indeed already started, amid the piercing screams of the little pig, and the struggle might have gone on indefinitely if Ethel had not called in Mr. Graham.

“Can you help me?” she whispered.”He is absolutely unmanageable.”

“I’m no good at arguing—but if I could help you in any other way—” and he looked down complacently at his well-made figure.

Ethel hesitated. Then she said: “Help me in any way you can. After all, it is for his good that we do it.”

“Then have his mule led up behind him.”

So when Mr. Lucas thought he had gained the day, he suddenly felt himself lifted off the ground, and set sideways on the saddle, and at the same time the mule started off at a trot. He said nothing, for he had nothing to say, and even his face showed little emotion as he felt the shade pass and heard the sound of the water cease. Mr. Graham was running at his side, hat in hand, apologizing.

“I know I had no business to do it, and I do beg your pardon awfully. But I do hope that some day you too will feel that I was—damn!”

A stone had caught him in the middle of the back. It was thrown by the little boy, who was pursuing them along the mule track. He was followed by his sister, also throwing stones.

Ethel screamed to the dragoman, who was some way ahead with Mrs. Forman, but before he could rejoin them, another adversary appeared. It was the young Greek, who bad cut them off in front, and now dashed down at Mr. Lucas’ bridle. Fortunately Graham was an expert boxer, and it did not take him a moment to beat down the youth’s feeble defense, and to send him sprawling with a bleeding mouth into the asphodel. By this time the dragoman bad arrived, the children, alarmed at the fate of their brother, bad desisted, and the rescue party, if such it is to be considered, retired in disorder to the trees.