CHAPTER VITHE FIGHTMISS ETHEL ROWRER TO MLLE. DE GROJEAN“On board theColumbia.“You’ll have to hang yourself, my valorous Yvonne, for we have had our battle without you! The truth is, we have narrowly escaped being spitted and roasted. That’s a promising beginning, isn’t it? Grand’mère will be delighted that you were not there; but you will regret it if you read my letter to the end. I say ‘if,’ for it’s a whole history. Excuse my writing feverishly, on the gallop; I am in a hurry to tell you. I promised you an adventure in Morgania—and here is one. Only I am not its heroine, alas! For it is a story of heroism, and that of the purest. As for me, I feel the need of crying aloud my admiration for that noble young girl. Are you curious? It is Helia; you understand—Helia! You remember her? She was one of those who ‘don’t count’!“I come to the facts.“We have left Semavat Eli—a Heavenly House, wherein we were eaten up by vermin, and served by good monks who amused themselves teaching thrushes to whistle. The next day, from early morning, assoon as they had let us down,—by the window, if you please, in great wicker baskets (for in this country monasteries have no doors),—Suzanne seated herself on my kodak, Helia and I on our valises, Will and Phil straddled their horses, and—forward, march! over pointed rocks to Thermopylæ! that is, to their Thermopylæ, which is the defile of the Moratscha. It was a kind of pilgrimage we were doing—five in all, not counting our escort of ballet-dancers, who were waiting for us at the monastery. By that, I mean soldiers with fustanelle skirts, armed to the teeth, very white teeth in black faces, quite like wolves!“The evening before we’d climbed up all the way to see the sorceress—I ought to say the prophetess, and you must not laugh, I entreat you, for it would give me pain. I was never so affected in my life. From that place to Semavat Eli the country is flat, except for the horrible road. After that, we had to go down and down to the defile along the river Drina. We crossed impetuous torrents where there was not enough water for a water-color sketch, and forests dry as firewood, all bristling with thorns, so that we could not go near without leaving bits of our gowns. It was the abomination of desolation,—and down we came, down and down toward the plain; and through the plain we came back. For that matter there is nothing to see but ill-cultivated fields and dilapidated houses.“It is a country where there are no locks. The duke told me so, to give me an idea of his people’s honesty. Suzanne, who is an amusing child, says that doors without locks are the invention of poor countries; and that there are no thieves where there is nothing to steal.Helia facing the Assailants“At noon we stopped. We ate and rested, and our soldiers sang and danced; and then we were off again. There were more impetuous watercourses of gravel and pebble. There were shepherds watching their goats, and red-haired women carrying burdens on their heads, and looking at us with wide-open mouths. We were near the spot.“Imagine a wild gorge. It was the meeting of two ways, from the mountain and from the plain. Farther along was the river Drina, with its old bridge. That is the end of Morgania, which is protected by its mountains, with this defile, like Thermopylæ, as its only entrance. But, you will ask me, what about Helia?“Patience!“We had all got down, leaving the horses and wagons in the shade of the defile. I had a fixed idea that I would go to the middle of the frontier bridge, which belongs half to Christ and half to Mohammed, and that I would also visit the Roman ruin and the little Christian village farther on, which has a little belfry like a minaret.“But as we drew near there were loud cries, and a headlong flight of peasants, their features distorted with fright as they ran past us. Then there was the fire and smoke of a fusillade, the tocsin sounding, and then more cries,—frightful cries,—the howling of hunted beasts, piercing the ear like a knife.“It was all so sudden that we didn’t know what to do. We all spoke at once: ‘What is it?’ ‘What shall we do?’ ‘Shall we defend ourselves?’ ‘The soldiers!’“There were no soldiers—fled—out of sight! We could barely see their white ballet-skirts leaping awayin every direction. We were going to have our throats cut like sheep! I remember how at that moment the frightened crowd rushed upon the bridge, and bore us back with it toward the defile. Phil grasped my arm and said to Helia and me: ‘Don’t be afraid; I’m with you!’ There was such fire in his eyes that I felt reassured. We went back toward the wagon, and I shut my eyes and stuffed my fingers in my ears, letting pass the waves of howling creatures,—men, women, and children,—who climbed up on the wagon or slipped beneath it, some leaping up only to fall back with convulsed features, struck down by the bullets!“I heard Will say to me, ‘Turks!’ I opened my eyes. Horsemen were riding here and there through the plain, striking right and left with their sabers. Men on foot were advancing, singing harshly. I heard a general discharge, and then pitiful cries. The wagon turned crosswise of the defile. One of our horses reared and the other fell heavily; all the luggage tumbled—the way was blocked! We were sheltered by the wagon as behind a barricade, pell-mell with the fugitives. Helia had not followed us—she was not there!“‘Helia is lost!’ Phil said to me. Pressed by the crowd as he was, he could not disengage himself to go to her aid. Through an opening in the wagon I saw her standing alone. She had not had time to take shelter with us. Bullets were whistling on every side. I no longer knew what I was doing. These were not comic-opera Turks, with gourds for helmets, and dressed in gilded rags. They were men armed with rifles and daggers. Everywhere there were the dead, everywhere there was blood. It was frightful!“The bullets became fewer—the enemy had taken to their swords, and we were without arms, pressed upon by the crowd which clung to our garments.“Oh, never shall I forget what I then saw. Helia, as I have said, was alone, facing our assailants. There she remained! She had snatched from one of the fugitives an enormous club. The enemy drew near. A Turk came upon her and was already stretching out his hand to seize her by the hair, when Helia whirled the club, bringing it down on the man and splitting his skull! He fell and Helia put her foot on him.“As the man was falling Helia seized his rifle and put it quickly to her shoulder. We heard two reports, and two more of the enemy went down.“All this passed in no time at all. Helia seemed like a supernatural being. As she remained standing upright, the attack wavered. The Turks were terror-stricken at this young maiden whose throat they had expected to cut as they passed by, and who handled these heavy weapons as if she were playing with them. I heard Helia call to us; but we could not stir. I wept with rage. How I wished to be beside her! She whirled the rifle by the end of its barrel; and with a terrific blow brought down the breech on the head of one who seemed the leader. They fell back for a moment. Meanwhile we did not remain idle; and the peasants had pulled themselves together. Phil and I, as soon as we had got ourselves loose, jumped on the wagon, after picking up rifles. Will brought back the soldiers; and when the Turks, mad with rage, and sword in hand, came rushing back upon Helia—who awaited them without flinching—they were welcomed with a discharge of bullets which stopped themshort. Our fears were over. The Turks fled, our bullets striking them in their backs, and the peasants pursuing them with sticks and stones. In a moment the bridge was free. Phil had not quitted me for an instant. He was always between me and the enemy, and superbly cool. I asked him, ‘What is the matter with Helia? She seems to be looking for death!’ It is certain there was something like despair in her terrible intrepidity. Phil did not answer. He seemed more moved than herself. Just then I had no time to go into the question; all of us were safe and sound; that was the main thing. The Turks had fled away, and would not soon return. We gathered up the wounded. Suzanne was everywhere at once, with a bottle in her hand. ‘Qui veut la goutte, les enfants? Voilà la petite cantinière!’ [‘Who wants a drink, children? Here’s the cantinière!’] The bells of the Christian village rang joyously, and the cry was taken up, and grew louder and louder: ‘Morgana! Morgana!’ Helia was borne in triumph. Women knelt down as she passed. The brave girl was bleeding a little; and they gathered the drops of blood on pieces torn from her gown, like the relics of a saint. For me, I was happy beyond expression. I kissed her cheeks and cried: ‘Morgana!’“‘What! you, too, Miss Ethel! But I have done nothing!’ answered Helia. ‘I did my part, that was all.’The Return to the City“Wagons came from the village, and we put the wounded into them. One who spoke Italian told us the story. The Albanian Moslems for a long time had been threatening the Christians. They demanded a thousand Turkish pounds. They were refused, and raided thevillage on the day of a marriage, when every one was at the feast. They were going to invade the district of Morgania where the victims were taking refuge; but this young girl had saved everything!“Helia had her gown all torn, and so they threw over her shoulders the mantle of the village bride. Upon her disheveled hair they placed the red symbolic head-dress, with its golden tassels.“Helia’s cart was at the head of the convoy, and the other wagons followed, filled with the wounded. Phil galloped along on an Albanian horse with red-and-white trappings. Will remained in the village, to organize the resistance. I went back to the city with Suzanne, on Helia’s cart.“It was a triumphal march. All these poor people and ourselves, whom she had saved from massacre, had eyes only for her. But she had no air of happiness! She had a slight wound in the forehead. From time to time a drop of blood fell on her gown and made a red stain. This streak of blood marked her out to the crowd. The cheers redoubled, and little children threw kisses toward her. She was indifferent to it all, and looked only at the little red stain.“‘Oh, my pretty gown,’ she said, ‘my pretty bridal gown is ruined!’“The road through the valley is much shorter than that over the mountain. We were to get to the city by night, just before day-dawn. Oh, what a vision, never to be forgotten, was that night journey! You cannot believe how quickly the tidings traveled, in this country without telegraphs or railroad. Horsemen wentgalloping before us. When we passed through a village there were cries of joy and men dancing by the light of torches. Priests bearing golden crosses blessed us as we passed. Helia’s exploits grew from mouth to mouth, and this explained the ever-increasing enthusiasm. She had killed eight enemies with her own hand, had stopped the invasion and saved the convoy from massacre! At Gradiska she had killed twenty, and at Kolo more still.“‘You will see,’ Helia said to me; ‘by the time we get to the city I shall have killed the Grand Vizir and the Sultan!’“Our escort kept on growing. It was grand when we entered the city. Helia had been hoping to find every one asleep. You would have thought you were going into a bee-hive! They wished to carry Helia in triumph to the castle. But the duke was not there—he was off on the excursion along the coast. The people will never pardon him for not having been present to share their joy and cheer the heroine.“To wind up: I don’t know how we did it, but we got back to the yacht all the same, broken and bruised and delighted, deafened by the cries, and blinded by the lights.“Every one is resting except myself. I cannot stay quiet, and I profit by my sleeplessness to write you. Well, what did I tell you? Are you not sorry to have missed a thing like that? And I will have other things to tell you when I have the pleasure to see you again, my dear Yvonne....“P.S. The heavens are mixing themselves up in the event. You have heard of the Fata Morgana—thatwonderful mirage effect along the coast of the Adriatic (it comes from the evaporation of hot air in the lower layers, changing refraction to reflection, and so forth, and so forth; but people here simply attribute it to a fairy’s enchantments).“However that may be, I am finishing this letter just as the sun is rising, and the sky is marvelous. I am looking at great streaks of blood and crumbling towers and golden crowns—all changing form every moment. You can see in it what you wish; but, always, it is beautiful.”
MISS ETHEL ROWRER TO MLLE. DE GROJEAN
“On board theColumbia.
“You’ll have to hang yourself, my valorous Yvonne, for we have had our battle without you! The truth is, we have narrowly escaped being spitted and roasted. That’s a promising beginning, isn’t it? Grand’mère will be delighted that you were not there; but you will regret it if you read my letter to the end. I say ‘if,’ for it’s a whole history. Excuse my writing feverishly, on the gallop; I am in a hurry to tell you. I promised you an adventure in Morgania—and here is one. Only I am not its heroine, alas! For it is a story of heroism, and that of the purest. As for me, I feel the need of crying aloud my admiration for that noble young girl. Are you curious? It is Helia; you understand—Helia! You remember her? She was one of those who ‘don’t count’!
“I come to the facts.
“We have left Semavat Eli—a Heavenly House, wherein we were eaten up by vermin, and served by good monks who amused themselves teaching thrushes to whistle. The next day, from early morning, assoon as they had let us down,—by the window, if you please, in great wicker baskets (for in this country monasteries have no doors),—Suzanne seated herself on my kodak, Helia and I on our valises, Will and Phil straddled their horses, and—forward, march! over pointed rocks to Thermopylæ! that is, to their Thermopylæ, which is the defile of the Moratscha. It was a kind of pilgrimage we were doing—five in all, not counting our escort of ballet-dancers, who were waiting for us at the monastery. By that, I mean soldiers with fustanelle skirts, armed to the teeth, very white teeth in black faces, quite like wolves!
“The evening before we’d climbed up all the way to see the sorceress—I ought to say the prophetess, and you must not laugh, I entreat you, for it would give me pain. I was never so affected in my life. From that place to Semavat Eli the country is flat, except for the horrible road. After that, we had to go down and down to the defile along the river Drina. We crossed impetuous torrents where there was not enough water for a water-color sketch, and forests dry as firewood, all bristling with thorns, so that we could not go near without leaving bits of our gowns. It was the abomination of desolation,—and down we came, down and down toward the plain; and through the plain we came back. For that matter there is nothing to see but ill-cultivated fields and dilapidated houses.
“It is a country where there are no locks. The duke told me so, to give me an idea of his people’s honesty. Suzanne, who is an amusing child, says that doors without locks are the invention of poor countries; and that there are no thieves where there is nothing to steal.
Helia facing the Assailants
Helia facing the Assailants
“At noon we stopped. We ate and rested, and our soldiers sang and danced; and then we were off again. There were more impetuous watercourses of gravel and pebble. There were shepherds watching their goats, and red-haired women carrying burdens on their heads, and looking at us with wide-open mouths. We were near the spot.
“Imagine a wild gorge. It was the meeting of two ways, from the mountain and from the plain. Farther along was the river Drina, with its old bridge. That is the end of Morgania, which is protected by its mountains, with this defile, like Thermopylæ, as its only entrance. But, you will ask me, what about Helia?
“Patience!
“We had all got down, leaving the horses and wagons in the shade of the defile. I had a fixed idea that I would go to the middle of the frontier bridge, which belongs half to Christ and half to Mohammed, and that I would also visit the Roman ruin and the little Christian village farther on, which has a little belfry like a minaret.
“But as we drew near there were loud cries, and a headlong flight of peasants, their features distorted with fright as they ran past us. Then there was the fire and smoke of a fusillade, the tocsin sounding, and then more cries,—frightful cries,—the howling of hunted beasts, piercing the ear like a knife.
“It was all so sudden that we didn’t know what to do. We all spoke at once: ‘What is it?’ ‘What shall we do?’ ‘Shall we defend ourselves?’ ‘The soldiers!’
“There were no soldiers—fled—out of sight! We could barely see their white ballet-skirts leaping awayin every direction. We were going to have our throats cut like sheep! I remember how at that moment the frightened crowd rushed upon the bridge, and bore us back with it toward the defile. Phil grasped my arm and said to Helia and me: ‘Don’t be afraid; I’m with you!’ There was such fire in his eyes that I felt reassured. We went back toward the wagon, and I shut my eyes and stuffed my fingers in my ears, letting pass the waves of howling creatures,—men, women, and children,—who climbed up on the wagon or slipped beneath it, some leaping up only to fall back with convulsed features, struck down by the bullets!
“I heard Will say to me, ‘Turks!’ I opened my eyes. Horsemen were riding here and there through the plain, striking right and left with their sabers. Men on foot were advancing, singing harshly. I heard a general discharge, and then pitiful cries. The wagon turned crosswise of the defile. One of our horses reared and the other fell heavily; all the luggage tumbled—the way was blocked! We were sheltered by the wagon as behind a barricade, pell-mell with the fugitives. Helia had not followed us—she was not there!
“‘Helia is lost!’ Phil said to me. Pressed by the crowd as he was, he could not disengage himself to go to her aid. Through an opening in the wagon I saw her standing alone. She had not had time to take shelter with us. Bullets were whistling on every side. I no longer knew what I was doing. These were not comic-opera Turks, with gourds for helmets, and dressed in gilded rags. They were men armed with rifles and daggers. Everywhere there were the dead, everywhere there was blood. It was frightful!
“The bullets became fewer—the enemy had taken to their swords, and we were without arms, pressed upon by the crowd which clung to our garments.
“Oh, never shall I forget what I then saw. Helia, as I have said, was alone, facing our assailants. There she remained! She had snatched from one of the fugitives an enormous club. The enemy drew near. A Turk came upon her and was already stretching out his hand to seize her by the hair, when Helia whirled the club, bringing it down on the man and splitting his skull! He fell and Helia put her foot on him.
“As the man was falling Helia seized his rifle and put it quickly to her shoulder. We heard two reports, and two more of the enemy went down.
“All this passed in no time at all. Helia seemed like a supernatural being. As she remained standing upright, the attack wavered. The Turks were terror-stricken at this young maiden whose throat they had expected to cut as they passed by, and who handled these heavy weapons as if she were playing with them. I heard Helia call to us; but we could not stir. I wept with rage. How I wished to be beside her! She whirled the rifle by the end of its barrel; and with a terrific blow brought down the breech on the head of one who seemed the leader. They fell back for a moment. Meanwhile we did not remain idle; and the peasants had pulled themselves together. Phil and I, as soon as we had got ourselves loose, jumped on the wagon, after picking up rifles. Will brought back the soldiers; and when the Turks, mad with rage, and sword in hand, came rushing back upon Helia—who awaited them without flinching—they were welcomed with a discharge of bullets which stopped themshort. Our fears were over. The Turks fled, our bullets striking them in their backs, and the peasants pursuing them with sticks and stones. In a moment the bridge was free. Phil had not quitted me for an instant. He was always between me and the enemy, and superbly cool. I asked him, ‘What is the matter with Helia? She seems to be looking for death!’ It is certain there was something like despair in her terrible intrepidity. Phil did not answer. He seemed more moved than herself. Just then I had no time to go into the question; all of us were safe and sound; that was the main thing. The Turks had fled away, and would not soon return. We gathered up the wounded. Suzanne was everywhere at once, with a bottle in her hand. ‘Qui veut la goutte, les enfants? Voilà la petite cantinière!’ [‘Who wants a drink, children? Here’s the cantinière!’] The bells of the Christian village rang joyously, and the cry was taken up, and grew louder and louder: ‘Morgana! Morgana!’ Helia was borne in triumph. Women knelt down as she passed. The brave girl was bleeding a little; and they gathered the drops of blood on pieces torn from her gown, like the relics of a saint. For me, I was happy beyond expression. I kissed her cheeks and cried: ‘Morgana!’
“‘What! you, too, Miss Ethel! But I have done nothing!’ answered Helia. ‘I did my part, that was all.’
The Return to the City
The Return to the City
“Wagons came from the village, and we put the wounded into them. One who spoke Italian told us the story. The Albanian Moslems for a long time had been threatening the Christians. They demanded a thousand Turkish pounds. They were refused, and raided thevillage on the day of a marriage, when every one was at the feast. They were going to invade the district of Morgania where the victims were taking refuge; but this young girl had saved everything!
“Helia had her gown all torn, and so they threw over her shoulders the mantle of the village bride. Upon her disheveled hair they placed the red symbolic head-dress, with its golden tassels.
“Helia’s cart was at the head of the convoy, and the other wagons followed, filled with the wounded. Phil galloped along on an Albanian horse with red-and-white trappings. Will remained in the village, to organize the resistance. I went back to the city with Suzanne, on Helia’s cart.
“It was a triumphal march. All these poor people and ourselves, whom she had saved from massacre, had eyes only for her. But she had no air of happiness! She had a slight wound in the forehead. From time to time a drop of blood fell on her gown and made a red stain. This streak of blood marked her out to the crowd. The cheers redoubled, and little children threw kisses toward her. She was indifferent to it all, and looked only at the little red stain.
“‘Oh, my pretty gown,’ she said, ‘my pretty bridal gown is ruined!’
“The road through the valley is much shorter than that over the mountain. We were to get to the city by night, just before day-dawn. Oh, what a vision, never to be forgotten, was that night journey! You cannot believe how quickly the tidings traveled, in this country without telegraphs or railroad. Horsemen wentgalloping before us. When we passed through a village there were cries of joy and men dancing by the light of torches. Priests bearing golden crosses blessed us as we passed. Helia’s exploits grew from mouth to mouth, and this explained the ever-increasing enthusiasm. She had killed eight enemies with her own hand, had stopped the invasion and saved the convoy from massacre! At Gradiska she had killed twenty, and at Kolo more still.
“‘You will see,’ Helia said to me; ‘by the time we get to the city I shall have killed the Grand Vizir and the Sultan!’
“Our escort kept on growing. It was grand when we entered the city. Helia had been hoping to find every one asleep. You would have thought you were going into a bee-hive! They wished to carry Helia in triumph to the castle. But the duke was not there—he was off on the excursion along the coast. The people will never pardon him for not having been present to share their joy and cheer the heroine.
“To wind up: I don’t know how we did it, but we got back to the yacht all the same, broken and bruised and delighted, deafened by the cries, and blinded by the lights.
“Every one is resting except myself. I cannot stay quiet, and I profit by my sleeplessness to write you. Well, what did I tell you? Are you not sorry to have missed a thing like that? And I will have other things to tell you when I have the pleasure to see you again, my dear Yvonne....
“P.S. The heavens are mixing themselves up in the event. You have heard of the Fata Morgana—thatwonderful mirage effect along the coast of the Adriatic (it comes from the evaporation of hot air in the lower layers, changing refraction to reflection, and so forth, and so forth; but people here simply attribute it to a fairy’s enchantments).
“However that may be, I am finishing this letter just as the sun is rising, and the sky is marvelous. I am looking at great streaks of blood and crumbling towers and golden crowns—all changing form every moment. You can see in it what you wish; but, always, it is beautiful.”