VOf course Pavlo’s uncle had finished all he had to do in Poros long before this time, but it so happened that another summons had called him on to Nauplia, and it had been settled that while he was there, Pavlo should stay on at the Red House and that his uncle should spend one more day in Poros on his way back, and then that both should return together to Athens. There had been cries of delight over this arrangement, and Andromache had expressed a wish that the patient in Nauplia might have a nice proper illness. He need not die, of course, she added, but just be ill enough to want to keep the doctor from Athens near him for a long time.So it was strange that the very day after this, Pavlo should have been lying on his face under the pines in the small wood, crying his heart out.For alas and alack, it had daily been getting more and more difficult to live up to all thatwas expected of his name, and this particular morning it had been worse than impossible. He had been at the gate with the girls and the three dogs watching the “trata.” For him, it was a new sight, and the Four were never tired of looking at the fishermen and the fisher boys with their bare brown limbs, wet and glistening in the sun, pulling all together at the ropes, and emptying all the squirming little silver fishes out of the long net.And while they were standing about and watching, a big yellow sheep dog had rushed down the hill, and though at first he had contented himself harmlessly enough with sniffing at ropes and the nets, Deko who, it is true, was always very impertinent to big dogs, had provoked him. Chryseis snatched Deko up in her arms, and Andromache seizing Philos screamed for help, for the sheep dog was ready to spring at them. Then the two boys rushing down to the rescue from the top of the hill, instead of finding Pavlo standing in front of the girls, found himbehindthe trunk of a mimosa tree, staring horror-struck at the big snarling yellow brute, whom they drove howling away with two well-directed stones.Then Iason had turned fiercely on Pavlo:—“You may be a Zamana as much as you like; you are a coward all the same!” and even Nikias had echoed jeeringly:—“Coward! Coward!”And then Pavlo had fled blindly to the shelter of the dark little wood.He longed, as he lay there sobbing, that it might be possible never to see any of them again. For he had found out from the first that for the Four the great rule was, “Never be afraid, and if you are, mind you hide it!” Of course they knew that Nikias shirked being dipped far down, or being held long under water. That was a family misfortune, never mentioned before strangers, but on the other hand even Nikias had only two days ago boldly attacked a long snake when it glided out of a thick bush, round which Philos had been sniffing for so long. He had struck at it with all his might on its flat head, and while Anneza, the Andriote serving maid, had picked up her skirts knee-high and fled down the hillside shrieking loud enough to be heard over at Galata, he had followed, his little long face flushed with triumph, his socks hangingover his shoes, and the corpse of the victim dangling horribly at the end of a long stick.“Were you not afraid, you little one?” his father had asked; and Nikias answered that he had been just a little afraid when it raised its head and hissed, but that Chryseis was so stupid that he knew she would never sit comfortably under the big pine again with her book, if she felt there were a snake, however harmless, wriggling about in the bushes beside her, so that he had to kill it all the same; did they not understand? And the mother of the Four had looked rather proud, and the father had said:—“Of course I understand.”And Nikias was not yet eight years old, and he, Pavlo, was over eleven!So he lay there and sobbed, till Chryseis found him out and sat beside him, and expressed her energetic opinion that her brothers were “Pigs” because, of course, as she said, Pavlo had always lived in Athens, and how was he to know that those fierce-looking sheep dogs only require a stone thrown at them to run away; she even succeeded in making him laugh a little, by relating how Andromache hadonce, when she was quite little, called an officer who had offended her in some way “Agreenpig!” No one had understood why, but the insult had evidently been intended to be terrible. Then Chryseis had wiped his eyes with a handkerchief which happened to be not so much “a rag of all work” as the handkerchiefs of the Four generally were, and brought him down to the house, to show him the pictures in the Doré Dante which was usually reserved for rainy days or for convalescence. The mother of the Four had wondered a little at this very peaceful occupation in the middle of the morning, but was too wise to make awkward enquiries.There was a prolonged visit that same afternoon from the children of the house in the “Garden,” which had made matters easier for all, and by the evening everyone was too busy making plans for the morrow, to think of past disagreeables.It was to be the last day of Pavlo’s stay, and a picnic had been proposed, a real picnic, with no accompanying governess. There was some hesitation over this, but Andromache had urged that it was really only fair to the poor creatureherself to give her a whole day’s freedom now and then. “I suppose,” she added thoughtfully, “we may berathertiring sometimes.”At last, consent was obtained on two conditions, the first being that they should be back early, the second, that they must promise to obey Chryseis. This, they did not mind much, knowing of old that her rule was mild. The picnic was to be somewhere on the hills behind the Red House, wherever a nice shady spot should be found. Eatables were to be packed in small hand baskets, so that each might carry his share; and everyone was to wear his very oldest clothes.The master of the House wanted to know why the enjoyment would not be just the same if they simply carried their food to the big pine and ate it there? But this question was treated with the contempt it deserved.
VOf course Pavlo’s uncle had finished all he had to do in Poros long before this time, but it so happened that another summons had called him on to Nauplia, and it had been settled that while he was there, Pavlo should stay on at the Red House and that his uncle should spend one more day in Poros on his way back, and then that both should return together to Athens. There had been cries of delight over this arrangement, and Andromache had expressed a wish that the patient in Nauplia might have a nice proper illness. He need not die, of course, she added, but just be ill enough to want to keep the doctor from Athens near him for a long time.So it was strange that the very day after this, Pavlo should have been lying on his face under the pines in the small wood, crying his heart out.For alas and alack, it had daily been getting more and more difficult to live up to all thatwas expected of his name, and this particular morning it had been worse than impossible. He had been at the gate with the girls and the three dogs watching the “trata.” For him, it was a new sight, and the Four were never tired of looking at the fishermen and the fisher boys with their bare brown limbs, wet and glistening in the sun, pulling all together at the ropes, and emptying all the squirming little silver fishes out of the long net.And while they were standing about and watching, a big yellow sheep dog had rushed down the hill, and though at first he had contented himself harmlessly enough with sniffing at ropes and the nets, Deko who, it is true, was always very impertinent to big dogs, had provoked him. Chryseis snatched Deko up in her arms, and Andromache seizing Philos screamed for help, for the sheep dog was ready to spring at them. Then the two boys rushing down to the rescue from the top of the hill, instead of finding Pavlo standing in front of the girls, found himbehindthe trunk of a mimosa tree, staring horror-struck at the big snarling yellow brute, whom they drove howling away with two well-directed stones.Then Iason had turned fiercely on Pavlo:—“You may be a Zamana as much as you like; you are a coward all the same!” and even Nikias had echoed jeeringly:—“Coward! Coward!”And then Pavlo had fled blindly to the shelter of the dark little wood.He longed, as he lay there sobbing, that it might be possible never to see any of them again. For he had found out from the first that for the Four the great rule was, “Never be afraid, and if you are, mind you hide it!” Of course they knew that Nikias shirked being dipped far down, or being held long under water. That was a family misfortune, never mentioned before strangers, but on the other hand even Nikias had only two days ago boldly attacked a long snake when it glided out of a thick bush, round which Philos had been sniffing for so long. He had struck at it with all his might on its flat head, and while Anneza, the Andriote serving maid, had picked up her skirts knee-high and fled down the hillside shrieking loud enough to be heard over at Galata, he had followed, his little long face flushed with triumph, his socks hangingover his shoes, and the corpse of the victim dangling horribly at the end of a long stick.“Were you not afraid, you little one?” his father had asked; and Nikias answered that he had been just a little afraid when it raised its head and hissed, but that Chryseis was so stupid that he knew she would never sit comfortably under the big pine again with her book, if she felt there were a snake, however harmless, wriggling about in the bushes beside her, so that he had to kill it all the same; did they not understand? And the mother of the Four had looked rather proud, and the father had said:—“Of course I understand.”And Nikias was not yet eight years old, and he, Pavlo, was over eleven!So he lay there and sobbed, till Chryseis found him out and sat beside him, and expressed her energetic opinion that her brothers were “Pigs” because, of course, as she said, Pavlo had always lived in Athens, and how was he to know that those fierce-looking sheep dogs only require a stone thrown at them to run away; she even succeeded in making him laugh a little, by relating how Andromache hadonce, when she was quite little, called an officer who had offended her in some way “Agreenpig!” No one had understood why, but the insult had evidently been intended to be terrible. Then Chryseis had wiped his eyes with a handkerchief which happened to be not so much “a rag of all work” as the handkerchiefs of the Four generally were, and brought him down to the house, to show him the pictures in the Doré Dante which was usually reserved for rainy days or for convalescence. The mother of the Four had wondered a little at this very peaceful occupation in the middle of the morning, but was too wise to make awkward enquiries.There was a prolonged visit that same afternoon from the children of the house in the “Garden,” which had made matters easier for all, and by the evening everyone was too busy making plans for the morrow, to think of past disagreeables.It was to be the last day of Pavlo’s stay, and a picnic had been proposed, a real picnic, with no accompanying governess. There was some hesitation over this, but Andromache had urged that it was really only fair to the poor creatureherself to give her a whole day’s freedom now and then. “I suppose,” she added thoughtfully, “we may berathertiring sometimes.”At last, consent was obtained on two conditions, the first being that they should be back early, the second, that they must promise to obey Chryseis. This, they did not mind much, knowing of old that her rule was mild. The picnic was to be somewhere on the hills behind the Red House, wherever a nice shady spot should be found. Eatables were to be packed in small hand baskets, so that each might carry his share; and everyone was to wear his very oldest clothes.The master of the House wanted to know why the enjoyment would not be just the same if they simply carried their food to the big pine and ate it there? But this question was treated with the contempt it deserved.
VOf course Pavlo’s uncle had finished all he had to do in Poros long before this time, but it so happened that another summons had called him on to Nauplia, and it had been settled that while he was there, Pavlo should stay on at the Red House and that his uncle should spend one more day in Poros on his way back, and then that both should return together to Athens. There had been cries of delight over this arrangement, and Andromache had expressed a wish that the patient in Nauplia might have a nice proper illness. He need not die, of course, she added, but just be ill enough to want to keep the doctor from Athens near him for a long time.So it was strange that the very day after this, Pavlo should have been lying on his face under the pines in the small wood, crying his heart out.For alas and alack, it had daily been getting more and more difficult to live up to all thatwas expected of his name, and this particular morning it had been worse than impossible. He had been at the gate with the girls and the three dogs watching the “trata.” For him, it was a new sight, and the Four were never tired of looking at the fishermen and the fisher boys with their bare brown limbs, wet and glistening in the sun, pulling all together at the ropes, and emptying all the squirming little silver fishes out of the long net.And while they were standing about and watching, a big yellow sheep dog had rushed down the hill, and though at first he had contented himself harmlessly enough with sniffing at ropes and the nets, Deko who, it is true, was always very impertinent to big dogs, had provoked him. Chryseis snatched Deko up in her arms, and Andromache seizing Philos screamed for help, for the sheep dog was ready to spring at them. Then the two boys rushing down to the rescue from the top of the hill, instead of finding Pavlo standing in front of the girls, found himbehindthe trunk of a mimosa tree, staring horror-struck at the big snarling yellow brute, whom they drove howling away with two well-directed stones.Then Iason had turned fiercely on Pavlo:—“You may be a Zamana as much as you like; you are a coward all the same!” and even Nikias had echoed jeeringly:—“Coward! Coward!”And then Pavlo had fled blindly to the shelter of the dark little wood.He longed, as he lay there sobbing, that it might be possible never to see any of them again. For he had found out from the first that for the Four the great rule was, “Never be afraid, and if you are, mind you hide it!” Of course they knew that Nikias shirked being dipped far down, or being held long under water. That was a family misfortune, never mentioned before strangers, but on the other hand even Nikias had only two days ago boldly attacked a long snake when it glided out of a thick bush, round which Philos had been sniffing for so long. He had struck at it with all his might on its flat head, and while Anneza, the Andriote serving maid, had picked up her skirts knee-high and fled down the hillside shrieking loud enough to be heard over at Galata, he had followed, his little long face flushed with triumph, his socks hangingover his shoes, and the corpse of the victim dangling horribly at the end of a long stick.“Were you not afraid, you little one?” his father had asked; and Nikias answered that he had been just a little afraid when it raised its head and hissed, but that Chryseis was so stupid that he knew she would never sit comfortably under the big pine again with her book, if she felt there were a snake, however harmless, wriggling about in the bushes beside her, so that he had to kill it all the same; did they not understand? And the mother of the Four had looked rather proud, and the father had said:—“Of course I understand.”And Nikias was not yet eight years old, and he, Pavlo, was over eleven!So he lay there and sobbed, till Chryseis found him out and sat beside him, and expressed her energetic opinion that her brothers were “Pigs” because, of course, as she said, Pavlo had always lived in Athens, and how was he to know that those fierce-looking sheep dogs only require a stone thrown at them to run away; she even succeeded in making him laugh a little, by relating how Andromache hadonce, when she was quite little, called an officer who had offended her in some way “Agreenpig!” No one had understood why, but the insult had evidently been intended to be terrible. Then Chryseis had wiped his eyes with a handkerchief which happened to be not so much “a rag of all work” as the handkerchiefs of the Four generally were, and brought him down to the house, to show him the pictures in the Doré Dante which was usually reserved for rainy days or for convalescence. The mother of the Four had wondered a little at this very peaceful occupation in the middle of the morning, but was too wise to make awkward enquiries.There was a prolonged visit that same afternoon from the children of the house in the “Garden,” which had made matters easier for all, and by the evening everyone was too busy making plans for the morrow, to think of past disagreeables.It was to be the last day of Pavlo’s stay, and a picnic had been proposed, a real picnic, with no accompanying governess. There was some hesitation over this, but Andromache had urged that it was really only fair to the poor creatureherself to give her a whole day’s freedom now and then. “I suppose,” she added thoughtfully, “we may berathertiring sometimes.”At last, consent was obtained on two conditions, the first being that they should be back early, the second, that they must promise to obey Chryseis. This, they did not mind much, knowing of old that her rule was mild. The picnic was to be somewhere on the hills behind the Red House, wherever a nice shady spot should be found. Eatables were to be packed in small hand baskets, so that each might carry his share; and everyone was to wear his very oldest clothes.The master of the House wanted to know why the enjoyment would not be just the same if they simply carried their food to the big pine and ate it there? But this question was treated with the contempt it deserved.
VOf course Pavlo’s uncle had finished all he had to do in Poros long before this time, but it so happened that another summons had called him on to Nauplia, and it had been settled that while he was there, Pavlo should stay on at the Red House and that his uncle should spend one more day in Poros on his way back, and then that both should return together to Athens. There had been cries of delight over this arrangement, and Andromache had expressed a wish that the patient in Nauplia might have a nice proper illness. He need not die, of course, she added, but just be ill enough to want to keep the doctor from Athens near him for a long time.So it was strange that the very day after this, Pavlo should have been lying on his face under the pines in the small wood, crying his heart out.For alas and alack, it had daily been getting more and more difficult to live up to all thatwas expected of his name, and this particular morning it had been worse than impossible. He had been at the gate with the girls and the three dogs watching the “trata.” For him, it was a new sight, and the Four were never tired of looking at the fishermen and the fisher boys with their bare brown limbs, wet and glistening in the sun, pulling all together at the ropes, and emptying all the squirming little silver fishes out of the long net.And while they were standing about and watching, a big yellow sheep dog had rushed down the hill, and though at first he had contented himself harmlessly enough with sniffing at ropes and the nets, Deko who, it is true, was always very impertinent to big dogs, had provoked him. Chryseis snatched Deko up in her arms, and Andromache seizing Philos screamed for help, for the sheep dog was ready to spring at them. Then the two boys rushing down to the rescue from the top of the hill, instead of finding Pavlo standing in front of the girls, found himbehindthe trunk of a mimosa tree, staring horror-struck at the big snarling yellow brute, whom they drove howling away with two well-directed stones.Then Iason had turned fiercely on Pavlo:—“You may be a Zamana as much as you like; you are a coward all the same!” and even Nikias had echoed jeeringly:—“Coward! Coward!”And then Pavlo had fled blindly to the shelter of the dark little wood.He longed, as he lay there sobbing, that it might be possible never to see any of them again. For he had found out from the first that for the Four the great rule was, “Never be afraid, and if you are, mind you hide it!” Of course they knew that Nikias shirked being dipped far down, or being held long under water. That was a family misfortune, never mentioned before strangers, but on the other hand even Nikias had only two days ago boldly attacked a long snake when it glided out of a thick bush, round which Philos had been sniffing for so long. He had struck at it with all his might on its flat head, and while Anneza, the Andriote serving maid, had picked up her skirts knee-high and fled down the hillside shrieking loud enough to be heard over at Galata, he had followed, his little long face flushed with triumph, his socks hangingover his shoes, and the corpse of the victim dangling horribly at the end of a long stick.“Were you not afraid, you little one?” his father had asked; and Nikias answered that he had been just a little afraid when it raised its head and hissed, but that Chryseis was so stupid that he knew she would never sit comfortably under the big pine again with her book, if she felt there were a snake, however harmless, wriggling about in the bushes beside her, so that he had to kill it all the same; did they not understand? And the mother of the Four had looked rather proud, and the father had said:—“Of course I understand.”And Nikias was not yet eight years old, and he, Pavlo, was over eleven!So he lay there and sobbed, till Chryseis found him out and sat beside him, and expressed her energetic opinion that her brothers were “Pigs” because, of course, as she said, Pavlo had always lived in Athens, and how was he to know that those fierce-looking sheep dogs only require a stone thrown at them to run away; she even succeeded in making him laugh a little, by relating how Andromache hadonce, when she was quite little, called an officer who had offended her in some way “Agreenpig!” No one had understood why, but the insult had evidently been intended to be terrible. Then Chryseis had wiped his eyes with a handkerchief which happened to be not so much “a rag of all work” as the handkerchiefs of the Four generally were, and brought him down to the house, to show him the pictures in the Doré Dante which was usually reserved for rainy days or for convalescence. The mother of the Four had wondered a little at this very peaceful occupation in the middle of the morning, but was too wise to make awkward enquiries.There was a prolonged visit that same afternoon from the children of the house in the “Garden,” which had made matters easier for all, and by the evening everyone was too busy making plans for the morrow, to think of past disagreeables.It was to be the last day of Pavlo’s stay, and a picnic had been proposed, a real picnic, with no accompanying governess. There was some hesitation over this, but Andromache had urged that it was really only fair to the poor creatureherself to give her a whole day’s freedom now and then. “I suppose,” she added thoughtfully, “we may berathertiring sometimes.”At last, consent was obtained on two conditions, the first being that they should be back early, the second, that they must promise to obey Chryseis. This, they did not mind much, knowing of old that her rule was mild. The picnic was to be somewhere on the hills behind the Red House, wherever a nice shady spot should be found. Eatables were to be packed in small hand baskets, so that each might carry his share; and everyone was to wear his very oldest clothes.The master of the House wanted to know why the enjoyment would not be just the same if they simply carried their food to the big pine and ate it there? But this question was treated with the contempt it deserved.
V
Of course Pavlo’s uncle had finished all he had to do in Poros long before this time, but it so happened that another summons had called him on to Nauplia, and it had been settled that while he was there, Pavlo should stay on at the Red House and that his uncle should spend one more day in Poros on his way back, and then that both should return together to Athens. There had been cries of delight over this arrangement, and Andromache had expressed a wish that the patient in Nauplia might have a nice proper illness. He need not die, of course, she added, but just be ill enough to want to keep the doctor from Athens near him for a long time.So it was strange that the very day after this, Pavlo should have been lying on his face under the pines in the small wood, crying his heart out.For alas and alack, it had daily been getting more and more difficult to live up to all thatwas expected of his name, and this particular morning it had been worse than impossible. He had been at the gate with the girls and the three dogs watching the “trata.” For him, it was a new sight, and the Four were never tired of looking at the fishermen and the fisher boys with their bare brown limbs, wet and glistening in the sun, pulling all together at the ropes, and emptying all the squirming little silver fishes out of the long net.And while they were standing about and watching, a big yellow sheep dog had rushed down the hill, and though at first he had contented himself harmlessly enough with sniffing at ropes and the nets, Deko who, it is true, was always very impertinent to big dogs, had provoked him. Chryseis snatched Deko up in her arms, and Andromache seizing Philos screamed for help, for the sheep dog was ready to spring at them. Then the two boys rushing down to the rescue from the top of the hill, instead of finding Pavlo standing in front of the girls, found himbehindthe trunk of a mimosa tree, staring horror-struck at the big snarling yellow brute, whom they drove howling away with two well-directed stones.Then Iason had turned fiercely on Pavlo:—“You may be a Zamana as much as you like; you are a coward all the same!” and even Nikias had echoed jeeringly:—“Coward! Coward!”And then Pavlo had fled blindly to the shelter of the dark little wood.He longed, as he lay there sobbing, that it might be possible never to see any of them again. For he had found out from the first that for the Four the great rule was, “Never be afraid, and if you are, mind you hide it!” Of course they knew that Nikias shirked being dipped far down, or being held long under water. That was a family misfortune, never mentioned before strangers, but on the other hand even Nikias had only two days ago boldly attacked a long snake when it glided out of a thick bush, round which Philos had been sniffing for so long. He had struck at it with all his might on its flat head, and while Anneza, the Andriote serving maid, had picked up her skirts knee-high and fled down the hillside shrieking loud enough to be heard over at Galata, he had followed, his little long face flushed with triumph, his socks hangingover his shoes, and the corpse of the victim dangling horribly at the end of a long stick.“Were you not afraid, you little one?” his father had asked; and Nikias answered that he had been just a little afraid when it raised its head and hissed, but that Chryseis was so stupid that he knew she would never sit comfortably under the big pine again with her book, if she felt there were a snake, however harmless, wriggling about in the bushes beside her, so that he had to kill it all the same; did they not understand? And the mother of the Four had looked rather proud, and the father had said:—“Of course I understand.”And Nikias was not yet eight years old, and he, Pavlo, was over eleven!So he lay there and sobbed, till Chryseis found him out and sat beside him, and expressed her energetic opinion that her brothers were “Pigs” because, of course, as she said, Pavlo had always lived in Athens, and how was he to know that those fierce-looking sheep dogs only require a stone thrown at them to run away; she even succeeded in making him laugh a little, by relating how Andromache hadonce, when she was quite little, called an officer who had offended her in some way “Agreenpig!” No one had understood why, but the insult had evidently been intended to be terrible. Then Chryseis had wiped his eyes with a handkerchief which happened to be not so much “a rag of all work” as the handkerchiefs of the Four generally were, and brought him down to the house, to show him the pictures in the Doré Dante which was usually reserved for rainy days or for convalescence. The mother of the Four had wondered a little at this very peaceful occupation in the middle of the morning, but was too wise to make awkward enquiries.There was a prolonged visit that same afternoon from the children of the house in the “Garden,” which had made matters easier for all, and by the evening everyone was too busy making plans for the morrow, to think of past disagreeables.It was to be the last day of Pavlo’s stay, and a picnic had been proposed, a real picnic, with no accompanying governess. There was some hesitation over this, but Andromache had urged that it was really only fair to the poor creatureherself to give her a whole day’s freedom now and then. “I suppose,” she added thoughtfully, “we may berathertiring sometimes.”At last, consent was obtained on two conditions, the first being that they should be back early, the second, that they must promise to obey Chryseis. This, they did not mind much, knowing of old that her rule was mild. The picnic was to be somewhere on the hills behind the Red House, wherever a nice shady spot should be found. Eatables were to be packed in small hand baskets, so that each might carry his share; and everyone was to wear his very oldest clothes.The master of the House wanted to know why the enjoyment would not be just the same if they simply carried their food to the big pine and ate it there? But this question was treated with the contempt it deserved.
Of course Pavlo’s uncle had finished all he had to do in Poros long before this time, but it so happened that another summons had called him on to Nauplia, and it had been settled that while he was there, Pavlo should stay on at the Red House and that his uncle should spend one more day in Poros on his way back, and then that both should return together to Athens. There had been cries of delight over this arrangement, and Andromache had expressed a wish that the patient in Nauplia might have a nice proper illness. He need not die, of course, she added, but just be ill enough to want to keep the doctor from Athens near him for a long time.
So it was strange that the very day after this, Pavlo should have been lying on his face under the pines in the small wood, crying his heart out.
For alas and alack, it had daily been getting more and more difficult to live up to all thatwas expected of his name, and this particular morning it had been worse than impossible. He had been at the gate with the girls and the three dogs watching the “trata.” For him, it was a new sight, and the Four were never tired of looking at the fishermen and the fisher boys with their bare brown limbs, wet and glistening in the sun, pulling all together at the ropes, and emptying all the squirming little silver fishes out of the long net.
And while they were standing about and watching, a big yellow sheep dog had rushed down the hill, and though at first he had contented himself harmlessly enough with sniffing at ropes and the nets, Deko who, it is true, was always very impertinent to big dogs, had provoked him. Chryseis snatched Deko up in her arms, and Andromache seizing Philos screamed for help, for the sheep dog was ready to spring at them. Then the two boys rushing down to the rescue from the top of the hill, instead of finding Pavlo standing in front of the girls, found himbehindthe trunk of a mimosa tree, staring horror-struck at the big snarling yellow brute, whom they drove howling away with two well-directed stones.
Then Iason had turned fiercely on Pavlo:—
“You may be a Zamana as much as you like; you are a coward all the same!” and even Nikias had echoed jeeringly:—
“Coward! Coward!”
And then Pavlo had fled blindly to the shelter of the dark little wood.
He longed, as he lay there sobbing, that it might be possible never to see any of them again. For he had found out from the first that for the Four the great rule was, “Never be afraid, and if you are, mind you hide it!” Of course they knew that Nikias shirked being dipped far down, or being held long under water. That was a family misfortune, never mentioned before strangers, but on the other hand even Nikias had only two days ago boldly attacked a long snake when it glided out of a thick bush, round which Philos had been sniffing for so long. He had struck at it with all his might on its flat head, and while Anneza, the Andriote serving maid, had picked up her skirts knee-high and fled down the hillside shrieking loud enough to be heard over at Galata, he had followed, his little long face flushed with triumph, his socks hangingover his shoes, and the corpse of the victim dangling horribly at the end of a long stick.
“Were you not afraid, you little one?” his father had asked; and Nikias answered that he had been just a little afraid when it raised its head and hissed, but that Chryseis was so stupid that he knew she would never sit comfortably under the big pine again with her book, if she felt there were a snake, however harmless, wriggling about in the bushes beside her, so that he had to kill it all the same; did they not understand? And the mother of the Four had looked rather proud, and the father had said:—
“Of course I understand.”
And Nikias was not yet eight years old, and he, Pavlo, was over eleven!
So he lay there and sobbed, till Chryseis found him out and sat beside him, and expressed her energetic opinion that her brothers were “Pigs” because, of course, as she said, Pavlo had always lived in Athens, and how was he to know that those fierce-looking sheep dogs only require a stone thrown at them to run away; she even succeeded in making him laugh a little, by relating how Andromache hadonce, when she was quite little, called an officer who had offended her in some way “Agreenpig!” No one had understood why, but the insult had evidently been intended to be terrible. Then Chryseis had wiped his eyes with a handkerchief which happened to be not so much “a rag of all work” as the handkerchiefs of the Four generally were, and brought him down to the house, to show him the pictures in the Doré Dante which was usually reserved for rainy days or for convalescence. The mother of the Four had wondered a little at this very peaceful occupation in the middle of the morning, but was too wise to make awkward enquiries.
There was a prolonged visit that same afternoon from the children of the house in the “Garden,” which had made matters easier for all, and by the evening everyone was too busy making plans for the morrow, to think of past disagreeables.
It was to be the last day of Pavlo’s stay, and a picnic had been proposed, a real picnic, with no accompanying governess. There was some hesitation over this, but Andromache had urged that it was really only fair to the poor creatureherself to give her a whole day’s freedom now and then. “I suppose,” she added thoughtfully, “we may berathertiring sometimes.”
At last, consent was obtained on two conditions, the first being that they should be back early, the second, that they must promise to obey Chryseis. This, they did not mind much, knowing of old that her rule was mild. The picnic was to be somewhere on the hills behind the Red House, wherever a nice shady spot should be found. Eatables were to be packed in small hand baskets, so that each might carry his share; and everyone was to wear his very oldest clothes.
The master of the House wanted to know why the enjoyment would not be just the same if they simply carried their food to the big pine and ate it there? But this question was treated with the contempt it deserved.