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The fresh northerly breeze blows down from the Black Sea all day, and often all night; and there is something invigorating in the air, which revives one after the long, gay season in Pera, and makes one feel that anything and everything is possible in such a place. The forest was different in May from what it had been on that bitter March night when Gregorios and I drove down to Laleli's house.
I know nothing what shall I say?" muttered Laleli incoherently, her thin fingers twitching at the stuff of her snuff-colored gown, while as she bent her head her short, coarse, black hair fell over her yellow cheeks, and concealed her expression from Gregorios. "You have not much time," he answered. "The pain will soon seize you more sharply than before.
Of course it may be a mere fancy, but I cannot rid myself of the thought." "Balsamides will find out," I replied. "He can handle those fellows in the bazaar as only an Oriental can." It was not long before I heard the story of the morning's adventure from Gregorios. I found him waiting for me and very impatient.
I await your answer with anxiety, as we shall regulate our movements by what you say. All send affectionate messages to you and to Paul, to whom please read this letter. Yours ever, JOHN CARVEL. I had not recovered from my astonishment in reading this long epistle, when Gregorios came in and sat down by the fire.
"I am glad you have spoken of it now," said Gregorios. "It is probably the key to the whole affair." We talked on for a few minutes, and Paul told Balsamides that his mother and the Carvels were coming, explaining his anxiety to hasten the search so as to have something positive to show when they arrived.
Patoff was almost asphyxiated by the smoke, his hair and eyebrows and mustache were almost burnt off, and his right hand was injured. But he was alive, and at last he opened his eyes. In a quarter of an hour he could be helped upon his feet. Balsamides was already standing, and Paul caught at his hand. "Not that arm," said Gregorios calmly, holding out the other.
"I have Rhodes full of holes, beautiful holes," observed Marchetto, with a grin. "Fox!" retorted Gregorios. "Do you think when I buy tapestry I want to buy holes?" "But this piece has none," argued the Jew. "You want me to buy it. I can see you do. You are laughing at my beard. You think I will give a thousand pounds for your rubbish?" "Not a thousand pounds," said Marchetto.
The voice belonged to Gregorios, and the party looked into each other's faces in sudden horror, and then glanced at the burning house. "Save him! Save him!" cried Hermione. But Paul had already left her side, and had reached the open door of the porch. Alexander stood still, staring at the flames. "He saved you," said Hermione, grasping his arm fiercely. "Will you do nothing to help him?"
"We shall see," said Gregorios. "I will change my mind. I will make the acquaintance of your Russian friend. I know him by sight, though I never spoke to him. When I have talked the matter over with him I will tell you what I think about it. Let us go to dinner." I felt that I had overcome the first great difficulty in persuading Balsamides to take some interest in my errand.
There was no one to be seen, however, and Balsamides followed the negro, who entered a door on the right-hand side, at the end of the hall. They passed through a narrow passage, entirely hung with rose-colored silk and matted, but devoid of furniture, and then Selim raised a curtain and admitted Gregorios to the presence of the sick lady.
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