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Mehmet Ali laid the paddles across the width of the boat and looking steadily into the eyes of Marcu, he said: "As I said this morning, Marcu, it is not fair that you should buy wives from us when you like our women and not sell us yours when we like them." "It is as it is," countered the gipsy savagely. "But it is not fair," argued Mehmet, slyly watching every movement of his old friend.
So I offer you thirty-five pieces of gold with which you can buy for yourself any other woman you please whenever you want." Fanutza looked at the Tartar. Though it was getting dark she could see the play of every muscle of his face. Hardly had her father finished making his offer, when Mehmet, after one look at the girl, said: "I offer fifty gold pieces for the girl. Is it a bargain?"
The two men rowed in silence, each one planning how to outwit the other and each one knowing that the other was planning likewise. According to Tartar ethics the bargain was a bargain. When the boat had been pulled out of danger Mehmet hastened to fulfil his end. With one jerk he loosened a heavy belt underneath his coat and pulled out a leather purse which he threw to Marcu.
As he did so he met Fanutza's proud eye. "Here. Count it. Just one hundred." "That's good enough," the gipsy chief answered as he put the purse in his pocket without even looking at it. "Row, I am cold. I am anxious to be home." "It will not be before daylight, chief," remarked Mehmet Ali as he bent again over his oars and counted aloud, "Bir, icki, Bir, icki."
He employed two weeks in his preparations, and then set out for the conquest of Sphakia, moving in two columns, with a total force of 15,000 men, his own division taking the pass of Kallikrati, giving access to Sphakia from the east, and held by Coroneos, and that of Mehmet Pasha moving against Krapi, the pass on the north held by Zimbrakaki and the Greek bands.
The gale blows from the land of the Russians." "As you tell me, friend," answered Marcu while helping his daughter out of the boat. When the two had gone a short distance Fanutza turned her head. Mehmet Ali was leaning on an oar and looking after them. A little later, a hundred paces further, she caught fragments of a Tartar song that reached her ears in spite of the shrill noises of the wind.
"A hundred gold pieces to row us across," he yelled, for the night was closing in upon them and the boat was being carried swiftly downstream. There was danger ahead of them. Marcu knew it. "A hundred gold pieces is a great sum," mused Mehmet, "a great sum!
They were at least two miles too far down by now. Mehmet looked at Fanutza and found such lively interest in her eyes that he was encouraged to offer another five gold pieces for her. It was a proud moment for the girl. So men were willing to pay so much for her!
"Have you bought everything you intended?" the Tartar inquired as he slid the oars into the hoops. "Everything," Marcu answered as he watched his daughter from the corner of an eye. Vigorously Mehmet Ali rowed till well out into the wide river without saying another word.
Why had he, old and experienced as he was, having dealt with those devils of Tartars for so many years, not known better than to return to the boat after he had heard Mehmet say, "It is not fair!"
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