Page:Anthology of Modern Slavonic Literature in Prose and Verse by Paul Selver.djvu/162

138 here I would forgive them!" declared the father with trembling voice.

And again all were silent. A feeling of beauty, of inexpressible sweetness, came upon all. Each one felt within him a whole world of happiness, and each one would have shared his happiness with the whole world. Each one felt the same, and so none jarred upon the other. We did not even notice that the Greek, after some hour or so, had arisen, closed his portfolio, and after greeting us again, had gently departed. We remained.

Finally, after some hours, when the distance was hiding itself in a dusky violet hue, which in the South is so magically lovely, the mother urged us to make our way back. We arose and strolled down to the inn, our steps as free and elastic as those of children without a care in the world.

Scarcely had we sat down than we heard quarrelling and abuse under the veranda. Our Greek was quarrelling there with the inn-keeper and we listened for our amusement.

The quarrel did not last long. "If I had no other guests here—" growled the inn-keeper, and came up the steps towards us.

"Would you kindly tell me, sir," asked the young Pole of the inn-keeper, as he came along, "who this gentleman is, and what his name is?"

"Oh, who knows what the fellow's name is,"