The pasha received me with great kindness.
"You are the purchaser of Neopalia, aren't you?" he asked, after a
little conversation. "The matter came before me officially."
"I'm much obliged," said I, "for your ready consent to the transfer."
"Oh, it's nothing to us. In fact, our tribute, such as it is, will be
safer. Well, I'm sure I hope you'll settle in comfortably."
"Oh, I shall be all right. I know the Greeks very well, you know; been
there a lot, and, of course, I talk the tongue, because I spent two
years hunting antiquities in the Morea and some of the islands."
The pasha stroked his beard as he observed in a calm tone:
"The last time a Stefanopoulos tried to sell Neopalia the people
killed him, and turned the purchaser--he was a Frenchman, a Baron
d'Ezonville--adrift in an open boat, with nothing on but his shirt."
"Good heavens! Was that recently?"
"No; two hundred years ago. But it's a conservative part of the world,
you know." And his excellency smiled.
"They were described to me as good-hearted folk," said I;
"unsophisticated, of course, but good-hearted."
"They think that the island is theirs, you see," he explained, "and
that the lord has no business to sell it. They may be good-hearted,
Lord Wheatley, but they are tenacious of their rights.
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