"
"Tell me the whole thing," I commanded.
"They came up here, my lord, all of them--Vlacho and all, and with
them my Lord Constantine. And the Lady Euphrosyne was away; she is
often away, down on the rocks by the sea, watching the waves. And they
came and said that a man had landed who claimed our island as his--a
man of your name, my lord. And when my dear lord said he had sold the
island to save the honor of his house and race, they were furious, and
Vlacho raised the death chant that One-eyed Alexander the Bard wrote
on the death of Stefan Stefanopoulos long ago. And they came near with
knives, demanding that my dear lord should send away the stranger; for
the men of Neopalia were not to be bought and sold like bullocks or
like pigs. At first my lord would not yield; and they swore they would
kill the stranger and my lord also. Then they pressed closer. Vlacho
was hard on him with drawn knife, and the Lord Constantine stood by
him, praying him to yield, and Constantine drew his own knife, saying
to Vlacho that he must fight him also before he killed the old lord.
But at that Vlacho smiled--and then--and then--ah, my dear lord!"
For a moment her voice broke, and sobs supplanted words. But she drew
herself up, and, after a glance at the old man, whom her vehement
speech had not availed to waken, she went on:
"And then those behind cried out that there was enough talk.
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