had plenty of money, although not long
before he had had to jump into the water and swim to the shore with only
his shirt and trousers. She might have to swim herself. Well, what of
that? More than once she had done the distance from the bathing house to
the Allatini jetty and back. Looking through lazy, slitted eyelids she
knew she could swim to the _Kalkis_ with ease. Such matters gave her no
anxiety. Evanthia's problems were those of an explorer. She was making
her way cautiously into a new world, a world beyond those French
bayonets. She hated the French because they invariably assumed that she
was a _demi-mondaine_ and treated her as bearded family men treat
daughters of joy. Perhaps she hated them also because Fridthiof had
exhausted his amusing sarcasm upon them as his hereditary enemies; but
this is not certain because the Balkan people do not conceive
nationality save as a tribal clannishness. Evanthia's notions of
patriotism were gathered from films shown in Constantinople of
imperial-looking persons sitting on horses while immense masses of
troops marched by and presented arms. It was fascinating but perplexing,
this tumultuous, shining, wealthy outside world, and Evanthia was ready
to abandon everything she knew, including Mrs. Dainopoulos, for a look
at it. Blood did not matter out there, Fridthiof had told her.
_Demokracy_ made it possible for any woman to become a princess. So she
gathered from his highly satirical and misleading accounts of European
customs beyond French bayonets. A suspicion suddenly assailed her as she
lay on the rug stroking her friend's hand.

"This Englishman, is he faithful, _honnete_?"

Mrs. Dainopoulos allowed the leaves of her book to slip slowly from her
fingers. She smiled.

"Englishmen are always faithful," she said, with a little thrill of
pride. Evanthia let this pass without comment. Fridthiof had once told
her the English had sold every friend they ever had and betrayed every
small nation in the world, with the result that they now sat on top of
the world. He also expressed admiration for their inconceivable national
duplicity in fooling the world. And Evanthia, if she reflected at all,
imagined Mrs. Dainopoulos was of the same opinion since she had married
a Levantine. Mr. Spokesly, however, had said he would go to hell for
her, which was no doubt an example of the national duplicity.

"Humph!" she said at length and sat there looking at the sky over the
trees.

"H