himself against five armed Turks; and how, in token of his
approval, the Vladika had deigned to baptise their little child, and
permitted him to be called Danilo (or Daniel) after himself. So far all
was smooth; but when the little woman entered into particulars about the
Turkish war, I was astonished to see how ferocious she grew. Her eyes
flashed and dilated as she denounced those "unbelieving dogs;" and she
talked of cutting off their heads as coolly as our sportsmen do of
bringing home the fox's brush! I was shocked, and tried to bring to her
mind the heavenly precepts of mercy towards our enemies; but she only
looked bewildered, and said in reply, "Excellency, they are Turks."
Saddened, and rather repelled, I went back to your uncle; but scarcely
five minutes later a ringing cry from Spira's part of the house made us
both start. We hastened to the spot, and beheld little Nilo stiff and
blue in his father's arms--his frame convulsed, and his throat emitting
that kind of barking sound which accompanies violent croup. Basil, as
he held him, looked the image of despair. As for Spira she had flung
herself in a heap in a corner of the room, crying out, like Hagar, "Let
me not see the death of the child!" Neither of them had an idea of
trying any remedy, unless laying a leaden image of Saint Basil (the
patron of Montenegro) on the baby's breast might be called such. When I
stole to Basil's side to look at the poor child, and offer a suggestion
of hope, he said briefly, "He is called; he must go, as our three others
have gone before him; I know it by that hoarse raven-note." Then
breaking down altogether, he cried, "Nilo, Nilo, would I could die for
thee, little one! would I could die for thee!" and the strong man sobbed
as if his heart would break. Your uncle and I, deeply moved, took
counsel together, and determined to try what could be done. I flew to
my well-stocked medicine-chest, and weighed out some croup powders; your
uncle, kind soul! went off in search of a bath and hot water. When I
returned, I found the parents on the move, preparing to carry their
child to a neighbouring church, that the priest might anoint it,
according to the rites of the Greek communion, before its death. The
rain had ceased, but a dense mist had gathered in and sent a chilly
breath through the doorway where Basil stood with Nilo in his arms.
Spira was following--her hands clasped over her bright bodice, and her
face looking ten