ering the street he made straight for Amos's house, and told the
porter, who was still lying on the trestle before the door, that he
could not pay the Jew's bill. Then without waiting for an answer, he
hurried off to the quay.

With better luck than on the previous day, he managed to obtain
employment for some hours. The Greek mail-boat had arrived, and under
the blazing sun he toiled good-humouredly and patiently. The work
was hard, but it gave him no opportunity of thinking. He had to be
continually dodging large bales of fruit and wine, and if he made a
mistake the officer on duty would shout at him angrily, "Lazy dog! you
would not have left Greece were you not an idle fellow." Such words
wounded his pride, and he determined to do so well that he should earn
praise. But the little officer, his bright buttons flashing in the
sunlight, who smoked quietly in the intervals of silence, never praised
anybody; but he left off abusing Gregorio at last, and when work ceased
for the day bade him come again on the morrow.

At sunset Gregorio pocketed his few hard-earned piastres and wandered
cityward. He did not care to go back to his home, for he knew there
would be miserable stories to tell of the Jew's anger, and, moreover,
he was terribly thirsty. So he went into a little cafe--known as the
Penny-farthing Shop--opposite his house and called for a flask of
kephisa. As he sipped the wine he glanced up nervously at his window and
wondered whether his wife had already left home. Were he sure that she
had, he would leave his wine untouched and hasten to look after his
son and give him food. But until he knew Xantippe had gone he would not
move. The sobs of yesterday still disturbed him, and he was more than
once on the point of cancelling his resolves. But as the wine stirred
his blood he became satisfied with what he had done and said. The little
cafe at Benhur that was to make his fortune seemed nearly in his grasp.
Had he not, he asked himself, worked all day without a murmur? It was
right Xantippe should help him.

As he sat dreamily thinking over these things, and watching the shadows
turn to a darker purple under the oil-lamps, a woman spoke to him.

"Well, Gregorio, are you asleep?"

"No," said he, turning toward his questioner.

The woman laughed. She was a big woman, dressed in loose folds of red
and blue. Her hair was dishevelled, and ornamented with brass pins
fastened into it at random. Her sleeves were rolled