a menacing finger. 'You
think, you imagine, that the destruction of my hopes is to be accepted
with what you call philosophy? Well, yes.... I am philosophical----' he
stooped without taking his eyes from mine and replaced the ink-bottle on
the table. 'Listen, Monsieur. I am a pure man. In my travels, in Egypt,
in Turkey, and in Europe, I keep myself--you understand--immaculate.
Because I have here'--he tapped his dark forehead where the large flat
black eyebrows were like symmetrical charcoal smudges--'I have here an
undoubted ambition. In Egypt I was poor--very poor--very, very poor.
Captain Macedoine, whom I met in my business, extends to me his
generosity. To me, a poor interpreter in a firm of exporters, he offers
his friendship. I confide to him my ambition, my dreams. My _metier_, I
tell him, is politics; but of what use without the financial power? You
comprehend, Monsieur? For me it was impossible to associate with a
_demi-vierge_. I express myself to Captain Macedoine with great
strength, for it is my business in Alexandria to introduce these ladies
to the captains and the passengers. Captain Macedoine gives me his
entire confidence. He tells me he has a daughter. When he is appointed
to a position in Ipsilon he is good enough to obtain for me also a
subordinate appointment. He brings his daughter from England. We are
affianced. We come to Saloniki. I secure for them a good house, most
suitable, in the _Rue Paleologue_. What then? Mademoiselle is
_distrait_. She desires me to wait, a month, two, three. I do not
understand, but it is as Mademoiselle wishes. And then Captain Macedoine
becomes very ill. A terrible misfortune! I work. I think. I sacrifice
myself. Mademoiselle is suddenly no longer _distrait_. She commands me
to leave the house--I, Stepan Nikitos! You understand, Monsieur, that I
have had much to bear. The _Osmanli_, our vessel, entering the harbour,
is struck by another vessel, and sinks. Only her mast remains to see
above the water. I have to go to Constantinople to get the insurance.
Our concessions in Macedonia are no longer secure. And Captain Macedoine
too ill to be informed! I struggle against those misfortunes. I am
compelled to accept a position on the _Phos_ to earn the rent of my poor
room and a little food. I go to Mademoiselle and I find she is gone. Her
father receives me as always, with affection; but he grieves to tell me
his daughter is married. Well, Monsieur, I have told you that,