'And what have you promised the Bokharian?' asked the mother at last, fixing her sad eyes on Zoë's face. 'Did ever one of his people give one of us anything without return?' 'I have promised nothing,' Zoë answered, meeting her mother's gaze quietly. Yet there was a shade of effort in her tone. 'Nothing yet,' said the sick woman. 'I understand. But it will come--it will come too soon!' She turned away her face on the pillow and the last words were hardly audible. The little boys did not hear them, and would not have understood; but old Nectaria heard and made signs to Zoë. The signs meant that by and by, when the sick woman should be dozing, Nectaria had something to tell; and Zoë nodded. There was silence again till all had finished eating and had drunk in turn from the earthen jar of water. Then they sat still and silent for a little while, and though the windows and the door were shut they could hear the mad woman singing again:-- Eleeison! Spread heavenly tables! Eleeison! We are starving! Eleeison! Eleeison! Eleeison! The sick woman breathed softly and regularly. The little boys grew sleepy and nodded, and huddled against each other as they sat. Then old Nectaria took the light and led them, half asleep, to a sort of bunk of boards and dry straw, in a small inner room, and put them to bed, covering them as well as she could; and they were soon asleep. She came back, shading the light carefully with her hand; and presently, when the sick woman seemed to be sleeping also, Nectaria and Zoë crept softly to the other end of the room and talked in whispers. 'She is better to-night,' said the girl. Nectaria shook her head doubtfully. 'How can any one get well here, without medicine, without food, without fire?' she asked. 'Yes--she is better--a little. It will only take her longer to die.' 'She shall not die,' said Zoë. 'The Bokharian has promised money and help.' 'For nothing? he will give nothing,' Nectaria answered sadly. 'He talked long with me this afternoon, out in the street. I implored him to give us a little help now, till the danger is passed, because if you leave her she will die.' 'Did you try to make him believe that if he would help us now you would betray me to him in a few days?' 'Yes, but he laughed at me--softly and wisely as Bokharians laugh. He asked me if one should feed wolves with flesh before baiting the pit-fall that is to catch them. He says plainly that until you can make up your mind, we shall have only the three pennies he gives us every day, and if your mother dies, so much the worse; and if the children die, so much the worse; and if I die, so much the worse; for he says you are the strongest of us and will outlive us all.' 'It is true!' Zoë clasped her hands against the wall and pressed her forehead against them, closing her eyes. 'It is true,' she repeated, in the same whisper, 'I am so strong!'