'Yes, yes,' said Eve, forgetting to be resentful, 'I am afraid, too; it overcomes me sometimes; it's a presentiment.' She looked really haunted, and Kato was filled with an immense pity for her. 'You mustn't be weak,' she said gently. 'Presentiment is only a high-sounding word for a weak thought.' 'You are so strong and sane, Kato; it is easy for you to be--strong and sane.' They broke off, and listened in silence to an outburst of firing and shouts that rose from the village. Grbits burst into the room early in the afternoon, his flat sallow face tinged with colour, his clothes torn, and his limbs swinging like the sails of a windmill. In one enormous hand he still brandished a revolver. He was triumphantly out of breath. 'Driven off!' he cried. 'They ran up a white flag. Not one succeeded in landing. Not one.' He panted between every phrase. 'Julian--here in a moment. I ran. Negotiations now, we hope. Sea bobbing with dead.' 'Our losses?' said Kato sharply. 'Few. All under cover,' Grbits replied. He sat down, swinging his revolver loosely between his knees, and ran his fingers through his oily black hair, so that it separated into straight wisps across his forehead. He was hugely pleased and good-humoured, and grinned widely upon Eve and Kato. 'Good fighting--though too much at a distance. Julian was grazed on the temple--told me to tell you,' he added, with the tardy haste of a child who has forgotten to deliver a message. 'We tied up his head, and it will be nothing of a scratch.--Driven off! They have tried and failed. The defence was excellent. They will scarcely try force again. I am sorry I missed the first fight. I could have thrown those little fat soldiers into the sea with one hand, two at a time.' Kato rushed up to Grbits and kissed him; they were like children in their large, clumsy excitement. Julian came in, his head bandaged; his unconcern deserted him as he saw Kato hanging over the giant's chair. He laughed out loud. 'A miscellaneous fleet!' he cried. 'Coastal steamers, fort tugs, old chirkets from the Bosphorus--who was the admiral, I wonder?' 'Panaïoannou,' cried Grbits, 'his uniform military down one side, and naval down the other.' 'Their white flag!' said Julian. 'Sterghiou's handkerchief!' said Grbits. 'Coaling steamers, mounting machine-guns,' Julian continued. 'Stavridis must have imagined that,' said Kato. 'Play us a triumphal march, Anastasia!' said Grbits.