“It’s getting better, and the doctor thinks it won’t leave a mark.” “That’s good. Now a babe would probably prefer to have a mark.” “Yes, exactly; so that he could show it to people and talk about it.” “And a woman, being grown up, would be much better pleased not to have a mark that might spoil the look of her shoulder. I begin to understand the important things of life, Aryenis, ‘the things that really matter.’” “I think you’re trying to be rude. But my shoulder does matter.” “That’s just what I said. I think any one’s shoulder would matter, and certainly yours.” “And why mine, certainly?” “Because it’s the nicest one I’ve ever seen.” Whereupon she blushed and hastily proceeded to point out her friend’s house, which was just coming into sight round the bend in front. Then she put her mare into a canter, and we came up to the gate in a cloud of dust. It was a long, low, stone house of two storeys, with little windows above like attics. The garden was very charming with its patterned flower-beds, its big chenar trees copper and gold in their October leaf, and the flagged stone walks in the grass. Evidently the owner was a man of taste. As we rode in, servants ran out, and, when they saw who it was, they clustered round excitedly and kissed Aryenis’s hand. They had only heard of her escape the evening before. We dismounted and passed through the house into a walled garden behind, scented with late roses and gay with autumn flowers, where we found an old man, clean-shaven and fragile-looking, lying on a couch with rugs over his legs. Aryenis ran up to him and kissed him on both cheeks. It was evident that they were very fond of each other. She talked to him a minute, and then she turned round and presented me. “So this is the young man that brought you back, is it, Aryenis?” said he in Greek, holding out both his hands to me. Then he looked me up and down, and it seemed that I passed muster. “Stephnos rode this way not so long ago, bringing with him another stranger. They were hurrying, but he stopped a minute to tell me the news. God is very good to send you back safe to your friends, child.” Then he turned to me. “Stephnos tells me that you come from a far country, but that you speak the old tongue? It makes it even clearer than before to an old man that there is no chance in the world. All is intended.” Then, looking at my face, he went on: “I see you have been wounded, or so I presume. Was that got while you rescued Aryenis?” “It was, sir. But ’tis only a scratch. But Aryenis says it will leave a mark, whereas the one she got on her shoulder will not leave any, which is important.” Aryenis interrupted: “He is teasing me because I told him men were babes, uncle mine” (Aryenis called him uncle, although he was actually only a very distant cousin of her father’s), “and when they got scars liked people to see them, whereas women--”