"Come away, sister--the Turks! the Turks!" But the woman shook her off and shrank from her and motioned her back with outstretched arms and uplifted palms, saying: "Do not touch me!" "But the Turks are upon you!" "We who live in this village are not afraid of the Turks. Who comes here runs a greater danger than that of the knife." "Yes, I know. Violence," whispered Panayota, turning her face toward the door and listening. "Who would offer violence to a leper?" If there is any horror in a Cretan girl's mind equal to that of dishonor it is the horror of leprosy--that hideous sore on the body of the loveliest siren isle that floats in any sea. Panayota, in her vigorous and life-giving mountain home, had heard leprosy spoken of as a curse of God. She had always classed it with the punishments of hell--something to be shuddered at even when mentioned; but the possibility of coming into contact with it had never entered her mind. She turned to flee again into the darkness, when she heard in the street, almost before the door, the sound of footsteps, and husky, gargling voices talking Turkish. Panayota sank to the floor senseless. Two Mohammedan lepers, who lived farther down the street, passed by on their way home. They did not look in because Aglaia, stepping quietly over the prostrate form, had closed the door. CHAPTER XXXVIII THE BETTER PART OF VALOR Aglaia stood irresolute, looking at the woman, who lay as quietly as though she were sleeping, upon the floor of hard-beaten earth. Her first impulse was to pick her up and drag her to one of the platforms at the fireplace, for her heart forgot its own bitterness for the moment, and was filled with pity for the Christian maiden who had taken refuge in her horrid home. "No, no, I will not touch her," she murmured at last, "for so it is most frequently given and caught." So she drew up a chair and sat watching Panayota. She did not have long to wait, for the young, vigorous constitution soon asserted itself. Panayota opened her eyes and stared straight up at the ceiling; then the light caught them and she looked at the _eikon_, murmuring, "Panayeia, save me!" She sat up and looked deep into Aglaia's large and mournful eyes. The latter said nothing, but she saw complete consciousness and recollection dawning in her guest's countenance. "Do not be so frightened," said Aglaia. "I will not touch you nor come near you, and it is only by contact that one catches the--leprosy. The Virgin will shield you." Panayota rose to her feet. She was a priest's daughter, and religion was her ever-present comfort. "She has saved me thus far in a wonderful manner," she replied, and, going over to the _eikon_, she prayed that the Panayeia would protect her from the horrible disease and help her to escape to the mountains and her own people. Aglaia brought bread, olives and cheese and set them upon the table.