"Pity! Pity!" whined the lepers, exposing their hideousness with all the skill of subtle and experienced merchants. They were all there by the roadside leading into Canea, and had commenced business for the day. Curtis stared at them, unable to remove his eyes from the dreadful spectacle. Lindbohm, fumbling nervously in his pockets, with averted face, and producing two or three coppers, tossed them to the afflicted group. "Come, away," he said, pulling Curtis along. "I cannot bear to look at them." The Turk had been telling them of the leper colony, and they were not totally unprepared for this sight; yet the reality far exceeded the description. "But you should see those who are not able to come down here and beg," exclaimed the Major; "these are comparatively well yet, you know." "I hope I may never see them," said Lindbohm. "I hope I may never see these again." The Swede bore the Turk no ill-will for the enforced detainment. It had not lasted for long, and the Major had shown his guests every attention, and had explained again and again that he had carried Lindbohm off to save his life. "But those who are no longer able to beg," asked the Lieutenant, "do they starve?" "O no, indeed! They are living monuments to the tender-heartedness of my august master, the Sultan. Each of the lepers is furnished one loaf of bread a day." "O, I see," said Lindbohm. Curtis took no part in the conversation. He did not even hear what the others were saying, but walked on beside them with his eyes fixed upon the ground, like a man in a trance. Every now and then he ejaculated "Good God!" with the accent on the "good." At last he stopped so abruptly that the Turk, who was directly behind, nearly knocked him over. "I say!" said Curtis, whirling around and choking a stream of fluent apologies with a vehement question: "Do people who are not lepers ever go into that village? To see their friends, you know, or to stop over night, or anything of that sort?" "Impossible. You have seen the disease. Do you think any one would run the risk of catching it?" Curtis strode on and became again immersed in thought, vaguely hearing the Major's explanation of the fact that nearly all the lepers of Crete were Greeks. At each side of the gate of Canea stood an English marine, in red jacket and cork helmet. A business-like "Halt!" woke Curtis from his abstraction. "I am Peter Lindbohm, Lieutenant of cavalry in the Swedish army," said Lindbohm in English, pulling an immense portfolio from the breast pocket of the Prince Albert. "Here is my card." One of the marines took the proffered pasteboard, glanced at it solemnly, and saluted.