His attire was gorgeous in the extreme, and he was evidently very proud of the fact. He wore an open jacket that was a perfect marvel of silk, velvet, and rows of silver buttons; a white fustanella or kilt glittering with embroidery of gold; and gaiters and slippers rich with the same decoration. Altogether he was one of the strangest creatures that Paul had ever beheld. In one hand he carried a yataghan, and in the other a lighted lamp, and he bowed low with theatrical grace. "Since you are an Englishman, enter. Welcome, ten thousand welcomes," he cried, waving his sparkling yataghan around, as if inviting Paul to take entire possession of the castle. "Every Englishman is my brother, for did not your countrymen fight for the liberation of Greece? Can we ever forget Navarino? You see before you the friend, the companion-in-arms of General Church and Lord Cochrane. You must have heard your uncle talk of me,--Lambro the Turcophage, with whose name Ottoman mothers still frighten their children, by telling them how Lambro, whenever food ran short in the camp, never hesitated to roast and eat his Turkish prisoners. Ah!" Like a ghoul he smacked his lips at the memory of those repasts. "Yes, to me, and to men like me, Greece owes the freedom that she now enjoys. I should be great to-day, and hold high office under King Otho: but what am I? What you see. The custodian of an old ruin. This is national gratitude, mylordos. It is thus that Hellas rewards those who have shed their blood for her." Paul immediately recognized in the speaker one of the class called Palicars, men who had fought for the independence of Greece in the twenties; in their youth half soldiers and half brigands, but always full of patriotism and bold as lions against the Turk; in old age too often apt to be garrulous, boastful, vain. Muttering some words of gratitude for the proffered hospitality, Paul immediately flew off for Barbara, whom he found asleep. In a state of weariness she had rested her arm on a stone balustrade, pillowed her cheek on her sleeve, and without intending it had fallen asleep in that attitude. "Fie, signorina," said Paul with chiding smile, as he gently roused her. "Sleeping in the open air! Do you court malaria? Come, there is better rest for you in yon tower, where you will not be the only lady. Our host is a somewhat queer character, but--'any port in a storm,' as our English proverb has it." He assisted her to rise, and helped her across the dilapidated loggia, and up the steps to the entrance of the hall where Lambro stood waiting to receive them. But no sooner had the old Palicar obtained a clear view of Barbara than his eyes almost started from their sockets. His shaking hand dropped the lamp, and the hall was plunged into sudden darkness. With the ejaculation of "Kyrie eleison" the warrior, who was wont to boast that he had fought in a hundred battles, fled at the sight of a young maiden's face.