Twenty minutes' scudding brought him nearly up to the wall; there he took in the sail and drifted. There was no one on the terrace; that was unusual on a fine morning, when there were often two or three of the servants about, or a woman from the harem. How quiet it looked! Yet, though he did not see Suleima, it was something to know she was near, sitting, it might be, at the back of the garden, or in-doors; perhaps Zuleika had the toothache and she was unapproachable; perhaps the two were talking together; perhaps they were talking of him, wondering when he would come again.... In the farther of the two walls running back from the sea was a small door, and Mitsos' boat had drifted till this appeared in view, and looking up from his revery he saw that it was open. This was even more unusual; never had he seen it open before, and he sat for a moment or two frowning, wondering at it. Then suddenly the smile was struck dead on his face; a possibility too horrible for thought, suggested by those open doors at Mistra, had dawned on him, and regardless of imprudence he took up an oar, put the boat to land, and tying it up went straight to the open door. The garden was empty, the house-door was open, and, more convincing than all, a hare ran across the path and hid itself in the tangle of a flower-bed. Then with a flash the horrible possibility became a certainty to his mind. The house was empty and deserted; Abdul and the household had fled; a ship was now at Nauplia to carry away the fugitives; that ship he was going to destroy, consigning all on it to a death among flames from which there was no escape. Abdul was surely there, and with Abdul and his household.... Mitsos stood there a long minute with wide, unseeing eyes; for a moment the horror of his position drowned his consciousness as a blow stuns the brain. Then as his reason came back to him he realized that he could not, that he was physically unable, to carry out his orders. The fire-ship should not start--no, it must start, for there was Yanni with him, who knew about it, and he cursed himself for having taken Yanni. But so be it; it should start, but something should go wrong--he would forget to take kindling for it, or, setting light to it, it should only drift by the other and not harm her. For it was no question of choice; he could not do this thing. Thus thought poor Mitsos as he sailed home again. It seemed to him that nothing in the world mattered except Suleima, and by the bitter irony of fate the man in the world whom he most loved and respected had told him to destroy with all on board the ship in which Suleima was. On the one hand stood Nicholas, his father, Petrobey, Yanni, and the whole clan of those dear, warm-hearted cousins who had treated him as a brother, yet half divine; on the other, Suleima, and Suleima was more to him than them all; Suleima was part of himself, dearer than his hand or his eye, and besides--besides....