Yanni was having dinner when he entered the house, but there was that in Mitsos' face which made him spring up. "Mitsos," he said, "little Mitsos, what is the matter?" Mitsos looked at him a moment in silence, but that craving of the human spirit for sympathy in trouble, whether the sympathy is given by man or beast, overpowered him. Though in his own mind he had settled that he could not destroy this ship, the trouble of his struggle was sore upon him. "Yanni," he whispered, "there will be no fire-ship. Abdul has gone, has fled with all the household, with Suleima among them. Where has he fled but onto the ship we are to destroy? I cannot do it." Yanni sank down again in his chair. "Oh, Mitsos," he said, "poor Mitsos! God forgive us all." Mitsos glanced at him, frowning. "'Poor Mitsos!'" he cried; "why do you say 'poor Mitsos'? Do you think I am going to do this?" "You are not going to do it?" "No!" shouted Mitsos. "It is not I who choose. There is no choice. I cannot!" "But the clan, the oath to obey--" "There are bigger things than clans or oaths. To hell with my oath, to hell with the clan," cried Mitsos. Yanni sat silent, and Mitsos suddenly flared up again. "How dare you sit there," he cried, "and let your silence blame me? You, whom I rescued from the house of Mehemet; who but for me would have been rotting in the ground, or worse than that; you, whom I saved when a cross-legged Turk had you down on the ground--" "Mitsos!" said Yanni, looking at him without fear or anger, but stung intolerably. For a moment or two Mitsos sat still, but then the blessed relief of tears came. "What have I said to you, Yanni?" he sobbed. "O God, forgive me, for I know not what I said; yet--yet how can I do this? Oh, of course you are right, and I--I--Yanni, is it not hard? What was it I said to you? Something devilish, I know. Don't give me up, Yanni; there is none--there will soon be none who loves me as you do." Yanni's great black eyes grew soft with tears, and he put his arm round Mitsos' neck as his head lay on the table. "Oh, Mitsos! poor little Mitsos!" he said again. "What is to be done? If only Nicholas or my father knew; and yet you could not and cannot tell them. Perhaps she is not on the ship, you know." "Perhaps, perhaps--oh, perhaps she is!" cried Mitsos. The two sat there in silence for a time, stricken almost out of consciousness by this appalling thing. At last Mitsos raised his head. "There is nothing more to be said," he muttered. "I have no idea what I shall do. Either to do the thing or not to do it is impossible, and yet by to-morrow it will be done or left undone. But, Yanni, just tell me you forgive me for what I said just now and make indulgence, for this is a hard, weary day for me." Yanni smiled. "Forgiveness is no word from me to you, dear Mitsos," he said. "There is nothing you could do or say to me for which you need ask that." Mitsos looked up at him with dumb, dry eyes and a quivering mouth.