He crept slowly on to the end of the line of houses, where the battlemented wall began again, and feeling closer to Suleima in the sound of women's voices, came back and lay down again in the shadow of a tall toothed rock. It was something to be alone, away from the jarring camp, and to be nearer to her. His portentous nightmare beset him no longer, and his anxieties again were charmed to sleep. One by one the lights went out in the windows opposite, and the houses became blackness; the shadow of the rock moved a little forward in the setting moon, and he shifted to be in the shade again. Another half-hour went by, and the mountain ridge hid the moon. Presently afterwards a man appeared on the top of the wall to the right. Mitsos, perhaps, would not have noticed him but that he waved some white linen thing up and down once or twice, and then waited again, and after a time uttered some impatient exclamation. Mitsos watched him, puzzled to know what this should mean, when suddenly a possible solution dawned upon him, and he crept up, still in the shadow, to below where the Turk was standing, and whistled softly. Then a voice from above said: "You are late. Here is the paper signed," and a white thing fluttered down. This done, the Turk turned, and, without waiting for a reply, went southward down the wall. The paper, whatever it was, was in Mitsos' possession, and putting it in his pocket, for it was too dark to read it, he crept back to his old place to wait a few minutes more there before going back to the camp. Lights showed only in one house now, and before long they, too, were quenched, and the black mass of flat roofs rose against the sky silent and asleep. Then suddenly and softly from out that blackness, like a bird flying in the desert, came the sound of a voice singing, and at those notes Mitsos thought his heart would have burst. For it sang: "Dig we deep among the vines, Give the sweet spring showers a home, Else the fairest sun that shines"-- It stopped as suddenly, dying like a sigh, and looking up he saw framed in one of the dark windows the upper part of a girl's figure dressed in white. And without a pause the boy's voice answered: "Lends no lustre to our wines, Sends no sparkle to the foam." The prattle of the stream above alone whispered in the stillness. Then a voice softly asked: "Mitsos?" "I am here; and oh, dearest one, is it you?" A little tinkle of laughter rippled from above, ending in a sudden, quick-drawn breath. "At last I see you again," she said, softly, "but I don't see you at all. Mitsos, little Mitsos, is it well with you?" Mitsos crept silently out of the shadow and stretched out his arms to her. "It is well in all but the great thing--that we are not together. But that will be soon, dearest; oh, please God! it will be soon." Suleima leaned forward from the window.