The Vintage: A Romance of the Greek War of Independence — John Shaqi
The Vintage: A Romance of the Greek War of IndependenceBenson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
History
The Vintage: A Romance of the Greek War of Independence
Benson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
Greece -- History -- War of Independence, 1821-1829 -- Fiction
"And now, good-bye," he said. "You have behaved in a way I scarce
dared to hope you could, though I think I believed you would. You have
been through a man's test, the test of a strong, faithful man. Others
will soon know of it, and know you to be trustworthy to the uttermost.
Greece shall be revenged, and you shall be among the foremost of her
avengers."
So Nicholas went his way northward and Mitsos towards home, and just as
the earliest streak of dawn lit the sky he reached his father's house.
The truant pony was standing by the way-side cropping the dew-drenched
grass.
CHAPTER V
MITSOS PICKS CHERRIES FOR MARIA
At Nauplia the summer passed quietly, though from other parts of the
country came fresh tales of intolerable taxation, cruelty, and outrage,
hideous beyond belief. But this Argive district was exceptionally
lucky in having for its governor a man who saw that it was possible
to overstep the mark even in dealing with these infidel dogs; partly,
also, Nicholas's visit, his injunctions to the leading Greeks to keep
quiet, and his hints that they would not need to keep quiet long
produced a certain effect; as also did an exhortation delivered by
Father Andréa, in which he spoke of the blessings of peace with a
ferocious tranquillity which left no loop-hole for misconstruction.
July and August were a tale of scorched and burning days, but the vines
were doing well, and the heat only served to ripen them the sooner.
In some years, when the summer months had been cold and unseasonable,
the grapes would not swell to full ripeness till the latter days of
October, and thus there was the danger of the first autumn storms
wrecking the maturing crop. But this year, thanks to the heat, there
was no doubt that they would be ripe for gathering by the third week in
September, and, humanly speaking, a fine grape harvest was assured.
A certain change had come over Mitsos since the events of the night
recorded in the last chapter. He suddenly seemed to have awoke to a
sense of his budding manhood, and his cat, much to that sedately minded
creature's satisfaction, was allowed to shape her soft-padded basking
life as she pleased. He used to go out in the dewiness of dawn, while
it was still scarce light, to try for a shot at the hares which came
down from the hills at night to feed in the vineyards, and at evening
again he would lie in wait near a spring below Mount Elias to shoot
the roe when they came to water. But during the day there was no mark
for his gun, for the game went high away among the hills to avoid the
broiling heat of the plains, or stayed in cover of the pine woods
upon the mountain-sides, where the growth was too thick for shooting,
and where some cracking twig would ever advertise a footstep, however
stealthy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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