There were endless games on the hill, of soldiers, of robbers, of outlaws, of Turks, in which Pavlo for the first two or three days was politely allowed to be Kanaris, Athanasios Diakos, Odysseus Androutsos, Marcos Botzaris, or his own great-grandfather, according to the moment, but afterwards was obliged to take his turn at being a Turk, or at commanding a big Turkish frigate represented by three long planks behind the servants' quarters. Two of the Four were his crew, and the two others,--for of course they always had to be inferior in numbers or where would the bravery be?--were Miaoulis[16] and his devoted followers, heroically bent on blowing up the frigate, or perishing in the attempt. Then there were stories read or told on the terrace in the hour before dinner, by the mother of the Four, when Nikias would climb up on the arm of her chair, or even sometimes, if it were getting pretty dark, on her knees, and listen with both eyes and ears, and Iason would draw funny men or officers while he listened. All the old tales of Theseus and Heracles, and King Midas, and the winged Pegasus were retold, and the fairy tales of the King's daughter with her three wonderful dresses, the Sea with its Fish, the Earth with its Flowers, and the Heavens with their Stars; and the tale of the Pacha with his three pairs of slippers. There were French tales too, of the heroes who rode through the valley of Roncesvalles, of Roland, and Ganelon; and even, for the mother of the Four had lived abroad in England in the remote past, English tales, of knights and ladies with curious names, of whom Pavlo had never heard; of Enid and Geraint, of Lancelot, of Pelleas, and Gareth and the Lady Lyonors. And while the tales were told the sky turned into a lovely golden pink behind the pines, and the stars came out one by one. Iason knew many of their names and would show Pavlo the exact spot on the terrace from which one could see the whole of the Great Bear, and how the Scorpion dipped its tail behind the hill over Galata.[17] Of course the shadow of lessons did occasionally fall across the sunshine. The village schoolmaster came over in a boat twice a week for the boys, and there was a family of friends living in the "Garden" on the mainland who had a French holiday governess, and every other day the Four went across in the small boat with Kyria Penelope, and Greek and French lessons were exchanged. But even so, there were ways and means. Pavlo overheard Chryseis early one morning reproaching her sister:-- "You have only written half your verb, and you do not know your poetry at all! Mademoiselle will be furious again. You will have pages and pages to write afterwards." "No!" declared Andromache stoutly, "I shall not!" "But you will. There is no time to learn anything now. It is time to start." "I shall learn nothing, and I shall have nothing to write." "How will you manage?" "Wait, and you will see," answered Andromache darkly, shaking her short wavy hair.