“No. I paid a visit to England—out of curiosity,” said Caliphronas, hesitating over the last words. “I met there my dear old friend Creespeen, and also yourself. Both of you are returning with me to the land I love—so, what with your company and my home-coming, I have absolutely nothing to wish for.” “So you are that _rara avis_, a thoroughly satisfied man?” “I suppose so,” replied Caliphronas coolly. “No—stay—I do desire one thing which I hope to obtain.” “I can guess what that one thing is.” “Indeed! pray tell me.” “Well, it is not your mythical Fanariot at Constantinople.” “Mythical?” “Yes. Oh, don’t be angry, Count Caliphronas! I now know the reason you were so angry over that photograph.” “If you do,” said the Greek, restraining himself with difficulty, “you will know how to act wisely.” “Possibly; I have already arranged my plan of action.” “Really?” Caliphronas had a fleeting smile on his lips as he said this, but looked so dangerous that Crispin touched Maurice on the arm. “Do not irritate him any more; remember he is my guest, and I cannot be impolite.” Maurice took the hint, and addressed himself to the Count with an air of elaborate politeness. “Don’t let us talk any more about possibilities, Count,” he said, laughing. “After all, I have some right to be angry, considering how you masqueraded as a count in England.” “And now I am a wolf, eh?” said Caliphronas, showing his white teeth; “bah! a wolf may be a very pleasant animal.” “Maybe, but from all accounts he is not.” “That is as you take him; but then I know Creespeen has prejudiced you against me.” “I have done nothing of the sort,” protested the poet quietly; “I only told him how you were accustomed to associate with Alcibiades.” “Eh, and why not? My friend Alcibiades is not a bad man,—a good honest trader who sails about among the islands of the Ægean. I will introduce you to him, Mr. Maurice, and I am sure you will like him. After all, our little piratical excursions are very innocent—no bloodshed—no violence—no burning of houses; we—we only levy toll, so to speak.” “What a pleasant way of putting it!” “What does it matter if you take openly or take secretly? the thing is the same, but only the mode of doing it is different. What we do in Greece, you do in England, but, simply because the latter is done under the rose and the former is not, your robbers of London are good, honest men, whereas we poor Greeks of the islands are scamps. Never mind, when we become as civilized as you, we also will mask our wickedness under the cloak of sanctity.” “Oh,” cried Crispin, suddenly rising to his feet, “I am tired of this discussion! it is all aimless—about no one and no thing. I am going to turn in.” “And I—am not,” added Caliphronas, springing to his feet; “fancy going down to a close cabin with such glories as this outside!”