the little dwelling in which we lived was of clay，but the door-posts were columns of fluted marble，found near the spot on which it stood. The roofsloped nearly to the ground. It was at this timedark， brown， and ugly， but had originally beenformed of blooming olive and laurel branches，brought from beyond the mountains. The house wassituated in a narrow gorge， whose rocky walls roseto a perpendicular height， naked and black， while round their summits clouds often hung，looking like white living figures. Not a singing bird was ever heard there， neither did men danceto the sound of the pipe. The spot was one sacred to olden times; even its name recalled amemory of the days when it was called “Delphi.” Then the summits of the dark， sacredmountains were covered with snow， and the highest， mount Parnassus， glowed longest inthe red evening light. The brook which rolled from it near our house， was also sacred. Howwell I can remember every spot in that deep， sacred solitude! A fire had been kindled in themidst of the hut， and while the hot ashes lay there red and glowing， the bread was baked inthem. At times the snow would be piled so high around our hut as almost to hide it， and thenmy mother appeared most cheerful. She would hold my head between her hands， and singthe songs she never sang at other times， for the Turks， our masters， would not allow it.She sang，—
“On the summit of mount Olympus， in a forest of dwarf firs， lay an old stag. His eyeswere heavy with tears， and glittering with colors like dewdrops; and there came by aroebuck， and said， 'What ailest thee， that thou weepest blue and red tears?' And the staganswered， 'The Turk has come to our city; he has wild dogs for the chase， a goodly pack.' 'Iwill drive them away across the islands!' cried the young roebuck; 'I will drive them awayacross the islands into the deep sea.' But before evening the roebuck was slain， and beforenight the hunted stag was dead.”
And when my mother sang thus， her eyes would become moist; and on the longeyelashes were tears， but she concealed them and watched the black bread baking in theashes. Then I would clench my fist， and cry， “We will kill these Turks!” But she repeated thewords of the song， “I will drive them across the islands to the deep sea; but before eveningcame the roebuck was slain， and before the night the hunted stag was dead.”
We had been lonely in our hut for several days and nights when my father came home. Iknew he would bring me some shells from the gulf of Lepanto， or perhaps a knife with ashining blade. This time he brought， under his sheep-skin cloak， a little child， a little half-naked girl. She was wrapped in a fur; but when this was taken off， and she lay in mymother's lap， three silver coins were found fastened in her dark hair; they were all herpossessions. My father told us that the child's parents had been killed by the Turks， and hetalked so much about them that I dreamed of Turks all night. He himself had been wounded，and my mother bound up his arm. It was a deep wound， and the thick sheep-skin cloak wasstiff with congealed blood. The little maiden was to be my sister. How pretty and bright shelooked： even my mother's eyes were not more gentle than hers. Anastasia， as she wascalled， was to be my sister， because her father had been united to mine by an old custom，which we still follow. They had sworn brotherhood in their youth， and the most beautiful andvirtuous maiden in the neighborhood was chosen to perform the act of consecration upon thisbond of friendship. So now this little girl was my sister. She sat in my lap， and I brought herflowers， and feathers from the birds of the mountain. We drank together of the waters ofParnassus， and dwelt for many years beneath the laurel roof of the hut， while， winter afterwinter， my mother sang her song of the stag who shed red tears. But as yet I did notunderstand that the sorrows of my own countrymen were mirrored in those tears.
One day there came to our hut Franks， men from a far country， whose dress wasdifferent to ours. They had tents and beds with them， carried by horses; and they wereaccompanied by more than twenty Turks， all armed with swords and muskets. These Frankswere friends of the Pacha， and had letters from him， commanding an escort for them. Theyonly came to see our mountain， to ascend Parnassus amid the snow and clouds， and to lookat the strange black rocks which raised their steep sides near our hut. They could not findroom in the hut， nor endure the smoke that rolled along the ceiling till it found its way out atthe low door; so they pitched their tents on a small space outside our dwelling. Roastedlambs and birds were brought forth， and strong， sweet wine， of which the Turks areforbidden to partake.
When they departed， I accompanied them for some distance， carrying my little sisterAnastasia， wrapped in a goat-skin， on my back. One of the Frankish gentlemen made mestand in front of a rock， and drew us both as we stood there， so that we looked like onecreature. I did not think of it then， but Anastasia and I were really one. She was always sittingon my lap， or riding in the goat-skin on my back; and in my dreams she always appeared tome.