THE VINTAGE
"It is odd that one remembers these little things, but the stupid face of the doll, somehow, I remember better than I remember the face of my father.
"I stopped in the village for an hour, perhaps more, and I swore an oath which I have never yet forgotten and which I will never forget. In the church we have a shrine to the blessed Jesus and another to His mother, and one to St. George, and to each of them I lit tapers and prayed to them that they would help me to accomplish my oath. They have helped me and they will help me, and you, Mitsos, can help me, too."
The boy looked up.
"What was your oath, Uncle Nicholas," he said, "and how can I help you?"
He laid his hand on Nicholas's knee, and Nicholas felt it trembling. The story was going home.
"I well tell he you," he said; "but, first, I must tell you how it was I became an outlaw. This was the way of it:
"You never knew my wife she died before you were born. She was the most beautiful and the best-loved of women. That you will not understand. You do not know yet what a woman is to a man, and your cousin Helen, to whom the doll belonged, would have been as beautiful as her mother. A fortnight before I became an outlaw there came a new officer to command the garrison at Dimitzana. He was a pleasant-seeming man, and to me, being the mayor of the village, he paid much attention. He would sit with us all in the garden after dinner. Sometimes I asked him to take his dinner with us; sometimes he asked me to dine with him. But Catharine always disliked him; often she was barely civil to him. He had been in the place nearly a fortnight when I had to go away for a night, or perhaps two, to Andritsaena for the election of the mayor, for
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