son's achievements a smile broke over her face. Of all our visible signs, the soul comes nearest to speaking in the smile. When the halaïc smiled it was as if God were peeping through the clouds.
"You adorable baby! You adorable Greek baby!" she laughed.
She unharnessed herself, and took me in her arms, holding me there as a nest must hold a little bird. How comfy, how motherly her arms were. She sat down on a stump and cuddled me in her lap; and I, pushing aside her dress at the throat, kissed her where she was the prettiest.
"Why are you a halaïc?" I moaned. "Why do you have to be a donkey—you who are beautiful as a Greek nymph?"
Her face softened, her eyes became misty, and her lips quivered, yet remained wreathed in smiles. Silently she patted me, and I spoke again of the cruelty of her position.
"Well, well, yavroum, you see the old people are very poor. They have no money this month to engage a donkey, and the men on this place are too old for such hard work. I am young and strong, so I do it."
"But why are you a halaïc?" I repeated.
She laughed. "I am not exactly a halaïc, for I am a free woman. I may go if I please—only I please to stay. The old hanoum brought me up. I love her. She is old and poor. She needs me, and I stay."
