cried out to his companions. They were tied to the trees. St George beat the pasha with the flat of his sword until he was tired. Then he commanded him to fall on his knees and promise to permit the chapel to be built. The terrified Turk did as he was ordered, and, of his own accord, promised to give money to build a large monastery, and he kept his word."
Father Arsenius looked at me with a humorous twinkle in his eyes, and I laughed aloud to hear how the Greek saint had got the better of the Turkish pasha.
"I have been here for fifty years now," Father Arsenius went on presently; "and my wish is to die in the service of my saint."
"Do you think that when I am sold to him, he will take care of me?" I asked.
"I do not think so—I know so. His power is omnipotent; and his kindness to people is wonderful. When there is any mortal disease among them, he leaves here, goes out and fights for them."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I hear him go, and come back."
I was overwhelmed. No trace of scepticism or unbelief remained in me.
"Is he here now?" I asked, in the same mystic tone as the monk.
He shook his head. "He left here just before the cholera broke out in Constantinople."
