and in which many a Christian child has been baptized!"
She threw up her hands in despair.
"Christian God, are you going to try your children much more? You have sent these Asiatic hordes to come and conquer us; you have allowed your great church to be polluted by their profane creed; and now are you going to try your children further by permitting these beasts to buy Christian homes to lead their improper lives in?"
My father waited till her outburst came to an end, and then said gently: "You know, Aunt Kalliroë, Baky is a very nice fellow, and what is more he has never murdered anybody, or is likely to."
My grand-aunt stared at my father; then asked stiffly: "And what is his nationality, please?"
"He is a Turk, of course"
"A Turk—and not a murderer?" She lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "Christian God, what are we coming to? Is 1453 so far away that your children have forgotten it? A Turk—and not a murderer! But I am not here to discuss the Turks with you, nephew; for are you not a Turkish official, do you not consort daily with these barbarians, and do they not even say that you permit your innocent babe to sleep under the roof where Turks keep their women? Christian God, give grace to your children."
