piece she had tried to cook the night before.
At last when she was beginning to feel very tired, the bones which was all that remained of the goat were taken away from the table and Vesta knew with relief that the feast was over.
The Chief said something to the Count and he turned to Vesta to say:
“We are indeed honoured. The Chief and his wife are giving up their own cave to us. I have told them it is unnecessary, but he insists.”
The favour however was not so acceptable when Vesta saw the cave.
It was quite small, leading off the main cavern where they had eaten.
Over the opening there was stretched bear-skin and inside a large bed consisted entirely of the furs of animals piled one on top of another. There were no other furnishings.
Light and air came only from the large cave, until the Chief Brigand’s wife brought in a small flaring torch of birchwood which she thrust into an iron holder set into the wall.
“She says it will burn only for perhaps ten minutes,” the Count said dryly “so we best arrange ourselves for sleep.”
With many good night greetings, the Chief Brigand and his wife withdrew from the cave and the-.bear-skin fell behind them.
Vesta looked at the bed apprehensively. The Count saw the expression on her face and said:
“I think the only hope is to spread out your cloak. I do not fancy the fur blankets and I am sure you do not either.”
Remembering the dirt of the Brigands and of their women, Vesta shuddered.
The Count took Vesta’s thick cloak and laid it over the bed so that the wide hem covered where their heads would rest and only their feet would actually rest on the animal skins.
“It may seem unconventional for us to be here together,” the Count said in a quiet voice, “but I imagine you would not wish me to suggest that I sleep in the main cave?”
Vesta thought of the Headman and the way he had watched her all through the meal and shuddered.
“No ... please ... please, do not ... leave me,” she begged.
“I cannot suggest,” the Count went on, “that I should sleep in a chair all night because there is none. And quite frankly, Ma’am, I do not fancy the floor.”
“No, of course not,” Vesta said. “We can both lie on the bed now that you have covered it with my cloak. There is no question of undressing.”
She shivered as she spoke. After the heat of the outside cave she could now feel the cold which obviously came from the snow on the mountains.
‘We must be very high,’ she thought.
Then feeling a little shy she climbed onto the bed and keeping well to one side of it lay back against her cloak.
“The bed is very soft,” she told the Count. “I wonder how much the furs on which we are lying are worth.”
“Are you thinking of asking for them to be made into a cloak for you?” he teased.
“Indeed not,” Vesta replied. “At the same time I was wondering why the Brigands do not sell some of the furs they acquire and buy furniture.”
“I imagine they are quite happy as they are,” the Count answered, “and think that they are living in luxury. They are not really Katonians—they are Albanians who have fled from their country and the cruelty of the Turkish conquerors to settle here. I have heard about them for years, but fortunately I have never encountered them until now.”
“Have they killed ... many people, as they would have killed ... you?” Vesta asked.
“If travellers wander onto what they consider their territory, I imagine their lives are forfeit,” the Count said. “We were however unfortunate in that they heard my pistol-shot when I killed the snake. Otherwise we might have passed by and they would have had no idea that we were there.”
As he spoke he lowered himself carefully onto the bed as Vesta had done. He lay on the extreme edge of his side of it and there was a large gap between them.
“I should try and sleep,” he said as he settled himself uncomfortably. “I imagine that the Brigands have taken us
At last when she was beginning to feel very tired, the bones which was all that remained of the goat were taken away from the table and Vesta knew with relief that the feast was over.
The Chief said something to the Count and he turned to Vesta to say:
“We are indeed honoured. The Chief and his wife are giving up their own cave to us. I have told them it is unnecessary, but he insists.”
The favour however was not so acceptable when Vesta saw the cave.
It was quite small, leading off the main cavern where they had eaten.
Over the opening there was stretched bear-skin and inside a large bed consisted entirely of the furs of animals piled one on top of another. There were no other furnishings.
Light and air came only from the large cave, until the Chief Brigand’s wife brought in a small flaring torch of birchwood which she thrust into an iron holder set into the wall.
“She says it will burn only for perhaps ten minutes,” the Count said dryly “so we best arrange ourselves for sleep.”
With many good night greetings, the Chief Brigand and his wife withdrew from the cave and the-.bear-skin fell behind them.
Vesta looked at the bed apprehensively. The Count saw the expression on her face and said:
“I think the only hope is to spread out your cloak. I do not fancy the fur blankets and I am sure you do not either.”
Remembering the dirt of the Brigands and of their women, Vesta shuddered.
The Count took Vesta’s thick cloak and laid it over the bed so that the wide hem covered where their heads would rest and only their feet would actually rest on the animal skins.
“It may seem unconventional for us to be here together,” the Count said in a quiet voice, “but I imagine you would not wish me to suggest that I sleep in the main cave?”
Vesta thought of the Headman and the way he had watched her all through the meal and shuddered.
“No ... please ... please, do not ... leave me,” she begged.
“I cannot suggest,” the Count went on, “that I should sleep in a chair all night because there is none. And quite frankly, Ma’am, I do not fancy the floor.”
“No, of course not,” Vesta said. “We can both lie on the bed now that you have covered it with my cloak. There is no question of undressing.”
She shivered as she spoke. After the heat of the outside cave she could now feel the cold which obviously came from the snow on the mountains.
‘We must be very high,’ she thought.
Then feeling a little shy she climbed onto the bed and keeping well to one side of it lay back against her cloak.
“The bed is very soft,” she told the Count. “I wonder how much the furs on which we are lying are worth.”
“Are you thinking of asking for them to be made into a cloak for you?” he teased.
“Indeed not,” Vesta replied. “At the same time I was wondering why the Brigands do not sell some of the furs they acquire and buy furniture.”
“I imagine they are quite happy as they are,” the Count answered, “and think that they are living in luxury. They are not really Katonians—they are Albanians who have fled from their country and the cruelty of the Turkish conquerors to settle here. I have heard about them for years, but fortunately I have never encountered them until now.”
“Have they killed ... many people, as they would have killed ... you?” Vesta asked.
“If travellers wander onto what they consider their territory, I imagine their lives are forfeit,” the Count said. “We were however unfortunate in that they heard my pistol-shot when I killed the snake. Otherwise we might have passed by and they would have had no idea that we were there.”
As he spoke he lowered himself carefully onto the bed as Vesta had done. He lay on the extreme edge of his side of it and there was a large gap between them.
“I should try and sleep,” he said as he settled himself uncomfortably. “I imagine that the Brigands have taken us
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