The Fool - Chapters 40-43

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Chapter 41

Chapter XLI

Vartan, upon seeing Melik-Mansoor, seemed temporarily to forget his sorrow which so wore his spirit. Besides this, the hope given by Father John of learning the whereabouts of old Khacho's family through the priests and landowners who came with the emigrants, that joyful hope, gave him great tranquillity. He thought that that information would enable him to find Lila and that his love would lighten the sufferings of her exile.

The house where Melik-Mansoor took him was situated in one of the old streets of the Vank. Although the buildings were small and poor, still like most of the houses of Vagharshabad they had large courts shaded by fruit trees.

"You will not be much pleased," said Melik-Mansoor, "to know where I am taking you."

"It is all the same to me," said Vartan carelessly. "I only desire to gain a little information about Salman. There will be no one to disturb us there, I hope."

"No one."

They knocked at a small door and a woman opened it. They entered and the gate closed after them.

"Well Nani, I have brought you a new guest", said Melik-Mansoor.

The old woman, giving Vartan a shy glance, replied, "Upon my eyes!"

"Now quickly, Nani, a bottle of wine for us, for we are very thirsty," said Melik-Mansoor. And approaching the woman he added, "I will kill you if you let in any other person."

The old woman shook her head mysteriously and turned away. The two young men entered a small but neat room which was furnished in semi-European and semi-Asiatic taste, and they seated themselves opposite each other, beside a small table. After a few moments a young woman entered the room with noiseless steps and placed a bottle of wine upon the table with two glasses. Then she retired. The Armenian headdress upon her head completely concealed her face with the exception of two black eyes under arched brows. But the little that appeared was sufficient to give one an idea of her beauty.

Melik-Mansoor, filling the glasses, drank one himself and, giving the other to Vartan said, "I am glad that our Vanks are usually built far from the habitation of men, among mountain villages or in wildernesses. There are not so many rascals and villains anywhere else as there are in Vagharshabad. Nowhere are there so many loose women as there are here. See this fair woman who entered in so modest and bashful a manner, and immediately retired. She is the mistress of a monk. The Vank, I thought, would at least preserve religious zeal, but here men believe nothing. The conduct of the monks has occasioned scandal and lack of faith in the people. Protestantism has already begun to rise up here. Passing through the streets, you necessarily saw some fine houses. If you were to inquire who are their owners, you would learn that they belong, usually, to some near or distant relative of monks who were formerly poor, but who have become rich, thanks to the Vank.

"To tell the truth, I cannot bear it, when I see hundreds of thousands spent here when every kopeck is so needed by us. We have a thousand and one needs, and we need money for them all. The national treasury in Constantinople is empty. The Patriarch hasn't money to pay his necessary expenses. But he is not burdened with business, which if delayed, will be a great loss to the nation.

"Notwithstanding, I do not observe in the Patriarch at Constantinople or in the Armenians of the Northern See, a glimmer of hope. Mangooni lost 25,000 in the stock market and, as I have heard, 30,000 have been sent lately, the devil only knows for what infernal purpose. But the Armenian Patriarch, our one active representative, has no funds."

"This wine seems rather sour," interrupted Vartan.

"Didn't you hear me?" asked Melik-Mansoor in a grieved tone.

"I heard - the Patriarch has no funds."

"It isn't right to speak like that."

"To speak how? I only know this, that whatever nation places all its hopes on the clergy, the beginning of that people's destruction is near."

The young woman entered once more, approached the table noiselessly and placed upon it the breakfast, arranged on a tray. This time the veil over her face, which at first showed only her eyes and her eyebrows, was now drawn back considerably and her rose-red lips showed also.

"Another bottle of wine for us also," said Melik-Mansoor, "but not like this."

The woman retired as silently as before.

"I am surprised at your selecting such a lodging place yourself," said Vartan.

"If you wish to know a monk well, make friends with his sweetheart," replied Melik-Mansoor, laughing. "Besides this, a group gathers here every evening which furnishes me with considerably interesting news.

"Chiefly about the Vank, of course?" asked Vartan sneering. "But let us leave the Vank temporarily and speak of our work. I wished to learn from you the fate of Mr. Salman, and what events took place in my absence. I know nothing yet, although Father John gave me much information, but what I wanted to know, he, himself did not know."

Gloom seemed to cross Melik-Mansoor's jovial face, and his purple lips began to tremble when he suddenly remembered the sad past, which he had forgotten for a time. He raised his full glass and drank it off.

"I will tell you," he said in an agitated tone. "You must know all, although it will not give you any pleasure. The night Mr. Salman was imprisoned, I learned of it the following morning. The traitor had so concealed his plans, that not even the owner of the house (where he lodged that night) knew anything about it. One of the acquaintances of the young man, who had happened to see him taken away, informed me.

"My first concern was to collect a few horsemen of our intimates, and to fall upon the party. Perhaps we might have succeeded in saving him if we had met him on the road which we took. But they took him by another way, which we had not thought of. There were more than 20 mounted men with me who were ready for any kind of business. After long investigations. I was only able to find the town where the military vice-governor was then residing, to whom the poor young man had been taken. I learned that he had been hanged on his arrival there. I was unable to find the body of the unfortunate young man. With what barbarity they treated his corpse - only wild beasts could equal them! That crime filled my heart with desire for vengeance and the blood of that innocent victim sealed the vow to which we are sworn.

"After Mr. Salman, as you know, old Khacho and his two sons Hairabed and Abo were imprisoned. They did not kill them immediately, but kept them in prison under strict surveillance. It seems that they had tried to get all the rich land-owner's gold which he had hidden before killing him. But the poor creature was not able to endure the dreadful tortures long, and the three died in prison.

"After all this I learned what happened to the village of 0.... and I went to Ismail Pasha to whom was entrusted the government of the soldiers of the region of Bayazid. He is quite an able man, and I believed that my visit would not be fruitless. I did not conceal from him the preparations which had been made by myself and my companions. I informed him that a large quantity of weapons had been distributed to the people. But I said that preparation was not made with the idea of revolt as he had wrongly been informed but for self-defense.

"I told him that the Mohammedan crowd at the time of that furious fanaticism which the spirit of Islam had worked in it, might cause them to massacre the entire Christian population if no means were furnished them for self-preservation. In regard to that necessity, I added, the Government itself should have taken precautions in advance, if it did not wish to have repeated here the sad events which had taken place in Bulgaria, which had placed the Government under heavy responsibilities. Therefore the Government should be much pleased that we have lightened its burdens, and have performed that which it was its duty to perform. We have furnished the Armenians with weapons in order to preserve them from the fanaticism of the Mohammedans."

"The wily Pasha expressed much sympathy, promised to use every means himself, not to have any harm come to the Armenians, promised to arrange for the protection of their lives and their property without delay. Just then the Russian soldiers were going back. And he heard that the Armenians wished to emigrate with the Russian Army. The Pasha commissioned me to persuade the people not to stir from their places. I agreed to it gladly.

"But after seeing me off, he gave secret orders to the Kurd, Fattah Bey, who headed a bloody incursion, set fire to the village of O...., burned it and massacred most of the inhabitants. This event struck horror into the whole province and caused the inhabitants to emigrate. The efforts of myself and my adherents were in vain to keep the terror-stricken people in their places. The example was before their eyes. After that, if they had heard that advice from an angel from heaven, they would not have believed that the fate of the village of 0.... would not overtake the whole land.

"But the deceit of the wily Pasha persuaded me more firmly that the Turkish officials, directly or indirectly, intended to annihilate the Christian population and rid Armenia of Armenians. All the efforts of myself and my adherents were able to retain only a portion of the Armenians in their land - an insignificant portion. Then Ismail Pasha allowed the Turks to wreak their vengeance against the Armenians who had gone to the Russians and on the remaining Armenians. Thus the Kurds exercised all their cruelty, and terrible massacres began in various places.

"I still believe that if the people had not stirred from their place, they would have been protected. The regular Turkish soldiers, it is easy to understand, would not attack an obedient and peaceful people. The local Government would not have perpetrated such atrocious barbarity, especially as the region of Alashgerd and Bayazid was full of English agents and correspondents of European papers. The local Government would do that - whatever it did. That is, it incited the Kurds secretly against the Armenians and peeked between its fingers at the barbarities perpetrated. But it would not have been very difficult to be protected from the Kurds.

"A small but very significant event proves that my supposition is not wrong; I will tell it briefly. After the emigration, when the Russian Army had left Bayazid and the province of Alashgerd, i.e., when those places returned into the hands of the Turks, then, as I told you, the Kurds began to rob, massacre and torture the remaining Armenians. At that time a few hundred families left their homes and fortified themselves in the mountains.

"Now picture several thousand Kurds fighting for several weeks against those brave men who not only would not surrender but, making more successful attacks, were able to snatch rich booty from the enemy and military materiel also. My heart is filled with unbounded joy when I remember those never-to-be-forgotten days. Not only the young men fought, but the old men and the women. I am sure now a people which has inherited valor from its ancestors, will never submit to enslavement. Enslavement may crush and break the spirit of bravery temporarily, but can never destroy it. When fortune strikes the hour it walks again with its ancient strength, and with ever more power. I saw that with my own eyes. And the only cause for rejoicing which can comfort me, in these days of misery is this."

Vartan's gloomy face brightened a little and he raised his eyes as if in prayer, and praise to the Supreme Power.

"How did it end?" he asked.

"To defend ourselves long in inaccessible mountains, although difficult, was still possible if we had had only the Kurds to deal with. But soon the regular Army joined the Kurds against us. It was also possible to resist the latter. On our side we had an invincible power, the mountains of Armenia, which so nobly preserved their refugees. But there came lack of provisions and food, an enemy whom we were powerless to resist. Although some of us went down the mountain by night and attacked some of the neighboring Kurdish villages and brought back provisions, that succeeded very seldom, because the Kurdish villages were deserted and people and cattle had gone to distant pastures.

"Naturally, our position was not tenable for a long period when not an Armenian village remained in our vicinity from which we might obtain assistance, or provisions, at least.

"But the enemy came steadily nearer. Then those of our party performed miracles of bravery. One night, breaking through the cordon of the enemy. they passed through the immense camp of the enemy. Imagine, that there were not only fighting men who accomplished this bold feat, but they had with them whole families, wives, daughters and children."

"Then where did they go?" asked Vartan impatiently.

"They crossed the Turkish frontier into Persia. But they were obliged to contend with not a few difficulties on the way."

"Then you came here from Persia?"

"Yes from Persia."

"Now what do you intend to do here?" asked Vartan.

"My effort now will be this," replied Melik-Mansoor, "and I think you will agree with me," he said with a more animated look. "We must try to preserve the lives of the emigrants who came here that they may not be destroyed by famine and sickness. I believe that the Russians are collecting their forces and will again rule the land they have left. Then peace will reign there and then we must labor to get the people of Alashgerd and Bayazid to return to their fatherland. If not, it will be a great misfortune for Armenia if those two frontier provinces, Alashgerd and Bayazid are depopulated of Armenians and savage Kurds occupy their places."

"You think that these provinces will remain in the hands of the Russians?"

"What if after the war, when a treaty of peace is made those provinces again return to the Turk. Then I believe, that under changed conditions these irregularities will not occur again. The beaten Turk will come to his senses. I have still another hope."

Just then the old woman entered and informed them that a priest wished to see them. Vartan, thinking that it might be one of the priests whom Father John had promised to send, told her to bring him in.

Then appeared Der Marook, the priest of the village of O.... .

Chapter 42

Chapter XLII

Breakfast was over and several bottles of wine had been emptied when the priest appeared. It was very hard for Vartan to be obliged to meet again this man who bad caused so much unpleasantness and concern to himself and his friend Salman in the village of O.... - But circumstances force one to be friends with one's enemy.

The priest's pitiable condition, his pale, worn appearance, and ragged clothing, caused him to look more like a beggar than like a minister of the temple of God. These wretched signs caused Vartan to forget his hostility. Besides this, he was the man from whose lips Vartan was to hear about the fate of the family in which he was so greatly interested.

"Did Father John send you?" asked Vartan addressing him and motioning him to a seat.

"Yes, Holy Father John," replied he and he settled himself before the small table on which a little wine still remained.

Vartan filled the glass and gave it to the priest who blessed him and drank it without delay. The spirit seemed to be a refreshing dew shed upon the verdure wilted by the beat. The priest's immobile features lightened a little. Melik-Mansoor noticed it and said, "Would you like to eat something?"

"I haven't eaten since last night," replied the priest, in such a mournful tone, that it was impossible not to pity him. He asked the woman to bring breakfast for him.

It was difficult for Vartan to start his inquiries. His condition was like that of an unfortunate man whose house was entered by robbers in his absence, and robbed of everything he possesses. Upon his return he finds his house stripped bare. But he had hidden his treasures in a certain place. He still hopes that the hand of the malefactors did not reach that spot. He approaches the secret store-room and his heart is in his mouth as he stands before the spot, but he does not open it and look in. At first, he is in terror. "What will I do if I find the safe empty?" Then he will be deprived of his last hope, his only comfort.

Vartan swayed and vacillated in an indecision like this. He still had hopes that he might find Lila and know his fate, and that good or ill depended on word from the lips of this priest. 'Had he the strength of heart to endure the priest's revelations? A fearful presentiment filled his soul and he was unable to ask anything although he so longed to make inquiry.

Melik-Mansoor did not know of Vartan's affection for Lila, neither was he acquainted with old Khacho's family, but observing his friend's uneasiness, he asked, "Did you wish to talk with the priest, perhaps I –"

"No, I have no secret from you," said Vartan and turning to the priest, "Father, did you present your list to Father John? I am also anxious to know whether there are any families from the village of 0.... among the emigrants and where these live."

"Bless you, who are left of my flock, that I should prepare a list of them?" replied the priest in such a tone as he would use in speaking of barnyard fowl. "I can count on my fingers those who are left and where they wander now."

Vartan was seized with a fit of trembling, impossible to control. "Were they all massacred?" he asked blanching.

"If not all, still I may say not a man was left. What became of them, I don't know myself. God grant that no such scourge fall upon any Christian place such as fell upon O.... . It was for our sins doubtless. It seemed as though the fire and brimstone, like that which rained upon Sodom and Gomorra, fell upon and devoured everything. Those who escaped from the fire were either taken captives by the Kurds or massacred. All that occurred in one night. In the morning the entire village looked like a charred fireplace. I lost my fees. I lost my fees! There is no hope left of getting them. Thomas Effendi, may God enlighten your soul, promised to collect my fees, but the Evil One took him too. So I remained poor and needy. Do you see in what condition I am?" and he exhibited his tattered garments.

Tears began to flow from the poor priest's eyes and he sobbed bitterly. Did he remember his daughter-in-law, Zoulo and her angelic children who were also missing from among the emigrants? Did he bring to mind his son-in-law Simon and his wife who was his own daughter, who also disappeared in the general confusion? Was it the sufferings of the people which agonized the priest, whose shepherd he was, and whose loss he had described with such indifference? Not one of these was the cause of the priest's sorrow! He only thought of his fees which he was to have received, but thought not of his flock! It was gone and the fees were lost. But Vartan knew nothing about these unfortunate fees which occasioned the priest so much concern, and so he paid it no particular attention.

He did not venture to continue his cross-questioning and he was relieved in a way that the priest had wandered from the main question, to talk of his fees. He drank the glass set before him trying to dissipate his sorrows in the dulling influence of wine. But the wine inflamed the agony of his burning heart still more, like oil which burned in the flames.

Melik-Mansoor rescued Vartan from his difficult position. He had heard much about the family of old Khacho. He had heard of the death of the head of that great family and of his two sons. But he knew nothing about the rest.

"Who has remained of that family?" he asked.

"No one," replied the priest icily. "The landlord and his two sons died in prison. You must know that. They massacred the others, and took the wives and daughter prisoner."

The priest, observing the young man's frightened face, now realized how careless his answer had been.

"Sara is here," he said, "with her two children and Lila."

Vartan's joy was inexpressible. Now he resembled a man who, after a frightful shipwreck, having been tossed about by the angry waves, has struggled against death and destiny. His strength is exhausted. He closes his eyes. He opens them in the abyss. Suddenly, he finds himself upon land. How did he reach there? He doesn't know. A violent upheaval of the billows tossed him there. "Lila is here? Sara is here? Then I will see them," exclaimed he, leaping to his feet. "Let us go, Father. You must know where they live. Let us go. You also, my friend," seizing Melik-Mansoor's hand.

The two young men went out with the priest. But Vartan's joy was short-lived. The priest did not know of the last misfortune which had occurred to those emigrants. If Vartan, that morning, after coming out of the Vank, had looked a little closer at that mournful procession which moved toward the cemetery, then the tragic truth would have been made clear to him. But destiny decreed that he should be punished still more severely, and that he should never see the girl he loved.

Sara and Lila had been ill when borne to the lodging which the kind head-doctor had prepared for them. The kind-hearted landlady to whose care the two patients were entrusted, treated them with great kindness. The more so when she learned that they belonged to a family in good circumstances until these calamitous events had brought them to dire distress.

Tormented in heart and mind, physically worn out, the girl was taken with a high fever the first night. The landlady informed the physician instantly, and he found her in a dangerous condition. He told the landlady, "There is no hope,' and remaining by the patient the greater part of the night, tried to cause the sinking life to return. After midnight, she appeared somewhat easy, so the physician left her. She even spoke and told the landlady who sat near her, many things. But in the morning, when the physician came to see the patient, she was dead. Sara knew nothing of it although she lay in the same room. But when the sound of the carpenter's hammer was heard outside she understood what had happened. The poor woman was unable to shed a tear. Health is needed for tears. She seemed to rejoice, she seemed to have wished for just that; that Lila should die, that she might have rest, that she might be taken away from a world where no good days awaited her.

When the bier was borne out, she begged to be allowed to be present at the funeral. And disregarding the opposition of the head-doctor who told her that it would make her worse and cause her to lose the little strength she had, it was impossible to keep her back. That strange desire seemed to restore her wasted powers. She seemed to feel quite happy and had her wits about her. When they placed the bier in the grave, she said, "I wanted to be buried with you, my darling Lila." At that moment her eyes fell upon her two children and her voice was choked.

They bore Sara, entirely exhausted, home from the grave, and at the very moment when the physician was engaged in trying to restore her to consciousness, the knocker of the gate was heard. A servant opened the gate and saw two strange young men and a priest there.

"Whom do you wish?" inquired the servant.

"We heard that there are two people from Alashgerd here," said Vartan, "one a woman, the other a girl."

"Yes, they are here, but the girl -"

"What has become of her?"

"She died."

Vartan fell like a tree, struck by lightning, and fell into Melik-Mansoor's arms.

Chapter 43

Chapter XLIII

It was a dark, cloudy night. The hot air of summer seemed to bear down upon man's heart with a heavy weight. Not a sound, not a whisper was heard in the stillness of the night. Only from one corner of the cemetery at the Vank was heard dull groans.

A young man had thrown himself down upon a fresh mound, and sobbed bitterly. Tears flowed in floods from his sad eyes and soaked the dry earth. By turns he would embrace the mound of earth and press his face against its damp surface. "Lila, unfortunate Lila," he would repeat over and over, and his heart, his very soul seemed to leave his body as he spoke these words and called this name.

It was Vartan. After long wanderings he had found only the grave of the girl he loved. What now remained for him? In the trials of life, struggling continually against difficulties and misfortunes, there was one bright and shining star on which he had fixed his gaze, which led him toward the haven of safety. But now that star also had set. Now, what else remained? There remained a wretched wounded heart in need of healing balm, one drop of which would cure all wounds. His loss was irreparable. Vartan had never loved before. The cold hard-hearted young man had experienced no tender feelings, but before Lila's love, like delicate candle light, the coarseness of his nature melted. Lila's love had transformed him. But where was that angel of comfort now? Under that mound of earth which he embraced, which he wet with his tears. And under that mound of earth was buried the heart of that young man.

He agonized there long, sunk in despair and regret, and found no comfort until a kind of stupor overcame him which was neither sleep nor consciousness. His hot head fell upon the grave, and his eyes closed.

In his imagination he now had confused and disturbing dreams. What did he see? Sometimes frightful scenes which filled him with consternation and terror; while at other times beautiful scenes enchanted him. Years seemed to have rolled forward several centuries, and he saw Armenia, the ruined and forsaken Armenia, now entirely transformed and renovated.

What a wonderful transformation h a d taken place! Had the Lost Paradise returned to earth? Had the Golden Age come once more when injustice and evil no longer polluted God's sin-free earth?

But no, it was not Eden that he saw, the Eden which Jehovah set down near the source of the four rivers of Armenia, where the first human beings dwelt in perfect innocence, possessed of no knowledge. It was not that Eden where man labored not and toiled not to raise food to eat, but lived on fruit, and was fed from the bounteous table of God, spread before him by lavish Nature.

It was a different Eden; an Eden which man had created for himself by his own industry, where in place of ignorance there was knowledge, and in place of the simple patriarchal life, there was advanced civilization. Now, at last, the meaning of the words "By the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat thy bread," spoken by the Creator to the first human pair, was made plain, for now man not only worked, but he had made work easy and did not sweat over it to any great amount. He labored to become prosperous and his earnings were not snatched away by the hand of cruel oppressors.

Behold - Vartan saw a village! Was it possible this was the village of 0.... in Alashgerd? The surroundings were familiar to him, the same mountains, hills, rivers and green embowered villages - all were the same. The passage of years had effaced nothing there. Those miserable huts, dug in the earth, which resembled the dens of wild beasts more than dwellings of men, were no longer to be seen. Now the houses were of stone, white as snow and surrounded by beautiful gardens. The wide, straight streets were shaded by trees near which flowed a crystal stream.

It was morning. Children were coming out of their homes in groups, happy and well clad. Boys and girls together, with their books hung over their shoulders, hastened to school. Vartan looked at them in astonishment. How well-cared for were those lovely children, how happy they were! School and teacher did not frighten them, it seemed. Was it possible that these were those half-naked, sickly children whom Vartan had seen before?

Vartan was standing alone in the street, looking around him in astonishment not knowing which way to go. A sweet sound reached his ears. The sound of the church-bell. The morning service had begun. From the day he left the monastery and fled from the brotherhood of Monks this was the first time that sound which called to the house of God, had sounded so sweet to his ears. His hardened heart was softened. He turned towards the church on whose threshold he had not set foot for ten years.

He was amazed. What a simple, unpretentious church! No platform, no altar, no decorations, no gilded pictures. It had none of the tawdry splendor of the Armenian church. No readers, deacons or choristers appeared. He saw only two pictures there, one of Jesus Christ, the other of Gregory the Illuminator, each in a plain dark frame.

The people were seated on long benches, men and women together, each holding a small hymnal. The priest stood at a pulpit with the Bible before him and read a sermon. His dress did not differ from that of ordinary people. His sermon was so simple, so clear that Vartan understood the whole of it. The word of God flowed from his lips like a stream gushing from a pure and living fountain. He explained the meaning of that scripture, "By the sweat of thy brow thou shalt eat bread." Vartan was astonished at the explanation given by the priest. Until that day Vartan had understood it to mean that it was a curse which God set upon the brow of the first human pair which embraced all their seed. But now he understood that it was counsel rather, which if followed, rescued man from idleness and preserved him in industrious independence.

The sermon ended. A common villager stood up in the midst and prayed an extemporary prayer having the same thought as the sermon. He begged God to grant them health, wisdom and strength, that they might be able to work to cultivate the earth He had created, which produces boundless blessings.

"What a prayer that is?" thought Vartan. "What seekers after gain these men are! They ask for nothing for the soul. Do they expect nothing on the other side of the grave and so ask only for what is needed by the body; what their temporal life demands?"

The prayer ended. The whole congregation, men and women, old and young, began to sing a hymn together. It was arranged like one of the Psalms of David.

"Again the same material purpose," thought Vartan. "Nothing spiritual. The laborer sings of the abundance of the earth which he cultivates with his hands, which God has granted to him. It is astonishing how these men have adapted the abstractions of religion to the demands of material life."

But what a beautiful hymn that was, accompanied by the sweet notes of the organ. How sweet! How wonderfully it rose from the lips of hundreds of persons in unison. It seemed to Vartan as if the voices of men mingled with the melody of the cherubim's, was borne up to the Eternal Throne. It was the first time in his life be had heard such holy music.

The service ended. The congregation began to come out of the church. Now, at the pulpit where the priest had stood, stood the teacher, and on the seats where the parents had sat and prayed, now the children were ranged. Girls and boys mingled in classes, began to listen to the exposition of the teacher. "Is this a school?" thought Vartan. "Has the church joined with the school? Ah, what miserly people these are that they do not erect a separate building for a school!" Again their materialism!

But the face of the teacher looked familiar to Vartan. Was he not Der Marook? His features, height and even his voice were very like his. It was he indeed, the priest clad in civilian garments. Vartan could hardly believe his eyes. Was he the man who was such an enemy of schools, who had occasioned Mr. Salman so much anxiety and trouble, but now he himself conducted a regular school. Was he the same priest who had sold the sacraments of the church for money and was constantly thinking of his fees? This doubt assailed Vartan so fiercely that he was unable to restrain his curiosity and approaching, he asked, "Holy Father, what did you do about your fees?"

The priest, thinking the strange man must be a lunatic, looked at him very sternly and made no reply. only to say that the bell would ring soon and the class would end. His class was in Natural History. This also astonished Vartan not a little. A priest, a theologian and a naturalist at the same time - that was strange indeed!

Vartan did not wait for the close of the lesson, and left the church or rather the school. He saw no graves there as was the custom in the yards surrounding Armenian churches. It was ornamented with rare trees and flowers. He stood for a long time admiring the beauty of the terrace, until one of the villagers, noticing that he was a stranger, invited him to his house for breakfast.

His house was one of those neat buildings which although small, contained ample comfort. It was out of sight hidden in a grove of trees. There were only a few rooms necessary to the various uses of life, all simple, neat and furnished in good taste.

The young daughter of the mistress, humming a tune, ran joyously to meet her father. Sadness, sorrow, the disappointments of life seemed never to have touched the heart of this beautiful creature. Without the modesty peculiar to Armenian women, she was not afraid nor did she hide from the stranger, but spoke with Vartan graciously, and laughed and talked as though he were an old friend. But how much she resembled Lila! The wonderful likeness filled Vartan with such ecstasy that he longed to embrace her and say, "At last, I have found thee."

The meal was already set on the table. The hostess filled cups of coffee for them, adding thick cream and set them before the guest and her husband, while the young girl laid the morning newspaper on the table, and with a complacent smile called their attention to an article.

"Oh, your article has been published, has it, Lila?" asked the father putting on his glasses and looking at the paper.

"Lila!" exclaimed Vartan with agitation he could not conceal.

"This name is very frequent in our family," the host replied.

Vartan was little relieved, but still be was unable to reconcile it with the thought that she was not Lila. If she was not Lila, it must be her heavenly body come to earth. Necessarily people are changed after their resurrection. They have different attitudes and character, while keeping their individual likenesses.

Both the beautiful girl, and the peaceful atmosphere of the home charmed Vartan. At first he had thought that these people took no rest, day or night, that they worked incessantly. But now he saw that they had their homes for rest and pleasure also, and that they had their modest way of life - full of contentment.

"The happiness of village dwellers," said the host, "is not so much in constant and unremitting toil as in knowing how to work and the means of making it easy. There are many forces in nature which God has given to aid us, but we must become acquainted with them and in that way secure their aid."

"That is true," replied Vartan, "but if the Kurds had left the villagers their earnings, I think they would always have been successful and prosperous."

"What Kurds?" asked the host in astonishment.

"The Kurds who rob you every day."

"Ah, the Kurds," replied the host, as if recalling the name of a tribe long-since forgotten. "In the history of our Iron Age I have read much about the Kurds, it is true. They robbed and even massacred our ancestors. But where are those barbarians now? They have vanished, there are none left. Such a tribe was unable to exist in the light of civilization, and they disintegrated and their characteristics changed. At the beginning of the last century they accepted our religion, began to come to our schools, and mingling with us, disappeared as a separate race.

Vartan, when he heard these words, could not believe his ears. It seemed like a dream to him, and indeed he did see and dream all this.

The host continued, "In our family records there are many papers concerning the Kurds that seem to be written in blood. Our ancestor from which the families now living descended, was called Khacho. He was once the landlord of this village. He and two of his sons died in prison. His oldest son Hairabed left just one male child-"

"Who, at the time of the emigration of the people from Alashgerd was taken to Vagharshabad with his mother Sara," interrupted Vartan.

"Yes. From that child our race descended." To which Vartan added, "His name was Hovagim; he had a sister Nazloo. The latter died with her mother and the orphan Hovagim was brought up by a physician."

"Where did you read that?" asked the host astonished that the details of the history of their family were known to the guest.

"I did not read it but I saw it with my own eyes," replied Vartan. "All that occurred when the Kurds destroyed this village and the whole province of Alashgerd."

"But that was nearly two hundred years ago, while you seem quite a young man still. You are not so old as Methuselah are you, so that you should be able to see it with your own eyes," replied the host with a kindly smile.

Vartan could make no reply. It seemed to him also as though ages had passed since those events. From the windows of the room where Vartan was sitting. surrounded by the joyous family of his host, appeared verdant valleys beyond which stood beautiful hills. The mountains were covered with dense forests and the branches of the great trees etched against the clear blue of the sky formed a wonderful, beautiful picture. The morning sun shed its beams upon it and with its light showed numerous streams like silver serpents. Winding, shining, as they crossed the level meadows.

Vartan was unable to turn his eyes from this wonderful view. Wild, uncultivated nature by the industrious hands of man had received such a beautiful form, such as a piece of canvas does under the painter's brush.

"You spoke of the sad times when Turks and Kurds were found," continued the man in an animated tone, "but there have been many changes since then. You see that splendid mountain? A century and a half ago it was entirely bare. Not even a small bush remained upon its hillsides. In those days the bands of the barbarians destroyed the trees ruthlessly, as they did men. It was all gone. People used cow's dung for fuel. There was no wood for buildings so they were obliged to live in caves dug in the earth. But when peace was restored the ruined villages were filled with multitudes of inhabitants, and our mountains were covered with forests.

"All this was planted by the industrious hands of village people. Do you see that verdant meadow? Formerly it was a dry plain. It had only a small stream which became entirely dry in the heat of summer. When the forests grew up our valley had an abundance of water. It is now one of the most fruitful and fertile spots in our land.

"Yes, many things have changed. Formerly there were no roads there, but now you see smooth roads ,everywhere which join our land to others, and cars travel on them not drawn by animals but by steam. We sell the produce of our land a thousand miles from here; we obtain in exchange whatever we need."

Vartan heard all this in astonishment, but when his eye fell upon beautiful Lila it occurred to him to ask where she had studied.

"Just a week ago she was graduated from the Seminary at Nor Vagharshagerd, and now she is preparing to study medicine at the University. She is not very strong and I wished her, to spend a few months at home, but we cannot persuade her to give up the idea."

"And how many sons have you?"

"There are always large families in our race. The family of our ancestor, Khacho was composed of over fifty souls, but I have only five children. Lila is my only daughter, the other four are boys."

"What business do they engage in?"

"One is a forester in one of these forests you see, and one is a Professor in the University at Garin. The third is an officer in the regiment at Van while the fourth is a teacher in the village school, at New Pakrevantz."

Vartan was not familiar with the names, and he said, "I don't recollect any such town by that name."

"That is old Bayazid. It bears this name now. Many of our cities, towns and provinces have changed their names. A few have taken their former historical names, while others have taken new names." The host took up his newspaper again and read a paragraph which seemed to disturb him greatly.

Vartan asked with interest, "What news is there ?"

"Nothing in particular. Soon a general meeting of representatives is to assemble in our town. Certain disputed questions are to be considered. I don't know what will be the result. It appears that the party is much exercised over them.

"You will be there also?"

"I must not be absent."

It appeared from the conversation that Vartan's host was the chosen representative from that village. The meal was over. Vartan arose and after expressing his thanks, intended to depart.

"If you would like to see a few of the institutions of our town" said the host, "I will be pleased to conduct you to them."

"I thank you, sir," replied Vartan.

"If you should happen to pass through our town again, you will always find our doors open to receive you," said the lady of the house.

"I thank you, madam," replied Vartan with a bow.

"If being in our house does not bore you," added the beautiful girl with a pleasant smile.

"I thank you, miss," said Vartan, bowing lower still. After leaving the house Vartan began to realize his strained attitude toward this family. He felt as though he was a boor who disgraces himself In a more civilized community. And he thought, 'why have I remained ignorant and coarse and why am I not able to speak, act and behave like these people'? What a marvel this was. The descendants of Goodman Khacho during the passage of ages had been culled, purified and improved, and a new and nobler race had been created.

Vartan and his host walked together through the streets of the town. Women passed them wearing neat simple peasant costumes. each with her knitting in her hands, and their husbands in workmen's clothes. No one was idle. Each had his own occupation. Vartan was surprised to see how life had changed and what attractive forms it now presented. Their former plebeian coarseness did not appear any longer. Everywhere the spirit of education breathed its invigorating strength ' One thing remained unchanged, that was the Armenian language.

But how polished, how refined was that language, and with what beautiful expressions it was embellished! Vartan and his host had now reached the outskirts of the town. On all sides, wherever Vartan looked, he saw rich fields, beautiful vineyards, well cultivated fields and luxuriant meadows.

They passed by a mill. where logs were sawed. This mill supplied the surrounding cities with lumber of various lengths and thicknesses.

"To whom does this belong?" asked Vartan.

"To our town. Whatever mill or factory we have is not the property of any single individual," replied his host. They belong to the community. Each villager has a share in them. The logs are obtained from the neighboring forests, which also are the property of the townspeople." They passed beyond the saw-mill.

"Look at this immense structure," said his host to Vartan, "this is a cheese factory. The finest cheese in our province is manufactured here. This also belongs to the townspeople. Each villager keeps a record of the milk he brings and at the time of the division of the proceeds, he receives his proportion, either in cheese or in cash payment."

Now they were in the fields. The ripe grain had been gathered, but was harvested, not with the sickle or scythe, but with machinery, one machine did the work of a hundred men. This is what was meant by making labor easy. Vartan understood now.

They passed by another great building. It was a mill, here also labor was made easy, and instead of water, steam power was used. The wheat of many villages was ground here and the flour, as white as snow, was sent to foreign lands. This also belonged to the entire community. But one thing which surprised Vartan more was that whenever they met any of the village workmen, they had looked up at them boldly as though their equals in independence. They seemed to have been born and brought up in perfect freedom. They seemed never to have suffered the sword of the Turk and had never feared the spear of the Kurd. He saw that this multitude of workmen was capable when necessary, of laying down the spade and plow and to take up arms instead and use them with equal skill.

"In time of war, these men become our soldiers," said Vartan's host. "Work ceases for the most part, and for this reason war has always brought disastrous results in our land, although that has its advantages also."

Crossing the fields they approached the village again. A new building stood before them. It resembled one of those buildings which are built on model farms. "This is our village industrial school," said Vartan's host. "That which you saw this morning was the elementary school."

What sort of school was this? Vartan had never seen such a one although he had been a teacher once upon a time. It embraced in it all the branches which pertain to village economy. To this great institution was added an extensive farm, which was cultivated by the students themselves There were specimens of almost all the plants of the land. Here books and dead matter no longer engrossed the pupils. They learned everything from the wonderful book of nature. Here at stated hours the pupils had gymnastic exercises and training in handling firearms.

"Surely such schools must produce good laborers and good soldiers." thought Vartan.

Vartan, after expressing his thanks to his host, now left him. Where should he go now? He did not know. He saw a sort of an omnibus with people riding on it. He took a seat there when he learned that it ran to the railway station.

At the station he found a great crowd awaiting the departure of the train. Suddenly a familiar voice was heard saying, "Vartan." Vartan looked back. There stood Salman. The two old friends embraced.

"See this, my friend," said Salman not releasing Vartan's hand. "We see one another again after two hundred years, a good long interval. You have remained the same, Vartan, you have not changed at all. But these two hundred years have brought great changes to our country. Do you remember, Vartan, once I said that Armenia is the cradle of the infancy of mankind. In the age of innocence it was Eden, but some day it will reach its maturity, and the Eden of its age of progress. Now this has been accomplished. Now the livelihood of Armenians is safe. Pleasant and peaceful on their native soil. But if you had known how we worked till we brought it to this condition - we worked hard - we passed through a thousand vicissitudes. We bought our ease with much blood and sweat."

"Where are you going now?" asked Vartan.

"To the city. The meeting of the representatives is going to convene, and I am the delegate from our province. Let us go together, Vartan. I am going to speak. Our debates may interest you."

The last whistle sounded. They entered the railway carriage. It was night. Before dawn, they reached the city. The beautiful noisy city was still asleep. Only workmen were to be seen on the streets, hastening to their respective factories.

"To the Dove of Noah," Salman said to the driver. The cab rolled along straight smooth streets. Magnificent buildings lined the way. It seemed to Vartan that he was passing a row of palaces. Salman pointed out the various imposing buildings.

"This is the University, and that the Academy of Science. That is an old palace now used as a museum, the next, one of the finest theatres of the city, and that a Hospital. Those are the statues of heroes who became famous in the last revolution. This is a newspaper office which has a daily circulation of 150,000 copies. That...."

"Are there no barracks?" interrupted Vartan

"There are none. Here every citizen is a soldier."

"A beautiful city, a wonderful city," exclaimed Vartan with great delight.

The cab stopped before the Hotel Dove of Noah, Salman and Vartan entered a small private room adjoining the lobby. 'Here Thomas Effendi was arguing with Melik-Mansoor.

"That would be the martyrdom of asses," Thomas Effendi was saying. "In my opinion that is the best course to take to reach the desired goal," replied Melik-Mansoor warmly.

"That course would take us far from the desired goal and we might reach it by the asses Easter-time," said Thomas Effendi laughing.

"Here is Salman. Let us hear his opinion," they said pausing in their debate.

Great was their surprise when they saw Vartan who, it seemed to them, arose out of the ground.

"Where did you come from?" asked Thomas Effendi with his peculiar smile.

"My surprise is equal to yours," replied Vartan pressing his hand. "I found your mutilated corpse at the foot of the mountains of Alashgerd and afterwards I buried it in the Kurdish graveyard - and now"--

"Now I have risen again," he replied laughing. "Don't you believe in the transmigration of souls. My wretched soul passed through the bodies of the vilest of animals. It remained in the bodies of wolves for several decades. I ravaged, I lived on my prey. For another period I lodged in the bodies of dogs. I made the rounds of those persons who fed me. For other decades I twisted and writhed in the bodies of snakes. I crept on the ground and bit as occasion arose. For several years I brayed in the bodies of asses. They pulled me about by the ears so much that I had no wits left. Finally my wretched soul entered the body of a lion. There I became considerably purified. This round was accomplished in about 200 years. The Egyptian mummies have remained for thousands of years in the pyramids, impatiently awaiting the return of their souls but my soul performed its circuit sooner."

"And 1 have the good fortune to behold the transformed Thomas Effendi." interrupted Vartan.

"Yes. The Thomas Effendi you saw before was the legitimate child of his age, but time has changed him. Now he is one of the good representatives of his age. But the present race has made great progress, Vartan. Do you remember how Melik-Mansoor called 'good needles' formerly, as he wandered through the streets of Alashgerd, and now he is the commander of a private company of soldiers."

Vartan turned to Melik-Mansoor and shook hands with respect.

"Gentlemen, we are delaying. The meeting is about ready to begin," said Salman hastily.

"He is the leader of the free-thinkers of our party," Thomas Effendi whispered in Vartan's ear, pointing to Salman. "He has prepared a great speech for the meeting today. Ah, what a fine speaker he is!"

"Take me too, gentlemen. I wish to hear his speech also," cried Vartan gladly.

"Let us go," said a strange voice near him.

Vartan opened his eyes and found that it was all a dream. The shades of night still surrounded him and he lay on unfortunate Lila's grave.

But what strange voice was that which had awakened him, and had said, "Let us go!"

Suddenly four strong hands seized him and everything was blotted in darkness.

Finis.