There was great excitement in the village when Angelica made her first appearance. The people who were used to the timid and restrained ways of all village girls saw suddenly one who descended among them like a goddess. In the first place, she was as white as if the sun had never seen her; then she was pleasant and cheerful and lively and she had beautiful white teeth that drove anyone crazy when she smiled. Third, she never wore peasant costumes, her dresses were all from the city. She was the kind you might look at and never get tired of looking.

Angelica started a revolution in the village. The good village folks had not been anticipating such a trouble when they brought her there. Their purpose was innocent. All they needed was a good schoolmistress who would teach their girls how to read and write; so they wrote about it to the city, and after a little while they received Angelica as a reply.

They had not built a schoolhouse yet. They had to rent an ordinary house in which Angelica immediately proceeded to civilize the girls of the village. So far so good. The girls were learning that bread could not be eaten in a book unless it took the ancient name, and when they left off the books they began their handiwork. In the evening, when they went home, one would show her father the hemming she had made, another a pair of fancy slippers, and another an embroidered tobacco-pouch. The fathers would look on these achievements with satisfaction and were proud that their daughters were at last learning city ways.

But this was not the end of the matter. The big girls, who could no longer go to school because of their age, did not like the idea of being left behind. Why should their younger sisters alone get all the merits and graces?
So they proceeded to besiege Angelica and would not let her alone. There was no evening party where Angelica was not the central figure. She would tell them stories, explain to them different city customs, sing them city songs, and tell one tale after another. And they would forget their country plays and songs and stories and listen to Angelica with enchantment.

Of course when the schoolmistress left the party to go home, the village girls would remember their native ways, and so they ridiculed their poor friend in a thousand ways. One would mimic her voice; another her uncommon words; another her roguish eyes. But their play was entirely innocent, wathout jealousy and without sting; all they were after was a little fun. When they had done with laughing, they would end by expressing their admiration for her red lips, her perfect white teeth, her little feet, her light step, her ornaments, her dresses, her grace, and her beauty.

By noticing and admiring everything about her, the village girls began to change their ways. Of course, this change was slow and superficial. A peasant girl cannot change her nature. Consequently the change went only so far as a few words, some mannerisms, and some ornaments. This was exactly what made the village fathers look on the fascinating witch with misgivings. The good homespun stuffs, silks and linens were not enough any longer; they had to buy from the shop all kinds of ribbons and buttons and rags in addition.

Worst of all, the imitation was not perfect and so you might see all of a sudden queer combinations of city hats and country necklaces, or French furbelows and short country jackets, or something similar. Now, the fathers found no particular fault with the strange fashions; they rather liked them, but what impressed them painfully was the effect they had on their pockets, the expense they involved. This was a revolution that was bound to inspire them with fear. So the more fashionable the daughter became the more careful the father was of his greasy fur-coat and his patched boots.

But the trouble did not stop there. Angelica, as we have seen, was vivacious and talkative. In imitation of her the tongues of the peasant girls began to grow sharper and sharper, sometimes even in the presence of strangers. At times they would go as far as to say a pert word to their fathers.

Now the prominent men of the village and the members of the school-board were good patriots and had the progress of their village at heart. But their care for their households was superior even to their patriotism, and every time they assembled in the coffee-house to play with their beads, they would consider various plans of curtailing Angelica's influence somewhat. They could not get rid of her — that was plain. A teacher they had to have anyway. Who could guarantee a better one, if they should dismiss her? They might get a worse one.

"I have found a way out," said one of them one day. His name was Beardless, though he had a beard. "Let us make our schoolmistress marry someone. She will have a home of her own then and there will be peace for her and us, too."

"Marry her? How? Didn't you hear what she was telling my daughter the other day ? It was a shame, she said, that a girl should have to marry a man her parents wished on her, instead of getting a man of her own choice!"

"Well, then, let her make her own choice; a little management and the thing is done."

As good luck would have it, there lived among them a man with a good, generous heart, Myzethras (*), the master-mason. He was the victim chosen by Beardless, who found him one evening in the wine-shop and with a few words led him into his trap.

" Why do you waste your good looks and your youth?" he said. "Where will you be able to find again such a fairy, such a sea-foam of beauty, such a lily? What is better than such a woman ? You have enough money ; what does it matter if she is without a dowry? Hurry up and get ready for a serenade. If you are afraid of a serenade send her a flower, find some sort of pretext and the rest will take care of itself. Why waste any more words? Go to her home tonight and see whether the new wall is really settling. Just make a beginning and don't worry about the rest. I'll be here. "

Myzethras at first took all this as a joke on Beardless' part. He knew Beardless was fond of teasing people and he did not pay much attention to him. But as he was going home that evening, Myzethras did not sing in his usual way. He was buried in strange thoughts. He had lost his peace of mind. Why should Beardless play that joke on him? he wondered. Why could it not be true as well ? What did he have to lose if he should try anyway? If he succeeded, what man in the village would have such a treasure for a wife ? And if he failed and people made the customary song about it Beardless would have to bear blame, because he would be the cause of it all.

He took the uphill road that led him to the schoolhouse. He stopped for a while to get his breath. Then he cast a glance at Angelica's windows and he felt an impulse to burst into loud song. But he refrained and walked on. At last he came to the door. His heart was trembling now, his throat was getting dry, and he perspired with anxiety. He stooped to peep through the keyhole before knocking. He saw the servant in the hall, and through the open door of the room he could see Angelica sitting before a work-table, bending over her embroidery.

"Beardless is right," he thought, "she is a devil of a girl ! A fairy! But what shall I tell her first? Well, I might start with a 'good evening,' and God will help me with the rest."

He knocked at the door. The maid opened it and the master-mason entered.

Angelica started up half-frightened. She stood as straight as a church-taper with her dark-brown eyes wide open, wondering what he wanted at such a late hour.

"Good evening to you," he began, "and a lamp, please, to light my way to the cellar; they say the new wall is settling and Beardless has sent me to look it over."

Angelica directed the maid:

"Maroula, light a lamp and give it to the mason. I hope there is nothing the matter with the wall."

"I have already examined it from outside. I found nothing wrong there. But I had better examine the inside, too."

He went down to the cellar, and when he came up reported that there was no cause for fear, and they had better hush the matter up because people might get scared for nothing and stop sending their girls to school.

During the report he had the chance of facing Angelica, standing. Myzethras was not a bad looking lad at all. He was tall, had brown eyes, a smart thin moustache, and a very fine tongue, an expert in winning words. But just now his tongue was as good as tied. What could he say to her and the maid within hearing? He looked all around, examining every wall as an excuse to linger. Then, with a sudden inspiration, he exclaimed: "Since I am here, let us have a look at the schoolroom from the inside." He took the lamp and went into the schoolroom alone, to think out some way to begin. Angelica had not followed him.

''See here!" he called out.

Angelica entered the schoolroom. Light and darkness blended in the spacious room with no other light than the small wick of the lamp. Angelica walked very lightly and stood like a statue before him, dazzling him with her graceful dress, her dark brown eyes, her white neck, and her little hands pressed against her bosom as if she felt the chill of the room.

"That crack there must be what made Beardless worry, " he remarked. " What it needs is a little plaster, that's all. The building is as sound as it is lucky. All our girls improve wonderfully here."

"It is so kind of you to say that," Angelica replied with a smile.

" Madam, village folks talk straight. I could tell yon another truth if I was not afraid you might take it amiss, "

"What is that?" Angelica was curious and took one step nearer him.

"There is a soul in the village who is almost crazy about you."

"Is that so? And who is this soul? Tell me while we are here. Nobody can hear it."

"What if you get angry?"

"I can promise you I won't; why should I get angry?"

"' Well, I 'll tell you then. He is a man who is neither old nor poor. He hasn 't got much education but he has seen a little of the world. He learned his trade abroad. You see, he is a skilled workman. He cannot tell his trouble like a book, but he can sing like a bird in the woods. He can't bow like a Frenchman, but he can love like a Greek,"

"And what's his name?" asked Angelica, beating her little foot with impatience.

"I cannot tell his name; I don't dare," and Myzethras stood silent.

"I wonder if he can be so tall and handsome and strong and sweet-spoken?" Angelica asked, again with a laugh.

"I can't tell you, I can't; my mind is going out like this lamp." He placed the lamp on a desk and fixed his eyes on the ground, in deep thought.

"What is the matter, my good lad? You seem to be in trouble."

His eyes fixed on her, Myzethras had an inspiration. Spontaneously he burst forth:

"No trouble to the world confessed
Brings such a sorry plight
As love that bums within the breast
And never comes to light."

The teacher began to understand something. But whether from a desire to play or from her willingness to spend a little more time on the matter, she wanted to hear more about it and displayed unsuspecting innocence.

"It seems to me you are deeply in love," she said.
"I wonder who the unfortunate one can be who is ignorant of your affection?"

Myzethras' eyes were in flames as he murmured;

"Angelica, is sugar-sweet.
As flower-kissed bees, home-flitting;
Angelica is water fresh,
A drink for angels fitting."

Angelica could pretend no more. A shiver ran through her. She could not stay any longer beside him.

He might stoop and kiss her. So she took two steps back, put on her air of indifference as to a stranger, and cut the interview short:

"Well, there's nothing the matter with the wall. It was very good of you to take this trouble." And she went back into the room.

Myzethras was lost. He felt the sting of both love and shame. He looked around to find some avenue of retreat so that he might not again meet proud Angelica.

His eyes fell on the outside door of the school through which the girls went when they were dismissed and walked straight to it. . He opened it and slipped out on tip-toe.

But when he had reached the yard and had started going down the hill the breeze blew on him and he recovered himself. Shame had gone, but love still remained. So when he had gone a little further and saw the plain spreading before him, and the moonlight playing on the waves, his good heart was again awakened and he made the world resound with his song :

"U say good-night to my sweetheart, I will not tell her
name.
The name that makes my eyes shed tears, and fills
my heart with pain."

II

"Tell me, please, tell me some more of your enchanting little songs," said Angelica one evening to the girls who were busy sewing and embroidering in the light of the oil lamp. " They are very, very pretty and sweet and fragrant like royal mint. Tell me some more! I am just dying for these country blossoms of yours which you scorn, my poor girls, not realizing what a treasure is yours ! my village, my dear little village !
Where can you get such an evening party in a city? Where else can you hear such scented little songs ? Some day I will know them, too, these songs. I just can't live without them." At the same time she began humming one of the village airs :

"My little cypress, young and tall, I wish to speak to you;
Just bend your head to hear my words ; and take my life so true."

A ripple of laughter ran around the group. The girls seemed to have gone mad.

" How well she sings them ! As if she had been born among us in the village, the little rogue!"

"Bah! Didn't you know I was born in a village? Of course, they took me to the city very young, poor girl, because I had neither father nor mother. My old uncle, Father Phlessas, took me to the city and brought me up and gave me my education. Yet I remember my blessed mother as if she lived only yesterday. I will show you how she looked. Everybody says I am just like her."

She took a country scarf and bound it about her head and looked at them with quiet and thoughtful eyes. She was exactly like a picture now.

The country girls sat and looked at her with silent astonishment. They were deeply moved and two of them were actually crying.

"You are one of us, Angelica. Get it out of your head that you will make Frenchwomen of us," said the oldest of them.

"Make Frenchwomen of you? God forbid! Better see to it that you don't make a Frenchwoman of me now that I have become a country girl again. One week more and you will sing a bridal song for me!"

All the girls were thunderstruck! They dropped their handiwork and looked at each other with amazement. Then they started screaming and screeching like mad and jumped up, crowding around Angelica, wanting to know exactly what she meant.

"Just let me get my breath, and I will tell you. Simple enough; I fell in love with a young lad and I will marry him. Don't get jealous. He's nobody's sweetheart. He is from another neighborhood. He is neither old nor poor. He hasn 't got much education but he knows his trade. He can't tell his love like a book but he can sing like a bird iii the woods."

"And his name?" all shouted at the same time.

"His name? Something that tastes nice with honey."

" Myzethras ! " exclaimed the oldest girl.

"Right! And since you are the first to find him out you will come to help the bride dress on her wedding day. It will be at Beardless' home."

It turned out exactly as she had said. Beardless, like a good man, assumed the part of a kind father and took the whole affair into his hands.

Angelica insisted on being a real country bride. There was gold-dust and all kinds of ornaments and good times such as make country people call a wedding "joy,"

As for the bridegroom, nobody could ever put a stop to his wild enthusiasm. Even during the ceremony, he bent over and said to Beardless :

"I am a king! Angelica is my crown! And you are my vizier!"

He was not far from right. Beardless had managed the whole affair like a regular vizier. He was the man who had gone and stirred up Angelica's flame after that historic evening. He had carried the wedding message to Myzethras' mother. Within two weeks everything was finished and mother Myzethras had settled down with her son and daughter-in-law, determined to live forever with them and to take care of her grandchildren while Angelica was running her school.

The schoolmistress had now become a respectable matron; she dressed, spoke and behaved like everybody else; and the village girls were cured of the craze that had been driving them to ape the manners of French-women.

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* Myzethra is a kind of soft cheese somewhat like cream cheese, eaten with honey in various places in Greece.