across the tables. Then, headed by
Evlogios and the bishop, the
assembled company took each an
empty shell between thumb and
forefinger and blew a blast of
whistles, as though ten thousand
milk-boys were competing for a
prize.
‘Dessert of apples and grapes
was succeeded by coffee and the
lighter wine. The sun was in the
top of the heavens when, having
bidden regretful farewell to
Boniface, the fierce Epitropos, and
all the others, we started out for
Caries.’
The Station