In a less civilised country Logotheti's servants might have supposed
that he retired to this solitude to practise necromancy or study
astrology, or to celebrate the Black Mass. But his matter-of-fact
Frenchmen merely said that he was 'an original'; they even said so with
a certain pride, as if there might be bad copies of him extant
somewhere, which they despised. One man, who had an epileptic aunt,
suggested that Logotheti probably had fits, and disappeared into the
inner room in order to have them alone; but this theory did not find
favour, though it was supported, as the man pointed out, by the fact
that the double doors of the room were heavily padded, and that the
whole place seemed to be sound-proof, as indeed it was. On the other
hand there was nothing about the furniture within that could give
colour to the supposition, which was consequently laughed at in the
servants' hall. Monsieur was simply 'an original'; that was enough to
explain everything, and his order as to being left undisturbed was the
more strictly obeyed because it would apparently be impossible to
disturb him with anything less than artillery.
It is a curious fact that when servants have decided that their masters
are eccentric they soon cease to take any notice of their doings,
except to laugh at them now and then when more eccentric than usual. It
being once established that Logotheti was an original he might have
kept his private room full of Bengal tigers for all the servants hall
would have cared, provided the beasts did not get about the house. It
was a 'good place,' for he was generous, and there were perquisites;
therefore he might do anything he pleased, so long as he paid--as
indeed most of us might in this modern world, if we were able and
willing to pay the price.
On this particular evening Logotheti dined at home alone, chiefly on a
very simple Greek pilaff, Turkish preserved rose leaves and cream
cheese, which might strike a Parisian as strange fare, unless he were a
gourmet of the very highest order. Having sipped a couple of small
glasses of very old Samos wine, Logotheti ordered lights and coffee in
his private room, told the servants not to disturb him, went in and
locked the outer door.
Then he gave a sigh of satisfaction and sat down, as if he had reached
the end of a day's journey. He tasted his coffee, and kicked off first
one of his gleaming patent leather slippers and then the other, and
drew up his feet under him on the broad leather seat, and drank more
coffee, and lit a big cigarette; after which he sat almost motionless
for at least half an hour, looking most of the time at a statue which
occupied the principal place in the middle of the room. Now and then he
half closed his eyes, and then opened them again suddenly, with an
evident sense of pleasure. He had the air of a man completely satisfied
with his surroundings, his sensations and his thoughts. There was
something almost Buddha-like in his attitude, in his perfect calm, in
the expression of his quiet almond eyes; even the European clothes he
wore did not greatly hinder the illusion. Just then he did not look at
all the sort of person to do anything sudden or violent, to pitch order
to the dogs and tear the law to pieces, to kill anything that stood in
his way as coolly as he would kill a mosquito, or to lay violent hands
on what he wanted if he was hindered from taking it peacefully. Neither
does a wild-cat look very dangerous when it is dozing.