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For Nepenthe was famous not only for its
girls and lobsters, but also for its south wind.
As usual at this hour the market-place was crowded with folks. It was a
gay throng. Priests and curly-haired children, farmers, fishermen,
citizens, a municipal policeman or two, brightly dressed women of all
ages, foreigners in abundance--they moved up and down, talking,
laughing, gesticulating. Nobody had anything particular to do; such was
the rule.
The Russian sect was well represented. They were religious enthusiasts,
ever increasing in numbers and led by their Master, the divinely
inspired Bazhakuloff, who was then living in almost complete seclusion
on the island. They called themselves the "Little White Cows," to mark
their innocence of worldly affairs, and their scarlet blouses, fair
hair, and wondering blue eyes were quite a feature of the place.
Overhead, fluttering flags and wreaths of flowers, and bunting, and
brightly tinted paper festoons--an orgy of colour, in honour of the
saint's festival on the morrow.


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