Translation:The High Mountains/77
Old Athanase comes out of his cabin discussing something with Andreas, Phanis and Dimos. They seem to be having a serious conversation.
Old Athanase frowned with his bushy white eyebrows. His blue-eyed look seems angry.
—My children what are you saying? he cries. What did you say?
—But he's made for learning, Uncle Athanase, let him.
—So that he'll take his things then leave here?
—Yes, so he can do all the classes.
—All the classes? What? I've made a scholar?
They were talking about Lambros, of course. The children want to take him to school with them, so he can spend several years and learn how to read and write properly. Why make a shepherd out of him?
They've come to beg his grandpa to let him go. But his grandpa was scowling. Then Dimitrakis opened Lambros's notebook.
—Look Grandpa, he said, see how he's learnt to write. He only started the alphabet twenty-five days ago. And now see where he is!
—What's all this? said the grandpa, these letters?
—Yes, that's his writing; he wrote all that recently, all by himself, his own hand and his own thoughts.
Old Athanase raised his head, lowered his white eyebrows and took the notebook in his hands. He looked at it upside down. But out of respect the children pretended not to have noticed.
He looked at it for a long time. And he himself was amazed to have a grandson who had managed to write all these letters.
—What does he say here? he asked.
Dimitrakis took the notebook and read the words Lambros had written, on his own, with letters as big as beans.
On Sunday we married our Aphrodo with chants and violins; and we have given her to Yannis from Colombe; and she kissed us and left.”
Old Athanase didn't want to talk any more about that.
—Now you can go, children, he said, I'm going to talk to Mr Stephan about it. Here he comes.
The three children went away. Mr Stephan arrived and he had the same idea.
—Given that your grandson learned his letters like that, he said, and that he has an appetite for learning, you must take a decision. Down there, we'll all take care of Lambros. Send him to school, five, ten years, so that he can learn to write, count, and read books. What's one more shepherd to you?
—What's right is right, said old Athanase. Up here he'll remain Vlach like us. It's good that one of my offspring is a literary man... Do you think it's fair, Mr Stephan, that two of my grandchildren leave me the same week?
And his blue-eyed look seemed troubled.
Old Athanase was used to saying that a man should hold back his pain like an untamed horse, by the bridle. So, just then, he shuddered a bit for fear of feeling ashamed of crying.