After the affair of the butterflies, the Sophomores held themselves somewhat aloof from Archag, for they could not forgive him for saying that one of them had pushed him. They all felt insulted by this accusation, and believed him to be a hypocrite and a liar. One day, when Archag was about to join a group at cards, Dikran got up, refusing to play with him. Garabed was the only one who remained unchanged; he was firmly persuaded of his friend’s innocence, and was always ready to cheer him up with a kind word or look of sympathy. And indeed, Archag had need of it; he felt terribly isolated, and was hurt by the silent condemnation of his classmates and some of the professors. Up to this time he had been petted and flattered by every one; now, fallen thus abruptly from his pedestal, he could not accustom himself to his unhappy circumstances.

“You look like a ghost,” said Aram.

He believed Archag to be innocent, and pitied him sincerely, but was beginning to be bored by his friend’s depression. Archag had had a large share in all his pranks and games, but this pale lad who could neither laugh nor joke was not his old Archag at all, and Aram insensibly began to drift away from him. Two of the Urfali became his special cronies, for with them he could play all sorts of pranks. Archag observed this change with bitterness of spirit, but he was too proud to tell Aram the whole story. He fancied that every one except Garabed despised him. He had never ventured to go and see Mrs. Spencer again; whenever he saw her at a distance he would go out of his way to avoid her. One day, however, as he was returning from the bazaar, he saw her suddenly at a street corner. For an instant he thought of turning back: but that would have been cowardly; and he kept on his way. The missionary’s wife had, of course, observed his small artifices; she herself had never believed him guilty, and was glad of this opportunity to speak an encouraging word to him.

Archag touched his fez by way of salutation, and was about to pass on, but Mrs. Spencer stopped him.

“I was just wondering what had become of you; it is a long time since I have seen you. I am going to the hospital, and you must walk on a little way with me; you will tell me what is weighing on your heart, won’t you?”

Archag could not refuse; his questioner looked at him with such a kind smile.

“You have had a hard trial,” she continued, “but still, you mustn’t lose courage; you will see that everything will be cleared up by and by; as for me, I have never believed you guilty of a falsehood. Don’t let yourself be crushed by misfortune; this is probably your first experience. Ah, well! Bear it like a man. Redouble your efforts to do away with the bad impression you have made on some of your teachers; above all, show yourself obedient and docile toward Professor Piralian; make an extra effort to please him.”

“He hates me,” Archag could not help saying, “he shows it in all sorts of ways.”

“What nonsense you are talking! If he had hated you, would he have asked Dr. Mills to let you stay here? You have him to thank for not being expelled.”

Archag was dumb with astonishment; the iron vise which had gripped his heart for the last three weeks, was relaxing its hold; he was finding once more a little of that sympathy in which he had no longer dared to believe. With a lighter heart he took leave of the doctor’s wife, and went back to the college whistling.

“You are entirely changed,” said Garabed on his return; “what has come over you?”

“I’m happy to-day.” And he told his friend about the conversation with Mrs. Spencer.

“You see,” replied Garabed, “the best people have kept their friendship for you.”

Professor Pagratian also took a great interest in Archag, and often invited him to his house with Garabed. What happy evenings those were for our two friends! Mrs. Pagratian and her two daughters would mend a great pile of linen, while the professor smoked his narguileh, and talked about his youthful days of poverty and hardship. He did not remember his father; the eldest of six children, he had been obliged to go to work while still very young, in order to help his mother. At the age of eighteen he was a journeyman weaver, earning a mejidiÉ (ninety cents) a week. An American missionary whom he met occasionally, gave him a copy of the New Testament, and he used to read it privately with a companion of his named Krikorian. The Epistles of Saint Paul made a deep impression upon these young men, and then Dr. Trowbridge became interested in the two friends, and used to pray with them and explain the Holy Scriptures.

“When he talked to us,” said the professor, “it was as if scales fell from our eyes; we felt a horror of our sins, and a thirst for truth and righteousness.... One Christmas evening when Krikorian and I had been praying with more than ordinary fervor, we seemed to hear Jesus Christ calling us. Our hearts leaped for joy; that was the most beautiful day of our life, and we always think of it with tears of gratitude. Dr. Trowbridge was at that time engaged in laying the foundations of the college, and he proposed that we should fit ourselves to become teachers in his school. I needn’t tell you how glad we were to act on his suggestion. We spent four years in America, and then we returned to work with our benefactor. Alas! God called him suddenly to Himself. Such men are rare indeed, and his death was a very great loss to Aintab.”

These talks made a deep impression on Archag. He had always supposed that it would be time enough to think about religion when he was grown up. But his teacher had been less than twenty years old when the Spirit of Christ took possession of his whole being, soul and body; and how happy he seemed!

Sometimes Mrs. Pagratian (whose mother was German), and her daughters, would sing old songs in the dialect of Swabia, or perhaps Monsieur Bernier would join the little group, and talk about Switzerland, a country well-known to the Pagratians, for the professor had studied for two years at Basle, and preferred the Swiss country to America.

“In Switzerland,” he would say, “the people enjoy life; in America they do business.”

When Monsieur Bernier spoke of the liberty of his compatriots, the poor Armenians could not suppress a sigh of envy, and Mrs. Pagratian would wipe away a secret tear, for she lived in constant dread of a fresh massacre.

These evenings were a blessed influence for Archag; he threw himself into his work with new ardor.

“Something seems to have changed that boy entirely,” said Mr. Piralian to Professor Pagratian. “I never could do anything with him before, but since that famous affair of the butterflies he has grown polite, studious, and attentive in class, whereas formerly he was always thinking about something else. I actually believe I shall succeed in correcting his horrible accent.”

“That would almost make up for the loss of your collection,” replied his colleague, laughing.

“Yes; only if I had to gain the progress of each of my pupils at the cost of one of my collections, I should soon be ruined!”

Archag, for his part, saw that Mr. Piralian no longer retained his former prejudice against him, and he even came to like the English lessons. His classmates, seeing that he was reinstated in the good graces of the masters, left off tormenting him. But Archag still avoided them; he was constantly with Garabed; they prepared their lessons together, and then went off on long walks, exchanging ideas about every subject that came into their heads. But their favorite topic of conversation was Armenia, so cruelly oppressed and tried.

Archag had never thought very much about his country. He loved it, to be sure, and pitied it, but that was all. Garabed, who was older and more reflective by nature, made him feel ashamed of his ignorance. He showed him Armenia, wasted by continual massacres, but yet alive; he described the deplorable condition of their fellow-countrymen, the better and more intelligent of whom had fled to America; he told him the story of the heroic siege of Zeitoun—how the town held out for seven months against the Turkish forces which had come to exterminate it; or again, of the great achievements of Andranick1 the revolutionary leader, who had dared resist the Kurds, and had been victorious.

Archag’s eyes were opened; as his love of country increased, it became the central force in his life. Together the two boys studied the history of their country, and took pleasure in speaking Armenian, although Garabed insisted that they must always speak Turkish in the presence of the other boys. The reason for this we shall see presently.