Archag’s visit to Aleppo soon seemed like a beautiful dream, vanished all too quickly; he was continually thinking about the good doctor, and his wife who had been a second mother to him, and of charming Winnie. He now felt like an older brother to Nejib, for Mrs. Rossinian had made him promise to watch over her son, and shield him from the bad influence of certain other boys.

The school work went badly that year, for there had been serious disturbances and outbreaks in the vast Ottoman Empire. Every one could feel a storm brewing, and the Armenians were fearful of fresh massacres. The Turks themselves declared that their government was corrupt, and that nothing short of a revolution could regenerate their wretched country. Men of culture and education, imbued with the new ideas, had formed a secret society called “Union and Progress.” They called themselves the “Young Turks,” for their recruits came chiefly from among the young men of the country. Their object was the abolition of despotism and of the reign of terror set up by Abdul Hamid, and they demanded a Constitution and equality of rights for all Ottomans.

The professors of the college took a lively interest in these questions. All their sympathy, all their devotion went out to the Young Turks. But this unrest and excitement gave President Mills reason to fear for the future of the college; the fÉdai were now meeting openly, with the approval of the masters; never had the examination papers been so poor, for the boys, instead of working at their lessons, were giving their whole attention to politics.

The morning for announcing the promotions had come, and the boys were just finishing their breakfast when Mihran hodja came rushing into the dining-room. He was too excited to speak at first, but after a little he managed to utter the words:

“The young Turks have risen at Constantinople! Abdul Hamid is obliged to yield to superior force, and grants us the Constitution. Long live the padishah!” (sultan)

“Iashasoun padishah! Iashasoun padishah!” repeated the boys in chorus.

The fÉdai broke out with their war song:

All the boys, together with Badvili Melikian and Mihran hodja, joined the fÉdai in this song. They were free! The reality was more beautiful than their boldest dreams had pictured it. God had answered the prayers of the Armenians!

Archag, Aram, Garabed and Nejib started off at once for town. Over every house floated the red flag with the white crescent; cannon shots were fired from the old Cathedral, and an extraordinary excitement prevailed in the streets. The people were shouting, singing and weeping for joy; Mullahs1 and Gregorian priests were embracing one another. The most ferocious of the Mussulmans had forgotten their old hatred of Christian infidels: to-day all were brothers.

“In our empire,” said a vartabed (Gregorian priest) “there will no longer be Turks, Greeks, Albanians, Armenians, Syrians and Arabs. No, there will be only Ottomans, now!”

Two dervishes (Mussulman monks), delirious with joy, bore the priest off in triumph. The Turkish women had taken off their veils, and waved them as they sang. All Turkey was quivering with the same generous emotion. The words “Equality” and “Fraternity” intoxicated the men like strong wine. Alas; we are to see how bitter was the awakening and how great the disillusionment!

“It seems too good to be true,” said Garabed.

“Yes,” said Archag, “for years the Armenians have been groaning and dying under the yoke of the Mussulman, and now the deliverance has come suddenly, when nobody was expecting it any more. No bloodshed, as in the French Revolution; no frenzied demagogues, ready to become tyrants themselves! We have forgotten Abdul’s crimes; now we have only to remember the favor he is granting us.”

“No more teskerehs (passports),” said Aram. “No more forbidden books. We shall be able to go to Europe and study, and to travel freely. Life is decidedly good!”

In the evening, the students, led by the professors, had a torchlight procession, and went all about through the city streets. They stopped in front of the serail (palace) where they played the “Hamidieh March,”2 and the Kaimakan thanked them from his balcony, and had sherbet served to them.

In the midst of the general rejoicing, our friends were saddened by the thought of the approaching departure of Monsieur Bernier. Their French master, having spent two years at Aintab, now desired to travel and see other countries. He had accepted a position at Constantinople as tutor to a Turkish prince, and his life in the Ottoman capital promised to be full of interest. At the same time, he was very sorry to leave his dear Central Turkey College, where he had passed such happy days.

He was to go by araba to Alexandretta, and was planning to go from that place to Palestine. At five o’clock in the morning a servant came to tell him that the carriage was ready. He had taken leave of his American friends the evening before, but when he went down to the courtyard, to his surprise he found nearly all the boys waiting to bid him a last good-morning. There were tears in many eyes as they crowded around him for one more grasp of the hand. “A good journey!” they cried: “God bless you!”

Archag and Garabed got into the carriage to go with him as far as the first change of horses; then they, too, had to part with Monsieur Bernier. He made them promise to write often, and if possible, to visit him in Switzerland. For a long time he followed them with his eyes, leaning out of the araba; and when they were lost to sight, he sat back with a sigh, for he counted the two years at Aintab among the happiest of his life.

Next day began the general disbanding of the students. They were all getting impatient to see their relatives again, and to tell them all about the joys and sorrows of their college life. Aram went to Diarbekir for his vacation this year, so Archag went to Van alone, and his holidays passed very quietly. He did some studying with his brother-in-law, for he had to begin working for his diploma. He dreamed of pretty Winnie more than might appear to be necessary; if we could have followed him to his room in the evening, we should frequently have caught him scribbling away with ardor, composing inflammatory verses in which he lauded the “fair tresses and violet eyes” of his girl-friend. He never spoke of her, and his parents did not even know of her existence, but he carried in his coat-pocket a little snap-shot of Winnie on her horse, which he had purloined from Nejib with the greatest difficulty.

It was without much regret that he saw the time draw near for his journey back to Aintab. His brother was going with him this time, for Levon was now fifteen, and ready to enter the Freshman class.

“You’re in luck,” said Archag. “I didn’t have anybody to pilot me around when I first went to Aintab.”

“Pshaw!” said Levon, shrugging his shoulders. “I can get on all right by myself, you won’t need to bother about me.”

He was a very independent boy, and was delighted with the idea of going to college. However, when his old mother put her arms around him and cried, and his father squeezed his hand very hard, to hide his feelings, and the time had come when he must say good-by to the careless life of childhood, his bravado vanished, and he no longer tried to hide the tears that filled his eyes.

Time passes swiftly: our friends are now Seniors, in their last year at college. They have changed very little during the last two years; they have grown tall, and seem more serious, that is all. They have the good reputation of the college at heart, and their importance is recognized, for Dr. Mills has entrusted to them the responsibility of seeing that the boys of the other classes obey the rules. At recreation-hour, instead of shouting and playing and tumbling about like young puppies, they walk up and down in small groups, discussing every subject that comes into their heads, from the dinner which was not to their taste, to deep problems of ethics and philosophy. Aram alone is just the same, loving a joke as well as ever, and never done chaffing his classmates about their solemn airs and judicial scowls.

The Rossinians spent the summer in Anti-Taurus, and stayed for a fortnight at Aintab on their way back to Aleppo. Winnie was sun-burned and brown as a little Arab. Miss Pritchard was glad to be returning to Aleppo, preferring the comforts of home to the beauties of nature.

Nejib and his friends dined with the Rossinians every evening, and Archag was in the seventh heaven on these occasions; his greatest happiness was to be near Winnie and look at her, and it was not very long before Aram observed this dumb adoration, and teased him well for it.

One evening Winnie and our friends were talking about Armenia, and Archag told the story of Rupen, and of the atrocities committed at Moosh and Sassoun.

“But now,” said he joyously, “that bad dream is over, and we have forgotten our hereditary hatred.”

Winnie listened in silence; her heart beat faster whenever Archag confided to her his plans and his desire to study medicine and settle down at Bitlis, that desolate town where there was not a single doctor, and where the people, mown down by epidemics, were dying like flies, for want of intelligent care. The lad had a high conception of his duty toward his neighbor, and Winnie thought him the best person she had ever known.