We have reached the frontiers of Georgia; we have escaped the Kurds and all's well. I at last know what happiness really is. Because it's only now that I have real experience of the old maxim: Happiness is doing your duty, and the harder the duty the greater the happiness.

In a few days these hounded, dying creatures will be at Batum, and I have just had a telegram which reads: "The first ships are in sight!"

These thousands of hard-working, intelligent Greeks, with their broad-hipped wives and fiery-eyed children, will soon be transported into Macedonia and Thrace. We are going to infuse a new and valiant blood into the old veins of Greece.

I have exhausted myself somewhat, I admit, but what does it matter? We have fought, my dear sir, and won. I am happy.

I hid the letter and hastened along. I too was happy. I took the steep track up the mountainside, rubbing a sweet-smelling sprig of thyme between my fingers. It was nearly noon and my dark shadow was concentrated about my feet. A kestrel was hovering, its wings beating so fast that it looked quite motionless. A partridge heard my steps, hurtled out of the brush and whirred into the air in its mechanical flight.

I was happy. Had I been able I would have sung out loud to relieve my feelings, but I could only make inarticulate cries. Whatever's happening to you? I asked myself mockingly. Were you as patriotic as that then, and never knew? Or do you love your friend so much? You ought to be ashamed! Control yourself and quiet down!

But I was transported with joy and continued along the track, shouting as I went. I heard a tinkling of goat bells. Black, brown and grey goats appeared on the rocks, in the full sun. The he-goat was in front, holding his neck rigid. The stench of him infected the air.

"Hallo, brother! Where are you off to? Who're you chasing'?"

A goatherd had jumped up on to a rock and was whistling after me with his fingers in his mouth.

"I've got something urgent to do!" I answered, and continued climbing.

"Stop a minute. Come and have a drink of goat's milk to refresh yourself!" shouted the goatherd, leaping from rock to rock.

"I told you I've got something urgent to do!" I shouted back. I did not want to cut short my joy by stopping to talk.

"D'you mean you despise my milk?" said the goatherd in a hurt tone. "Go on, then, and good luck to you!"

He put his fingers in his mouth again, whistled, and goats, dogs and goatherd disappeared behind the rocks.

I soon reached the summit of the mountain. Immediately, as though this had been my objective I became calm. I stretched out on a rock in the shade, and looked at the distant plain and sea. I breathed in deeply; the air was redolent with sage and thyme.

I stood up, gathered some sage, made a pillow and lay down again. I was tired. I closed my eyes.

For a moment my mind took flight to those far-off high plateaus covered with snow. I tried to imagine the little band of men, women and cattle making their way towards the north, and my friend walking ahead, like the ram at the head of the flock. But very soon my mind grew confused and I felt an invincible desire to sleep.

I wanted to resist. I did not wish to give way to sleep. I opened my eyes. A species of crow, an alpine chough, had settled on a rock directly in front of me, on the mountaintop. Its blue-black feathers shone in the sun and I made out very distinctly its large curved yellow beak. I was cross; this bird seemed to be a bad omen. I seized a stone and threw it at him. The chough calmly and slowly opened its wings.

I closed my eyes once more, unable to resist any longer, and sleep immediately overwhelmed me.

I could not have been asleep more than a few seconds when I uttered a cry and sat up with a start. The chough was passing at that very second above my head. I leaned against the rock, trembling all over. A violent dream had cut through my mind like a sword.

I saw myself in Athens, walking along Hermes Street, alone. The sun was burning hot, the street was deserted, the shops all shut, the solitude was complete. As I passed the church of Kapnikarea [31] I saw my fríend, pale and breathless, running up to me from the direction of Constitution Square. He was following a very tall, thin man, who was walking with giant strides. My friend was in full diplomatic uniform. He noticed me and shouted from some distance, in a breathless tone:

"Hello, what are you doing nowadays? I haven't seen you for ages. Come and see me tonight; we'll have a chat."

"Where?" I shouted in my turn, very loud, as if my friend were a long way off and I had to use all the strength in my voice to reach him.

" Concord Square, [32] this evening, six o'clock. The Fountain of Paradise Café!"

"Good!" I answered. "I'll be there!"

"You say you will," he said in a tone of reproach, "but you won't!"

"I will, for certain!" I cried. "Here's my hand on it!"

"I'm in a hurry."

"Why are you in a hurry? Give me your hand!"

He held out his hand and suddenly his arm came off from his shoulder and sailed through the air to seize my hand.

I was horrified by his icy grasp and woke with a start and a cry.

That was the moment when I discovered the chough hovering above my head. My lips seemed to be exuding poison.

I turned towards the east, riveting my eyes on the horizon as though wishing to penetrate the distance and see… I was sure my friend was in danger. I shouted his name three times:

"Stavridaki! Stavridaki! Stavridaki!"

As if I wanted to give him courage. But my voice was lost a few yards in front of me and faded into the atmosphere.

I rushed headlong down the mountainside track, trying to deaden my sorrow by fatigue. My brain struggled in vain to piece together those mysterious messages which sometimes manage to pierce the body and reach the soul. In the depths of my being, a strange certainty, deeper than reason, entirely animal in quality, filled me with terror. The same certainty which some beasts-sheep and rats-feel before an earthquake. Awakening in me was the soul of the first men on earth, such as it was before it became totally detached from the universe, when it still felt the truth directly, without the distorting influence of reason.

"He is in danger! He is in danger!" I murmured. "He is going to die! Perhaps he doesn't realize it yet himself, but I know it, I'm sure of it…"

I ran down the mountain path, stumbled over a pile of stones and fell to the ground, scattering the stones. I jumped up again With grazed and bleeding hands and legs.

"He is going to die! He is going to die!" I said, and felt a lump rise in my throat.

Luckless man has raised what he thinks is an impassable barrier round his poor little existence. He takes refuge there and tries to bring a little order and security into his life. A little happiness. Everything must follow the beaten track, the sacrosanct routine, and comply with safe and simple rules. Inside this enclosure, fortified against the fierce attacks of the unknown, his petty certainties, crawling about like centipedes, go unchallenged. There is only one formidable enemy, mortally feared and hated: the Great Certainty. Now, this Great Certainty had penetrated the outer walls of my existence and was ready to pounce upon my soul.

When I reached our beach, I stopped to take breath for a moment. It was as though I had reached the second line of my defences and I pulled myself together. All these messages, I thought, are born of our own inner anxiety, and in our sleep assume the brilliant garb of a symbol. But we ourselves are the ones who create them… I grew calmer. Reason was calling my heart to order, clipping the wings of that strange palpitating bat, and clipping and clipping until it could fly no more.