ΟΙΩΝΟΣ - THE AUSPICE

ΟIΩΝΟΣ Μιχαήλ Μητσάκης   Σήμερον, ἀνελπίστως, ἐξύπνησεν ὀλίγον καλλίτερα ἡ ἀσθενής. Εἶναι ἡ πρώτη ἡμέρα, μετὰ τριάκοντα ἄλλας ὁλοκλήρους, καθ' ἅς ἡ νεαρὰ κόρη κατάκειται παλαίουσα πρὸς τὸν θάνατον. Ἀπὸ μηνὸς ἤδη ὁ πυρετὸς φλογίζει τὰς σάρκας της καὶ κατατρύχει τὸ σῶμά της. Ὠχρά, ἡμιπνέουσα, ἐξηντλημένη, μόλις ἔχει τὴν δύναμιν νὰ ὁμιλῇ ἔτι. Διὰ τῶν φλεβῶν της φαίνεται, κυανοῦν, μόλις ρέον τὸ ὀλίγον ὑπολειφθὲν αὐτῇ αἷμα καὶ αὐλακοῦντα τοὺς ἰσχνούς της βραχίονας διακρίνονται ὑπὸ τὴν πάλλευκον ἐπιδερμίδα τὰ νεῦρα. Ἡ κόμη της ἁπλοῦται ἀτημέλητος ἐπὶ τῶν προσκεφαλαίων καὶ τὸ ἀλγοῦν στῆθός της ὑπεγείρει συνεχὴς καὶ ἐπώδυνος στεναγμός. Ριγοῦσα, παρ' ὅλην τοῦ δωματίου τὴν θερμότητα καὶ τὸ πάχος τῶν ἐφαπλωμάτων, συνέχει ταῦτα σφιγκτὰ περὶ ἑαυτὴν καὶ ἔξω αὐτῶν προβάλλουσαν ἀφίνει μόνην τὴν ξανθὴν κεφαλήν της, ἧς ἐμάρανε τὴν ἀνθηρότητα καὶ ἐρρόφησε τὴν δρόσον ἡ μυστικὴ νόσος. Καὶ ἀπὸ μηνὸς ἤδη ἔρχεται καὶ ἀπέρχεται ὁ ἰατρός, περίσκεπτος καὶ σκυθρωπός, μόλις συγκατανεύων νὰ προφέρῃ ὀλίγας λέξεις, μὴ δυνάμενος νὰ ἐννοήσῃ τοῦ λαθραίου κακοῦ τὸ αἴτιον, μὴ γνωρίζων πῶς νὰ πολεμήσῃ τὸν κρύφιον ἐχθρόν, μὴ ἀποκρινόμενος εἰς τῶν οἰκείων τ' ἀνήσυχα ἐρωτήματα. Θὰ σωθῇ; Δὲν θὰ σωθῇ; Κανεὶς δὲν ἠξεύρει. Μόνον, ἡμέρᾳ τῇ ἡμέρᾳ, προδήλως ἡ ζωὴ ἐκφεύγει τῶν χειλέων της καὶ ἡ ἐλπὶς ἐγκαταλείπει τὴν ψυχὴν της. Διὰ τοῦτο ἡ σήμερον εἶναι ἑορτὴ διὰ τὸν οἶκον. Ἡ μορφὴ τῆς πασχούσης φαίνεται ἐμψυχωμένη πλειότερον παρὰ ποτέ, ἀφ' ὅτου κατέπεσεν εἰς τὴν μοιραίαν της κλίνην. Ἡ χείρ της δὲν καίει, ὅπως ἄλλοτε. Ἡ ἀναπνοὴ αὐτῆς εἶναι ἐλευθέρα καὶ ἡ φωνὴ καθαρά. Πρώτην τώρα φορὰν μόνη ἐζήτησε νὰ φάγῃ καὶ τῇ ἔδωκαν ἕνα κύαθον γάλακτος, ὅν ἔπιε λαιμάργως. Καὶ ἡ μήτηρ αὐτῆς, ἡ μήτηρ της, ἥτις παρίσταται ἀπὸ τριάκοντα ἡμερῶν, συμπάσχουσα καὶ αὐτὴ ἄγρυπνος ἡμέραν καὶ νύκτα εἰς τὴν ἀγωνίαν της, καὶ δὲν ἀπομακρύνεται τῆς κλίνης ἐφ' ἧς ταλαιπωρεῖται ἡ πτωχὴ ἄρρωστος, καὶ τὴν περιθάλπει, καὶ προλαμβάνει πᾶσάν της θέλησιν, καὶ τὴν φιλεῖ καὶ τὴν θωπεύει καὶ τὴν βρέχει διὰ τῶν δακρύων της−ἡ μήτηρ της, ἥτις εἶδεν ἤδη ἕν ἄλλο της τέκνον, κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον, ὁμοίως καὶ ἀπαραλλάκτως ἐκλιπόν, τὴν παρατηρεῖ ἀτενῶς διὰ τῶν φλογερῶν της ὀμμάτων καὶ αἰσθάνεται τὴν καρδίαν της ἀνοιγομένην πάλιν εἰς τὴν ἐλπίδα καὶ ἀναμένει μετὰ παλμῶν τί θὰ εἴπῃ ἐπὶ τῇ μεταβολῇ ταύτῃ ὁ ἰατρός, καὶ κύπτει ἀπὸ τοῦ παραθύρου διὰ νὰ τὸν ἴδῃ ἐρχόμενον… Ἡ πρωΐα, ἀνέφελος ἀττικὴ πρωΐα, εἶναι φαιδροτάτη. Ἀπὸ τοῦ Ὑμηττοῦ ὁ ἥλιος ἀνέρχεται κατὰ μικρόν, βραδύς, λαμπρός, μεγαλοπρεπής, ὡς ἐν ἀποθεώσει δόξης καὶ θριάμβου. Ἡ διαφανὴς ὁμίχλη, ἡ περιβάλλουσα τὸ ὑπνῶττον ἄστυ διαλύεται βαθμηδὸν−νυκτερινὸν κάλυμμα, ὅπερ ἀποτινάσσει ἐγειρομένη ἡ πόλις. Ἐν τῷ φωτὶ τῆς ἀρχομένης ἡμέρας αἱ οἰκίαι διαγράφονται λευκαὶ καὶ χαρωπαί, ὄρθιαι, ἐν μακρᾷ παρατάξει, κατὰ στοίχους, ἑκατέρωθεν. τῶν δρόμων. Τὰ παράθυρα ἀνοίγονται, αἱ θύραι ἀναπετάννυνται, ἡ μακρὰ σιγὴ τῶν σκοτεινῶν ὡρῶν φυγαδεύεται ὑπὸ τὰς λάμψεις τῆς αὐγῆς. Αἱ ὑπηρέτριαι ἐμφανίζονται εἰς τοὺς ἐξώστας, κρατοῦσαι τὰ σάρωθρά των, μὲ ἀνασεσυρμένας χειρίδας καὶ βεβαρημένους ὑπὸ τοῦ ὕπνου ὀφθαλμούς. Εἰς τὸ καφφενεῖον τῆς γειτονίας προσῆλθον ἤδη οἱ ἑωθινώτεροι τῶν πελατῶν καὶ κάθηνται ἀναγινώσκοντες τὴν ἐφημερίδα. Ὁ παντοπώλης χύνει ἀπὸ τοῦ οὐδοῦ του ἀλλεπαλλήλους κάδους ὕδατος ἐπὶ τῶν πλακῶν, καταβρέχων τὸ πρὸ του καταστήματός τους πεζοδρόμιον. Εἰς τοῦ ὑποδηματοποιοῦ οἱ μαθητευόμενοι κόπτουν εἰς τμήματα τὰ δέρματα καὶ προετοιμάζουν τὴν ἐργασίαν. Τὰ ἀετώματα τῶν οἰκιῶν χρυσοῦνται ὑπὸ τοῦ ἀνατέλλοντος φωτός. Μία ἀκτὶς θραύεται εἰς μυρίους σπινθῆρας ἐντὸς τοῦ ρυπαροῦ παροδίου ρυακίου, ἐν ᾧ ρίπτονται τὰ νερὰ ἀπὸ τῶν πέριξ αὐλῶν, ὅπερ ἀναλάμπει. Πλήμμυρα αἴγλης καὶ ζωῆς ἀντικαθίστησι τὴν βαρεῖαν τῆς νυκτὸς σκιάν. Καὶ ἀπὸ τῆς ἐξεγειρομένης ὁδοῦ ἀναβαίνει θόρυβος σύμμικτος, βοὴ μυριόφωνος, ἀλαλαγμὸς καὶ πάταγος ποικίλος. Οἱ πρωϊνοὶ διαβάται περῶσι μεταβαίνοντες εἰς τὰς ὑποθέσεις των. Τὰ παιδία τῶν σχολείων διέρχονται μὲ τὰ βιβλία των ὑπὸ μάλης, πηδῶντα. Γηραιά τις οἰκοκυρὰ κάμπτει τὴν γωνίαν ἀκολουθουμένη ὑπὸ τῆς θεραπαινίδος της κρατούσης διὰ τῆς δεξιᾶς κάλαθον, μεταβαίνουσα βεβαίως εἰς τὴν ἀγοράν. Κάρρον φορτωμένον διὰ λίθων καὶ δοκῶν κυλίεται μετὰ δυσκολίας πολλῆς καὶ κρότου περισσοτέρου, ὡς μέθυσος, ἐπὶ τῶν ἐξηρθρωμένων τροχῶν του. Καὶ βαθμηδόν, βαθμηδόν, ἐφ' ὅσον προχωρεῖ ἡ ἡμέρα, ἀλληλοδιαδόχως, διέρχεται κραυγάζον, ἐν ἐκκωφαινούσῃ συναυλίᾳ, ἐν ἧ ἀντιπροσωπεύονται πάντες τῆς μουσικῆς κλίμακος οἱ τόνοι, ὅλον τὸ ὀχληρότατον πλῆθος τῶν μικροπωλητῶν, τῶν μικρεμπόρων ἤ τῶν παραγγελιοδόχων, οἵτινες ἀποτελοῦσι τὴν ζωὴν τῶν ἀπομεμακρυσμένων συνοικιῶν. Διῆλθεν ἤδη ὁ γαλακτοπώλης, ὁ ὑψηλὸς καὶ ἄγριος Λιδωρικιώτης, ὁ δι' ἀπαισίου ὑποκώφου μυκηθμοῦ διαλαλῶν τὸ ἐμπόρευμά του. Παρῆλθεν ἡ ἀντιπολιτευομένη αὐτὸν συνοδεία αἰγῶν, ἥν ἀμέλγει παρ' ἑκάστην θύραν, χάριν τῶν ἐπιθυμούντων νωπὸν γάλα παροίκων, ὁ ὁδηγός της, κροταλίζουσα τοὺς κωδωνίσκους της καὶ βληχωμένη. Παρῆλθον δύο ἤ τρεῖς πωληταὶ βελονῶν καὶ καρφίδων καὶ δακτυληθρῶν καὶ νημάτων. Ἠκούσθη τοῦ ἀρτοποιοῦ ἡ χονδρὴ φωνὴ καὶ ἡ μελιτώδης φλυαρία τῆς γραίας, τῆς πωλούσης βότανα καὶ φύκη. Καὶ ἀκολουθοῦντες αὐτοὺς διέρχονται κατόπιν ἰχθυοπῶλαι, πραγματευταί, λαχανοπῶλαι, ὀπωροπῶλαι, ὀψοπῶλαι, ὅλα τῶν ἐμπορευμένων τὰ γένη καὶ τὰ εἴδη, κύπτοντες τὸν αὐχένα ἀπὸ τὸ βάρος τῶν προμηθειῶν των ἤ ἐπιφορτίζοντες δι' αὐτῶν τὴν ράχιν ψωραλέου ὀναρίου. Ἀλλά, δεσπόζουσα τῶν λοιπῶν, παράδοξος κραυγὴ ἤχησε μακρόθεν: −Τύχαις, καλαὶς τύχαις! Εἶνε εἷς τῶν γνωστῶν ἐκείνων πλανήτων πωλητῶν τυχῶν, οὕς συναντᾷ τις συχνότατα ἀνὰ τοὺς ἀποκέντρους δρομίσκους καὶ τὰς ἀπομεμακρυσμένας γειτονίας. Περίεργον εἶδος ἀλητῶν, περίεργον ἐπάγγελμα ἀσκοῦντες, περίεργον ἐμπόρευμα προσφέροντες εἰς πώλησιν −τὴν τύχην τοῦ ἀγοραστοῦ − ἐξ ἧς ζητοῦν νὰ κάμουν τὴν ἰδικήν των. Φέρει ἐπὶ τοῦ ἑνὸς τῶν ὤμων του εἶδός τι τρίποδος καὶ ἐπὶ τοῦ ἄλλου κλωβίον, ἐν ᾧ πηδᾷ ἔγκλειστον πτηνόν, προχωρεῖ βραδέως διὰ τῆς ὁδοῦ, φωνῶν ἀδιακόπως, κηρύττων ὅτι γνωρίζει, χάρις εἰς τὸ θαυμάσιον πτηνόν του τὰ μυστήρια τῆς εἱμαρμένης, καὶ ἀνακοινοῖ ταῦτα εἰς τὸν βουλόμενον − πλανόδιος Πυθία, ἀπονέμουσα ἀντὶ δεκαλέπτου ἑκατομμύρια ἤ στέμματα, στεφάνους γάμων, δακτυλίους ἀρραβώνων, ἀνώτατα ἀξιώματα ἤ μακρὰ καὶ εὐδαίμονα ἔτη. Καὶ ἐξέρχονται ἐν σπουδῇ, ἀναμένουσαι τὴν διάβασίν του, εἰς τὰς θύρας ἤ τὰ παράθυρα, νεάνιδες φλεγόμεναι νὰ μάθουν ἄν θ' ἀναφθῶσι ταχέως καὶ δι' αὐτὰς τῆς ὑπανδρείας αἱ λαμπάδες, γραῖαι ὀρεγόμεναι νὰ πληροφορηθοῦν πόσος ὑπολείπεται αὐταῖς μέχρι τοῦ πεπρωμένου τέρματος καιρός, νεανίσκοι ἐρωτευμένοι ἤ παιδία περίεργα καὶ ἐπιθυμοῦντα νὰ γελάσουν. Καὶ ὁ πρόθυμος χρησμοδότης καταβιβάζει ἀμέσως ἀπὸ τῶν ὤμων του τὸν τρίποδά του, ἀνοίγει τὸν κλωβὸν τοῦ πτηνοῦ καὶ παρουσιάζει αὐτῷ πολύχρωμά τινα ἔντυπα καὶ δεδιπλωμένα χαρτία, ἐσκορπισμένα ἐντὸς ἰδιαιτέρου σιδηροῦ δισκαρίου, καὶ ἐκεῖνο ραμφίζει ἕν, καὶ ὁ ὑποφήτης τὸ παραλαμβάνει καὶ τὸ ἐγχειρίζει εἰς τὸν χρησμοδοτούμενον. Καὶ ἡ πορεία του, οὕτω βαίνοντος, καθίσταται σχεδὸν θριαμβευτική, καὶ ἀνὰ ἕκαστον σταθμὸν ὅν κάμνει, πυκνοῦται γύρω του τὸ πλῆθος, καὶ οἱ ἀγυιόπαιδες παρακολουθοῦσιν αὐτὸν ἐξόπισθεν κατὰ σμήνη, ἀλαλάζοντες, καὶ οἱ ἐξῶσται πληροῦνται κεφαλῶν κατὰ τὴν διάβασίν του, καὶ τὰ παραπετάσματα ἀνασύρονται καὶ καραδοκοῦσιν τὴν ἔλευσίν του ἀνυπόμονοι μορφαί. Καὶ ἐκεῖνος προβαίνει, ἀργά, σχεδὸν ὑπερηφάνως, ὡς νὰ εὑρίσκετο πράγματι ἐν τῷ μέσῳ λαοῦ, τῶν τυχών τοῦ ὁποίου εἶναι κύριος. Ἡ φωνὴ αὐτοῦ ἐντείνεται, ὀξυτέρα, διαυγεστέρα, ζωηροτέρα. Ἀπὸ στιγμῆς εἰς στιγμὴν προσεγγίζει, ἀκούεται ἐγγύτερον, ἀντηχεῖ σχεδὸν ὑπὸ τὸ παράθυρον τῆς ἀσθενοῦς. Ἡ μήτηρ εἶναι ἀκόμη ἐκεῖ, ἀναμένουσα μὴ φανῇ ὁ ἰατρός. Καὶ ὁ τυχοπώλης ὑψώνει τὴν ρῖνά του πρὸς τὸ ἀνοικτὸν παράθυρον. −Θέλεις νὰ ἰδῇς τὴν τύχην σου κυρά; Τὴν τύχην της! Τῆς κόρης της τὴν τύχην θὰ ἐπεθύμει νὰ ἴδῃ, θὰ ηὔχετο νὰ ἤξευρεν! Ἀπὸ τὴν τύχην ἐκείνης κρέμαται καὶ ἡ ἰδική της. Ἀλλ' ἠμπορεῖ κανεὶς νὰ τῆς τὴν εἴπῃ; Τίς οἶδε! Γελῶσα καὶ ἡ ἴδια διὰ τὴν αἰφνιδίαν προληπτικὴν ἐπιθυμίαν ἥτις τὴν κατέλαβε, δὲν ἀντέχει εἰς τὸν πειρασμὸν νὰ ἴδῃ τί θὰ δυνηθῇ ἆρά γε νὰ τῆς προφητεύσῃ τὸ πτηνὸν αὐτό, τὸ σοφὸν πτηνόν, ὅπερ περιάγει ὁ ἀγύρτης. Ἐντὸς ὀλίγου θὰ ἔλθῃ ὁ ἰατρὸς καὶ θὰ τῆς εἴπῃ τί πρέπει νὰ πιστεύσῃ καὶ τί ὄχι, τί πρέπει νὰ ἐλπίζῃ καὶ μή. Ἕως τότε ἄς ἐρωτήσῃ καὶ τὸ ἀστεῖον αὐτὸ μαντεῖον τῆς ὁδοῦ, χάριν περιεργείας. Καὶ καλεῖ τὸν ἀλήτην καὶ τῷ λέγει νὰ τῇ δώσῃ μίαν τύχην διὰ τὴν κόρην της. Ὁ πλάνης ἀποθέτει τὸν τρίποδά του κατὰ γῆς, στηρίζει ἐπ' αὐτοῦ τὸν κλωβόν του, ἀνοίγει τὴν θύραν του καὶ ἐξάγει τὸ πτηνόν. Τὸ χειρόηθες πτερωτὸν δίπουν περιπατεῖ ἐπὶ μικρὸν ἐντὸς τοῦ ἔξωθεν σιδηροῦ δισκαρίου, παρατηρεῖ ὡς ν' ἀναζητῇ τι τὰ πρὸ αὐτοῦ ἡπλωμένα πολύχρωμα χαρτία, καὶ τυχαίως ραμφίζει ἕν κίτρινον, ὅπερ ἐκεῖνος ρίπτει πρὸς τὴν πελάτιδά του. Ἐκείνη τὸ ἁρπάζει πετῶν καὶ τὸ ἐκδιπλώνει μὲ ἀκουσίως τρέμουσαν κατά τι παραδόξως χεῖρα. Εἶναι εἷς τῶν συνήθων τούτων χρησμῶν, ἀνόητος καὶ ἀσυνάρτητος προφητεία, γεγραμμένη εἰς σόλοικον καὶ ἰδιόρρυθμον γλῶσσαν: «Κυρία μου, τώρα εἶσαι κακότυχη καὶ δὲν περνᾷς καλά. Θὰ ὑποφέρῃς πολύ, καὶ θὰ κακοπεράσῃς ἀκόμη περισσότερον. Ἀλλὰ μὲ τὴν βοήθειαν τοῦ Θεοῦ θὰ νικήσῃς τὰς περιπετείας καὶ θὰ προοδεύσῃς. Καὶ θὰ ὑπανδρευθῇς ἕνα πλούσιον καὶ θὰ κάμῃς παιδιὰ πολλὰ καὶ καλά, καὶ θὰ σοῦ ζήσουν ὅλα. Καὶ σὺ θὰ ζήσῃς ὀγδοῆντα χρόνια καὶ θὰ ἴδῃς ἔγγονα καὶ δισέγγονα…» Καὶ ἡ ἐκ τοῦ προχείρου ἀποκάλυψις αὕτη τῶν μελλόντων ἐξακολουθεῖ ἀκόμη, ἀκόμη, ἐπὶ τοῦ αὐτοῦ τόνου καὶ διὰ τῶν αὐτῶν φράσεων. Ἡ μήτηρ ἀναγινώσκει βραδέως καὶ μεγαλοφώνως, μειδιῶσα κατ' ἀρχάς· ἀλλὰ βαθμηδὸν ἀόριστος συγκίνησις χαρᾶς τὴν καταλαμβάνει καὶ τρέμει βιαιότερον ἤδη ἡ χείρ της καὶ πάλλει σφοδρῶς ἡ καρδία της. Ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀψύχου καὶ κακοτυπωμένου χαρτίου νομίζει ὅτι ἐξέρχεται φωνὴ μυστηριώδης μάντεως ἀληθοῦς, καὶ νομίζει ὅτι πράγματι κρατεῖ μεταξὺ τῶν δακτύλων της τῆς κόρης της τὴν τύχην. Καὶ ἐφ' ὅσον ἀκούονται ἐν τῇ σιγῇ τοῦ δωματίου τ' ἀνορθόγραφα καὶ ἀσύντακτα καὶ συγκεχυμένα ἀλλ' εὐάγγελα ἐν τούτοις ρήματα, τοῦτο φαίνεται ὡς νὰ πληροῦται φωτὸς καὶ καταγλαΐζεται τῆς μητρὸς τὸ πρόσωπον καὶ μειδιᾷ τὸ ὠχρανθὲν τῆς ἀσθενοῦς χεῖλος. Πρωτοδημοσιεύτηκε στο περ. Ἑστία, 26/4/1887

THE AUSPICE Michael Mitsakis (Rendered by Vassilios C. Militsis) Today the patient woke up unexpectedly feeling a little better. It is the first day after an entire month during which the young woman, bedridden, has wrestled with death. For a whole month a fever has consumed her flesh and eroded her body. Wan, half-breathing and utterly exhausted she has barely been able to master the power of speech. Her scant blood has flowed blue in her veins and her nerves could be visible like furrows under the pallor of the skin on her wasted arms. Her unkempt and tousled hair lay spread out on the pillows and an incessant, painful sigh made her chest heave. Shivering, despite the heat of the room and the thickness of the bed covers, she was tightly swathed in them, leaving only uncovered her blond head, the freshness and the vigor of which has been gnawed away by the mysterious disease. And during the whole period the doctor, thoughtful and sullen, has come and gone barely deigning to utter some words, not being able himself to comprehend the latent cause of the bane, not knowing how to fight the clandestine foe and not responding to the anxious inquiries of her relatives. -          Will she live? Will she die? No one knows. Day by day it was evident that life was escaping from her lips and hope was deserting her soul. That is why today has been a happy day for her family. The patient’s countenance appears more revived ever since she took to her fateful bed. Her hand is not burning with fever as before. She can breathe freely and her voice is clear. It is the first time she has asked for food, whereupon she has been given a cup of milk which she drank greedily. And her mother – her dear mother who has continuously  been at her pillow for thirty days, feeling for her, sleepless and watchful upon her agony, not budging from her poor daughter’s sick-bed, nursing her and satisfying all her needs, kissing, caressing and soaking her with her tears – who has likewise already lost another child, she looks at her intently with her fiery eyes, and feels her soul open to new hopes awaiting with a beating heart the doctor’s opinion on this unexpected change, and leans out of the window to see him coming… It is a cloudless attic morning, very cheerful. The sun is rising little by little from Mount Hymettus, slow, bright and gloriously triumphant. The slight haziness that surrounds the sleeping city is beginning to dissipate – like a nocturnal bedcover that the waking city sets aside. In the light of the incipient day the houses are depicted white and cheerful, upright in a long array on both sides of the streets. Windows and doors open, and the long silence of the dark hours is driven away by the shine of dawn. The house-maids make their appearance on the balconies, still drowsy, holding the brooms, their sleeves tucked up on their arms. The very early patrons have come to their wonted coffee-house, where they have pulled up their seats and are reading the morning papers. The greengrocer empties successive buckets of water from the threshold of his shop onto the sidewalk. At the shoemaker’s the apprentices cut up the leather and prepare the work of the day. The gables of the houses are gilded by the rising sun. One sunbeam is refracted into thousands of sparkles on the filthy water of the gutter beside the road. A flood of glamor and life replaces the grave shadows of the night. From the bustling street there comes a vague noise, a tumult as if coming out of myriad mouths, a miscellaneous ululation. It is the people going to their daily affairs. School children pass by, their books under their arms, hopping sportively. An old housewife hobbles at the corner followed by her maid who is holding a hamper: they are both off to the market. A wagon loaded with masonry rolls on with much difficulty and more rumble, staggering like a drunk, on its rickety wheels. And as morning wears off, all the most annoying throng of peddlers, giving liveliness to the remote suburbs comes and goes successively crying out its merchandise in a cacophonous concert that covers the whole gamut of notes and tones. There has already gone by the milkman, a tall and surly Lidorikian,* advertising his goods in a horrible bellowing voice. A recalcitrant fold of goats accompanies him, of which the owner picks out one and milks it at each door in the presence of those hankering after fresh milk, while the beast is bleating causing its small collar bells to jingle. Two or three more hucksters have passed by selling needles, pins, thimbles and yarn. There is also the husky voice of the baker and the mellifluous tones of the old woman selling herbs and seaweed. Then appear on the scene fishmongers, various hawkers, vegetable and fruit sellers and many others, who bend their neck under the burden of their provisions or have their wares laden on the back of a mangy donkey. Dominating, however, has been a strange cry heard from a distance: -          Raffles, lucky raffles! That was the voice of one of those familiar raffle hucksters who frequent the remote alleys and the out of the way neighborhoods. They make up a curious species of vagrants practicing an equally curious profession, i.e. they proffer on sale the fortune of the purchaser – out of which seek their own. They carry on one shoulder a kind of an easel and on the other a cage, where there is imprisoned a fluttering bird. They walk down the street slowly advertising that, thanks to the miraculous bird; they know the mysteries of Destiny and disclose them to those who are in earnest to know what is in store for them. They are errant Pythias, who foretell for a few pennies financial success or fame or wedding wreaths or engagement rings or high offices or a long and happy life. And consequently, damsels hurry up to the windows all aglow to find out whether candles will soon be lit on their wedding, and old crones long to learn the expectancy of their lives, while young love-struck swains or curious kids for fun throng around them. And the obliging haruspex puts down his easel, opens the cage and shows the client various multicolored folded pieces of paper strewn on a metal plate in the cage; the bird pecks at one and the prophet picks it and gives it to the one concerned. In this way he proceeds triumphantly and at every stop, people crowd around him, street urchins swarm yelling after him, heads peer out of the balconies, blinds are drawn up and impatient figures are looking forward to his arrival. And he comes slowly, almost proudly, as if among applauding crowds, whose destinies is the lord. His voice grows more shrill, clearer and livelier. The more he is approaching, the louder his voice is being heard under the patient’s window. Her mother is still there expecting the doctor. And the raffle huckster looks up to the open window. -          Do you want to know your fortune, lady? Some fortune she has! She would like to know her daughter’s fortune, if she only knew! Her own fortune depends on her daughter’s. Can anyone tell her? Who knows! Laughing inwardly at her superstitious desire that overwhelms her, she cannot resist the temptation to find out what this vagrant’s bird will prophesy. The doctor is coming at any moment and he can tell her what to believe or not, what to hope for or not. Until then let her ask this funny street oracle, merely out of curiosity. Therefore, he summons the vagrant and asks for a raffle for her daughter. The vagabond sets his easel on the ground, puts the cage on it and takes the bird out. The tame feathered creature struts on its two legs outside the metal plate, contemplates as if seeking one of the colored papers strewn before it and accidently pecks at one yellow raffle, which the man throws up to his client. She grabs it in the air and unfolds it with tremulous hands. Written on the paper in a barbarous and queer style of speech, there is the usual divination, a silly and incoherent prophecy: “My lady, now you are in a bad situation and you do not fare well. You will still have much, even more, to suffer; but with God’s help, you will overcome all your adversities and will progress. You will marry a rich man and have many and good children, who will all have a long life. You will live to be eighty and you will see grand and great-grandchildren”. The mother goes on reading slowly and aloud. At first she smiles; but gradually she is overwhelmed by a vague feeling of glee and at the same time her hand grows more tremulous and her heart beats faster. Out of this impromptu disclosure, out of this inanimate and badly printed piece of paper there arises a mysterious voice of a real augur and the mother believes that she holds between her fingers her daughter’s fortune. And while in the stillness of the room these misspelled and badly expressed, but auspicious, utterances are heard, the room seems to be filled with a light that mellows the mother’s countenance and causes the daughter’s pale lips to smile. First published on 26/4/1887 in Estia magazine.  Michael Mitsakis (1863-1916)  Michael Mitsakis was born in Megara, probably in 1868. He received his education in Sparta, where as a student he published the short-lived journal Taygetos. In 1880 he matriculated in the Law Faculty at Athens University, but after two years he dropped off in order to pursue a journalistic career. His articles appeared in almost all the Athens dailies and magazines, becoming at the same time a publisher of two satirical newspapers, Noise and Capital City. He writes his articles sometimes using his real name and sometimes a pen name. In addition to journalism, Mitsakis is prolific in literary works. He is a pioneer of naturalism and one of the founders of urban prose in modern Greek literature. He portrays life in the city and the alienation of the individual in it. His language is an amalgam of the vernacular and the puristic strain. Still very young Mitsakis manifests symptoms of mental illness, which sinks him in depression and makes him stop writing. His health deteriorates and finally becomes an inmate of Dromokaiteio Mental Hospital in Athens. He dies of pneumonia in hospital on June 6th, 1916. His works include a host of short stories, fiction and non-fiction.