It so happened, one evening, as the street lights were coming on, to pass near the old mosque, next to the prison. There, in the entrance, on the top of the wide marble staircase, I saw the figure of a woman with a long white vale, standing still, outside the door, before the house. I said to myself: “Behold, there are still ghosts!” And I felt a secret joy. ATHENS AS AN EASTERN CITY, Alexander Papadiamantis