serious,--that any one else would have done the same in his place. Mr.
Plateas would not be convinced, and persisted in declaring his
gratitude. While it often rather bored him, the judge was touched by
this devotion, and came to accept the professor as a part of his daily
life; in this way the two men gradually became fast friends, although
they were unlike in almost everything.

So Mr. Plateas was returning from his constitutional. It was one of
those beautiful February days, true forerunners of spring, when the sun
kisses the first leaves of the early almonds, the blue sea sparkles, and
the cloudless sky of Greece smiles. But it was nearly sunset, and the
prudent professor hardly dared expose himself to the cool evening air,
for at this season winter reasserts itself as soon as the sun goes down.
He had almost reached the dockyard, which then marked the outskirts of
Syra, and was still walking along the shore, when he saw his well-
beloved Liakos in the distance coming from the town. A smile of
satisfaction lighted his round face; he threw up both hands, in one of
which was a stout cane, and raising his voice so as to be heard by his
friend from afar, declaimed this line from the "Iliad":

[Greek text] Who mayest thou be, of mortal men most brave?

The professor had a habit of quoting Homer on all occasions, and was
reputed to know the whole "Iliad" and "Odyssey" by heart. He modestly
disavowed this tribute to his learning, but without giving up the
quotations that seemed to justify it. It is true ill-natured people said
his verses were not always quite applicable; but the Hellenists of Syra
did not confirm this slander, possibly because they were not competent
to judge. Still, everybody used to smile when he raised his voice in the
midst of a trivial conversation to roll forth majestically some sonorous