"Very well, I'm coming;" and he went down to the parlor, which was next
to the kitchen and served as dining-room also. The professor sat down
with a good appetite, and when his hunger was appeased, he began to
think over the incidents of his walk. At first his mind dwelt upon the
advantages of bachelorhood; then he thought of Mr. Liakos, and felt a
sincere pity for his friend.

"Poor fellow!" he said to himself. "He has been hit by Cupid's arrow,
and is no longer his own master. He thinks he's on the right road to
happiness; I hope he may find it, and never discover his mistake! Well,
we never get just what we want in this world, and a man's happiness
depends after all on his own way of feeling and thinking."

Mr. Plateas fancied this was philosophy, but, in fact, it was only a
blind attempt to get rid of disagreeable thoughts. He could not forget
the judge's evident dejection and vain effort to hide it. What if Mr.
Liakos did want him to marry the plain sister! Perhaps his friend had
felt a delicacy about speaking to him on the subject, and had denied
ever having thought of such a thing only when stung by his ungrateful
words.

Who had a better right to claim such a sacrifice? Did he not owe his
very life to the judge? And how had he repaid this debt? He had tried to
escape it! He had ignored his friend's delicacy, and basely threatened
to drown himself rather than lift a hand to secure his preserver's
happiness. The more he thought of it, the blacker seemed his
ingratitude. He had actually insulted the man who had saved his life!
The blood rushed to his cheeks; his remorse grew keener and keener, and
his philosophy was of little comfort. Having eaten his last bunch of