raisins, be pushed away his plate angrily, threw his napkin on the
table, and went up to his room in a very discontented frame of mind.

"I've behaved abominably," he said to himself. "Why should I have
offended him? There was no need of saying what I did. Reflection always
comes too late with me!"

And striking his head with his hand, he paced up and down his room in
the growing darkness until Florou came in and put his lamp on the table.

She came and went without a word.

The professor stopped a moment, and his eyes rested on the light. The
light reminded him of his duty and invited him to work; he must prepare
his lesson for the morrow. For the first time in his life he found that
he could not fix his mind upon his books. He hesitated, and then began
to walk up and down again, thinking of Mr. Liakos, of his pupils, of the
merchant's two daughters, and of the gymnasiarch, [Footnote:
Superintendent of a gymnasium or secondary school.] all at the same
time. Finally, in this jumble of ideas, professional instinct got the
upper hand. He sat down at the table, put the three heavy volumes of
Gazis's Dictionary, the Syntax of Asopios, and his other handbooks of
study in their usual order, then set out his ink and paper, and found in
his "Iliad" the page marked for the next day. He began his work by
noting the etymology of each word, the syntax of every phrase, and the
peculiarities of each hexameter. His class had reached the sixth book of
the "Iliad."

Soon, however, he forgot syntax, etymology, and metre; he forgot his
pupils and the dry analysis he was making for their benefit, and he read