through the passage before him without stopping. It was the parting of
Hector and Andromache. He discovered new beauty and meaning in the
story; the exquisite picture of conjugal and paternal love, the
happiness of mutual affection, the grief of parting, had never made such
an impression upon him before. Never before had he read or recited the
"Iliad" in this way, for as he read, Mr. Liakos gradually took Hector's
place. He kept thinking of his friend; it was his friend who felt the
bitterness of separation, and that too without ever having tasted, like
Hector, the joys of conjugal happiness!

Mr. Plateas shut his book and started up again. A thousand conflicting
thoughts filled his mind as he paced from his table to his bed, and from
his bed back to his table.

"Pshaw!" he cried. "Why shouldn't I believe that Liakos never had any
thought of marrying me off? I was a fool to imagine such a thing! Do I
look like a marrying man?"

He stopped before his glass, which was lighted by the lamp only at one
side, and saw one half of his face reflected with the silk handkerchief
wound around his head, while the other half was in shadow, and the two
ends of the knot stuck up over his forehead.

"Truly," he laughed, "between us we should have a beautiful Astyanax!"

He sat down again, calmer; but once more there began to throng before
his eyes scenes and images that had nothing to do with the next day's
lesson. He saw that he could not work in earnest, and decided to go to
bed, thinking that rest would quiet his nerves, and that he could get up
early in the morning and prepare his task with a fresher mind. So he