The morning sunlight flooded his room and woke him a full hour later than usual.  It was the first time this had ever happened to the punctual professor, and Florou was positively dazed.  With heavy head and aching eyes, he dressed hastily, swallowed his cup of black coffee, and sat down to the unfinished task of the night before.  But his thoughts still wandered.

Nevertheless, he was at the gymnasium in time, and began the daily lesson.  But what a lesson!  At first the scholars wondered what had become of their teacher’s wonted severity; they soon perceived that this remarkable forbearance was not due to any merit on their part, but to complete heedlessness on his.  Wonder of wonders!  Mr. Plateas was inattentive!  Emboldened by this discovery, they took malicious delight in heaping blunder upon blunder, and played dire havoc with that sixth book of the “Iliad,” never sparing etymology, syntax, nor prosody.  The good man sat through it all undisturbed until the regular closing hour had struck.  His pupils went out, commenting not on Homer, but on the unheard-of lenity of their master, while as he walked away he resumed the burden of his thoughts,—­how to set about putting his resolve into execution.

The affair was not so simple as it had seemed to him in the night.  His decision to marry the elder daughter of Mr. Mitrophanis was not enough; there were certain steps to take, but what were they?  Should he apply to his friend?  After what had passed between them the day before, he hardly liked to go to the judge and say—­what?  “I am ready for the sacrifice!” Certainly he couldn’t do that.  Should he ask the aid of Mr. Liakos’s cousin?  There were objections to this course, too; to be sure, he knew the lady, and her husband as well; he was in the habit of bowing to them on the street, but he had never had any conversation with the cousin, and felt that he had neither the right nor the courage to ask her to serve as intermediary.

He thought it all over without reaching any conclusion, and was crossing the square on his way home,—­for it was nearly time for his noon-day dinner,—­when suddenly he saw Mr. Mitrophanis coming toward him.  This meeting put an end to all his doubts, and with a flash of inspiration he decided to speak directly to the young lady’s father.  What could be simpler?  Having no time to weigh the matter carefully, he was only too glad to find this happy way out of his perplexity.  He bowed, and stopped before the old gentleman.

“Mr. Mitrophanis, I am delighted to meet you, for I have a few words to say.”

“Mr. Plateas, I believe?” said the other, politely returning the bow.

“The same.”

“And what can I do for you, Mr. Plateas?”

The professor began to feel a little embarrassed; but it was too late to turn back, so he took courage and went on: 

“To come to the point at once, Mr. Mitrophanis, I desire to become your son-in-law!”