When he announced abruptly that he had found a husband for his sweetheart’s sister, his cousin, instead of showing pleasure, or at least some curiosity, quietly continued her sewing with affected indifference, saying merely, “Ah!” This “Ah” was half-way between a question and an exclamation; the judge could not tell whether it expressed irony or simple astonishment; but it was enough to chill him.

“Everything is against me!” he thought.

“And who is your candidate?” she asked after a pause, but without stopping her work.

“Mr. Plateas.”

His cousin dropped her needle, and looked at Mr. Liakos with eyes full of mocking surprise.

“Mr. Plateas!” she cried, and began to laugh heartily.  The judge had never seen her so merry.

“I don’t see what you find to laugh at,” he said, with dignity.

“You must forgive me,” she replied, trying to stifle her merriment.  “Pray forgive me if I have hurt you through your friend, but I can’t imagine Mr. Plateas in love.”  And she began to laugh again; then seeing the judge’s expression, she asked, “What put this marriage into your head?”

“No,” he began, without answering her question, “please to tell me what you find so reprehensible in him.”

“Reprehensible!” she repeated, imitating her cousin’s tone.  “I don’t find him reprehensible, simply ridiculous.”

“I admit that his person is not awe-inspiring.”

“Awe-inspiring!  What long words you use!  You’ll be giving me one of your friend’s quotations from Homer next.”

“Listen,” he said, changing his manner.  “At first I looked at it just as you do; but the more I thought it over, the more clearly I saw that I was wrong.  Mr. Plateas has all the qualities that go to make a good husband.  He will be ridiculous as a lover, I must admit.  He will look absurd on his wedding day, with the wreath of flowers on his head [Footnote:  The Greek bride and bridegroom both wear a wreath of flowers.]—–­”

At this his cousin broke into a fresh peal of laughter, in which the judge was forced to join in spite of himself.  Their sudden gayety having subsided, the conversation became more serious.  Mr. Liakos related all the details of the affair, and as his story went on he was delighted to see his cousin’s prejudices gradually disappear, although she still made objections when they came to dissect the suitor’s character.

“He is a hypochondriac!” she said.

“He takes care of his health,” replied the judge, “simply because he has nothing else to occupy him.  When once he is married, he’ll care for his wife, just as he cared for his mother while she lived and his hypochondria, as you call it, will vanish fast enough.”

“He’s pedantic.”

“That is hardly a grave fault in a professor.”

Now that the question had narrowed down to his friend’s moral qualities, Mr. Liakos began to feel certain of victory so far as his cousin was concerned.  His only remaining doubt was as to the young lady’s consent.