When Mr. Liakos learned that his sweetheart was not coming, he submitted to his banishment with stoicism; but it seemed to him that the evening at the club would never come to an end.  About ten o’clock a servant came to say that Mr. Plateas was waiting for him; he rushed downstairs and found his friend in the street.  By the light of a street lamp the judge saw at once from the expression of the suitor’s face that the visit had been a complete success.  The professor looked like another man.

“Well?” asked Mr. Liakos, eagerly.

“I tell you, she isn’t plain at all!” exclaimed Mr. Plateas.  “When she speaks her voice is like music, and she has a charming expression!  As for her little hand,—­it’s simply exquisite!”

“You kissed it, I suppose?” said the judge.

“Of course I did!”

“What did you say, and what did she say to you?”

“As though I could tell you everything!  The idea!” Then lowering his voice, he added:  “Do you know what she said to me?  She told me she was glad and grateful that I had asked her to marry me through friendship for you, because such a good friend must make a good husband.  I begged her not to say that, else I could not help thinking that she accepted me only out of love for her sister.

“‘And why not?’ she said gently.  ’What sweeter source could the happiness of our future have?’”

Mr. Liakos was touched.

“But really,” his friend went on, “I can’t begin to tell you everything now.  One thing is certain,—­I’ve found a perfect treasure!”

“Did I not tell you so?”

“Yes, but you haven’t told me her name, and I didn’t dare ask her.  What is it?”

The judge bent over and whispered the name that his friend longed to hear.

“There, you know it now.”

“Yes, at last!” and the two friends parted,—­the one went home with a new joy in his heart, saying over the name he had just learned, while the other softly repeated the name so long dear to him.

A few weeks later, the first Sunday after Easter there was a high festival in the old merchant’s house to celebrate the marriage of his two daughters.  Of the bridegrooms, Mr. Liakos was not the merrier, for now that his dearest hopes were realized, his soul was filled with a quiet happiness that left no room for words.  Mr. Plateas, on the other hand, was overflowing with delight, and his spirits seemed contagious, for all the wedding guests laughed with him.  Even His Eminence the Archbishop of Tenos and Syra, who had blessed the double marriage, was jovial with the rest, and showed his learning by wishing the happy couples joy in a line from Homer: 

[Greek Text] “Thine own wish may the Gods give thee in every place.”

To which Mr. Plateas replied majestically: 

[Greek Text] “The best omen is to battle for one’s native land!”

After the wedding, the judge obtained three months’ leave, and took his bride for a visit to his old home among his kinsfolk.