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. How eagerly their return was awaited, and how delighted the sisters were to be together again! The old father trembled with joy. When the two brothers-in-law were alone, each saw his own happiness reflected in the other's face. "Well, did I exaggerate when I sang your wife's praises?" asked Mr. Liakos. "She's a treasure, my dear friend!" cried Mr. Plateas,--"a perfect treasure! In a few months," he went on, "I shall have a new favor to ask of you. I want you to stand as godfather to your nephew." "What! You too!" "And you?" THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS BY MAURICE MAETERLINCK From "The Massacre of the Innocents and other Tales by Belgian Writers." Translated by Edith Wingate Rinder. Published by Stone & Kimball. Copyright, 1895, by Stone & Kimball. Towards the hour of supper on Friday, the twenty-sixth day of the month of December, a little shepherd lad came into Nazareth, crying bitterly. Some peasants, who were drinking ale in the Blue Lion, opened the shutters to look into the village orchard, and saw the child running over the snow. They recognized him as the son of Korneliz, and called from the window: "What is the matter? It's time you were abed!" But, sobbing still and shaking with terror, the boy cried that the Spaniards had come, that they had set fire to the farm, had hanged his mother among the nut trees and bound his nine little sisters to the trunk of a big tree. At this the peasants rushed out of the inn. Surrounding the child, they stunned him with their questionings and outcries. Between his sobs, he added that the soldiers were on horseback and wore armor, that they had taken away the cattle of his uncle, Petrus Krayer, and would soon be in the forest with the sheep and cows. All now ran to the Golden Swan where, as they knew, Korneliz and his brother-in-law were also drinking their mug of ale. The moment the innkeeper heard these terrifying tidings, he hurried into the village, crying that the Spaniards were at hand.