“Oh, let us hope, when the Greek Empire is reconstructed, we will have a new Pindar, a new Sophocles, a new Plato.” “That is a dream of the lyre, not of the sword,” replied Caliphronas, carelessly glancing at his watch. “By the way, it is very late, and, as we have to be up early, I suppose we ought to retire early.” “I am quite with you, Count,” said Mrs. Dengelton, rolling up her work. “Come, Eunice, we must get our beauty sleep.” “Humph! the mother needs it more than the daughter,” thought Crispin, but did not give vent to this very uncomplimentary remark, and hastened to give the ladies their candles. “Are you going to bed, Caliphronas?” asked Maurice, when the ladies had gone. “We intend to smoke.” “Going to shorten your lives,” replied the Count, smiling. “No; I am like Mrs. Dengelton, I require my beauty sleep;” and at that he also departed. The Rector, in company with his two young friends, went to the smoking-room, and had a pleasant conversation, but it was noticeable that all three gentlemen carefully avoided mentioning the name of Caliphronas. Decidedly the Greek was not in favor, and, in spite of the good impression he had created in the Rector’s mind by his patriotic emotion, that gentleman showed how deeply rooted was his distrust by his parting words to Crispin. “Remember, I leave Maurice in your hands, Mr. Crispin,” he said in a faltering voice; “he is very dear to me, and you must protect him from all danger.” “My dear Rector, I am not a child,” interposed Maurice, rather nettled; “nor are we going to the wilds of Africa.” “You may meet with worse enemies than the savage beasts of Africa,” replied the Rector obstinately. “I do not trust your friend Caliphronas.” “Be content,” said Crispin, shaking the Rector warmly by the hand, “I will watch over Maurice; and as to Caliphronas you need not be afraid of him. I know the man.” “And know any good of him?” “Ah, that is a secret at present; but you may be sure he will not harm Maurice while I am near.” “One would think we were going into danger, the way you talk,” said Roylands impatiently, “instead of a pleasant cruise in Greek waters.” “The New Argonauts,” observed the Rector, laughing. “Good-night, Mr. Crispin. Good-night, my dear lad; come over and say good-by to-morrow.” The Argonauts promised, and the Rector, quite at peace concerning his dear pupil, departed. “You doubt Caliphronas; the Rector doubts Caliphronas,” said Maurice, when the old man had gone. “I am getting rather wearied of such doubts.” “Well, I will set your doubts at rest in—say a week’s time.” “And are your revelations startling?” Crispin shrugged his shoulders. “Not very; it all depends upon what you call startling. Really I have made by my talk this molehill of a Caliphronas into a mountain of dissimulation and deceit. He is not a good man, but I have no doubt he is as good as his neighbors.” “The mystery which environs him fascinates me.”