The next day it was four o'clock before he went up to the Kolonaki and found the blind old man seated on a chair outside his door, waiting for him patiently. The daily newspaper was read, but without the usual stopping for questions. When the reading was over Aleko opened his box and pulled out his book. Then he flung himself down and resting the book on the old man's knees opened the tattered, scribbled-over blue paper cover. "Master," he said, "these are ancient Greek words; I heard a man say them to another, and I wrote them down. What do they mean?" and he read the words aloud slowly:-- hôs charien esth' anthrôpos hotan anthrôpos ê "Ah, my child!" and the old man's voice trembled a little, "they knew so much, those old forefathers of ours,-- hôs charien esth' anthrôpos hotan anthrôpos ê "Yes, that is from Menander. How shall I tell you? It means so many things and so many different things at different times. Sometimes, I think, it may mean simply, that it is a duty to be a man and not a brute. Let me explain...." "I know!" broke in Aleko, whose eyes had been fixed on the entrance of the narrow street. "You mean, to be like you and not like that fruit-seller over there who is kicking his donkey because he has laden it too heavily, and it cannot walk." Kyr Themistocli smiled. "Well, ... yes, if you like, my boy ... yes. Sometimes it means that it is a glorious thing to be all that a man can be! to be afraid of no evil talk, to hold your head very high, to remember that we have sprung from a race which has given light to all the civilized world, to become all that an ancient Greek of the best might have been. I do not mean that there were no bad men among them! Which race has been without? There were Ephialtes[11] ... Antipater[12] ... and many others. But to approach the noblest, ... to touch the hem of their garment ... who would not be proud? Sometimes, Aleko, it means that like Socrates, one must give work, and strength, and patience, and forgiveness to others, and look for nothing in return. Sometimes it means that a man, to be a man, must give the thing that is hardest to give of all--his life even!" "But ..." began Aleko hesitatingly. "What, my child? Ask all that you wish." "If a man--a great man, and a good man as you say--gives his life, then it is finished; he cannot help anyone, or be great, or strong, any more."