“Such a small room to sleep in,” he said in a disgusted tone. “I know I will be smothered if I stay in it. No; I shall wrap myself up in a blanket and sleep under the moon like Endymion, which will be training for your friend’s statue.” “That will be dangerous,” objected the Rector. “Not at all! In Greece—I mean my native islands—I sleep out very often. Oh, there is nothing more beautiful than slumber in the open air. I cannot bear houses; they stifle me; they crush me. I love no roof lower than the sky. And then to wake at dawn, to see the east glow with rosy tints, to watch the dew moisten every blade of grass, the awakening of the animals, the first songs of the birds, and the rising of the sun. Oh, I worship the sun! I worship him!” The Rector was a trifle shocked at this peroration, as he was not quite sure whether this fantastic being was not a sun-worshipper in downright earnest; the more so as in a sudden freak he flung himself down on his knees and held out his arms to the glorious luminary. “You are joking,” he said gravely. “Not I,” replied Caliphronas, springing to his feet. “You are not angry, are you, sir? Eh! I forgot myself you were a priest in this country. I must explain. I am of the Greek Church—yes! oh, I have been baptized.” The Rector smiled, and said no more, for it was impossible to talk seriously with a man who possessed so childish a soul. Meanwhile, Maurice, who had been thinking over matters, came to the conclusion that he would ask Caliphronas to stay at the Grange for a few days. At first sight this seemed rather injudicious, but when he remembered the high character of the man who vouched for the respectability of the Greek, all his scruples vanished. Besides, Caliphronas was such a peculiar character that he desired a closer acquaintance with him; and, above all, he could not hope anywhere to find such a perfect model for his Endymion. Taking, then, all these facts into consideration, he speedily made up his mind to ask the Count to be his guest, and did so without delay. “Count,” he said politely, “I am afraid you will find that inn very uncomfortable, so I would be glad to see you at the Grange for a week or so, where I think you will find yourself in more civilized quarters.” The Count’s eyes flashed with what looked uncommonly like triumph, but he dropped the lids over them rapidly for the moment, so as to prevent this look being seen, and shook Maurice heartily by the hand. “Thank you very much! oh, very much indeed!” he said effusively. “I hope I will not trouble you. I will be glad to come—yes, that place in the village would kill me.” “That’s all right,” replied Maurice, who had an Englishman’s horror of a scene. “I will send over for your traps, and you can come to the Grange in time for dinner. We dine at seven o’clock.” “Thank you, sir. I will be at your home to-night.”