cent controversy between two learned professors in the University of Athens. Seeing the judge's eyes fixed upon some object behind, Mr. Plateas stopped short, leaned his fat hand on the table to aid the gyration that he was about to make upon his stool, and was preparing for another effort to discover what could thus fascinate Mr. Liakos, when the judge, divining his companion's purpose, suddenly laid his hand on the professor's, and pressing it firmly, said in a low voice, but with a tone of authority:
"Don't turn around!"
Mr. Plateas sat motionless, with mouth open and eyes fastened on those of his friend, who was still staring at the road. The judge's look showed that the object of his interest was coming nearer, but the professor did not dare to stir or utter a word.
"Talk," whispered Mr. Liakos. "Continue the conversation."
"But, my dear friend, what shall I say? You 've driven every idea out of my head."
"Recite something."
"What shall I recite?"
"Anything you like,—something out of the 'Iliad.'"
"But I can't think of a single line!"
"Say the Creed, then,—anything you please, only don't sit there dumb."
The poor professor began to stammer out
