w, though his face was unwrinkled.
Swiftly, I tried to dive beneath that fair exterior, and, somehow, I compared him to a Homer, or some other great classic, who loved to be the cicerone of youth, and took no note of his own years.
The charm of Hellas fell upon me, and I yielded a patient hearing to the fervid words, and all discretion fled, despite inward admonitions to beware of rashness.
He said he would be my proxy, and would choose a damsel worthy of every praise for beauty and for chacould scarcely have done anything better than propose this ride; for what I saw during the ride, by recalling all I had read of Greece, made Greek things particularly dear to me. When I returned to the town, I quite understood Byron's passion for Hellas.
In the evening Evangelides walked with me on a visit to a family which lived on another side of the Square.
We were received by a very respectable old gentleman in sober black, and a stout lady who, in appearance, dress, and surroundings, sh