"And no ladies?" asked the judge.

"Oh, yes, Mrs. X. with her flock of children, and the merchant,--what is
his name,--Mr. Mitrophanis, with his two daughters."

The judge had learned all he wanted to know without letting his friend
perceive the drift of his questions. This was not very difficult, for
the professor was by no means a modern Lynceus, and did not see any
great distance beyond his nose. No doubt this resulted from the innate
simplicity and integrity of his character; having never been able to
conceal or feign anything himself, he was easily led to believe whatever
he was told. The readiness with which he became the victim of his
friends each first of April was notorious. He was always on the watch
from the night before; but his precautions were in vain. He was a man of
first impressions. Sometimes, but not often, he fathomed the questions
afterward, and discovered that he had not acted or spoken as he would
have liked. As a rule, however, these after-thoughts came too late to be
of any use, and he had to console himself with the reflection that
what's done is done.

"What do you say, will you stroll on with me?" asked the judge.

"What, at this hour, my dear friend!"

"Only to the turn of the road."

"You had better come home with me, and I'll treat you to some perfumed
wine that I received yesterday from Siphnos. I can recommend it."