“No, you,” Constantine muttered sulkily.
“Come, that’s like old times,” roared Stavros, putting an arm through the unreluctant Selaka’s, and wheeling him round towards Constitution Square. “It does me good to hear you after our stupid quarrel.”
“Yes, it was stupid,” Constantine admitted.
The glorious Miltiades, crossing the square, hailed them with his full-dress military salute, and hurrying up, shook them boisterously by the hand and bestowed the clap of patronage upon their backs, while a humorous twinkle in his handsome eyes betrayed remembrance of their heroic encounter.
“The reconciliation of the Inseparables! A sight for the gods. Achilles and Agamemnon, I am profoundly rejoiced at your good sense.”
“Friends can shake hands, I suppose, Captain Karapolos, without all this ado,” sneered Stavros, resentfully.
“So they can, but I could not resist the temptation to stop and offer my congratulations. Hoch! Trinken sie wein!” he shouted, proud of his German, and turned on his heel laughing heartily.
“The greatest idiot in all Athens,” exclaimed Stavros, scowling after him.
The reconciled friends seated themselves at a table, called for coffee, and began to roll up cigarettes.