ABSTRACT
In Paris, the author simply settled down to study. He saw no hope of going ahead in any direction, so for the moment he gave up trying. One day Mr. Andonis Benakis came to call on him. The rattle of the car-wheels seemed like the wheels of all the automobiles which had filled the roads around Delphi, and like the rattle of the thousands of plates in the Restaurant of Festival. The whistle of the train became the siren of the passenger boats which had brought so many people to Itea. These three demons choked me with anxiety. The days were over when I had to struggle to get a chorus, when girls would come and girls would go, and he was constantly beginning over again. For the Prometheus Bound I had started with the plan of having chorus of fifty, but finally, after three years, he gave play with only thirty, though he must have taught about a hundred.
