There is no reason to hide from the reader: this bizarre story takes place in a city in Virginia, United States of America.If they do not object, we shall call the city Weston, and place it on the right bank of the Potomac in the Eastlands.But we do not feel it necessary to give further coordinates of this town, since it is not found on even the most complete map of the United States. On the morning of March 12 of that year, the residents of Weston who passed the Exeter Road at a certain time could see a handsome knight galloping up the steep road. , then galloped down again, and finally reined in the horse at Syntagma Square near the city center.

The knight was a typical Yankee, but he did not lose his unique style.He could not have been more than thirty years of age, of medium height, with a strong and graceful build, with a regular face, brown hair and a chestnut beard that elongated his face at the tip, and his lips were carefully shaved.A wide and overcoat covered the calves and covered the horse's buttocks, showing a round silhouette.He maneuvers his rather lively mount deftly and decisively.His posture reveals the appearance of a man who is brave to act, decisive and resolute, and does things without thinking.He doesn't waver between wishes and fears, as only indecisive people do.One last thing that anyone who watches him will notice is that his apparent indifference does not quite mask his natural impatience.

Why did this knight appear in a city where no one knew him, no one had seen him?Is he just passing by, or is he planning to stay here for a while? ... In the latter case, if he was looking for hotels, he would be confused, because there were too many of them.In this respect, Weston is one of the best.You won't find better hospitality, better service, better food, and so much equipment at such low prices in any other city in the United States or elsewhere.It's a shame that a city with so many benefits is so roughly marked on the map. No, this stranger did not seem to be staying in Weston at all, and the gracious smiles of the hotel owners undoubtedly made him indifferent.With an air of concentration and indifference to everything around him, he walked along the sidewalk that bordered the Plaza de la Syntagma, which had a huge platform in the center, without even thinking that he aroused the curiosity of the public.

But God knows if this curiosity has been aroused!As soon as the knight appeared, the boss and the fellows stood at the door and began talking: "Where did he come from?" "Hit Exeter Road." "Where did it come from?" "It's said to be from the Wilcox suburban side." "He's been walking around the square for half an hour." "Because he was waiting for someone." "Very likely. And even a little anxious!" "He kept looking towards the Exeter Road." "The man will come over there." "Who is 'that person'? ... male or female?"

"Drink! Drink!... He is really handsome!" "So it's a date?" "Yeah, a date . . . but not as you understand it." "What do you know?" "The stranger has stopped three times before Mr. John Prowse..." "And since Mr. John Prowse is Weston's judge..." "That means this person is going to sue." "And his opponent was late." "Makes sense." "Well! Judge John can reconcile them in the blink of an eye." "He's a capable man." "And a nice guy." Indeed, that may have been the real reason why the knight had come to Weston.He did stop several times in front of Judge John Prowse's house, but he did not dismount.He looked at the door, the windows, and remained motionless as if waiting for someone to come out, until his horse's restless snort forced him away.

When he stopped there again, the door swung open and a man appeared on the landing of the steps leading to the sidewalk. When the foreigner saw this man, he said: "Mr. John Prowse, I suppose? . . . " he said, lifting his hat. "It's next," replied the judge. "I have a simple question, all you have to do is answer yes or no." "Please, sir." "Did anyone come this morning to ask you about Mr. Seth Stanford?" "As far as I know, no." "thanks." Having said this, he raised his hat again, let go of the rein, and trotted up the Exeter Road.

It was now agreed that there could be no doubt that the stranger had business with Mr. John Prowse.Judging from the way he had just asked the question, he was Seth Stanford himself, and he had come to the appointment before the other one.But another equally exciting question arose.Has the time for this aforementioned appointment passed away, and will the strange knight leave the city forever? It didn't take much effort to think that everyone was betting on whether the stranger would return immediately or never return.Because it's in America, that is to say, among the most gamblers in the world.A few half-dollar bets were made between the hotel staff and the troublemakers standing in the square, and even five or six cents, not much more, but the loser would pay unambiguously, and the The winners will also accept it, because they are all gentlemen of faith.

As for Judge John Prowse, he merely watched the knights off to Upper Wilcox.This Judge, John Prowse, was a philosopher, a virtuous judicial officer, who had passed fifty virtuous and wise years, though he lived only half a century—that is to say, he was A sage and philosopher.It should be added that, as a celibate--an indisputable proof of his virtuousness--his life was never disturbed by any anxiety, which, it must be agreed, was a great help to his own philosophy.He was born in Weston, and never, or very rarely, left Weston, even when he was a boy.The people of his jurisdiction respected and loved him because they knew he had no ambitions.

He is a man of integrity and always appears to be tolerant of other people's weaknesses and sometimes even shortcomings.When he conciliated matters that were brought before him, he always sought to reconcile the parties before his humble court, to smooth the edges, to grease the cogs, to moderate the conflicts that are inherent in any social order, no matter the How perfect is this order?This is how he understood his mission. John Prose lived quite well.He performed the duties of a judge out of love.He also has no intention of rising through the judicial system.He himself loves to be quiet, and he also makes others quiet.He regards people as neighbors in life, and living in harmony has all advantages and no disadvantages.He gets up early and goes to bed early.He read his favorites, Old World and New World, but only one honest and decent paper in this town: the Weston Gazette, where advertising took more place than politics.Every day he takes an hour or two for a walk.During this period, people took off their hats to pay homage to him and used up their hats, which also made him have to change his hat every three months.Between these walks, and when not devoted to his duties, he remained in his quiet and comfortable quarters, planting flowers in the garden.The flowers delighted him with their bright colors and their rich fragrance, and rewarded him for his painstaking care.With so few strokes out of the character of Mr. John Prowse, and his portrait properly framed, it will be understood why the judge was not particularly distracted by the question posed by the stranger.If the question is not to the owner of the house, but to his old maid, Kate, it is likely that Kate will want to know more about the situation, and she will insist on figuring out what is going on with that Seth Stanford .She would ask him what to say if someone came to ask about this person.And perhaps the honorable Kate would not be unwilling to know whether the stranger would return to Mr. John Prowse's again, either in the morning or in the afternoon.

Mr. John Prowse would not have tolerated such curiosity and indiscretion in himself.This could be forgiven in the case of his maid, besides, she was female.Mr. John Prose did not even notice that the stranger's arrival, presence, and departure attracted the attention of the wanderers in the square.After he shut the door, he went back into the garden to water his roses, orris, geraniums, and mignonette. Curious people did not follow his example at all, they still watched.At this time, the knight had already reached the end of Exeter Road, which was the highest point in the west of the city.When he reached the suburb of Wilcox, which was connected by this road to the city center, he reined in his horse and looked around without taking his saddle up.From this point he could see for a radius of a mile, and down the winding road down to the little town of Steele, three miles away.The town towers in silhouette on the other side of the Potomac.His eyes searched the road in vain.Undoubtedly, he did not find what he was looking for.So he made a few restless, violent movements, which infected his horse as well, so that he had to stop its kicking.

Ten minutes passed.The knight galloped back to Exeter Square in small steps, coming to the square for the fifth time. "Anyway," he repeated to himself, looking at his watch, "she's not late... the appointment was ten past seven, and it's not half past nine... from Weston to Steele (she should come over there) is the same distance as from Weston to Brill (where I come from). The distance can be covered in less than twenty minutes... The road is good, the weather is dry, and I Also never heard of when the river swelled and the bridge was washed away...so no hardships...in this case, if she misses her appointment, it's on purpose...besides, precision is about being on time, Rather than showing up too early.... In fact, I was imprecise, because I probably arrived before her by more than an organized person should... Of course, even if there is no other emotion in it. Out of politeness, I should come to the appointment first!" The outsider walked down the Exeter Road, asking and answering questions, and didn't stop the monologue until the horse's hooves stepped on the asphalt of the square again. Those who bet that the out-of-towner would return won without a doubt.So when he passed the hotels, they greeted him with smiles, while the losers greeted him with a shrug. At last the clock at the town hall struck ten.The outsider stopped and counted the ten bells, and took out the watch from his vest pocket to see that the time of the watch and the clock were exactly the same. Only seven minutes to go, the appointment time is up, and it will be over. Seth Stanford back at the Exeter Road intersection.Apparently, neither his mount nor himself could stand it any longer. At this time, a considerable number of spectators made the road suddenly lively.Seth Stanford paid no attention to those who came up, but to those who came down, his eyes caught them as soon as they emerged from the slope.The Exeter Road is so long that a man on foot would take ten minutes to cover it, but a galloping cart or a galloping horse would take three or four minutes. Our knights have nothing to do with people on foot.He didn't even look at them.Even if his closest friend walked by, he would not notice.The man he was waiting for came either by carriage or on horseback. But will she make it on time? ...just three minutes away.There was just enough time to go down the Exeter Road, but there were no motorcycles, no bicycles, and no cars in sight.If the car was traveling at eighty kilometers per hour, it would still be able to arrive before the appointment time. Seth Stanford casts a last glance at Exeter Road.His eyes shone like lightning, and he whispered with unshakable determination: "If she hadn't been here at seven past ten, I wouldn't have married her." At this time, there was a sudden sound of horseshoes on the slope, as if it was an answer to his decision.On the animal—a fine horse—sat a young woman.She steers her mount gracefully and steadily.Passers-by stepped aside in front of the horse.There is no doubt that it can run all the way to the square without hindrance. Seth Stanford recognized the woman he was waiting for.His countenance became impassive again.Without saying a word or making a gesture, he turned his horse around and returned to the judge's door calmly. This revived the interest of the contentious ones, who surrounded them, while the outsiders paid no attention to them. A few seconds later, the female knight also entered the square, and her horse stopped two steps away from the door, foaming. The stranger took off his hat and said: "Hail to Miss Arcadia Walker..." "Hail to Mr. Seth Stanford..." Arcadia Walker bowed gracefully and replied. Believe us, the locals were all staring at this pair of strangers.They said to each other: "If they come to a lawsuit, the best result of mediation is beneficial to both parties." "It will be settled. Otherwise Mr. Prows is a worthless man." "If neither of them ever married, it would be best if it ended with a wedding." These people just talked like that, exchanging their thoughts. But neither Seth Stanford nor Miss Arcadia Walker seemed to care about the embarrassing curiosity which they were now the object of. Mr. Seth Stanford was about to dismount to knock on Judge John Prowse's door, when it opened of its own accord. Mr. John Prowse appeared at the door, and this time Kate, the old maid, appeared behind him. They heard the clatter of hooves in front of the house, and the one left his garden, the latter her kitchen, to see what was going on. So Mr. Seth Stanford remained in the saddle, and said to the Judge: "Mr. Judge John Prowse, I am Mr. Seth Stanford of Boston, Massachusetts." "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Seth Stanford!" "This is Miss Arcadia Walker of Trenton, New Jersey." "Miss Arcadia Walker is so lucky to visit the humble house!" So Mr. John Prose, having considered the stranger, turned his attention to the woman. Miss Arcadia Walker is a charming woman, and the reader will be grateful to us if we describe her a little.She was twenty-four years old, with light blue eyes, dark chestnut hair, a vivid complexion hardly darkened by the wilderness air, exceptionally regular and white teeth, a figure of medium height, charming manners, and a rare grace and demeanor. neatly.Dressed in a riding attire, she changes positions gracefully with the movements of her horse.The horse was kicking and kicking like Seth Stanford's mount.Her delicately gloved hands fiddled with the reins in a deft rider recognizable to those in the know.There was something very dignified about her, and that "indescribable" quality of the upper classes of the United States.One may call this class the American aristocracy, if the term does not conflict with the democratic instincts of the inhabitants of the New World. Only distant relatives remained of Miss Arcadia Walker of New Jersey, free of movement, financially independent, full of the adventurous spirit of young America, living a life to suit her own taste.She has been traveling for several years, traveling through the main regions of Europe, acquainted with the customs and customs of Paris, New York, Berlin, Vienna or Rome.She could tell the French, the English, the Germans, the Italians in their native languages ​​what she had seen and heard during those never-ending travels.She was a well-bred woman, and her late guardian had arranged for her a very good education.She was not even an outsider in running a business, and in the management of her estate she showed an excellent understanding of her own interests. What we have just said about Miss Arcadia Walker can be applied symmetrically—this word is very apt—to Mr. Seth Stanford.He is equally free, equally rich, and equally fond of traveling. He has traveled all over the world and rarely lives in his hometown of Boston for a few days.In winter, he was a guest in the major cities of the Old Continent, where he often met his adventurous female compatriot.In the summer, he went back to his country, to the bathing places where the rich Yankees went with their families, and there, Miss Arcadia Walker and he met again by chance. The common hobbies brought these two young and brave people gradually closer.The curious men in the square, especially the women, felt that they were a match made in heaven.Indeed, both of them were avid travellers, eager to be on the scene of some political or military event which attracted public attention.So, how could they not be in sync?No wonder, then, that Mr. Seth Stanford and Miss Arcadia Walker gradually developed the idea of ​​combining their lives.This will not change their habits in the slightest, and then it will no longer be two ships going hand in hand, but one.It is believed that the ship would be better built, with better rigging and better arrangements, to sail across the seas and around the world. No!Mr. Seth Stanford and Miss Arcadia Walker came before the judges of this city not at all to litigate, not to have any dispute, not to settle anything.After completing all the legal procedures in the relevant departments of Massachusetts and New Jersey, they agreed to come to Weston to complete a procedure on this day—the time of March 12—at 10:07.According to fans, it is the single most important thing in life.Now that Mr. Seth Stanford and Miss Arcadia Walker had been introduced to the judge, as stated above, Mr. John Prowth had only to ask the traveler and traveler why they had come to him. "Seth Stanford wants to be the husband of Miss Arcadia Walker," replied one. "And Miss Arcadia Walker wants to be Mr. Seth Stanford's wife too," added another. The judge bowed and said: "At your service, Mr. Stanford, and at your service, Miss Arcadia Walker." The two young men also saluted. "When do you want to have your wedding?" Mr. John Prose continued. "Right now...if you have time," Seth Stanford replied. "Because when I become Mrs. Stamford we shall leave Weston," announced Miss Arcadia Walker. Judge John Prowse showed in his manner how much he and the whole town regretted not being able to keep the lovely couple who were now visiting their city longer in Weston. Then he added: "Listen to your respect." As he spoke, he took a few steps back to let them enter the room. But Mr. Stanford stopped him with a gesture. "Is it really necessary for Miss Arcadia and I to dismount?" he asked. Mr. John Prose thought for a moment. "Not at all," he said. "You can marry on horseback or standing up." Even in the unique country of America, it would be hard to find a more accommodating judge. "I have but one question," continued Mr. John Prowse, "has all the formalities required by law been done?" "It's all done," Seth Stanford replied. So he handed the judge two copies of the fully compliant license, filled out by the clerks of Boston and Trenton, after payment of the fees. Mr. John Prose took the supporting documents, put his gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, and carefully read these documents that were processed according to the regulations and stamped with official seals. Not surprisingly, a growing number of curious people crowded around the couple as witnesses to a wedding that would have seemed a bit out of the ordinary in any other country, but without embarrassing or embarrassing the unmarried couple. unhappy. Mr. John Prowse then went up some steps, and asked in a voice audible to all: "Mr. Seth Stanford, do you agree to marry Miss Arcadia Walker?" "yes." "Miss Arcadia Walker, do you agree to be Mr. Seth Stanford's wife?" "yes." The judge stares for a few seconds, then, with all the seriousness of a cameraman at a religious ceremony ("Hold on!"), he says: "Mr. Seth Stanford of Boston and Miss Arcadia Walker of Trenton, I declare in the name of the law that you are united by marriage." The couple moved closer to each other and held hands, as if they were signing and stamping the procedures they had just completed. Then they each handed the judge a five-hundred-dollar bill. "This is the handling fee," Seth Stanford said. "It's for the poor," said Arcadia Stanford. So the two bowed to the judge, let go of the reins, and set off in the direction of the suburb of Wilcox. "Ah! . . . ah! . . . " cried Kate.She was so surprised that, as an exception, she did not speak for ten minutes. "What does that mean, Kate?" said Mr. John Prose. Old Kate put down the corner of the apron she had been twisting like a professional roper. "I think," she said, "that they are madmen, these two, Mr. Judge." "Perhaps so, my dear Kate, perhaps so," agreed Mr. John Prowse; "but what's so strange about it? . . . Aren't those who marry are a little mad?"