Demosthenes Keramaris paid the workers, went home, slaughtered a cock for next day's dinner, washed his hair and, around dawn, went to the village market. While he was out, his wife heated water to pluck the slaughtered cock and as she dipped it inside, she remembered that that day was their wedding anniversary. They had been married eighteen years. They were middle-aged now. She was fortythree and her husband fifty-four. At night in bed Demosthenes Keramaris put out his hand to caress her but she -not only because it was the eve of a feast day- did not respond. Demosthenes Keramaris fell asleep without insisting.