The teacher takes the books and distributes them to those who have come to the cupboard. First those on top of the heap on the floor, then those lying underneath, want a book.
The pile gradually diminishes. As soon as the majority have their books, all the rest run to the cupboard, and cry, "Me one! me one!"
"Give me the one I had yesterday!"
"Give me the Koltsof[1] book!"
And so on.
If there happen to be any two scufflers left struggling on the floor, then those who have taken their places with their books shout:—
"Why do you make so much noise? we can't hear anything! Hush!"
The impulsive fellows come to order and, all out of breath, get their books, and only for the first moment or two after they sit down does the dying excitement betray itself in an occasional motion of a leg.
The spirit of war takes its flight, and the spirit of learning holds sway in the room. With the same zeal as the lad had shown in pulling Mitka's hair, he now reads his Koltsof book,—thus the works of Koltsof are called among us,—with teeth almost shut together, with shining eyes, and total oblivion of all around him except his book. To tear him from his reading requires fully as much strength as it required before to get him away from his wrestling.
CHAPTER III
THE APPEARANCE OF THE ROOM
The pupils sit wherever they please,—on benches, chairs, on the window-sill, on the floor, or in the arm-chair.
The girls always sit by themselves. Friends, those
- ↑ Alekseï Vasiiyevitch Koltsof (1809–1842), a distinguished poet, by some called the Burns of Russia.
