ot a very friendly one--from a pair of glittering eyes. Then, as I
sat down, he had frowned grimly, and stuck a shiny elbow out to prevent
me from coming any nearer. On the other hand, the gymnasium men were
over-sociable, and I felt rather afraid of their proximity. One of them
did not hesitate to thrust a book into my hands, saying, "Give that to
that fellow over there, will you?" while another of them exclaimed as he
pushed past me, "By your leave, young fellow!" and a third made use of
my shoulder as a prop when he wanted to scramble over a desk. All this
seemed to me a little rough and unpleasant, for I looked upon myself as
immensely superior to such fellows, and considered that they ought not
to treat me with such familiarity. At length, the names began to
be called out. The gymnasium men walked out boldly, answered their
questions (apparently) well, and came back looking cheerful. My own
class of candidates were much more diffident, as well as appeared to
answer worse. Of the oldish men, some answered well, and some very
poorly. When the name "Semenoff" was called out my neighbour with the
grey hair and glittering eyes jostled me roughly, stepped over my legs,
and went up to one of the examiners' tables. It was plain from the
aspect of the professors that he answered well and with assurance, yet,
on returning to his place, he did not wait to see where he was placed
on the list, but quietly collected his notebooks and departed. Several
times I shuddered at the sound of the voice calling out the names, but
my turn did not come in exact alphabetical order, though already names
had begun to be called beginning with "I."

"Ikonin and Tenieff!" suddenly shouted some one from the professors' end
of the hall.

"Go on, Ikonin! You are being called," said a tall, red-faced gymnasium
student near me. "But who is this BARtenieff or MORtenieff or somebody?
I don't know him."

"It must be you," whispered St. Jerome loudly in my ear.

"MY name is IRtenieff," I said to the red-faced student. "Do you think
that was the name they were calling out?"

"Yes. Why on earth don't you go up?" he replied. "Lord, what a dandy!"
he added under his breath, yet not so quietly but that I failed to hear
the words as they came wafted to me from below the desk. In front of
me walked Ikonin--a tall young man of about twenty-five, who was one of
those whom I had classed as oldish men. He wore a tight brown frockcoat
and a blue satin tie, and