"The child is soaked through—!"
My lamentations broke forth afresh.
"Of course he is wet," said a big boy; "think of the time he has been crying."
"What!" cried the abbé, "you dare to suggest that his own tears have soaked him like this?"
"Certainly!"
"But, M. l'abbé," I exclaimed, "I could not cry down my back, and I am as wet behind as in front."
The abbé verified my statement.
"You are right," he said. "No recreation at midday; bring me the cane at once; and you boys must do three hundred lines by to-morrow morning."
Then arose a chorus of complaints and groans equal to those Dante heard in the first circle of the Inferno.
With these groans and complaints fierce threats were mingled which made my flesh creep.