However, he led the culprit away to his office, and questioned him closely. Archag confessed to opening the cabinet and taking the box of butterflies to the window in order to see them better, but when he said that some one had pushed him, his judge smiled incredulously. He called Badvili Melikian, who assured him that, with the exception of Nejib who was in the city, none of the Sophomores had left the study-hall that afternoon.
Archag had always been on good terms with his classmates, and it seemed impossible that any one of them should have wanted to play him such a trick. Dr. Mills questioned the boys again, but each gave the same reply: not one of them had gone up to the museum that day. Indeed, the president asked these questions merely to satisfy his own conscience; he was quite convinced of Archag’s guilt. Professor Piralian had often complained of his bad conduct and lack of application; he had just given him a “medium” mark in English. It seemed therefore quite probable that Archag had deliberately taken revenge on his teacher by destroying his collection.
All the professors assembled in the president’s room to talk the matter over, and Dr. Mills laid Archag’s case before them at some length, and then waited for their counsel. A painful silence followed; Armenians hate to give an opinion outright; they prefer to evade the main question, and to prolong their discussions without coming to any decision.
At last Professor Pagratian rose and addressed the president:
“I must say, that for my part, I have always found Archag loyal and truthful.” A murmur of assent was heard from the other masters. “I have watched him both in and out of study-hours, and it is my private opinion that one of his classmates really did give him a push by way of revenge. I have my own suspicions, too, as to that, which I shall do my utmost to verify. The lad is diffident and awkward; he did wrong not to confess his fault at once, but he made up for that by admitting his guilt before the whole college. You will reply that he could not do otherwise, since Badvili Melikian knew he was in the museum that afternoon. I do not admit that argument; if he had meant to lie about it all, he would have denied the whole or nothing. Let us punish him for his disobedience in handling the collection; that was his only fault, and does not deserve expulsion from the college.”
The professors discussed the matter at length; Monsieur Bernier and Badvili Melikian agreed with Professor Pagratian; the others wished Archag to be expelled.
“I don’t believe,” said the president, at last, “that we shall ever come to an agreement. I suggest therefore that we leave the decision to Professor Piralian, who is better able to judge than we.”
The professor had received a grievous blow in the destruction of his precious collection, and he had none too much sympathy with Archag. But at the moment of giving his judgment he seemed to see his pupil’s bright face with its frank and straightforward expression, and he felt that eyes like his could not have lied. His decision was made.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “I ask you to keep Archag here; five days on bounds will be sufficient punishment for him.”
Meanwhile our friend was wandering about the campus like a lost soul. He had gone off by himself, ashamed to let his grief be seen. Was he really going to be expelled? All his pride revolted at the thought. He would cheerfully take any punishment if only he might be spared this disgrace.