And so both hands smarted instead of his ears.
"And now, Guszti Klimpa, stand out and repeat to these blockheads what I have been saying."
Guszti Klimpa was the head boy, because his father rented the village pot-house, and he himself wore the best jacket of them all, so he was the master's favourite. The urchin hastily pocketed the pen-knife with which he had hitherto been carving his bench, blushed deeply in his embarrassment, and his eyes almost started from his head in his endeavours to find an answer to the question put to him.
"Well, my son, come, what did I say now?"
The lad took a plunge at random.
"Nixnus is a fluid which becomes a powder, which, can be made from anything, and very much resembles a piskota."[3]
[3] Biscuit.
"Bene, prœstanter, eminentissime. Only not piskota but piskotum;[4] not feminine, you know, but neuter gender, second declension."
[4] Antimony.
So Guszti Klimpa returned to his seat very well satisfied with himself.