“It is a most remarkable thing, and I am really pleased we have fallen on the passage,” said he, “that this identical mistake, if it is a mistake, occurs in a line of Juvenal; it is in the—dear me, I have forgotten how it begins! Has any one here a Juvenal?”
“I have one in my study, sir,” said Loman. (Juvenal had been one of the Latin subjects for the Nightingale.)
“Ah! Would you fetch it, Loman, please? I think I know precisely where the line occurs.”
Loman rose and went for the book, which he found upon his bookcase, enjoying a dignified and dusty repose on the top shelf. Carefully brushing off the dust, so as to give the volume a rather less unused look, he returned with it to the class-room, and handed it to the Doctor.
“Thank you, Loman. Now, it is in the Fourth—no, the Fifth Satire,” said he, turning over the pages. “Let me see—yes, not far from—ah!”
This last exclamation was uttered in a voice which made every boy in the room look suddenly up and fix his eyes on the Doctor. It was evidently something more than an exclamation of recognition on finding the desired passage. There was too much surprise and too much pain in the word for that.
Was the Doctor ill? He closed the book and sat back in his chair in a sort of bewilderment. Then suddenly, and with an evident effort, recovering himself, he let his eyes once more rest on the closed Juvenal.
“Loman,” he said, “will you come and find the passage for me? Turn to the Fifth Satire.”
Loman obeyed, much wondering, notwithstanding, why the Doctor should ask him, of all people, to come up and turn to the passage.
He advanced to the head master’s desk and took up the Juvenal.