“That will do faw to-day, Heppenheimer. It ith vewy evident you’ve come to clath unprepared. I’m vewy much put out by thuch conduct. Thit down!”
Thundering applause.
The professor seemed turned to a stone.
By all the gods of Greece, that was his voice, his manner, and no mistake. To be sure, there was an exaggeration of caricature, but the likeness was so evident that none but a connoisseur would be able to distinguish the slight shade of difference. It was little short of sacrilege. To think that one of his pupils should have the audacity to ridicule him, the sovereign authority over all school matters; him, the author of “A Latin Grammar for use in schools, specially adapted to the higher classes;” him, the renowned follower of Kant, from the hallowed heights of his own platform! Proh pudor! Honos sit auribus! This was a prank such as none but the soul of the arch-rogue Wilhelm Rumpf could bring forth.
“Will you take a pathage, Möwicke,” the voice of the godless pupil continued. “What, you are indithpothed? Deaw me, when I heaw young men of your age thay they are indithpothed that lookth ill, it lookth vewy ill indeed. Knebel, put down in the clath-book: Möwicke, being called upon to tranthlate, wath indithpothed.”
The professor was unable to control his temper longer.
With a sudden movement he opened the door, and stepped in among the startled boys.
His intuition had been correct.
It was indeed Wilhelm Rumpf, the greatest good-for-nothing the class could boast of, who had committed the unpardonable offence against the majesty of his person. For four weeks only this lad had been one of Samuel Heinzerling’s pupils, and already there was no scamp in class from first to last who did not own his superiority. His collar drawn up high in front, an immense pair of paper spectacles upon his nose, in his left hand a book, in his right the traditional tiny lead-pencil, there he stood upon the platform, just about to commit himself further when the indignant professor crossed the threshold.
“Wumpf!” said Samuel with dignity, “Wumpf! you will go to the cawcer[11] faw two dayth. Knebel, put down in the clath-book: Wumpf, condemned to two dayth in the cawcer faw childith and unworthy conduct. Heppenheimer, call the pedell!”