Kirsha was acquainted with many boys in town. Some of them were pupils of the gymnasia, some of the town school. Kirsha was also acquainted with some of the students who attended the girls’ gymnasia. He told his father a great deal about the affairs and ways of these institutions. His information contained much that was singular and unexpected.

The personality of the Headmaster of the National Schools, Doulebov, particularly interested Trirodov of late. The schools under his guidance included the school established by Trirodov, though Doulebov contributed nothing to the school. He conducted himself with complete indifference to the aspersions cast at Priest Zakrasin and did not defend him before the Diocesan Bishop. He and his subordinate, the Inspector, showered official papers upon Trirodov and demanded various reports in the established form, so that Trirodov had to prevail upon a small official of the Exchequer to come evenings and copy out all this absurd nonsense. But neither Doulebov nor Shabalov looked in even once into Trirodov’s school. When Trirodov happened to be in the Headmaster’s office the conversation usually turned on documents concerning the instructresses and various petty formalities.

The calumnies of Ostrov and of his friends in the Black Hundred disturbed Doulebov. To avoid unpleasantness Doulebov decided to take advantage of the first opportunity to close Trirodov’s school.

The Headmaster of the National Schools, Actual State Councillor, Grigory Vladimirovitch Doulebov, had his eye on a higher position in the educational department. That was why he tried to gain favour by showing a meticulous attentiveness to his duties. His perseverance was astonishing. He never gave an impression of haste. His reception of subordinates and petitioners, announced on a placard on his door to take place on Thursdays between one and three, actually began at eleven in the morning, and continued until late in the evening. Doulebov spoke with each visitor slowly and showed his interest in the slightest detail.

But Doulebov, of course, knew very well that however great was his attentiveness to his duties, that in itself would not take him very far. It was indispensable to cultivate the proper personages. Doulebov had no influential aunts and grandmothers, and he had to make efforts on his own behalf. And in the whole course of his twenty-five years’ service, beginning as a gymnasia instructor, Doulebov uninterruptedly and skilfully concerned himself with establishing improved relations with all who were higher in rank than he or equal with him. He even made an effort to keep on good terms with the younger set—that was for an emergency; for—who can tell?—the younger sometimes go ahead of the old, and, being young, they might do one an injury—or a good service—when the opportunity offered.

Never to commit an untactful action—in that consisted the chief precept of Doubelov’s life. He knew very well that this or that action was not good in itself, and that the chief thing was “how they would look upon it”—they, that is, the authorities. The authorities were favourably inclined towards Doulebov. He had already been almost promised an assistantship to the head of the Educational District.

Doulebov adopted an attitude towards his subordinates consistent with this personal attitude. To those who acted respectfully towards him and his wife he gave his patronage and made efforts to improve their position. He defended them in unpleasant situations, though very cautiously, in order not to hurt his own position. He was not very fond of those who were disrespectful and independent, and he hindered them all he could.

Recognizing a rising luminary in the newly appointed Vice-Governor, who lately had been a Councillor in the District Government, Doulebov tried to come into agreeable relations with him also. But he conducted himself towards him very cautiously, so that he might not be suspected of too intimate relations with this evil, morose, badly trained man and his vulgar wife.

Doulebov had pleasant manners, a youngish face, and a slender voice which resembled the squeal of a young pig. He was light and agile in his movements. No one had ever seen him drunk, and as a visitor he either did not drink at all or limited himself to a glass of Madeira. He was always accompanied by his wife. It was said that she managed all his affairs, and that Doulebov obeyed her implicitly in everything.

The wife of the Headmaster, Zinaida Grigorievna, was a plump, energetic, and shrewish woman. Her short hair was beginning to get grey. She was very jealous of her influence and maintained it with great energy.

At Doulebov’s invitation the Vice-Governor visited the town school. In inviting the Vice-Governor Doulebov had especially in view the idea of taking him to the Trirodov school. In the event of the school being closed, he wanted to say that it was done at the instigation of the governmental authorities. But Doulebov did not wish to invite the Vice-Governor direct to Trirodov’s school, so as to give no one any reason for saying that he did it on purpose. That was why he persuaded the Vice-Governor to come to the examination at the town school on the eve of the day appointed for the examinations at the Trirodov school.

The town school was situated in one of the dirty side streets. Its exterior was highly unattractive. The dirty, dilapidated wooden structure seemed as if it were built for a tavern rather than for a school. This did not prevent Doulebov from saying to the inspector of the school:

“The new Vice-Governor will visit you to-day. I invited him to you because you have such a fine school.”

Inspector Poterin, fawning before Doulebov and his wife, said in a flustered way:

“Our building is anything but showy.”

Doulebov smiled amiably and replied encouragingly:

“The building is not the important thing. The school itself is good. The instruction is to be valued and not the walls.”

The Vice-Governor arrived rather late, at eleven, together with Zherbenev, who was an honorary overseer of the school.

There was a very tense feeling in the school. The instructors and the students alike trembled before the authorities. Stupid and vulgar scenes with the Headmaster in the town school were common with Doulebov and did not embarrass him. As for Doulebov and his wife, they were fully alive to their importance. They had received only two or three days before definite news of the appointment of Doulebov as assistant to the head of the Educational Department.

Inspector Shabalov arrived at the school very early that day. He occupied himself with attentions to Zinaida Grigorievna Doulebova, to whom he showed various services with an unexpected and rather vulgar amiableness.

The instructor-inspector, Mikhail Prokopievitch Poterin, conducted himself like a lackey. It was even evident at times that he trembled before the Doulebovs. What reason had he to be afraid? He was a great patriot—a member of the Black Hundred. He accepted bribes, beat his pupils, drank considerably—and he always got off easily.

Zinaida Grigorievna Doulebova examined the graduating classes in French and English. These studies were optional. Inspector Poterin’s wife gave instruction in French. She had not yet fully mastered the Berlitz method, and looked at the Doulebovs cringingly. But at heart she was bitter—at her poverty, abjectness, and dependence.

Poterin knew no languages; but he was also present here, and hissed malignantly at those who answered awkwardly or did not answer at all:

“Blockhead! Numskull!”

Doulebova sat motionless and made no sign that she heard this zealous hissing and these coarse words. She would give freedom to her tongue later, at luncheon.

A luncheon had been prepared for the visitors and the instructors. It cost Poterin’s wife much trouble and anxiety. The table was set in the large room, where on ordinary days the small boys made lively and wrangled in recess-time. They were excluded on this day, and raised a racket outside.

Doulebova sat at the head of the table, between the Vice-Governor and Zherbenev; Doulebov sat next to the Vice-Governor. A pie was brought in; then tea. Zinaida Grigorievna abused the instructors’ wives and the instructresses. She loved gossip—indeed, who does not? The instructors’ wives gossiped to her.

During the luncheon the small boys, having resumed their places in the neighbouring class, sang:

And other songs in the same spirit.

Doulebov wiped his face with his right hand—like a cat licking its paw—and piped out:

“I hear that the Marquis Teliatnikov is to pay us a visit soon.”

“We are not within his jurisdiction,” said Poterin.

But his whole face became distorted with apprehension.

“All the same,” said Doulebov in his thin voice, “he possesses great powers. He can do what he likes.”

The Vice-Governor looked gloomily at Poterin and said morosely:

“He’s going to pull you all up.”

Poterin grew deathly pale and broke out into perspiration. The conversation about the Marquis Teliatnikov continued, and the local revolutionary ferment was mentioned in the course of it.

Revolutionary proclamations had appeared in all the woods of the neighbourhood. Large pieces of bark were cut off the trees and proclamations pasted on. It was impossible to remove these bills, which were overrun by a thin, transparent coating of resin. The zealous preservers of order had either to chop out or to scrape off the obnoxious places with a knife.

“I think,” said Doulebova, “that it must be an idea of our chemist, Mr. Trirodov.”

“Of course.” She was confirmed in her suggestion by the cringing, dry-looking instructress of German.

Zinaida Grigorievna turned towards Poterina in order to show favour to her hostess by her conversation, and asked her with an amused smile:

“How do you like our celebrated Decadent?”

The instructress tried to understand. An expression of fear showed on her flat, dull face. She asked timidly:

“Whom do you mean, Zinaida Grigorievna?”

“Whom else could I mean but Mr. Trirodov,” replied Doulebova malignantly.

The malice was all on Trirodov’s account, but nevertheless Poterina trembled with fear.

“Ah, yes, Trirodov; how then, how then....” she repeated in a worried, flustered way, and was at a loss what to say.

Doulebova said bitingly:

“Well, I don’t think he laughs very often. He ought to be to your taste.”

“To my taste!” exclaimed Poterina with a flushed face. “What are you saying, Zinaida Grigorievna! As the old saying goes: ‘The Tsar’s servant has been bent into a harness arch!’”

“Yes, he always looks askance at you and talks to no one,” said the wife of the instructor Krolikov; “but he is a very kind man.”

Doulebova turned her malignant glance upon her. Krolikova grew pale with fear, and guessed that she had not said the right thing. She corrected herself:

“He is a kind man in his words.”

Doulebova smiled at her benevolently.

“Do you know what I think?” said Zherbenev, addressing himself to Doulebova. “I have seen many men in my time, I may say without boasting; and in my opinion, it is a very bad sign that he looks askance at you.”

“Of course!” agreed Poterina. “That is the honest truth!”

“Let a man look me straight in my face,” went on Zherbenev. “But the quiet ones....”

Zherbenev did not finish his sentence. Doulebova said:

“Frankly, I don’t like your poet. I can’t understand him. There is something strange about him—something disagreeable.”

“He’s altogether suspicious,” said Zherbenev with the look of a person who knew a great deal.

It was asserted that Trirodov and others were collecting money for an armed revolt. At this they looked significantly at Voronok. Voronok retorted, but he was not heard. There was an outburst of malignant remarks against Trirodov. It was said that there was a secret underground printing establishment in Trirodov’s house, and that not only the instructresses worked there but also Trirodov’s young wards. The women exclaimed in horror:

“They are mere tots!”

“What do you think of your tots now?”

“There are no children nowadays.”

“I’ve just heard,” said Voronok, “that a nine-year-old boy is kept in confinement by the police.”

“The young rebel!” said the Vice-Governor savagely.

“Yes, and I’ve also heard,” said Poterin, “that a thirteen-year-old boy has been arrested. Such a little beggar, and already in revolt.”

The Vice-Governor said morosely:

“He’s going with his grandfather to Siberia.”

“Why?” asked Voronok with a flushed face.

“He laughed,” growled the Vice-Governor morosely.

Doulebov turned to Poterin and asked in a loud voice:

“And I hope you have no rebels in your school.”

“No, thank God, I have nothing of that kind,” replied Poterin. “But, to tell the truth, the children are very loose nowadays.”

Doulebov, with a patronizing amiableness, said again to him:

“You have a good school. Everything is in exemplary order.”

Poterin grew radiant and boasted:

“Yes, I know how to pull them up. I treat them sternly.”

“A salutary sternness,” said Doulebov.

Encouraged by these words, the instructor-inspector asked:

“Do you think one might also beat them?”

Doulebov avoided a direct answer. He wiped his face with his hand—like a cat using its paw—and changed the subject.

They began touching recollections about the good old times. They began to relate how, where, and whom they birched.

“They birch even now,” said Shabalov with a quiet joy.