It was all very well for the boys, but it was not quite befitting the quiet which is supposed to reign in a schoolroom; nor was it the best means of allaying the flushed spirits of a schoolmaster who had his own private troubles to contend with. The Herr Konrektor sat down on his platform, opened his Homer, and when the noise had somewhat subsided, he gave vent to his ire: “Now listen, you dunces; first learn something, then you’ll be better able to play heroes! Last time we stopped just before the splendid passage where Hector said good-bye to his dear wife Andromache, and she exhorts him-- “Δαιμόνιε, says she; φθισει σε τὸ σὸν μένος, οὐδ’ἐλεαιρεις, says she; but it’s hardly worth while to read anything so fine to you scatterbrained dolts. παῑδά τε νηπίαχον, says she; και ἒμ ἂμμορον, ἣ τάχα χὴρη, says she. Karl Wendt, confound you, if you don’t stop talking I’ll stand you up by my platform, and then it’ll be _my_ turn to have a talk with you. σεῦ ἔσομαι, says she, τὰχα γάρ σε κατακτανέουσιν Ἀχαιοὶ πάντες ἐρορμηφθέντες, says she; ὲμοὶ δέ κε κέρδιον εἴη σεῦ ἀραμαρτοῦση, and so on, says she.--Langnickel, you begin.” And Langnickel cleared his throat once or twice and nudged his neighbours right and left with his elbows, as much as to say: “Fellows, help me; I’m in an awful fix.” “Well,” said the Konrektor, “how long before you’re ready? Δαιμόνιε--what does that mean?” “_Oh, thou monster!_” said Langnickel, looking at the Herr Konrektor very doubtfully to see what he would say. “It’s more likely you are a monster. The next, go on,” said the Konrektor, pointing to Karl Siemsen. “Well, Karl! Eh? the word’s not easy; how do we call a fellow that can do more than ordinary folks?” “A Tausendsasa,” said Karl. “Well, I never! We may say that for a joke, but do you suppose Hector’s wife felt much like joking just then? Nay, she is scolding him. You madcap you, says she, bridle your pluck! says she. Have you no pity for your little boy--she means her little Astyanax that she has on her arm,--and for poor luckless me, says she, who will soon enough be a widow? For how long will it be? says she, before the Archæans pitch in on you and kill you, and what is left to me but sorrow when I sit here without you? says she. Well, here I am translating the whole of Homer for you. Go ahead, Karl Siemsen!” he exclaimed, then the door was opened, and one of his Serene Highness’s lackeys came in. “Herr Konrektor, his Highness wants to know if you think we’ll get a thunder-storm to-day?” Now this was the last straw for the Konrektor’s patience. He turned upon the fellow in a mad choler and shouted, “Yes! Go and tell his Highness we’ll get seven.” “Seven?” asked the lackey, looking blank and walking toward the door, and the Konrektor called after him: “Yes, seven! Tell him we’ll get seven!” The first lesson was over and the second had begun; it was Latin, and there was Virgil’s _Bucolica_ to translate.