"Well, in a way, perhaps," said the old man smiling. "Is he dead now, that poet?" "Yes." Aleko thought for a moment. "I will fight for his country when I grow up if they want me." Then he ran very fast because he was afraid he would be late for school. In winter the hours were from seven to nine in the evening, but in summer they were from eight to ten, for the members of the Parnassos who arranged all about the night school, knew that the little shoeblacks and newspaper boys could find work in the streets much later, now that the days were long and people dined at such late hours. III Aleko rushed through the Kolonaki Square and all the length of the street called after the brave Kanaris,[6] into Academy Road, crossed it, and tearing down two narrow streets one after the other, came out into Stadium Street; this also he crossed, dodging in and out between the tram-cars and the streams of people, and only slackened his pace when he got into the short street that leads to the Church of St. George and the building of the Parnassos. He pushed open the big door, and dumping down his shoeblack's box in the outer hall beside a long line of others, was in the class room and seated in his place, just one moment before the master took his. Two members were present this evening. One of them heard the boys' grammar and arithmetic lessons, and commented on them; the other, a young man with a small dark moustache, leaned against the wall and looked on without speaking. Just before the books were closed he crossed the big room and exchanged a few words with the master, who smiled, nodded his head, and gave up his place on the platform to him. The whole class looked up with astonishment; members never took the master's place except to make speeches on the twenty-fifth of March, or on examination day. This member was very tall, his back was very straight, and his eyes were always laughing. He leaned carelessly across the desk. "Listen to me, boys!" he said. "Some people have been blaming me for teaching you boxing. They say you are ready enough to fight without being taught any more about it. So I want to explain, here, why I think it such a good thing for you. Now--until all men become saints, and I believe that we, at least, shall not see that day--a boy will always need to defend himself, or his people, or his things, by fighting, sometimes. Well, boxing makes a fine healthy animal of him, ready to face anything that may happen." Some of the older boys scowled at the word "animal," and the young member saw it. "I am sorry you do not like being called 'animals,'" he continued, "because in reality, you are far worse off than animals when it comes to fighting, and that is why you must learn how to use your strength, so as not to be at the mercy of any who choose to attack you. Why, many insects, even, are stronger than you are!" The boys laughed out loudly.