professor, crouching behind the tree, "what have they written?"
A car honked in the distance.
"A dirty word! They've written a dirty word! Please come out, sir!"
"Where did they write it?"
"On this oak tree. On the other side. Please, sir, come out and put an end to this! Don't let them make fun of you! You wanted to make them think they're naive and innocent, but instead they've written a dirty word for you ... Stop this teasing. That's enough. I can't go on like this, talking into thin air. I'll go crazy. Please, sir, come out! Enough's enough!"
Gossamer threads of Indian summer drifted about while I thus carried on in whispers, leaves were falling ...
"What? What's this?" Pimko exclaimed, "am I to doubt the purity of our youth? Never! You can't tell this to an old dog like me, and a pedagogue at that!"
He stepped out from behind the tree, and at the sight of this figure of a potentate the students burst into a wild roar.
"My dear young men!" he said after they calmed down somewhat. "Don't imagine that I don't know that you use foul and obscene language among yourselves. I'm well aware of it. But don't you worry, neither this nor any of your other transgressions will shake my deepest conviction that at bottom you are modest and innocent. Your old friend here will always think of you as pure, modest, and innocent, he will always believe in your modesty, purity, and innocence. As to dirty words, well, I know you're just repeating them after some servant girl, not really understanding them, just to show off. Well, well, well, there's nothing wrong with that, on the contrary-it's more innocent than you think."
He sneezed, wiped his nose with great satisfaction, and proceeded to the administration building to discuss my case with Principal Piorkowski. Mothers and aunts behind the fence were ecstatic, they fell into one another's arms and reiterated: "What a seasoned pedagogue! Oh, what cute little pupas, pupas, pupas our little darlings have!" But among the students his speech evoked nothing but dismay. Dumbfounded, they watched Pimko walk away, but as soon as he was out of sight a hail of invectives followed. "Did you hear that?" roared Kneadus, "we're innocent, shit, screw that! He thinks we're innocent—he takes us for innocents! He insists we're innocent! Innocent!" And in no way could he extricate himself from the word that had entrapped and shackled him, and was now killing him, yet it somehow grounded him ever more in naivete and innocence. Just at that moment a tall, well-built youth whom his classmates called Syphon—it was now his turn to be swept into the naivete that was raging in the air—said to himself, yet so that everyone could hear, in the clear and limpid air which made a voice sound like cowbells in the mountains:
"Innocence? And why not? Innocence is a virtue... One should be innocent... And why not?"
No sooner did he say it than Kneadus pounced on his words.
"What? You believe in innocence?"
And he took a step back, because it sounded so silly. This annoyed Syphon, who in turn pounced on Kneadus' words.
"I believe in it! And why shouldn't I? I'm not childish in this respect."
This in turn annoyed Kneadus, who started hurling mockeries into the echoing air.
"Did you all hear that? Syphon is innocent! Ha, ha, ha, Syphon the innocent!"
Cries of "Syphonus innocentus! Has the arrogant Syphon perchance not been with a woman?" came from everywhere. A shower of lewd epigrams in the style of poets Rey and Kochanowski rained down, and for a brief moment the world became soiled again. But the epigrams annoyed Syphon even more, and he dug in his heels.
"Yes, I am innocent—and what's more, I don't know anything about such things, and I don't see why I should be ashamed. Friends, surely not one of you can seriously maintain that filth is better than purity."
And he took a step back, because it sounded so awkward. Everyone fell silent. Finally there was whispering:
"Syphon, you're not joking? You
A car honked in the distance.
"A dirty word! They've written a dirty word! Please come out, sir!"
"Where did they write it?"
"On this oak tree. On the other side. Please, sir, come out and put an end to this! Don't let them make fun of you! You wanted to make them think they're naive and innocent, but instead they've written a dirty word for you ... Stop this teasing. That's enough. I can't go on like this, talking into thin air. I'll go crazy. Please, sir, come out! Enough's enough!"
Gossamer threads of Indian summer drifted about while I thus carried on in whispers, leaves were falling ...
"What? What's this?" Pimko exclaimed, "am I to doubt the purity of our youth? Never! You can't tell this to an old dog like me, and a pedagogue at that!"
He stepped out from behind the tree, and at the sight of this figure of a potentate the students burst into a wild roar.
"My dear young men!" he said after they calmed down somewhat. "Don't imagine that I don't know that you use foul and obscene language among yourselves. I'm well aware of it. But don't you worry, neither this nor any of your other transgressions will shake my deepest conviction that at bottom you are modest and innocent. Your old friend here will always think of you as pure, modest, and innocent, he will always believe in your modesty, purity, and innocence. As to dirty words, well, I know you're just repeating them after some servant girl, not really understanding them, just to show off. Well, well, well, there's nothing wrong with that, on the contrary-it's more innocent than you think."
He sneezed, wiped his nose with great satisfaction, and proceeded to the administration building to discuss my case with Principal Piorkowski. Mothers and aunts behind the fence were ecstatic, they fell into one another's arms and reiterated: "What a seasoned pedagogue! Oh, what cute little pupas, pupas, pupas our little darlings have!" But among the students his speech evoked nothing but dismay. Dumbfounded, they watched Pimko walk away, but as soon as he was out of sight a hail of invectives followed. "Did you hear that?" roared Kneadus, "we're innocent, shit, screw that! He thinks we're innocent—he takes us for innocents! He insists we're innocent! Innocent!" And in no way could he extricate himself from the word that had entrapped and shackled him, and was now killing him, yet it somehow grounded him ever more in naivete and innocence. Just at that moment a tall, well-built youth whom his classmates called Syphon—it was now his turn to be swept into the naivete that was raging in the air—said to himself, yet so that everyone could hear, in the clear and limpid air which made a voice sound like cowbells in the mountains:
"Innocence? And why not? Innocence is a virtue... One should be innocent... And why not?"
No sooner did he say it than Kneadus pounced on his words.
"What? You believe in innocence?"
And he took a step back, because it sounded so silly. This annoyed Syphon, who in turn pounced on Kneadus' words.
"I believe in it! And why shouldn't I? I'm not childish in this respect."
This in turn annoyed Kneadus, who started hurling mockeries into the echoing air.
"Did you all hear that? Syphon is innocent! Ha, ha, ha, Syphon the innocent!"
Cries of "Syphonus innocentus! Has the arrogant Syphon perchance not been with a woman?" came from everywhere. A shower of lewd epigrams in the style of poets Rey and Kochanowski rained down, and for a brief moment the world became soiled again. But the epigrams annoyed Syphon even more, and he dug in his heels.
"Yes, I am innocent—and what's more, I don't know anything about such things, and I don't see why I should be ashamed. Friends, surely not one of you can seriously maintain that filth is better than purity."
And he took a step back, because it sounded so awkward. Everyone fell silent. Finally there was whispering:
"Syphon, you're not joking? You
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