the desperate youth, hoping to get out of
the difficulty by turning it into a complaint.

"Let's see, Juanito, if you can answer the question for me," the
professor then said to Pelaez, who was one of his pets.

The latter rose slowly, not without first giving Penitente, who
followed him on the roll, a nudge that meant, "Don't forget to
prompt me."

"_Nego consequentiam_, Padre," he replied resolutely.

"Aha, then _probo consequentiam! Per te_, the polished surface
constitutes the 'essence' of the mirror--"

_"Nego suppositum!"_ interrupted Juanito, as he felt Placido pulling
at his coat.

"How? _Per te_--"

"_Nego!_"

"_Ergo,_ you believe that what is behind affects what is in front?"

_"Nego!"_ the student cried with still more ardor, feeling another
jerk at his coat.

Juanito, or rather Placido, who was prompting him, was unconsciously
adopting Chinese tactics: not to admit the most inoffensive foreigner
in order not to be invaded.

"Then where are we?" asked the professor, somewhat disconcerted,
and looking uneasily at the refractory student. "Does the substance
behind affect, or does it not affect, the surface?"

To this precise and categorical question, a kind of ultimatum, Juanito
did not know what to reply and his coat offered no suggestions. In vain
he made signs to Placido, but Placido himself was in doubt. Juanito
then took advantage of a moment in which the professor was staring
at a student who was cautiously and secretly taking off the shoes
that hurt his feet, to step heavily on Placido's toes and whisper,
"Tell me, hurry up, tell me!"

"I distinguish--Get out! What an ass you are!" yelled Placido
unreservedly, as he stared with angry eyes and rubbed his hand over
his patent-leather shoe.

The professor heard the cry, stared at the pair, and guessed what
had happened.

"Listen, you meddler," he addressed Placido, "I wasn't questioning
you, but since you think you can save others, let's see if you can
save yourself, _salva te ipsum,_ and decide this question."

Juanito sat down in content, and as a mark of gratitude stuck out
his tongue at his prompter, who had arisen blushing with shame and
muttering incoherent excuses.

For a moment Padre Millon regarded him as one gloating over a favorite
dish. What a good thing it would be to humiliate and hold up to
ridicule that dudish boy, always smartly dressed, with head erect
and serene look! It would be a deed of charity, so the charitab