would. At first they laughed at
him, called him a little liar, a braggart, but that only egged him on.
What piqued him most was that these boys of fifteen turned up their noses
at him too superciliously, and were at first disposed to treat him as "a
small boy," not fit to associate with them, and that was an unendurable
insult.

And so it was resolved to go in the evening, half a mile from the station,
so that the train might have time to get up full speed after leaving the
station. The boys assembled. It was a pitch-dark night without a moon. At
the time fixed, Kolya lay down between the rails. The five others who had
taken the bet waited among the bushes below the embankment, their hearts
beating with suspense, which was followed by alarm and remorse. At last
they heard in the distance the rumble of the train leaving the station.
Two red lights gleamed out of the darkness; the monster roared as it
approached.

"Run, run away from the rails," the boys cried to Kolya from the bushes,
breathless with terror. But it was too late: the train darted up and flew
past. The boys rushed to Kolya. He lay without moving. They began pulling
at him, lifting him up. He suddenly got up and walked away without a word.
Then he explained that he had lain there as though he were insensible to
frighten them, but the fact was that he really had lost consciousness, as
he confessed long after to his mother. In this way his reputation as "a
desperate character," was established for ever. He returned home to the
station as white as a sheet. Next day he had a slight attack of nervous
fever, but he was in high spirits and well pleased with himself. The
incident did not become known at once, but when they came back to the town
it penetrated to the school and even reached the ears of the masters. But
then Kolya's mother hastened to entreat the masters on her boy's behalf,
and in the end Dardanelov, a respected and influential teacher, exerted
himself in his favor, and the affair was ignored.

Dardanelov was a middle-aged bachelor, who had been passionately in love
with Madame Krassotkin for many years past, and had once already, about a
year previously, ventured, trembling with fear and the delicacy of his
sentiments, to offer her most respectfully his hand in marriage. But she
refused him resolutely, feeling that to accept him would be an act of
treachery to her son, though Dardanelov had, to judge from certain
mysterious symptoms, reason for be