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Updated: June 28, 2025
With some of these new friends I grew quite intimate, and even Ikonin plucked up sufficient courage to inform me, when we next met, that he would have to undergo re-examination in history the reason for his failure this time being that the professor of that faculty had never forgiven him for last year's examination, and had, indeed, "almost killed" him for it.
"Lord, what a dandy!" he added under his breath, yet not so quietly but that I failed to hear the words as they came wafted to me from below the desk. In front of me walked Ikonin a tall young man of about twenty-five, who was one of those whom I had classed as oldish men.
"I always draw this kind of thing," he muttered. I looked at mine. Horrors! It was the Theory of Combinations! "What have you got?" whispered Ikonin at this point. I showed him. "Oh, I know that," he said. "Will you make an exchange, then?" "No. Besides, it would be all the same for me if I did," he contrived to whisper just as the professor called us up to the blackboard.
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