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Updated: May 25, 2025
Another fit of coughing on the part of the poor silversmith prevented further conversation, so the workmen and apprentices retired to their homes, carrying with them hammers and saws, and other implements, more or less cutting, more or less bruising, disposed to sell their lives dearly. Placido and the pyrotechnician went out again.
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."
"Fifteen unexcused absences," continued the professor, "so that you only lack one to be dropped from the roll." "Fifteen absences, fifteen absences," repeated Placido in amazement. "I've never been absent more than four times, and with today, perhaps five." "Jesso, jesso, monseer," replied the professor, examining the youth over his gold eye-glasses.
"Do you know that you really are an ass?" exclaimed Placido, picking up his book and papers. "Let's have a dia pichido!" repeated Juanito. Placido was unwilling, since for only two the authorities were hardly going to suspend a class of more than a hundred and fifty.
Girolamo likewise studied the figures by the hand of the same Correggio in the recess of the principal chapel in S. Giovanni Evangelista namely, the Coronation of the Madonna, with S. John the Evangelist, the Baptist, S. Benedict, S. Placido, and a multitude of Angels who are about them; and the marvellous figures that are in the Chapel of S. Gioseffo in the Church of S. Sepolcro a divine example of panel-painting.
The adviser of" he made a mysterious gesture "is fortunately sick." "Simoun!" "Ahem, ahem, a-h-hem!" Placido and the pyrotechnician exchanged another look. "If he hadn't got sick " "It would look like a revolution," added the pyrotechnician negligently, as he lighted a cigarette in the lamp chimney. "And what should we do then?"
"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.
In the house of the silversmith, where Placido Penitente boarded, the events were commented upon and discussed with some freedom. "I don't believe in the pasquinades," declared a workman, lank and withered from operating the blowpipe. "To me it looks like Padre Salvi's doings."
The older ones nearly always proceed seriously and composedly, like the German students. Placido was proceeding along the Paseo de Magallanes toward the breach formerly the gate of Santo Domingo, when he suddenly felt a slap on the shoulder, which made him turn quickly in ill humor. "Hello, Penitente! Hello, Penitente!"
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