Further the schoolmaster enlarged on the liberality with which the pupils were provided with writing materials in the factory schools as compared with the Zemstvo and Government schools.  And for all this the school was indebted, in his opinion, not to the heads of the firm, who lived abroad and scarcely knew of its existence, but to a man who, in spite of his German origin and Lutheran faith, was a Russian at heart.

Sysoev spoke at length, with pauses to get his breath and with pretensions to rhetoric, and his speech was boring and unpleasant.  He several times referred to certain enemies of his, tried to drop hints, repeated himself, coughed, and flourished his fingers unbecomingly.  At last he was exhausted and in a perspiration and he began talking jerkily, in a low voice as though to himself, and finished his speech not quite coherently:  “And so I propose the health of Bruni, that is Adolf Andreyitch, who is here, among us . . . generally speaking . . . you understand . . .”

When he finished everyone gave a faint sigh, as though someone had sprinkled cold water and cleared the air.  Bruni alone apparently had no unpleasant feeling.  Beaming and rolling his sentimental eyes, the German shook Sysoev’s hand with feeling and was again as friendly as a dog.

“Oh, I thank you,” he said, with an emphasis on the oh, laying his left hand on his heart.  “I am very happy that you understand me!  I, with my whole heart, wish you all things good.  But I ought only to observe; you exaggerate my importance.  The school owes its flourishing condition only to you, my honoured friend, Fyodor Lukitch.  But for you it would be in no way distinguished from other schools!  You think the German is paying a compliment, the German is saying something polite.  Ha-ha!  No, my dear Fyodor Lukitch, I am an honest man and never make complimentary speeches.  If we pay you five hundred roubles a year it is because you are valued by us.  Isn’t that so?  Gentlemen, what I say is true, isn’t it?  We should not pay anyone else so much. . . .  Why, a good school is an honour to the factory!”

“I must sincerely own that your school is really exceptional,” said the inspector.  “Don’t think this is flattery.  Anyway, I have never come across another like it in my life.  As I sat at the examination I was full of admiration. . . .  Wonderful children!  They know a great deal and answer brightly, and at the same time they are somehow special, unconstrained, sincere. . . .  One can see that they love you, Fyodor Lukitch.  You are a schoolmaster to the marrow of your bones.  You must have been born a teacher.  You have all the gifts —­innate vocation, long experience, and love for your work. . . .  It’s simply amazing, considering the weak state of your health, what energy, what understanding . . . what perseverance, do you understand, what confidence you have!  Some one in the school committee said truly that you were a poet in your work. . . .  Yes, a poet you are!”