He got up, but before going hesitated.
"What are you looking for ?" asked the master.
"My c-a-p," timidly said the "new fellow," casting troubled looks round him.
"Five hundred lines for all the class!" shouted in a furious voice stopped, like the Quos ego*, a fresh outburst.

"Silence!" continued the master indignantly, wiping his brow with his handkerchief, which he had just taken from his cap.

"As to you, 'new boy,' you will conjugate 'ridiculus sum'** twenty times." Then, in a gentler tone, "Come, you'll find your cap again; it hasn't been stolen." *A quotation from the Aeneid signifying a threat.
**I am ridiculous.
Quiet was restored.

Heads bent over desks, and the "new fellow" remained for two hours in an exemplary attitude, although from time to time some paper pellet flipped from the tip of a pen came bang in his face.

But he wiped his face with one hand and continued motionless, his eyes lowered.
In the evening, at preparation, he pulled out his pens from his desk, arranged his small belongings, and carefully ruled his paper.