"Lazar Lagin. The Old Genie Hottabych (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

important time!), running the risk of a second examination in the autumn.
"I don't think the boy is quite well," Varvara Stepanovna whispered to
the principal.
Glancing hurriedly and sympathetically at Volka, who stood numb with
grief before them, the committee held a whispered conference.
Varvara Stepanovna suggested, "What if we ask the child another
question, just to calm him? Say, from last year's book. Last year he got an
'A' in geography."
The others agreed, and Varvara Stepanovna once again turned to the
unhappy boy.
"Now, Kostylkov, wipe your tears and don't be nervous. Tell us what a
horizon is."
"A horizon?" Volka said with new hope. "That's easy. A horizon is an
imagined line which...."
But Hottabych came to life behind the wall again and Volka once again
became the victim of prompting.
"The horizon, 0 my most revered one," Volka corrected himself, "I would
call the horizon that brink, where the crystal cupola of the Heavens touches
the edge of the Earth."
"It gets worse as he goes on," Varvara Stepanovna moaned. "How would
you have us understand your words about the crystal cupola of the
Heavens-literally or figuratively?"
"Literally, 0 teacher," Hottabych prompted from the next room.
And Volka was obliged to repeat after him, "Literally, 0 teacher."
"Figuratively!" someone hissed from the back of the room. But Volka
repeated, "Naturally, in the literal sense and no other."
"What does that mean?" Varvara Stepanovna asked, still not believing
her ears. "Does that mean you consider the sky to be a solid cupola?"
"Yes."
"And does it mean there's a place where the Earth ends?"
"Yes, there is, 0 my most highly respected teacher."
Behind the wall Hottabych nodded approvingly and rubbed his hands
together smugly.
A strange silence fell on the class. Even those who were always ready
to laugh stopped smiling. Something was definitely wrong with Volka. Varvara
Stepanovna rose and felt his forehead anxiously. He did not have a fever.
But Hottabych was really touched by this. He bowed low and touched his
forehead and chest in the Eastern manner and then began to whisper. Volka,
driven by the same awful force, repeated his movements exactly.
"I thank you, 0 most gracious daughter of Stepan! I thank you for your
trouble. But it is unnecessary, because, praised be Allah, I am quite well."
All this sounded extremely strange and funny. However, the other
children were so worried about Volka that not a shade of a smile crossed a
single face. Varvara Stepanovna took him by the hand, led him out of the
room, and patted his lowered head.
"Never mind, Kostylkov. Don't worry. You're probably overtired. Come
back when you've had a good rest. All right?"
"All right," Volka said. "But upon my word of honour, Varvara
Stepanovna, it's not my fault! It isn't really!"
"Why, I'm not blaming you at all," the teacher answered kindly. "I'll