"Valentin Katayev. The Cottage in the Steppe (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

exception. The main thing was to be lucky and find a pupil to coach.
"How can you give lessons when you probably -don't know a darn thing
yourself?" Gavrik said in his usual crude, straightforward way and sniggered
good-naturedly.
Petya was hurt. There had 'been a time when he had really fooled about
instead of swotting, but now he was putting everything he had into his
lessons.
"I'm only kidding," Gavrik said. Suddenly he had a bright idea and
quickly asked, "Look, can you teach Latin too?"
"What a question, of course I can!"
"That's the stuff!" Gavrik exclaimed. "How much would you charge to
coach someone for the third form Latin exams?"
"What do you mean: 'how much'?"
"How much money?"
"I don't know," Petya mumbled in confusion. "Some tutors charge a ruble
a lesson."
"That's far too much. Let's settle for half a ruble."
"What's it all about?" Petya asked.
"Never mind."
Gavrik stood silently for a few minutes, looking down at his moving
fingers, as if making calculations.
"Go on, tell me!" Petya insisted.
"It's nothing very special," Gavrik answered. "Let's go this way." And,
taking Petya by the arm, he led him down the street, peering into his face
sideways.
Gavrik never liked to talk about himself or disclose his plans to
people. Experience had taught him to be secretive. That was why, even though
he had made up his mind to let Petya in on the dream of his life, he could
not bring himself to talk about it, and so they both walked on in silence.
"You see," he began, "but first your word of honour that you won't tell
a soul."
"Honour bright!" Petya exclaimed and involuntarily, from force of
habit, crossed himself, looking the while at the cupolas of St. Panteleimon
Church that shone blue beyond Kulikovo Field.
Gavrik opened his eyes wide and whispered:
"Here's my idea: I want to pass the gymnasium exams for the first,
three forms without attending classes. Two chaps are helping me with the
other subjects, but I'm sort of stuck with Latin."
This was so unexpected that Petya stopped dead in his tracks.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"But why should you study?" Petya blurted out in surprise.
"Why do you study?" Gavrik said with a hard and pugnacious glitter in
his eye. "It's all right for you, but not for me-is that it? For all you
know, it may be more necessary for me than for you."
He might have told Petya that since Terenty had returned from exile he
had been talking a lot about the lack of educated people among the workers,
about the fact that new struggles lay ahead. Probably after consulting some
of the committee members, he had told Gavrik in no uncertain terms that
whether he liked it or not, he would have to pass the gymnasium exams: he