Page:Martin Faber - the story of a criminal (IA martinfaber00simmrich).pdf/31

Rh awaited his presence. I had been guilty of insubordination and insurrection, and was not altogether sure that he would not proceed to flog me. But not so. He spoke to me like a father—as my father had never spoken to me—his words were those of monitorial kindness and regard. He described the evil consequences to his authority if such conduct were tolerated; and contented himself with requiring from me a promise of apology before the assembled school on the ensuing morning. I laughed in his face. He was indignant, as well he might be, and, under the momentary impulse, he gave me a smart blow with his open hand upon my cheek. I was but a boy—some thirteen or fourteen years of age,—but, at that moment, I measured with my eye the entire man before me, and though swelling