IV + 

Student Epiphanov, of the second class, brought with him to school that morning a pearl-handled penknife and a silver rouble, and now these were nowhere to be found. He raised a cry and went to complain. + 

An investigation was started. + 

Dutikov reported that he had seen Shura Dolinin going through the pockets of someone’s overcoat. Shura was called into the cabinet of the director. + 

Sergey Ivanovich, the director, fixed his suspicious eyes on the lad. The old tutor, who saw an excellent chance of catching a thief, and incidentally of balancing accounts somewhat for tricks that had been played upon him by the mischievous lads, experienced malicious pleasure and pounced upon the confused, flushing lad with questions. + 

“Why were you in the dressing-room during prayer?” + 

“Before prayer, Sergey Ivanovich,” whimpered Shura in a voice squeaky from fright. + 

“Very well, before prayer,” said the director with irony in his voice. “What I want to know is why were you there?” + 

Shura explained. + 

The director continued: “Very well, after a book. But why in someone else’s pocket?” + 

“It was a mistake,” said Shura, distressed. + 

“A nice mistake,” remarked the director dryly. “Now confess, haven’t you taken by mistake a penknife and a rouble. By mistake, mind you? Look through your pockets, my lad.” + 

Shura began to cry, and said through his tears: “I haven’t stolen anything.” + 

The director smiled. It was pleasant to provoke tears. Such beautiful and such large childish tears trickled down the pink cheeks in three separate streams: two streams of tears came from one eye, and only one from the other. + 

“If you haven’t stolen anything why do you cry?” said the director in a bantering tone. “I don’t even say that you have stolen. I assume that you merely made a mistake: caught hold of something that came into your hand, and then forgot all about it. Suppose you look through your pockets.” + 

Shura quickly drew from his pockets all the absurd trifles usually found on boys, and then turned both his pockets inside out. + 

“Nothing,” he said sadly. + 

The director gave him a searching look. + 

“You are sure it hasn’t dropped down in your clothes somewhere⁠—the knife might have slipped into your boots, eh?” + 

He rang. The watchman came. + 

Shura was crying. And everything round him seemed to float in a rose mist, in the incomprehensible mental void of his degradation. They turned Shura about, felt him all over, searched him. Little by little they undressed him. First they took off his boots and shook them out; they did the same with his stockings. His belt, blouse and breeches followed. Everything was shaken out and searched. + 

And through all this torment of shame, through all this indignity of a degrading and needless ceremony there penetrated one resplendent ray of joy; the torn shirt was at home, and the new, clean one rustled in the coarse hands of the zealous pedagogue. + 

Shura stood in his shirt, crying. Behind the door he could hear tumultuous voices and cries of joy. + 

The door burst open, and a little, red-cheeked, smiling chap entered hurriedly. And through his shame, through his tears, and through his joy about the new shirt, Shura heard a confused and panting voice say: + 

“It’s been found, Sergey Ivanovich. On Epiphanov himself. There was a hole in his pocket⁠—the penknife and rouble slipped down into his boot.” + 

Then, suddenly, they became gentle with Shura. They stroked his head, comforted him, and helped him to dress. + 