"Because--because--that is to say--"

My confusion was complete, and I relapsed into silence, I felt that,
even if this disgusting history master were to go on putting questions
to me, and gazing inquiringly into my face, for a year, I should never
be able to enunciate another syllable. After staring at me for some
three minutes, he suddenly assumed a mournful cast of countenance, and
said in an agitated voice to Woloda (who was just re-entering the room):

"Allow me the register. I will write my remarks."

He opened the book thoughtfully, and in his fine caligraphy marked FIVE
for Woloda for diligence, and the same for good behaviour. Then, resting
his pen on the line where my report was to go, he looked at me and
reflected. Suddenly his hand made a decisive movement and, behold,
against my name stood a clearly-marked ONE, with a full stop after it!
Another movement and in the behaviour column there stood another one and
another full stop! Quietly closing the book, the master then rose, and
moved towards the door as though unconscious of my look of entreaty,
despair, and reproach.

"Michael Lavionitch!" I said.

"No!" he replied, as though knowing beforehand what I was about to say.
"It is impossible for you to learn in that way. I am not going to earn
my money for nothing."

He put on his goloshes and cloak, and then slowly tied a scarf about his
neck. To think that he could care about such trifles after what had just