mattered nothing. A whack would bring his face around smiling, and
if the blow fell only upon his shoulders he would calmly continue
his business transactions, contenting himself with crying out to
them that he was not in the game, but if it struck the flat basket
on which were placed his wares, then he would swear never to come
again, as he poured out upon them all the imprecations and anathemas
imaginable. Then the boys would redouble their efforts to make him
rage the more, and when at last his vocabulary was exhausted and they
were satiated with his fearful mixtures, they paid him religiously,
and sent him away happy, winking, chuckling to himself, and receiving
as caresses the light blows from their canes that the students gave
him as tokens of farewell.

Concerts on the piano and violin, the guitar, and the accordion,
alternated with the continual clashing of blades from the fencing
lessons. Around a long, wide table the students of the Ateneo prepared
their compositions or solved their problems by the side of others
writing to their sweethearts on pink perforated note-paper covered
with drawings. Here one was composing a melodrama at the side of
another practising on the flute, from which he drew wheezy notes. Over
there, the older boys, students in professional courses, who affected
silk socks and embroidered slippers, amused themselves in teasing
the smaller boys by pulling their ears, already red from repeated
fillips, while two or three held down a little fellow who yelled and
cried, defending himself with his feet against being reduced to the
condition in which he was born, kicking and howling. In one room,
around a small table, four were playing _revesino_ with laughter and
jokes, to the great annoyance of another who pretended to be studying
his lesson but who was in reality waiting his turn to play.