How Steel is Made

Author: Nikolai Ostrovsky
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-03-01
Features: "Before the holiday, come to my house for a make-up exam! Stand up, all of you!" A stout priest, wearing a vest and hanging a heavy cross around his neck, glared fiercely at all the students. Six students stood up from their benches—four boys and two girls. The priest's two fierce little eyes fixed on them as the children looked at him in fear and anxiety. "Sit down, you two." The priest waved his hand at the two girls. They quickly sat down, sighing with relief. Father Vasily's small eyes stared intently at the four boys. "Come here, you bunch of goofballs!" Father Vasily stood up, pushed his chair away, and walked over to the four children standing close together. "You little rascals, who's smoking?" All four boys whispered, "We're not smoking, Father." The priest's face turned red with anger. "You damn brats, not smoking? Then who scattered the tobacco dust in the dough? Can't any of you smoke? Well, let's see! Turn your pockets inside out, quickly! Did you hear me? Turn them inside out!" Three children began emptying everything from their pockets and placing it on the table. The priest carefully examined every seam in their pockets, looking for fragments of tobacco, but found nothing. He then turned to the fourth child. This boy had black eyes and wore a tattered gray shirt and blue pants with patched knees. "Why are you standing there like a wooden man?" The boy with black eyes suppressed his hatred and looked at the priest, answering in a low voice, "I don't have any pockets." He touched the stitched-up opening of his pocket. "No pockets! Do you think this way, I won't know who ruined the dough? Do you think you'll still be able to stay in school this time? Not so fast, you little bastard. Last time, it was your mother who begged for you to be kept, but this time it's not going to work. Get out!" He forcefully grabbed one of the boy's ears and shoved him into the hallway, closing the door behind him. The classroom fell silent, and the students lowered their heads one by one. No one understood why Pavlo Korchagin had been expelled from school. Only his close friend Shura knew what had happened. That day, the six students who had failed their exams went to the priest's house for a make-up test. While waiting in the kitchen for the priest, Shura saw Pavlo sprinkle a handful of tobacco dust into the dough the priest had prepared for Easter. Pavlo, who had been expelled, sat on the lowest step outside the school gate. He thought about how to get home. His mother worked as a cook in the tax collector's house, toiling from early morning until late at night, always worried about him. How could he explain this to her? Tears choked Pavlo's throat. "Now what am I going to do? It's all the fault of that damn priest. Why did I sprinkle tobacco dust on him? It was Shura's stupid idea! He said, 'Come on, let's sprinkle a handful of this guy.' And so we did. Shura is fine, but I'm probably going to get expelled." Pavlo had long held a grudge against Father Vasily. One day, on pages 1-2...