BUDDENBROOKS
Lüders sat down. At this moment he was the object of universal hatred. It was plain that the master’s mood had altered for the worse, and that Lüders, perhaps in the very next lesson, would be called by his last name. Timm stood up in one of the back seats. He was a blond country-looking lad with a light-brown jacket and short, broad fingers. He held his mouth open,in a funnel shape, and hastily found the place, looking straight ahead the while with the most idiotic expression. Then he put down his head and began to read, in long-drawn-out, monotonous, hesitating accents, like a child with a first lesson-book: “Aurea, prima sata est cetas!”
It was plain that Dr. Mantelsack was calling up quite at random, without reference to the alphabet. And thus it was no longer so imminently likely that Hanno would be called on, though this might happen through unlucky chance. He exchanged a joyful glance with Kai and began to relax somewhat.
But now Timm’s reading was interrupted. Whether Dr. Mantelsack could not hear him, or whether he stood in need of exercise, is not to be known. But he left his platform and walked slowly down through the room. He paused near Timm, with his book in his hand; Timm meanwhile had succeeded in getting his own book out of sight, but was now entirely helpless. His funnel-shaped mouth emitted a gasp, he looked at the Ordinarius with honest, troubled blue eyes, and could not fetch out another syllable.
“Well, Timm,” said Dr. Mantelsack. “Can’t you get on?”
Timm clutched his brow, rolled up his eyes, sighed windily, and said with a dazed smile: “I get all mixed up, Herr Doctor, when you stand so close to me.”
Dr. Mantelsack smiled too. He smiled in a very flattered way and said “Well, pull yourself together and get on.” And he strolled back to his place.
And Timm pulled himself together. He drew out and opened his book again, all the time apparently wrestling to
