Aman-Jalil turned just a few degrees so carefully and flexibly that the fly did not notice his movement, and by the time it did, it was too late to escape; a precise strike flattened its head against the wall. The fly twitched a few times and fell to the floor, behind the bench.

– "Did you hit it?" asked the provincial governor with interest through the crack in the door.

– "In the head!" replied Aman-Jalil through the crack. "And who are you: a genie or a gnome?"

– "I am the one whom everyone listens to in semi-dark silence… Do you know such a person?"

– "No, we didn't cover that…"

– "We did, you just didn't learn the verses well…"

Aman-Jalil remembered reading in class:

– "I remember a wonderful moment, Before me you appeared, Like a genius of pure beauty, Like a fleeting vision…"

– "On the contrary only," noted the teacher aloud, though he intended to say it to himself.

Immediately, Aman-Jalil started again:

– "I remember a wonderful moment, Before you I appeared, Like a fleeting vision…"

And he stumbled, feeling he had made a mistake. Kasim, the know-it-all, sitting in the front row, calmly finished for Aman-Jalil:

– "With a humped nose and a pig…"

The classroom buzzed. Suddenly, Aman-Jalil wished intensely that Kasym would turn into a fly for just a minute…

And Kasym did become a fly, but no matter how much Aman-Jalil swatted at him with the rubber band, it bounced off Kasym as if from Milanese armor. Aman-Jalil futilely chased after Kasym. When he grew tired of the pursuit, Kasym fluttered out the window, waving a goodbye with his tiny paw at Aman-Jalil… Once again, the class erupted in uproarious laughter at the failure…

The teacher restored order with a wave of his hand:

– I can confidently predict one thing for you: you will never be a poet; you have absolutely no feel for poetry… Remember when you once read: "…and her eyes clicked shut, and she snapped her fingers"…

– "My grandmother used to curse: 'You won't study, you'll either become a dervish or a poet, or some kind of bandit,'" Aman-Jalil thought. "They're all pursued, laughed at, mocked, even killed… If I ever need it, Kasym will write for me"…

Ahmed swung open the reception door wide. Seeing the deputy, Aman-Jalil straightened up in a "stand at attention" posture and "eyed the boss."

– Come in! – commanded Ahmed.

Aman-Jalil, marching as if on parade, entered the office and froze. Ahmed carefully closed the door behind him, looked satisfied at the stunned Aman-Jalil, and sat down at the desk.

The beauty and luxury of the office overwhelmed Aman-Jalil: black and red wood, handwoven carpets, Anatolian, walls adorned with paintings in gilded frames, gold and silver statuettes, ashtrays, inkwells… everything gleamed, sparkled… mesmerized.

– Come here!…

Aman-Jalil took two steps and froze again out of deference.

– You may sit down!…

Aman-Jalil timidly perched on the edge of the chair and glanced at Ahmed. Ahmed was barely visible behind the desk, but his bulging eyes inspired fear.

– Listen!…

– I am all ears, teacher!

– Who are you?…

– Your servant, teacher!…

– Are you already a member of our party?…

– Disciple!…

– Who recommended you, besides Ismail Pasha?

– My uncle, Gyaurov…

– Not our man… Do you know anything about him?… Something…

– You always know everything about relatives, or almost everything… What do you want to know?

– After… Do you want to become my man?

– I dream of it!

– And can you act like a fly?

– I can, teacher!

– In the head?

– Wherever you say!…

– And… when I say… Remember: initiative is punishable…

– I don't know what that is, teacher.

– Do nothing without orders…

– As you say, so it will be.

– As it will be, so I will say…

The old spider looked at the young man searchingly: "His jaws are still weak, but they will become steel, and I will forge them," he thought. "My clan needs fresh blood, and he's ready for anything… Everyone beneath him is mere flies!"