What I did and thought in the four or five hours that followed isn't worth telling in detail, starting from the effect on me of my meeting, as I left school, with Meldolesi (he was s^miling, hatless and tieless, with an opennecked striped shirt, Robespierre style, and quick to confirm, as if there was any need to, signora Fabiani's "pig-headedness" with regard to me, and her categorical refusal to "close an eye once again") and continuing with a description of my long, desperate, aimless wanderings after Meldolesi had given me a friendly, encouraging tap on the cheek.
Ez du merezi ondorengo lauzpabost orduetan egin eta pentsatu nuena luze kontatzeari ekiteak, hasi Guarinitik kanpo Meldolesi jaunarekin topo egiteak nire baitan eduki zuen eraginetik (gizona, irribarrez, kapela eta gorbatarik gabe, alkandora arraiatuaren lepoa jakaren papar-hegalaren gainean zuela, Fabiani andreak nirekin hartutako "seta" baieztatzera lehiatu zen: ez omen zen batere prest azaldu "behin ere gehiago begiak ixteko"), eta gero jarraitu azaltzen nola ibili nintzen batetik bestera, noragabe, etsipenak jota, Meldolesi jaunak berak agur eta zuzpergarri gisa emandako masaileko arina hartu ondoren.