Золотой жук. Уровень 1 / The Gold-bug

In front of the house there was a small garden, but we hardly ever visited it. We went through this garden only when we first arrived in the school or finally departed from it.

But the house! It was truly a palace to me. There was really no end to it. It was always hard to say on which of two floors I happened to be. There were three or four steps either up or down from each room to every other. The rooms branched into each other, and these branches were too many to count. During the five years I was there, I always had trouble to explain someone how to find the room where I and some other twenty boys lived.

The schoolroom was the largest in the house – and I could not help thinking so, in the world. It was very long and low, with pointed Gothic windows and a ceiling of oak. In a far corner was the office of our head-teacher, Mr. Bransby. The door of the office was thick and heavy, and no one ever would dare to open it in Mr. Bransby absence.

Five years passed between the massy walls of this academy.

Interestingly, a child does not need the outside world to be amused. As a child, I found more pleasure in monotony of the school than as a young man in riches or an older man in crimes. Usually people do not remember their early life but I remember mine clearly.

I was different from other boys. My hot temper separated me from them. Slowly but naturally I gained control over all not greatly older than myself. But there was an exception. This exception was a boy who had the same name as myself although was not related to me.

He was the only one who would not follow my commands.

We were constantly competing with each other. I always acted as if I do not care about him but the truth was that I was afraid of him. Although it seemed no one even noticed the battle between us, he always tried to stop me from things I wanted to do. The strangest of all was his manner with which he did it. It was somewhat affectionate. I thought his manner meant to show that he was better than I was.

Maybe this and the fact that we shared the same name, made some boys from the senior classes think we are brothers. As I mentioned earlier, that Wilson was not connected to my family. But if he were, we would be twins – as I once discovered he was born the same day as me, he nineteenth of January, 1813.

In spite of our constant competing and anxiety it gave me, I could not hate him. Almost every day we quarreled and every time I came out a winner.