“A horizon?” Volka said with new hope. “That’s easy. A horizon is an imagined line which…”

But Hottabych came to life behind the wall again and Volka once again became the victim of prompting.

“The horizon, O my most revered one,” Volka corrected himself, “I would call the horizon that brink, where the crystal cupola of the Heavens touches the edge of the Earth.”

“It gets worse as he goes on,” Varvara Stepanovna moaned. “How would you have us understand your words about the crystal cupola of the Heavens — literally or figuratively?”

“Literally, O teacher,” Hottabych prompted from the next room.

And Volka was obliged to repeat after him, “Literally, O teacher.”

“Figuratively!” someone hissed from the back of the room. But Volka repeated, “Naturally, in the literal sense and no other.”

“What does that mean?” Varvara Stepanovna asked, still not believing her ears. “Does that mean you consider the sky to be a solid cupola?”

“Yes.”

“And does it mean there’s a place where the Earth ends?”

“Yes, there is, O my most highly respected teacher.”

Behind the wall Hottabych nodded approvingly and rubbed his hands together smugly.

A strange silence fell on the class. Even those who were always ready to laugh stopped smiling. Something was definitely wrong with Volka. Varvara Stepanovna rose and felt his forehead anxiously. He did not have a fever.

But Hottabych was really touched by this. He bowed low and touched his forehead and chest in the Eastern manner and then began to whisper. Volka, driven by the same awful force, repeated his movements exactly.

“I thank you, O most gracious daughter of Stepan! I thank you for your trouble. But it is unnecessary, because, praised be Allah, I am quite well.”

All this sounded extremely strange and funny. However, the other children were so worried about Volka that not a shade of a smile crossed a single face. Varvara Stepanovna took him by the hand, led him out of the room, and patted his lowered head.