On hearing this Nozdreff burst into such a resounding laugh as only a fresh, healthy man can give vent to, displaying all his sugar-white teeth, and his cheeks quivering and leaping. A traveller in an adjoining room who was abruptly roused from his slumbers, stared round, wondering what was happening, and finally ejaculated:

“Eh, what! has the house tumbled down?”

“What is there ridiculous in what I said?” said Tchitchikoff, somewhat offended by Nozdreff’s laugh.

But Nozdreff continued laughing at the top of his voice, and even shouted at intervals. “Oh, mercy! I shall burst.”

“But there’s nothing to laugh at. I promised Sobakevitch to go and see him,” said Tchitchikoff.

“You’ll be sorry when you reach his house, he’s a downright niggard! Ah! I know your character; you’ll be mightily disappointed if you think you’ll find a faro bank and a good bottle of ‘bonbon’ there. Listen, my dear fellow; let Sobakevitch go to the devil, and come with me. What dried sturgeon I’ll treat you to! Ponomareff bowed to me when I bought it and said, ‘It’s only for you; you may search through the whole fair, and you won’t find any such dried sturgeon.’ But he’s a frightful scamp, and I said so to his face. ‘You,’ said I, ‘and our brandy farmers are the biggest rascals we have.’ The beast laughed, and stroked his beard. Kuvshinnikoff and I breakfasted at his place every day. Ah, my dear fellow, I forgot to tell you. But I’ve got something which I wouldn’t sell for ten thousand roubles. Hey, there, Porfiriy!” he shouted to his man, who was holding in one hand a knife, and in the other a crust of bread with a bit of sturgeon, which he had succeeded in slicing off on the sly. “Hey, there, Porfiriy!” shouted Nozdreff, “bring that puppy here. Such a dog!” he continued, turning to Tchitchikoff. “I didn’t buy it, I stole it; the owner wouldn’t give it up of his own free will. I offered him a chestnut horse: you remember it—the one I won from Khvostuireff?”

As it happened, Tchitchikoff had never seen either the chestnut horse nor Khvostuireff in his life.

“Won’t you have something to eat, master, now?” said the old woman, approaching Nozdreff.

“No, nothing. Ah, my dear Tchitchikoff, how we did carouse! However, woman, give me a glass of vodka [spirits]. What kind have you got?”

“Aniseed,” replied the old woman.

“Well, fetch your aniseed,” said Nozdreff.

“Give me a glass too,” said the fair-haired man.

“There was an actress at the theatre who sang like a canary,” now resumed Nozdreff. “Kuvshinnikoff, who sat beside me, said, ‘There, my dear fellow, we must make the most of the strawberries with her.’ I think there were at least fifty booths at the fair. A fellow named Fenardi turned somersets for four hours.” Here he took a glass of aniseed from the old woman, who made a low reverence to him. “Bring it here!” he next cried, catching sight of Porfiriy entering with the puppy.

Porfiriy was dressed like his master, in a dirty wadded arkhaluk.² He set the puppy on the floor; the animal stretched itself out, and then began to sniff and smell.

“There’s a pup,” said Nozdreff, grasping it by the back, and lifting it up, whereupon it emitted a very pitiful howl. “But you haven’t done as I told you,” resumed Nozdreff, turning to Porfiriy, and examining the dog’s belly attentively. “You have not combed him.”

“Yes, I did comb him.”