the inn—now the postmaster’s, now the procurator’s, and, again, that belonging to the president of the court. He merely shrugged his shoulders as he walked about the room. At length he felt better, and God knows how he rejoiced when he perceived the possibility of going out into the fresh air once more. He set about his toilet without delay, opened his dressing-case, poured some hot water into a glass, took out his brush and soap, and prepared to shave himself; and, by the way, it was high time that he did so, for, on feeling his chin with his hand, and looking in the glass, he ejaculated, “Eh! what a forest has sprung up!” And in fact, it was not a forest, but all over his cheeks and chin a tolerably thick stubble had planted itself. After shaving himself, he set so briskly to work with his toilet, that he nearly leaped out of his trousers. At last he was dressed; and sprinkled with eau-de-Cologne, and warmly wrapped up, he emerged into the street, after having muffled up his face as a measure of precaution.

His re-appearance on the scene was really a festive occasion, as it is with every convalescent. Everything which he encountered assumed a smiling aspect—the houses, the passing moujiks, who were really quite gloomy, however, and one of whom had just succeeded in dealing a comrade a blow on the ear. He intended that his first call should be for the governor. All sorts of thoughts occurred to him on the way: the pretty little blonde was whirling in his brain; his fancy even began to grow somewhat uncontrollable, and he had already begun to jest and to laugh at himself a little. It was in this frame of mind that he found himself in front of the entrance to the governor’s house. He was already in the act of hastily throwing off his cloak in the vestibule, when the porter astounded him with the utterly unexpected words, “Not receiving!”

“How? What do you mean? You evidently do not recognise me. Take a good look at my face!” said Tchitchikoff.

“Not know you, indeed! Why, this is not the first time I ever saw you,” retorted the porter. “It is precisely you out of all the rest whom I have received orders not to admit: everyone else can enter.”

“You don’t say so! Why, what’s the reason?”

“Those are my orders, and it’s as it should be, evidently,” said the porter, and he added the words “so there.” After which he stood before Tchitchikoff in a negligent attitude, and without preserving that courteous mien with which he had always hitherto removed our hero’s cloak. It seemed as though he were thinking, as he gazed at him, “Oho! Since the master drives you from his door, you must be some sort of a scamp!”

“Incomprehensible,” thought Tchitchikoff to himself, and he went straight to the president of the court; but the president of the court was thrown into such confusion at the sight of him that he could not put two words together, and uttered such nonsense that they both felt ashamed. Try as he would, on leaving, to explain the matter, and to discover what the president meant, and to what his words referred, Tchitchikoff could not understand anything.

Then he called on the others—the chief of police, the vice-governor, and the postmaster; but they either did not receive him at all, or received him so strangely, conducted the conversation in such a constrained and incomprehensible way, were so abstracted, and everything turned out so ridiculously, that he began to doubt whether their brains were in a normal condition. He made an attempt to approach someone, in order at least to discover the cause of all this; but he did not discover it. He wandered aimlessly through the town, like a man only half awake, and quite incapable of deciding whether his wits had forsaken him, whether the officials had lost their heads, whether all this was happening in a dream, or what. It was late, almost twilight, in fact, when he returned to his inn, whence he had emerged in such an agreeable frame of mind, and ordered tea to be brought, out of sheer dulness. He had begun thoughtfully pouring out his tea, absorbed in a sort of meditation as to the peculiarity of his position, when the door of his chamber suddenly opened, and Nozdreff stood before him in a wholly unexpected manner.

“What says the proverb? Seven versts is the immediate neighbourhood to friends!” remarked Nozdreff, doffing his cap: “As I was passing by, I espy a light in your window. ‘Come!’ I think to myself, ‘I’ll go in! he certainly can’t be asleep.’ And it’s a good thing that you have some tea on the table: I’ll drink a cup