“You, perhaps, have some acquaintances, relatives, here, looking for you?”

“Yes; but look at those ladies there. New arrivals surely, new arrivals. We never have anything like them here, even at fair-time. Look, look!”

“Fine objects for enthusiasm, I must say! Are we here to ogle the women? And to think that you have such a beauty of a wife!”

“What has that to do with the matter? A beauty, if you like, yes. But the canons don’t forbid one admiring the unicorn and the adder also, and therefore I wish to admire those two ladies at closer range.”

“Well, there he goes! What an idea! But I shall not endure this, and I shall go up-stairs to bring him back here.”

While these two were chatting, the great majority of the nobility had gathered round the large table at which the governor was seated. He was a fine, handsome man: he saluted the assembly, and then, standing up, he delivered, as presiding officer, a speech brief and to the point, in which he announced the opening of the elections. He begged those present, first of all, to accompany him to church, in order to take the oath to preserve impartiality in the voting, and not to elect as magistrates any men who were not really worthy of exercising the functions.

The church was situated in the principal street, which presented a very animated aspect that day. Uniforms of all the branches of the service were visible, with carriages of all periods, filled with electors and candidates on their way to church between the thick motley ranks formed by the populace, some of whom gathered at the windows of the houses, even to the very dormer-windows in the attics.

The church, usually rather large for its purposes, seemed extremely small on this occasion.

After the ceremony of the oath, those who had taken part in it dispersed throughout the city, some of them to return home, others to hasten about and pay visits, and the majority to assure themselves of a place at a good table, ready to take it by assault if it did not present itself voluntarily. This was a day of fine hopes for many. Many who had not breakfasted at all, and who had dined very badly, suddenly made a copious supper, and felt assured of an excellent dinner for several days to come.

On the following day, electoral business began by the reading of a list, arranged in alphabetical order, of all such nobles in the province who were, or who had been, in the hands of the law. After the proclamation of each name it was to be decided, by vote, whether the bearer might, or might not, have a right to take part in the election.

Tchitchikoff was present when this affecting perusal began, and he could no longer keep his seat. His impatience was so great, that several times he crept close to the secretary and looked over his shoulder at the list he was reading. Then, taking advantage of a momentary interruption, he asked the secretary, in a low voice, if he would reach the letter T before very long. The secretary courteously replied that he was just about to begin the reading of the names having T as their initial letter. On obtaining this information, Pavel Ivanovitch returned with anxiety to his seat, and said to his neighbours that a decayed tooth was causing him horrible suffering; that he had in vain hoped that the pain would cease; that he realised the necessity of having it extracted; and that, in any case, he could not remain amid so many draughts. Accordingly he left the hall, and on arriving at his inn he threw himself on to his bed, pending the serving of some pickled sturgeon, which he had ordered that morning to be ready at four o’clock.

Half an hour at least had elapsed after Tchitchikoff’s departure before the letter T was reached. The first name called was that of a sub-lieutenant, A. P. Tchuvirin, who had been tried for appropriating citizen Krovopatkin’s cow by violence. The court had acquitted Tchuvirin.

“Let him vote!” cried a number of voices.