“Read the passage again! Read it again!” cried a large portion of the noble assemblage. “And come nearer to us. Here, here; this is a good place; it is the exact centre of the hall.”

“No, no,” shouted the others; “more to the right, to the right; that’s the real centre; here, nearer us.”

The secretary placed himself in the very centre of the hall; then he coughed, and began to read anew. “Pavel Ivanovitch Tchitchikoff, councillor of state, accused of forgery in connection with a will, and accused of having purchased from divers noble owners a number of deceased peasant-serfs—dead souls.”

At these words frightful uproar and confusion ensued. Most of the electors rose to their feet.

“This is strange news!” cried one.

“Crime upon crime!” exclaimed another.

“What an abomination!”

“This man is an adventurer, a speculator—that’s what he is!”

“Oh, but what an idea that is of disinterring the dead!”

“Did he mean to make bone-black out of them?”

“Was it ever discovered what he intended to do with those bones and corpses?”

“I think that saltpetre can be made from tombs; and the bones would yield ashes which might certainly be utilised in commerce: for my part——”

“What horrors that man is uttering! It is a case, a case, such a case, you see, as no one ever imagined. When I tell my wife about this she will say that I am lying.”

“Why tell her about it then? Why incur a scolding? What is the use of seeking quarrels? Don’t little spars arise of themselves without that? I shall not say a word to my wife about this abominable affair.”

“Well, I shall tell it all to mine; otherwise she will hear of it from someone else, and that will furnish her with a good pretext for a quarrel.”

“But why did he purchase the dead souls?”

The chief marshal had preserved his patience up to this point; but realising that this case must be disposed of, he armed himself with his bell, and rang it until the most complete silence was established; then he said to the assembly: “Gentlemen, there appears to be a difference of opinion as to whether this gentleman shall be admitted into the assembly. Will you resort to the ballot?”

“Yes, yes; very good.”

“Now is the time, or never.”

“The ballot, the ballot!”

The balls were brought, and they proceeded to the ballot.

“Ah, how I should like to see that fellow Tchitchikoff and judge his face, his personal appearance, his manners!”

“He certainly must look like a sharper and rascal—like an undertaker’s man at the least.”