The Cloak

by Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol

　　In the department of--but it is better not to mention the department.There is nothing more irritable than departments, regiments, courts ofjustice, and, in a word, every branch of public service. Eachindividual attached to them nowadays thinks all society insulted inhis person. Quite recently a complaint was received from a justice ofthe peace, in which he plainly demonstrated that all the imperialinstitutions were going to the dogs, and that the Czar's sacred namewas being taken in vain; and in proof he appended to the complaint aromance in which the justice of the peace is made to appear about onceevery ten lines, and sometimes in a drunken condition. Therefore, inorder to avoid all unpleasantness, it will be better to describe thedepartment in question only as a certain department.So, in a certain department there was a certain official--not a veryhigh one, it must be allowed--short of stature, somewhat pock-marked,red-haired, and short-sighted, with a bald forehead, wrinkled cheeks,and a complexion of the kind known as sanguine. The St. Petersburgclimate was responsible for this. As for his official status, he waswhat is called a perpetual titular councillor, over which, as is wellknown, some writers make merry, and crack their jokes, obeying thepraiseworthy custom of attacking those who cannot bite back.His family name was Bashmatchkin. This name is evidently derived from"bashmak" (shoe); but when, at what time, and in what manner, is notknown. His father and grandfather, and all the Bashmatchkins, alwayswore boots, which only had new heels two or three times a year. Hisname was Akakiy Akakievitch. It may strike the reader as rathersingular and far-fetched, but he may rest assured that it was by nomeans far-fetched, and that the circumstances were such that it wouldhave been impossible to give him any other.This is how it came about.Akakiy Akakievitch was born, if my memory fails me not, in the eveningof the 23rd of March. His mother, the wife of a Government officialand a very fine woman, made all due arrangements for having the childbaptised. She was lying on the bed opposite the door; on her rightstood the godfather, Ivan Ivanovitch Eroshkin, a most estimable man,who served as presiding officer of the senate, while the godmother,Anna Semenovna Byelobrushkova, the wife of an officer of the quarter,and a woman of rare virtues. They offered the mother her choice ofthree names, Mokiya, Sossiya, or that the child should be called afterthe martyr Khozdazat. "No," said the good woman, "all those names arepoor." In order to please her they opened the calendar to anotherplace; three more names appeared, Triphiliy, Dula, and Varakhasiy."This is a judgment," said the old woman. "What names! I truly neverheard the like. Varada or Varukh might have been borne, but notTriphiliy and Varakhasiy!" They turned to another page and foundPavsikakhiy and Vakhtisiy. "Now I see," said the old woman, "that itis plainly fate. And since such is the case, it will be better to namehim after his father. His father's name was Akakiy, so let his son'sbe Akakiy too." In this manner he became Akakiy Akakievitch. Theychristened the child, whereat he wept and made a grimace, as though heforesaw that he was to be a titular councillor.In this manner did it all come about. We have mentioned it in orderthat the reader might see for himself that it was a case of necessity,and that it was utterly impossible to give him any other name. Whenand how he entered the department, and who appointed him, no one couldremember. However much the directors and chiefs of all kinds werechanged, he was always to be seen in the same place, the sameattitude, the same occupation; so that it was afterwards affirmed thathe had been born in undress uniform with a bald head. No respect wasshown him in the department. The porter not only did not rise from hisseat when he passed, but never even glanced at him, any more than if afly had flown through the reception-room. His superiors treated him incoolly despotic fashion. Some sub-chief would thrust a paper under hisnose without so much as saying, "Copy," or "Here's a nice interestingaffair," or anything else agreeable, as is customary amongst well-bredofficials. And he took it, looking only at the paper and not observingwho handed it to him, or whether he had the right to do so; simplytook it, and set about copying it.The young officials laughed at and made fun of him, so far as theirofficial wit permitted; told in his presence various stories concoctedabout him, and about his landlady, an old woman of seventy; declaredthat she beat him; asked when the wedding was to be; and strewed bitsof paper over his head, calling them snow. But Akakiy Akakievitchanswered not a word, any more than if there had been no one therebesides himself. It even had no effect upon his work: amid all theseannoyances he never made a single mistake in a letter. But if thejoking became wholly unbearable, as when they jogged his hand andprevented his attending to his work, he would exclaim, "Leave mealone! Why do you insult me?" And there was something strange in thewords and the voice in which they were uttered. There was in itsomething which moved to pity; so much that one young man, anew-comer, who, taking pattern by the others, had permitted himself tomake sport of Akakiy, suddenly stopped short, as though all about himhad undergone a transformation, and presented itself in a differentaspect. Some unseen force repelled him from the comrades whoseacquaintance he had made, on the supposition that they were well-bredand polite men. Long afterwards, in his gayest moments, there recurredto his mind the little official with the bald forehead, with hisheart-rending words, "Leave me alone! Why do you insult me?" In thesemoving words, other words resounded--"I am thy brother." And the youngman covered his face with his hand; and many a time afterwards, in thecourse of his life, shuddered at seeing how much inhumanity there isin man, how much savage coarseness is concealed beneath delicate,refined worldliness, and even, O God! in that man whom the worldacknowledges as honourable and noble.It would be difficult to find another man who lived so entirely forhis duties. It is not enough to say that Akakiy laboured with zeal:no, he laboured with love. In his copying, he found a varied andagreeable employment. Enjoyment was written on his face: some letterswere even favourites with him; and when he encountered these, hesmiled, winked, and worked with his lips, till it seemed as thougheach letter might be read in his face, as his pen traced it. If hispay had been in proportion to his zeal, he would, perhaps, to hisgreat surprise, have been made even a councillor of state. But heworked, as his companions, the wits, put it, like a horse in a mill.Moreover, it is impossible to say that no attention was paid to him.One director being a kindly man, and desirous of rewarding him for hislong service, ordered him to be given something more important thanmere copying. So he was ordered to make a report of an alreadyconcluded affair to another department: the duty consisting simply inchanging the heading and altering a few words from the first to thethird person. This caused him so much toil that he broke into aperspiration, rubbed his forehead, and finally said, "No, give merather something to copy." After that they let him copy on forever.Outside this copying, it appeared that nothing existed for him. Hegave no thought to his clothes: his undress uniform was not green, buta sort of rusty-meal colour. The collar was low, so that his neck, inspite of the fact that it was not long, seemed inordinately so as itemerged from it, like the necks of those plaster cats which wag theirheads, and are carried about upon the heads of scores of imagesellers. And something was always sticking to his uniform, either abit of hay or some trifle. Moreover, he had a peculiar knack, as hewalked along the street, of arriving beneath a window just as allsorts of rubbish were being flung out of it: hence he always boreabout on his hat scraps of melon rinds and other such articles. Neveronce in his life did he give heed to what was going on every day inthe street; while it is well known that his young brother officialstrain the range of their glances till they can see when any one'strouser straps come undone upon the opposite sidewalk, which alwaysbrings a malicious smile to their faces. But Akakiy Akakievitch saw inall things the clean, even strokes of his written lines; and only whena horse thrust his nose, from some unknown quarter, over his shoulder,and sent a whole gust of wind down his neck from his nostrils, did heobserve that he was not in the middle of a page, but in the middle ofthe street.On reaching home, he sat down at once at the table, supped his cabbagesoup up quickly, and swallowed a bit of beef with onions, nevernoticing their taste, and gulping down everything with flies andanything else which the Lord happened to send at the moment. Hisstomach filled, he rose from the table, and copied papers which he hadbrought home. If there happened to be none, he took copies forhimself, for his own gratification, especially if the document wasnoteworthy, not on account of its style, but of its being addressed tosome distinguished person.Even at the hour when the grey St. Petersburg sky had quite dispersed,and all the official world had eaten or dined, each as he could, inaccordance with the salary he received and his own fancy; when allwere resting from the departmental jar of pens, running to and frofrom their own and other people's indispensable occupations, and fromall the work that an uneasy man makes willingly for himself, ratherthan what is necessary; when officials hasten to dedicate to pleasurethe time which is left to them, one bolder than the rest going to thetheatre; another, into the street looking under all the bonnets;another wasting his evening in compliments to some pretty girl, thestar of a small official circle; another--and this is the common caseof all--visiting his comrades on the fourth or third floor, in twosmall rooms with an ante-room or kitchen, and some pretensions tofashion, such as a lamp or some other trifle which has cost many asacrifice of dinner or pleasure trip; in a word, at the hour when allofficials disperse among the contracted quarters of their friends, toplay whist, as they sip their tea from glasses with a kopek's worth ofsugar, smoke long pipes, relate at times some bits of gossip which aRussian man can never, under any circumstances, refrain from, and,when there is nothing else to talk of, repeat eternal anecdotes aboutthe commandant to whom they had sent word that the tails of the horseson the Falconet Monument had been cut off, when all strive to divertthemselves, Akakiy Akakievitch indulged in no kind of diversion. Noone could ever say that he had seen him at any kind of evening party.Having written to his heart's content, he lay down to sleep, smilingat the thought of the coming day--of what God might send him to copyon the morrow.Thus flowed on the peaceful life of the man, who, with a salary offour hundred rubles, understood how to be content with his lot; andthus it would have continued to flow on, perhaps, to extreme old age,were it not that there are various ills strewn along the path of lifefor titular councillors as well as for private, actual, court, andevery other species of councillor, even for those who never give anyadvice or take any themselves.There exists in St. Petersburg a powerful foe of all who receive asalary of four hundred rubles a year, or thereabouts. This foe is noother than the Northern cold, although it is said to be very healthy.At nine o'clock in the morning, at the very hour when the streets arefilled with men bound for the various official departments, it beginsto bestow such powerful and piercing nips on all noses impartiallythat the poor officials really do not know what to do with them. At anhour when the foreheads of even those who occupy exalted positionsache with the cold, and tears start to their eyes, the poor titularcouncillors are sometimes quite unprotected. Their only salvation liesin traversing as quickly as possible, in their thin little cloaks,five or six streets, and then warming their feet in the porter's room,and so thawing all their talents and qualifications for officialservice, which had become frozen on the way.Akakiy Akakievitch had felt for some time that his back and shoulderssuffered with peculiar poignancy, in spite of the fact that he triedto traverse the distance with all possible speed. He began finally towonder whether the fault did not lie in his cloak. He examined itthoroughly at home, and discovered that in two places, namely, on theback and shoulders, it had become thin as gauze: the cloth was worn tosuch a degree that he could see through it, and the lining had falleninto pieces. You must know that Akakiy Akakievitch's cloak served asan object of ridicule to the officials: they even refused it the noblename of cloak, and called it a cape. In fact, it was of singular make:its collar diminishing year by year, but serving to patch its otherparts. The patching did not exhibit great skill on the part of thetailor, and was, in fact, baggy and ugly. Seeing how the matter stood,Akakiy Akakievitch decided that it would be necessary to take thecloak to Petrovitch, the tailor, who lived somewhere on the fourthfloor up a dark stair-case, and who, in spite of his having but oneeye, and pock-marks all over his face, busied himself withconsiderable success in repairing the trousers and coats of officialsand others; that is to say, when he was sober and not nursing someother scheme in his head.It is not necessary to say much about this tailor; but, as it is thecustom to have the character of each personage in a novel clearlydefined, there is no help for it, so here is Petrovitch the tailor. Atfirst he was called only Grigoriy, and was some gentleman's serf; hecommenced calling himself Petrovitch from the time when he receivedhis free papers, and further began to drink heavily on all holidays,at first on the great ones, and then on all church festivities withoutdiscrimination, wherever a cross stood in the calendar. On this pointhe was faithful to ancestral custom; and when quarrelling with hiswife, he called her a low female and a German. As we have mentionedhis wife, it will be necessary to say a word or two about her.Unfortunately, little is known of her beyond the fact that Petrovitchhas a wife, who wears a cap and a dress; but cannot lay claim tobeauty, at least, no one but the soldiers of the guard even lookedunder her cap when they met her.Ascending the staircase which led to Petrovitch's room--whichstaircase was all soaked with dish-water, and reeked with the smell ofspirits which affects the eyes, and is an inevitable adjunct to alldark stairways in St. Petersburg houses--ascending the stairs, AkakiyAkakievitch pondered how much Petrovitch would ask, and mentallyresolved not to give more than two rubles. The door was open; for themistress, in cooking some fish, had raised such a smoke in the kitchenthat not even the beetles were visible. Akakiy Akakievitch passedthrough the kitchen unperceived, even by the housewife, and at lengthreached a room where he beheld Petrovitch seated on a large unpaintedtable, with his legs tucked under him like a Turkish pasha. His feetwere bare, after the fashion of tailors who sit at work; and the firstthing which caught the eye was his thumb, with a deformed nail thickand strong as a turtle's shell. About Petrovitch's neck hung a skeinof silk and thread, and upon his knees lay some old garment. He hadbeen trying unsuccessfully for three minutes to thread his needle, andwas enraged at the darkness and even at the thread, growling in a lowvoice, "It won't go through, the barbarian! you pricked me, yourascal!"Akakiy Akakievitch was vexed at arriving at the precise moment whenPetrovitch was angry; he liked to order something of Petrovitch whenthe latter was a little downhearted, or, as his wife expressed it,"when he had settled himself with brandy, the one-eyed devil!" Undersuch circumstances, Petrovitch generally came down in his price veryreadily, and even bowed and returned thanks. Afterwards, to be sure,his wife would come, complaining that her husband was drunk, and sohad fixed the price too low; but, if only a ten-kopek piece wereadded, then the matter was settled. But now it appeared thatPetrovitch was in a sober condition, and therefore rough, taciturn,and inclined to demand, Satan only knows what price. AkakiyAkakievitch felt this, and would gladly have beat a retreat; but hewas in for it. Petrovitch screwed up his one eye very intently at him,and Akakiy Akakievitch involuntarily said: "How do you do,Petrovitch?""I wish you a good morning, sir," said Petrovitch, squinting at AkakiyAkakievitch's hands, to see what sort of booty he had brought."Ah! I--to you, Petrovitch, this--" It must be known that AkakiyAkakievitch expressed himself chiefly by prepositions, adverbs, andscraps of phrases which had no meaning whatever. If the matter was avery difficult one, he had a habit of never completing his sentences;so that frequently, having begun a phrase with the words, "This, infact, is quite--" he forgot to go on, thinking that he had alreadyfinished it."What is it?" asked Petrovitch, and with his one eye scannedAkakievitch's whole uniform from the collar down to the cuffs, theback, the tails and the button-holes, all of which were well known tohim, since they were his own handiwork. Such is the habit of tailors;it is the first thing they do on meeting one."But I, here, this--Petrovitch--a cloak, cloth--here you see,everywhere, in different places, it is quite strong--it is a littledusty, and looks old, but it is new, only here in one place it is alittle--on the back, and here on one of the shoulders, it is a littleworn, yes, here on this shoulder it is a little--do you see? that isall. And a little work--"Petrovitch took the cloak, spread it out, to begin with, on the table,looked hard at it, shook his head, reached out his hand to thewindow-sill for his snuff-box, adorned with the portrait of somegeneral, though what general is unknown, for the place where the faceshould have been had been rubbed through by the finger, and a squarebit of paper had been pasted over it. Having taken a pinch of snuff,Petrovitch held up the cloak, and inspected it against the light, andagain shook his head once more. After which he again lifted thegeneral-adorned lid with its bit of pasted paper, and having stuffedhis nose with snuff, closed and put away the snuff-box, and saidfinally, "No, it is impossible to mend it; it's a wretched garment!"Akakiy Akakievitch's heart sank at these words."Why is it impossible, Petrovitch?" he said, almost in the pleadingvoice of a child; "all that ails it is, that it is worn on theshoulders. You must have some pieces--""Yes, patches could be found, patches are easily found," saidPetrovitch, "but there's nothing to sew them to. The thing iscompletely rotten; if you put a needle to it--see, it will give way.""Let it give way, and you can put on another patch at once.""But there is nothing to put the patches on to; there's no use instrengthening it; it is too far gone. It's lucky that it's cloth; for,if the wind were to blow, it would fly away.""Well, strengthen it again. How will this, in fact--""No," said Petrovitch decisively, "there is nothing to be done withit. It's a thoroughly bad job. You'd better, when the cold winterweather comes on, make yourself some gaiters out of it, becausestockings are not warm. The Germans invented them in order to makemore money." Petrovitch loved, on all occasions, to have a fling atthe Germans. "But it is plain you must have a new cloak."At the word "new," all grew dark before Akakiy Akakievitch's eyes, andeverything in the room began to whirl round. The only thing he sawclearly was the general with the paper face on the lid of Petrovitch'ssnuff-box. "A new one?" said he, as if still in a dream: "why, I haveno money for that.""Yes, a new one," said Petrovitch, with barbarous composure."Well, if it came to a new one, how would it--?""You mean how much would it cost?""Yes.""Well, you would have to lay out a hundred and fifty or more," saidPetrovitch, and pursed up his lips significantly. He liked to producepowerful effects, liked to stun utterly and suddenly, and then toglance sideways to see what face the stunned person would put on thematter."A hundred and fifty rubles for a cloak!" shrieked poor AkakiyAkakievitch, perhaps for the first time in his life, for his voice hadalways been distinguished for softness."Yes, sir," said Petrovitch, "for any kind of cloak. If you have amarten fur on the collar, or a silk-lined hood, it will mount up totwo hundred.""Petrovitch, please," said Akakiy Akakievitch in a beseeching tone,not hearing, and not trying to hear, Petrovitch's words, anddisregarding all his "effects," "some repairs, in order that it maywear yet a little longer.""No, it would only be a waste of time and money," said Petrovitch; andAkakiy Akakievitch went away after these words, utterly discouraged.But Petrovitch stood for some time after his departure, withsignificantly compressed lips, and without betaking himself to hiswork, satisfied that he would not be dropped, and an artistic tailoremployed.Akakiy Akakievitch went out into the street as if in a dream. "Such anaffair!" he said to himself: "I did not think it had come to--" andthen after a pause, he added, "Well, so it is! see what it has come toat last! and I never imagined that it was so!" Then followed a longsilence, after which he exclaimed, "Well, so it is! see whatalready--nothing unexpected that--it would be nothing--what a strangecircumstance!" So saying, instead of going home, he went in exactlythe opposite direction without himself suspecting it. On the way, achimney-sweep bumped up against him, and blackened his shoulder, and awhole hatful of rubbish landed on him from the top of a house whichwas building. He did not notice it; and only when he ran against awatchman, who, having planted his halberd beside him, was shaking somesnuff from his box into his horny hand, did he recover himself alittle, and that because the watchman said, "Why are you pokingyourself into a man's very face? Haven't you the pavement?" Thiscaused him to look about him, and turn towards home.There only, he finally began to collect his thoughts, and to surveyhis position in its clear and actual light, and to argue with himself,sensibly and frankly, as with a reasonable friend with whom one candiscuss private and personal matters. "No," said Akakiy Akakievitch,"it is impossible to reason with Petrovitch now; he is that--evidentlyhis wife has been beating him. I'd better go to him on Sunday morning;after Saturday night he will be a little cross-eyed and sleepy, for hewill want to get drunk, and his wife won't give him any money; and atsuch a time, a ten-kopek piece in his hand will--he will become morefit to reason with, and then the cloak, and that--" Thus argued AkakiyAkakievitch with himself, regained his courage, and waited until thefirst Sunday, when, seeing from afar that Petrovitch's wife had leftthe house, he went straight to him.Petrovitch's eye was, indeed, very much askew after Saturday: his headdrooped, and he was very sleepy; but for all that, as soon as he knewwhat it was a question of, it seemed as though Satan jogged hismemory. "Impossible," said he: "please to order a new one." ThereuponAkakiy Akakievitch handed over the ten-kopek piece. "Thank you, sir; Iwill drink your good health," said Petrovitch: "but as for the cloak,don't trouble yourself about it; it is good for nothing. I will makeyou a capital new one, so let us settle about it now."Akakiy Akakievitch was still for mending it; but Petrovitch would nothear of it, and said, "I shall certainly have to make you a new one,and you may depend upon it that I shall do my best. It may even be, asthe fashion goes, that the collar can be fastened by silver hooksunder a flap."Then Akakiy Akakievitch saw that it was impossible to get alongwithout a new cloak, and his spirit sank utterly. How, in fact, was itto be done? Where was the money to come from? He might, to be sure,depend, in part, upon his present at Christmas; but that money hadlong been allotted beforehand. He must have some new trousers, and paya debt of long standing to the shoemaker for putting new tops to hisold boots, and he must order three shirts from the seamstress, and acouple of pieces of linen. In short, all his money must be spent; andeven if the director should be so kind as to order him to receiveforty-five rubles instead of forty, or even fifty, it would be a merenothing, a mere drop in the ocean towards the funds necessary for acloak: although he knew that Petrovitch was often wrong-headed enoughto blurt out some outrageous price, so that even his own wife couldnot refrain from exclaiming, "Have you lost your senses, you fool?" Atone time he would not work at any price, and now it was quite likelythat he had named a higher sum than the cloak would cost.But although he knew that Petrovitch would undertake to make a cloakfor eighty rubles, still, where was he to get the eighty rubles from?He might possibly manage half, yes, half might be procured, but wherewas the other half to come from? But the reader must first be toldwhere the first half came from. Akakiy Akakievitch had a habit ofputting, for every ruble he spent, a groschen into a small box,fastened with a lock and key, and with a slit in the top for thereception of money. At the end of every half-year he counted over theheap of coppers, and changed it for silver. This he had done for along time, and in the course of years, the sum had mounted up to overforty rubles. Thus he had one half on hand; but where was he to findthe other half? where was he to get another forty rubles from? AkakiyAkakievitch thought and thought, and decided that it would benecessary to curtail his ordinary expenses, for the space of one yearat least, to dispense with tea in the evening; to burn no candles,and, if there was anything which he must do, to go into his landlady'sroom, and work by her light. When he went into the street, he mustwalk as lightly as he could, and as cautiously, upon the stones,almost upon tiptoe, in order not to wear his heels down in too short atime; he must give the laundress as little to wash as possible; and,in order not to wear out his clothes, he must take them off, as soonas he got home, and wear only his cotton dressing-gown, which had beenlong and carefully saved.To tell the truth, it was a little hard for him at first to accustomhimself to these deprivations; but he got used to them at length,after a fashion, and all went smoothly. He even got used to beinghungry in the evening, but he made up for it by treating himself, soto say, in spirit, by bearing ever in mind the idea of his futurecloak. From that time forth his existence seemed to become, in someway, fuller, as if he were married, or as if some other man lived inhim, as if, in fact, he were not alone, and some pleasant friend hadconsented to travel along life's path with him, the friend being noother than the cloak, with thick wadding and a strong lining incapableof wearing out. He became more lively, and even his character grewfirmer, like that of a man who has made up his mind, and set himself agoal. From his face and gait, doubt and indecision, all hesitating andwavering traits disappeared of themselves. Fire gleamed in his eyes,and occasionally the boldest and most daring ideas flitted through hismind; why not, for instance, have marten fur on the collar? Thethought of this almost made him absent-minded. Once, in copying aletter, he nearly made a mistake, so that he exclaimed almost aloud,"Ugh!" and crossed himself. Once, in the course of every month, he hada conference with Petrovitch on the subject of the cloak, where itwould be better to buy the cloth, and the colour, and the price. Healways returned home satisfied, though troubled, reflecting that thetime would come at last when it could all be bought, and then thecloak made.The affair progressed more briskly than he had expected. Far beyondall his hopes, the director awarded neither forty nor forty-fiverubles for Akakiy Akakievitch's share, but sixty. Whether he suspectedthat Akakiy Akakievitch needed a cloak, or whether it was merelychance, at all events, twenty extra rubles were by this meansprovided. This circumstance hastened matters. Two or three months moreof hunger and Akakiy Akakievitch had accumulated about eighty rubles.His heart, generally so quiet, began to throb. On the first possibleday, he went shopping in company with Petrovitch. They bought somevery good cloth, and at a reasonable rate too, for they had beenconsidering the matter for six months, and rarely let a month passwithout their visiting the shops to inquire prices. Petrovitch himselfsaid that no better cloth could be had. For lining, they selected acotton stuff, but so firm and thick that Petrovitch declared it to bebetter than silk, and even prettier and more glossy. They did not buythe marten fur, because it was, in fact, dear, but in its stead, theypicked out the very best of cat-skin which could be found in the shop,and which might, indeed, be taken for marten at a distance.Petrovitch worked at the cloak two whole weeks, for there was a greatdeal of quilting: otherwise it would have been finished sooner. Hecharged twelve rubles for the job, it could not possibly have beendone for less. It was all sewed with silk, in small, double seams; andPetrovitch went over each seam afterwards with his own teeth, stampingin various patterns.It was--it is difficult to say precisely on what day, but probably themost glorious one in Akakiy Akakievitch's life, when Petrovitch atlength brought home the cloak. He brought it in the morning, beforethe hour when it was necessary to start for the department. Never dida cloak arrive so exactly in the nick of time; for the severe cold hadset in, and it seemed to threaten to increase. Petrovitch brought thecloak himself as befits a good tailor. On his countenance was asignificant expression, such as Akakiy Akakievitch had never beheldthere. He seemed fully sensible that he had done no small deed, andcrossed a gulf separating tailors who only put in linings, and executerepairs, from those who make new things. He took the cloak out of thepocket handkerchief in which he had brought it. The handkerchief wasfresh from the laundress, and he put it in his pocket for use. Takingout the cloak, he gazed proudly at it, held it up with both hands, andflung it skilfully over the shoulders of Akakiy Akakievitch. Then hepulled it and fitted it down behind with his hand, and he draped itaround Akakiy Akakievitch without buttoning it. Akakiy Akakievitch,like an experienced man, wished to try the sleeves. Petrovitch helpedhim on with them, and it turned out that the sleeves were satisfactoryalso. In short, the cloak appeared to be perfect, and most seasonable.Petrovitch did not neglect to observe that it was only because helived in a narrow street, and had no signboard, and had known AkakiyAkakievitch so long, that he had made it so cheaply; but that if hehad been in business on the Nevsky Prospect, he would have chargedseventy-five rubles for the making alone. Akakiy Akakievitch did notcare to argue this point with Petrovitch. He paid him, thanked him,and set out at once in his new cloak for the department. Petrovitchfollowed him, and, pausing in the street, gazed long at the cloak inthe distance, after which he went to one side expressly to run througha crooked alley, and emerge again into the street beyond to gaze oncemore upon the cloak from another point, namely, directly in front.Meantime Akakiy Akakievitch went on in holiday mood. He was consciousevery second of the time that he had a new cloak on his shoulders; andseveral times he laughed with internal satisfaction. In fact, therewere two advantages, one was its warmth, the other its beauty. He sawnothing of the road, but suddenly found himself at the department. Hetook off his cloak in the ante-room, looked it over carefully, andconfided it to the especial care of the attendant. It is impossible tosay precisely how it was that every one in the department knew at oncethat Akakiy Akakievitch had a new cloak, and that the "cape" no longerexisted. All rushed at the same moment into the ante-room to inspectit. They congratulated him and said pleasant things to him, so that hebegan at first to smile and then to grow ashamed. When all surroundedhim, and said that the new cloak must be "christened," and that hemust give a whole evening at least to this, Akakiy Akakievitch losthis head completely, and did not know where he stood, what to answer,or how to get out of it. He stood blushing all over for severalminutes, and was on the point of assuring them with great simplicitythat it was not a new cloak, that it was so and so, that it was infact the old "cape."At length one of the officials, a sub-chief probably, in order to showthat he was not at all proud, and on good terms with his inferiors,said, "So be it, only I will give the party instead of AkakiyAkakievitch; I invite you all to tea with me to-night; it happensquite a propos, as it is my name-day." The officials naturally at onceoffered the sub-chief their congratulations and accepted theinvitations with pleasure. Akakiy Akakievitch would have declined, butall declared that it was discourteous, that it was simply a sin and ashame, and that he could not possibly refuse. Besides, the notionbecame pleasant to him when he recollected that he should thereby havea chance of wearing his new cloak in the evening also.That whole day was truly a most triumphant festival day for AkakiyAkakievitch. He returned home in the most happy frame of mind, tookoff his cloak, and hung it carefully on the wall, admiring afresh thecloth and the lining. Then he brought out his old, worn-out cloak, forcomparison. He looked at it and laughed, so vast was the difference.And long after dinner he laughed again when the condition of the"cape" recurred to his mind. He dined cheerfully, and after dinnerwrote nothing, but took his ease for a while on the bed, until it gotdark. Then he dressed himself leisurely, put on his cloak, and steppedout into the street. Where the host lived, unfortunately we cannotsay: our memory begins to fail us badly; and the houses and streets inSt. Petersburg have become so mixed up in our head that it is verydifficult to get anything out of it again in proper form. This much iscertain, that the official lived in the best part of the city; andtherefore it must have been anything but near to Akakiy Akakievitch'sresidence. Akakiy Akakievitch was first obliged to traverse a kind ofwilderness of deserted, dimly-lighted streets; but in proportion as heapproached the official's quarter of the city, the streets became morelively, more populous, and more brilliantly illuminated. Pedestriansbegan to appear; handsomely dressed ladies were more frequentlyencountered; the men had otter skin collars to their coats; peasantwaggoners, with their grate-like sledges stuck over with brass-headednails, became rarer; whilst on the other hand, more and more driversin red velvet caps, lacquered sledges and bear-skin coats began toappear, and carriages with rich hammer-cloths flew swiftly through thestreets, their wheels scrunching the snow. Akakiy Akakievitch gazedupon all this as upon a novel sight. He had not been in the streetsduring the evening for years. He halted out of curiosity before ashop-window to look at a picture representing a handsome woman, whohad thrown off her shoe, thereby baring her whole foot in a verypretty way; whilst behind her the head of a man with whiskers and ahandsome moustache peeped through the doorway of another room. AkakiyAkakievitch shook his head and laughed, and then went on his way. Whydid he laugh? Either because he had met with a thing utterly unknown,but for which every one cherishes, nevertheless, some sort of feeling;or else he thought, like many officials, as follows: "Well, thoseFrench! What is to be said? If they do go in anything of that sort,why--" But possibly he did not think at all.Akakiy Akakievitch at length reached the house in which the sub-chieflodged. The sub-chief lived in fine style: the staircase was lit by alamp; his apartment being on the second floor. On entering thevestibule, Akakiy Akakievitch beheld a whole row of goloshes on thefloor. Among them, in the centre of the room, stood a samovar ortea-urn, humming and emitting clouds of steam. On the walls hung allsorts of coats and cloaks, among which there were even some withbeaver collars or velvet facings. Beyond, the buzz of conversation wasaudible, and became clear and loud when the servant came out with atrayful of empty glasses, cream-jugs, and sugar-bowls. It was evidentthat the officials had arrived long before, and had already finishedtheir first glass of tea.Akakiy Akakievitch, having hung up his own cloak, entered the innerroom. Before him all at once appeared lights, officials, pipes, andcard-tables; and he was bewildered by the sound of rapid conversationrising from all the tables, and the noise of moving chairs. He haltedvery awkwardly in the middle of the room, wondering what he ought todo. But they had seen him. They received him with a shout, and allthronged at once into the ante-room, and there took another look athis cloak. Akakiy Akakievitch, although somewhat confused, wasfrank-hearted, and could not refrain from rejoicing when he saw howthey praised his cloak. Then, of course, they all dropped him and hiscloak, and returned, as was proper, to the tables set out for whist.All this, the noise, the talk, and the throng of people was ratheroverwhelming to Akakiy Akakievitch. He simply did not know where hestood, or where to put his hands, his feet, and his whole body.Finally he sat down by the players, looked at the cards, gazed at theface of one and another, and after a while began to gape, and to feelthat it was wearisome, the more so as the hour was already long pastwhen he usually went to bed. He wanted to take leave of the host; butthey would not let him go, saying that he must not fail to drink aglass of champagne in honour of his new garment. In the course of anhour, supper, consisting of vegetable salad, cold veal, pastry,confectioner's pies, and champagne, was served. They made AkakiyAkakievitch drink two glasses of champagne, after which he felt thingsgrow livelier.Still, he could not forget that it was twelve o'clock, and that heshould have been at home long ago. In order that the host might notthink of some excuse for detaining him, he stole out of the roomquickly, sought out, in the ante-room, his cloak, which, to hissorrow, he found lying on the floor, brushed it, picked off everyspeck upon it, put it on his shoulders, and descended the stairs tothe street.In the street all was still bright. Some petty shops, those permanentclubs of servants and all sorts of folk, were open. Others were shut,but, nevertheless, showed a streak of light the whole length of thedoor-crack, indicating that they were not yet free of company, andthat probably some domestics, male and female, were finishing theirstories and conversations whilst leaving their masters in completeignorance as to their whereabouts. Akakiy Akakievitch went on in ahappy frame of mind: he even started to run, without knowing why,after some lady, who flew past like a flash of lightning. But hestopped short, and went on very quietly as before, wondering why hehad quickened his pace. Soon there spread before him those desertedstreets, which are not cheerful in the daytime, to say nothing of theevening. Now they were even more dim and lonely: the lanterns began togrow rarer, oil, evidently, had been less liberally supplied. Thencame wooden houses and fences: not a soul anywhere; only the snowsparkled in the streets, and mournfully veiled the low-roofed cabinswith their closed shutters. He approached the spot where the streetcrossed a vast square with houses barely visible on its farther side,a square which seemed a fearful desert.Afar, a tiny spark glimmered from some watchman's box, which seemed tostand on the edge of the world. Akakiy Akakievitch's cheerfulnessdiminished at this point in a marked degree. He entered the square,not without an involuntary sensation of fear, as though his heartwarned him of some evil. He glanced back and on both sides, it waslike a sea about him. "No, it is better not to look," he thought, andwent on, closing his eyes. When he opened them, to see whether he wasnear the end of the square, he suddenly beheld, standing just beforehis very nose, some bearded individuals of precisely what sort hecould not make out. All grew dark before his eyes, and his heartthrobbed."But, of course, the cloak is mine!" said one of them in a loud voice,seizing hold of his collar. Akakiy Akakievitch was about to shout"watch," when the second man thrust a fist, about the size of a man'shead, into his mouth, muttering, "Now scream!"Akakiy Akakievitch felt them strip off his cloak and give him a pushwith a knee: he fell headlong upon the snow, and felt no more. In afew minutes he recovered consciousness and rose to his feet; but noone was there. He felt that it was cold in the square, and that hiscloak was gone; he began to shout, but his voice did not appear toreach to the outskirts of the square. In despair, but without ceasingto shout, he started at a run across the square, straight towards thewatchbox, beside which stood the watchman, leaning on his halberd, andapparently curious to know what kind of a customer was running towardshim and shouting. Akakiy Akakievitch ran up to him, and began in asobbing voice to shout that he was asleep, and attended to nothing,and did not see when a man was robbed. The watchman replied that hehad seen two men stop him in the middle of the square, but supposedthat they were friends of his; and that, instead of scolding vainly,he had better go to the police on the morrow, so that they might makea search for whoever had stolen the cloak.Akakiy Akakievitch ran home in complete disorder; his hair, which grewvery thinly upon his temples and the back of his head, whollydisordered; his body, arms, and legs covered with snow. The old woman,who was mistress of his lodgings, on hearing a terrible knocking,sprang hastily from her bed, and, with only one shoe on, ran to openthe door, pressing the sleeve of her chemise to her bosom out ofmodesty; but when she had opened it, she fell back on beholding AkakiyAkakievitch in such a state. When he told her about the affair, sheclasped her hands, and said that he must go straight to the districtchief of police, for his subordinate would turn up his nose, promisewell, and drop the matter there. The very best thing to do, therefore,would be to go to the district chief, whom she knew, because FinnishAnna, her former cook, was now nurse at his house. She often saw himpassing the house; and he was at church every Sunday, praying, but atthe same time gazing cheerfully at everybody; so that he must be agood man, judging from all appearances. Having listened to thisopinion, Akakiy Akakievitch betook himself sadly to his room; and howhe spent the night there any one who can put himself in another'splace may readily imagine.Early in the morning, he presented himself at the district chief's;but was told that this official was asleep. He went again at ten andwas again informed that he was asleep; at eleven, and they said: "Thesuperintendent is not at home;" at dinner time, and the clerks in theante-room would not admit him on any terms, and insisted upon knowinghis business. So that at last, for once in his life, AkakiyAkakievitch felt an inclination to show some spirit, and said curtlythat he must see the chief in person; that they ought not to presumeto refuse him entrance; that he came from the department of justice,and that when he complained of them, they would see.The clerks dared make no reply to this, and one of them went to callthe chief, who listened to the strange story of the theft of the coat.Instead of directing his attention to the principal points of thematter, he began to question Akakiy Akakievitch: Why was he going homeso late? Was he in the habit of doing so, or had he been to somedisorderly house? So that Akakiy Akakievitch got thoroughly confused,and left him without knowing whether the affair of his cloak was inproper train or not.All that day, for the first time in his life, he never went near thedepartment. The next day he made his appearance, very pale, and in hisold cape, which had become even more shabby. The news of the robberyof the cloak touched many; although there were some officials presentwho never lost an opportunity, even such a one as the present, ofridiculing Akakiy Akakievitch. They decided to make a collection forhim on the spot, but the officials had already spent a great deal insubscribing for the director's portrait, and for some book, at thesuggestion of the head of that division, who was a friend of theauthor; and so the sum was trifling.One of them, moved by pity, resolved to help Akakiy Akakievitch withsome good advice at least, and told him that he ought not to go to thepolice, for although it might happen that a police-officer, wishing towin the approval of his superiors, might hunt up the cloak by somemeans, still his cloak would remain in the possession of the police ifhe did not offer legal proof that it belonged to him. The best thingfor him, therefore, would be to apply to a certain prominentpersonage; since this prominent personage, by entering into relationswith the proper persons, could greatly expedite the matter.As there was nothing else to be done, Akakiy Akakievitch decided to goto the prominent personage. What was the exact official position ofthe prominent personage remains unknown to this day. The reader mustknow that the prominent personage had but recently become a prominentpersonage, having up to that time been only an insignificant person.Moreover, his present position was not considered prominent incomparison with others still more so. But there is always a circle ofpeople to whom what is insignificant in the eyes of others, isimportant enough. Moreover, he strove to increase his importance bysundry devices; for instance, he managed to have the inferiorofficials meet him on the staircase when he entered upon his service;no one was to presume to come directly to him, but the strictestetiquette must be observed; the collegiate recorder must make a reportto the government secretary, the government secretary to the titularcouncillor, or whatever other man was proper, and all business mustcome before him in this manner. In Holy Russia all is thuscontaminated with the love of imitation; every man imitates and copieshis superior. They even say that a certain titular councillor, whenpromoted to the head of some small separate room, immediatelypartitioned off a private room for himself, called it the audiencechamber, and posted at the door a lackey with red collar and braid,who grasped the handle of the door and opened to all comers; thoughthe audience chamber could hardly hold an ordinary writing-table.The manners and customs of the prominent personage were grand andimposing, but rather exaggerated. The main foundation of his systemwas strictness. "Strictness, strictness, and always strictness!" hegenerally said; and at the last word he looked significantly into theface of the person to whom he spoke. But there was no necessity forthis, for the half-score of subordinates who formed the entire forceof the office were properly afraid; on catching sight of him afar offthey left their work and waited, drawn up in line, until he had passedthrough the room. His ordinary converse with his inferiors smacked ofsternness, and consisted chiefly of three phrases: "How dare you?" "Doyou know whom you are speaking to?" "Do you realise who stands beforeyou?"Otherwise he was a very kind-hearted man, good to his comrades, andready to oblige; but the rank of general threw him completely off hisbalance. On receiving any one of that rank, he became confused, losthis way, as it were, and never knew what to do. If he chanced to beamongst his equals he was still a very nice kind of man, a very goodfellow in many respects, and not stupid; but the very moment that hefound himself in the society of people but one rank lower than himselfhe became silent; and his situation aroused sympathy, the more so ashe felt himself that he might have been making an incomparably betteruse of his time. In his eyes there was sometimes visible a desire tojoin some interesting conversation or group; but he was kept back bythe thought, "Would it not be a very great condescension on his part?Would it not be familiar? and would he not thereby lose hisimportance?" And in consequence of such reflections he always remainedin the same dumb state, uttering from time to time a few monosyllabicsounds, and thereby earning the name of the most wearisome of men.To this prominent personage Akakiy Akakievitch presented himself, andthis at the most unfavourable time for himself though opportune forthe prominent personage. The prominent personage was in his cabinetconversing gaily with an old acquaintance and companion of hischildhood whom he had not seen for several years and who had justarrived when it was announced to him that a person named Bashmatchkinhad come. He asked abruptly, "Who is he?"--"Some official," he wasinformed. "Ah, he can wait! this is no time for him to call," said theimportant man.It must be remarked here that the important man lied outrageously: hehad said all he had to say to his friend long before; and theconversation had been interspersed for some time with very longpauses, during which they merely slapped each other on the leg, andsaid, "You think so, Ivan Abramovitch!" "Just so, Stepan Varlamitch!"Nevertheless, he ordered that the official should be kept waiting, inorder to show his friend, a man who had not been in the service for along time, but had lived at home in the country, how long officialshad to wait in his ante-room.At length, having talked himself completely out, and more than that,having had his fill of pauses, and smoked a cigar in a verycomfortable arm-chair with reclining back, he suddenly seemed torecollect, and said to the secretary, who stood by the door withpapers of reports, "So it seems that there is a tchinovnik waiting tosee me. Tell him that he may come in." On perceiving AkakiyAkakievitch's modest mien and his worn undress uniform, he turnedabruptly to him and said, "What do you want?" in a curt hard voice,which he had practised in his room in private, and before thelooking-glass, for a whole week before being raised to his presentrank.Akakiy Akakievitch, who was already imbued with a due amount of fear,became somewhat confused: and as well as his tongue would permit,explained, with a rather more frequent addition than usual of the word"that," that his cloak was quite new, and had been stolen in the mostinhuman manner; that he had applied to him in order that he might, insome way, by his intermediation--that he might enter intocorrespondence with the chief of police, and find the cloak.For some inexplicable reason this conduct seemed familiar to theprominent personage. "What, my dear sir!" he said abruptly, "are younot acquainted with etiquette? Where have you come from? Don't youknow how such matters are managed? You should first have entered acomplaint about this at the court below: it would have gone to thehead of the department, then to the chief of the division, then itwould have been handed over to the secretary, and the secretary wouldhave given it to me.""But, your excellency," said Akakiy Akakievitch, trying to collect hissmall handful of wits, and conscious at the same time that he wasperspiring terribly, "I, your excellency, presumed to trouble youbecause secretaries--are an untrustworthy race.""What, what, what!" said the important personage. "Where did you getsuch courage? Where did you get such ideas? What impudence towardstheir chiefs and superiors has spread among the young generation!" Theprominent personage apparently had not observed that AkakiyAkakievitch was already in the neighbourhood of fifty. If he could becalled a young man, it must have been in comparison with some one whowas twenty. "Do you know to whom you speak? Do you realise who standsbefore you? Do you realise it? do you realise it? I ask you!" Then hestamped his foot and raised his voice to such a pitch that it wouldhave frightened even a different man from Akakiy Akakievitch.Akakiy Akakievitch's senses failed him; he staggered, trembled inevery limb, and, if the porters had not run to support him, would havefallen to the floor. They carried him out insensible. But theprominent personage, gratified that the effect should have surpassedhis expectations, and quite intoxicated with the thought that his wordcould even deprive a man of his senses, glanced sideways at his friendin order to see how he looked upon this, and perceived, not withoutsatisfaction, that his friend was in a most uneasy frame of mind, andeven beginning, on his part, to feel a trifle frightened.Akakiy Akakievitch could not remember how he descended the stairs andgot into the street. He felt neither his hands nor feet. Never in hislife had he been so rated by any high official, let alone a strangeone. He went staggering on through the snow-storm, which was blowingin the streets, with his mouth wide open; the wind, in St. Petersburgfashion, darted upon him from all quarters, and down everycross-street. In a twinkling it had blown a quinsy into his throat,and he reached home unable to utter a word. His throat was swollen,and he lay down on his bed. So powerful is sometimes a good scolding!The next day a violent fever showed itself. Thanks to the generousassistance of the St. Petersburg climate, the malady progressed morerapidly than could have been expected: and when the doctor arrived, hefound, on feeling the sick man's pulse, that there was nothing to bedone, except to prescribe a fomentation, so that the patient might notbe left entirely without the beneficent aid of medicine; but at thesame time, he predicted his end in thirty-six hours. After this heturned to the landlady, and said, "And as for you, don't waste yourtime on him: order his pine coffin now, for an oak one will be tooexpensive for him." Did Akakiy Akakievitch hear these fatal words? andif he heard them, did they produce any overwhelming effect upon him?Did he lament the bitterness of his life?--We know not, for hecontinued in a delirious condition. Visions incessantly appeared tohim, each stranger than the other. Now he saw Petrovitch, and orderedhim to make a cloak, with some traps for robbers, who seemed to him tobe always under the bed; and cried every moment to the landlady topull one of them from under his coverlet. Then he inquired why his oldmantle hung before him when he had a new cloak. Next he fancied thathe was standing before the prominent person, listening to a thoroughsetting-down, and saying, "Forgive me, your excellency!" but at lasthe began to curse, uttering the most horrible words, so that his agedlandlady crossed herself, never in her life having heard anything ofthe kind from him, the more so as those words followed directly afterthe words "your excellency." Later on he talked utter nonsense, ofwhich nothing could be made: all that was evident being, that hisincoherent words and thoughts hovered ever about one thing, his cloak.At length poor Akakiy Akakievitch breathed his last. They sealed upneither his room nor his effects, because, in the first place, therewere no heirs, and, in the second, there was very little to inheritbeyond a bundle of goose-quills, a quire of white official paper,three pairs of socks, two or three buttons which had burst off histrousers, and the mantle already known to the reader. To whom all thisfell, God knows. I confess that the person who told me this tale tookno interest in the matter. They carried Akakiy Akakievitch out andburied him.And St. Petersburg was left without Akakiy Akakievitch, as though hehad never lived there. A being disappeared who was protected by none,dear to none, interesting to none, and who never even attracted tohimself the attention of those students of human nature who omit noopportunity of thrusting a pin through a common fly, and examining itunder the microscope. A being who bore meekly the jibes of thedepartment, and went to his grave without having done one unusualdeed, but to whom, nevertheless, at the close of his life appeared abright visitant in the form of a cloak, which momentarily cheered hispoor life, and upon whom, thereafter, an intolerable misfortunedescended, just as it descends upon the mighty of this world!Several days after his death, the porter was sent from the departmentto his lodgings, with an order for him to present himself thereimmediately; the chief commanding it. But the porter had to returnunsuccessful, with the answer that he could not come; and to thequestion, "Why?" replied, "Well, because he is dead! he was buriedfour days ago." In this manner did they hear of Akakiy Akakievitch'sdeath at the department, and the next day a new official sat in hisplace, with a handwriting by no means so upright, but more inclinedand slanting.But who could have imagined that this was not really the end of AkakiyAkakievitch, that he was destined to raise a commotion after death, asif in compensation for his utterly insignificant life? But so ithappened, and our poor story unexpectedly gains a fantastic ending.A rumour suddenly spread through St. Petersburg that a dead man hadtaken to appearing on the Kalinkin Bridge and its vicinity at night inthe form of a tchinovnik seeking a stolen cloak, and that, under thepretext of its being the stolen cloak, he dragged, without regard torank or calling, every one's cloak from his shoulders, be it cat-skin,beaver, fox, bear, sable; in a word, every sort of fur and skin whichmen adopted for their covering. One of the department officials sawthe dead man with his own eyes and immediately recognised in himAkakiy Akakievitch. This, however, inspired him with such terror thathe ran off with all his might, and therefore did not scan the dead manclosely, but only saw how the latter threatened him from afar with hisfinger. Constant complaints poured in from all quarters that the backsand shoulders, not only of titular but even of court councillors, wereexposed to the danger of a cold on account of the frequent draggingoff of their cloaks.Arrangements were made by the police to catch the corpse, alive ordead, at any cost, and punish him as an example to others in the mostsevere manner. In this they nearly succeeded; for a watchman, on guardin Kirushkin Alley, caught the corpse by the collar on the very sceneof his evil deeds, when attempting to pull off the frieze coat of aretired musician. Having seized him by the collar, he summoned, with ashout, two of his comrades, whom he enjoined to hold him fast while hehimself felt for a moment in his boot, in order to draw out hissnuff-box and refresh his frozen nose. But the snuff was of a sortwhich even a corpse could not endure. The watchman having closed hisright nostril with his finger, had no sooner succeeded in holding halfa handful up to the left than the corpse sneezed so violently that hecompletely filled the eyes of all three. While they raised their handsto wipe them, the dead man vanished completely, so that theypositively did not know whether they had actually had him in theirgrip at all. Thereafter the watchmen conceived such a terror of deadmen that they were afraid even to seize the living, and only screamedfrom a distance, "Hey, there! go your way!" So the dead tchinovnikbegan to appear even beyond the Kalinkin Bridge, causing no littleterror to all timid people.But we have totally neglected that certain prominent personage who mayreally be considered as the cause of the fantastic turn taken by thistrue history. First of all, justice compels us to say that after thedeparture of poor, annihilated Akakiy Akakievitch he felt somethinglike remorse. Suffering was unpleasant to him, for his heart wasaccessible to many good impulses, in spite of the fact that his rankoften prevented his showing his true self. As soon as his friend hadleft his cabinet, he began to think about poor Akakiy Akakievitch. Andfrom that day forth, poor Akakiy Akakievitch, who could not bear upunder an official reprimand, recurred to his mind almost every day.The thought troubled him to such an extent that a week later he evenresolved to send an official to him, to learn whether he really couldassist him; and when it was reported to him that Akakiy Akakievitchhad died suddenly of fever, he was startled, hearkened to thereproaches of his conscience, and was out of sorts for the whole day.Wishing to divert his mind in some way, and drive away thedisagreeable impression, he set out that evening for one of hisfriends' houses, where he found quite a large party assembled. Whatwas better, nearly every one was of the same rank as himself, so thathe need not feel in the least constrained. This had a marvellouseffect upon his mental state. He grew expansive, made himselfagreeable in conversation, in short, he passed a delightful evening.After supper he drank a couple of glasses of champagne--not a badrecipe for cheerfulness, as every one knows. The champagne inclinedhim to various adventures; and he determined not to return home, butto go and see a certain well-known lady of German extraction, KarolinaIvanovna, a lady, it appears, with whom he was on a very friendlyfooting.It must be mentioned that the prominent personage was no longer ayoung man, but a good husband and respected father of a family. Twosons, one of whom was already in the service, and a good-looking,sixteen-year-old daughter, with a rather retrousse but pretty littlenose, came every morning to kiss his hand and say, "Bonjour, papa."His wife, a still fresh and good-looking woman, first gave him herhand to kiss, and then, reversing the procedure, kissed his. But theprominent personage, though perfectly satisfied in his domesticrelations, considered it stylish to have a friend in another quarterof the city. This friend was scarcely prettier or younger than hiswife; but there are such puzzles in the world, and it is not our placeto judge them. So the important personage descended the stairs,stepped into his sledge, said to the coachman, "To KarolinaIvanovna's," and, wrapping himself luxuriously in his warm cloak,found himself in that delightful frame of mind than which a Russiancan conceive no better, namely, when you think of nothing yourself,yet when the thoughts creep into your mind of their own accord, eachmore agreeable than the other, giving you no trouble either to drivethem away or seek them. Fully satisfied, he recalled all the gayfeatures of the evening just passed, and all the mots which had madethe little circle laugh. Many of them he repeated in a low voice, andfound them quite as funny as before; so it is not surprising that heshould laugh heartily at them. Occasionally, however, he wasinterrupted by gusts of wind, which, coming suddenly, God knows whenceor why, cut his face, drove masses of snow into it, filled out hiscloak-collar like a sail, or suddenly blew it over his head withsupernatural force, and thus caused him constant trouble todisentangle himself.Suddenly the important personage felt some one clutch him firmly bythe collar. Turning round, he perceived a man of short stature, in anold, worn uniform, and recognised, not without terror, AkakiyAkakievitch. The official's face was white as snow, and looked justlike a corpse's. But the horror of the important personage transcendedall bounds when he saw the dead man's mouth open, and, with a terribleodour of the grave, gave vent to the following remarks: "Ah, here youare at last! I have you, that--by the collar! I need your cloak; youtook no trouble about mine, but reprimanded me; so now give up yourown."The pallid prominent personage almost died of fright. Brave as he wasin the office and in the presence of inferiors generally, andalthough, at the sight of his manly form and appearance, every onesaid, "Ugh! how much character he had!" at this crisis, he, like manypossessed of an heroic exterior, experienced such terror, that, notwithout cause, he began to fear an attack of illness. He flung hiscloak hastily from his shoulders and shouted to his coachman in anunnatural voice, "Home at full speed!" The coachman, hearing the tonewhich is generally employed at critical moments and even accompaniedby something much more tangible, drew his head down between hisshoulders in case of an emergency, flourished his whip, and flew onlike an arrow. In a little more than six minutes the prominentpersonage was at the entrance of his own house. Pale, thoroughlyscared, and cloakless, he went home instead of to Karolina Ivanovna's,reached his room somehow or other, and passed the night in the direstdistress; so that the next morning over their tea his daughter said,"You are very pale to-day, papa." But papa remained silent, and saidnot a word to any one of what had happened to him, where he had been,or where he had intended to go.This occurrence made a deep impression upon him. He even began to say:"How dare you? do you realise who stands before you?" less frequentlyto the under-officials, and if he did utter the words, it was onlyafter having first learned the bearings of the matter. But the mostnoteworthy point was, that from that day forward the apparition of thedead tchinovnik ceased to be seen. Evidently the prominent personage'scloak just fitted his shoulders; at all events, no more instances ofhis dragging cloaks from people's shoulders were heard of. But manyactive and apprehensive persons could by no means reassure themselves,and asserted that the dead tchinovnik still showed himself in distantparts of the city.In fact, one watchman in Kolomna saw with his own eyes the apparitioncome from behind a house. But being rather weak of body, he dared notarrest him, but followed him in the dark, until, at length, theapparition looked round, paused, and inquired, "What do you want?" atthe same time showing a fist such as is never seen on living men. Thewatchman said, "It's of no consequence," and turned back instantly.But the apparition was much too tall, wore huge moustaches, and,directing its steps apparently towards the Obukhoff bridge,disappeared in the darkness of the night.