The Overcoat

by Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol

　　In the department of -- but it is better not to mention the department. There isnothing more irritable than departments, regiments, courts of justice, and, in aword, every branch of public service. Each individual attached to them nowadaysthinks all society insulted in his person. Quite recently a complaint wasreceived from a justice of the peace, in which he plainly demonstrated that allthe imperial institutions were going to the dogs, and that the Czar's sacredname was 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 once every tenlines, and sometimes in a drunken condition. Therefore, in order to avoid allunpleasantness, it will be better to describe the department in question only asa certain department.So, in a certain department there was a certain official -- not a very high one,it must be allowed -- short of stature, somewhat pock-marked, red-haired, andshort-sighted, with a bald forehead, wrinkled cheeks, and a complexion of thekind known as sanguine. The St. Petersburg climate was responsible for this. Asfor his official status, he was what is called a perpetual titular councillor,over which, as is well known, some writers make merry, and crack their jokes,obeying the praiseworthy 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 not known. His father andgrandfather, and all the Bashmatchkins, always wore boots, which only had newheels two or three times a year. His name was Akakiy Akakievitch. It may strikethe reader as rather singular and far-fetched, but he may rest assured that itwas by no means 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 evening of the23rd of March. His mother, the wife of a Government official and a very finewoman, made all due arrangements for having the child baptised. She was lying onthe bed opposite the door; on her right stood the godfather, Ivan IvanovitchEroshkin, a most estimable man, who served as presiding officer of the senate,while the godmother, Anna Semenovna Byelobrushkova, the wife of an officer ofthe quarter, and a woman of rare virtues. They offered the mother her choice ofthree names, Mokiya, Sossiya, or that the child should be called after themartyr Khozdazat. "No," said the good woman, "all those names are poor." Inorder to please her they opened the calendar to another place; three more namesappeared, Triphiliy, Dula, and Varakhasiy. "This is a judgment," said the oldwoman. "What names! I truly never heard the like. Varada or Varukh might havebeen borne, but not Triphiliy and Varakhasiy!" They turned to another page andfound Pavsikakhiy and Vakhtisiy. "Now I see," said the old woman, "that it isplainly fate. And since such is the case, it will be better to name him afterhis father. His father's name was Akakiy, so let his son's be Akakiy too." Inthis manner he became Akakiy Akakievitch. They christened the child, whereat hewept and made a grimace, as though he foresaw that he was to be a titularcouncillor.In this manner did it all come about. We have mentioned it in order that thereader might see for himself that it was a case of necessity, and that it wasutterly impossible to give him any other name. When and how he entered thedepartment, and who appointed him, no one could remember. However much thedirectors and chiefs of all kinds were changed, he was always to be seen in thesame place, the same attitude, the same occupation; so that it was afterwardsaffirmed that he had been born in undress uniform with a bald head. No respectwas shown him in the department. The porter not only did not rise from his seatwhen he passed, but never even glanced at him, any more than if a fly had flownthrough the reception-room. His superiors treated him in coolly despoticfashion. Some sub-chief would thrust a paper under his nose without so much assaying, "Copy," or "Here's a nice interesting affair," or anything elseagreeable, as is customary amongst well-bred officials. And he took it, lookingonly at the paper and not observing who handed it to him, or whether he had theright to do so; simply took it, and set about copying it.The young officials laughed at and made fun of him, so far as their official witpermitted; told in his presence various stories concocted about him, and abouthis landlady, an old woman of seventy; declared that she beat him; asked whenthe wedding was to be; and strewed bits of paper over his head, calling themsnow. But Akakiy Akakievitch answered not a word, any more than if there hadbeen no one there besides himself. It even had no effect upon his work: amid allthese annoyances he never made a single mistake in a letter. But if the jokingbecame wholly unbearable, as when they jogged his hand and prevented hisattending to his work, he would exclaim, "Leave me alone! Why do you insult me?"And there was something strange in the words and the voice in which they wereuttered. There was in it something which moved to pity; so much that one youngman, a new-comer, who, taking pattern by the others, had permitted himself tomake sport of Akakiy, suddenly stopped short, as though all about him hadundergone a transformation, and presented itself in a different aspect. Someunseen force repelled him from the comrades whose acquaintance he had made, onthe supposition that they were well-bred and polite men. Long afterwards, in hisgayest moments, there recurred to his mind the little official with the baldforehead, with his heart-rending words, "Leave me alone! Why do you insult me?"In these moving words, other words resounded --"I am thy brother." And theyoung man covered his face with his hand; and many a time afterwards, in thecourse of his life, shuddered at seeing how much inhumanity there is in man, howmuch savage coarseness is concealed beneath delicate, refined worldliness, andeven, O God! in that man whom the world acknowledges as honourable and noble.It would be difficult to find another man who lived so entirely for his duties.It is not enough to say that Akakiy laboured with zeal: no, he laboured withlove. In his copying, he found a varied and agreeable employment. Enjoyment waswritten on his face: some letters were even favourites with him; and when heencountered these, he smiled, winked, and worked with his lips, till it seemedas though each 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 his greatsurprise, have been made even a councillor of state. But he worked, as hiscompanions, the wits, put it, like a horse in a mill.Moreover, it is impossible to say that no attention was paid to him. Onedirector being a kindly man, and desirous of rewarding him for his long service,ordered him to be given something more important than mere copying. So he wasordered to make a report of an already concluded affair to another department:the duty consisting simply in changing the heading and altering a few words fromthe first to the third person. This caused him so much toil that he broke into aperspiration, rubbed his forehead, and finally said, "No, give me rathersomething to copy." After that they let him copy on forever.Outside this copying, it appeared that nothing existed for him. He gave nothought to his clothes: his undress uniform was not green, but a sort of rusty-meal colour. The collar was low, so that his neck, in spite of the fact that itwas not long, seemed inordinately so as it emerged from it, like the necks ofthose plaster cats which wag their heads, and are carried about upon the headsof scores of image sellers. And something was always sticking to his uniform,either a bit of hay or some trifle. Moreover, he had a peculiar knack, as hewalked along the street, of arriving beneath a window just as all sorts ofrubbish were being flung out of it: hence he always bore about on his hat scrapsof melon rinds and other such articles. Never once in his life did he give heedto what was going on every day in the street; while it is well known that hisyoung brother officials train the range of their glances till they can see whenany one's trouser straps come undone upon the opposite sidewalk, which alwaysbrings a malicious smile to their faces. But Akakiy Akakievitch saw in allthings the clean, even strokes of his written lines; and only when a horsethrust his nose, from some unknown quarter, over his shoulder, and sent a wholegust of wind down his neck from his nostrils, did he observe that he was not inthe middle of a page, but in the middle of the street.On reaching home, he sat down at once at the table, supped his cabbage soup upquickly, and swallowed a bit of beef with onions, never noticing their taste,and gulping down everything with flies and anything else which the Lord happenedto send at the moment. His stomach filled, he rose from the table, and copiedpapers which he had brought home. If there happened to be none, he took copiesfor himself, for his own gratification, especially if the document wasnoteworthy, not on account of its style, but of its being addressed to somedistinguished person.Even at the hour when the grey St. Petersburg sky had quite dispersed, and allthe official world had eaten or dined, each as he could, in accordance with thesalary he received and his own fancy; when all were resting from thedepartmental jar of pens, running to and fro from their own and other people'sindispensable occupations, and from all the work that an uneasy man makeswillingly for himself, rather than what is necessary; when officials hasten todedicate to pleasure the time which is left to them, one bolder than the restgoing to the theatre; another, into the street looking under all the bonnets;another wasting his evening in compliments to some pretty girl, the star of asmall official circle; another -- and this is the common case of all -- visitinghis comrades on the fourth or third floor, in two small rooms with an ante-roomor kitchen, and some pretensions to fashion, such as a lamp or some other triflewhich has cost many a sacrifice of dinner or pleasure trip; in a word, at thehour when all officials disperse among the contracted quarters of their friends,to play whist, as they sip their tea from glasses with a kopek's worth of sugar,smoke long pipes, relate at times some bits of gossip which a Russian man cannever, under any circumstances, refrain from, and, when there is nothing else totalk of, repeat eternal anecdotes about the commandant to whom they had sentword that the tails of the horses on the Falconet Monument had been cut off,when all strive to divert themselves, Akakiy Akakievitch indulged in no kind ofdiversion. No one could ever say that he had seen him at any kind of eveningparty. Having written to his heart's content, he lay down to sleep, smiling atthe thought of the coming day -- of what God might send him to copy on themorrow.Thus flowed on the peaceful life of the man, who, with a salary of four hundredrubles, understood how to be content with his lot; and thus it would havecontinued to flow on, perhaps, to extreme old age, were it not that there arevarious ills strewn along the path of life for titular councillors as well asfor private, actual, court, and every other species of councillor, even forthose who never give any advice or take any themselves.There exists in St. Petersburg a powerful foe of all who receive a salary offour hundred rubles a year, or thereabouts. This foe is no other than theNorthern cold, although it is said to be very healthy. At nine o'clock in themorning, at the very hour when the streets are filled with men bound for thevarious official departments, it begins to bestow such powerful and piercingnips on all noses impartially that the poor officials really do not know what todo with them. At an hour when the foreheads of even those who occupy exaltedpositions ache with the cold, and tears start to their eyes, the poor titularcouncillors are sometimes quite unprotected. Their only salvation lies intraversing as quickly as possible, in their thin little cloaks, five or sixstreets, and then warming their feet in the porter's room, and so thawing alltheir talents and qualifications for official service, which had become frozenon the way.Akakiy Akakievitch had felt for some time that his back and shoulders sufferedwith peculiar poignancy, in spite of the fact that he tried to traverse thedistance with all possible speed. He began finally to wonder whether the faultdid not lie in his cloak. He examined it thoroughly at home, and discovered thatin two places, namely, on the back and shoulders, it had become thin as gauze:the cloth was worn to such a degree that he could see through it, and the lininghad fallen into pieces. You must know that Akakiy Akakievitch's cloak served asan object of ridicule to the officials: they even refused it the noble name ofcloak, and called it a cape. In fact, it was of singular make: its collardiminishing year by year, but serving to patch its other parts. The patching didnot exhibit great skill on the part of the tailor, and was, in fact, baggy andugly. Seeing how the matter stood, Akakiy Akakievitch decided that it would benecessary to take the cloak to Petrovitch, the tailor, who lived somewhere onthe fourth floor up a dark stair-case, and who, in spite of his having but oneeye, and pock-marks all over his face, busied himself with considerable successin repairing the trousers and coats of officials and others; that is to say,when he was sober and not nursing some other scheme in his head.It is not necessary to say much about this tailor; but, as it is the custom tohave the character of each personage in a novel clearly defined, there is nohelp for it, so here is Petrovitch the tailor. At first he was called onlyGrigoriy, and was some gentleman's serf; he commenced calling himself Petrovitchfrom the time when he received his free papers, and further began to drinkheavily on all holidays, at first on the great ones, and then on all churchfestivities without discrimination, wherever a cross stood in the calendar. Onthis point he was faithful to ancestral custom; and when quarrelling with hiswife, he called her a low female and a German. As we have mentioned his wife, itwill be necessary to say a word or two about her. Unfortunately, little is knownof her beyond the fact that Petrovitch has a wife, who wears a cap and a dress;but cannot lay claim to beauty, at least, no one but the soldiers of the guardeven looked under her cap when they met her.Ascending the staircase which led to Petrovitch's room -- which staircase wasall soaked with dish-water, and reeked with the smell of spirits which affectsthe eyes, and is an inevitable adjunct to all dark stairways in St. Petersburghouses -- ascending the stairs, Akakiy Akakievitch pondered how much Petrovitchwould ask, and mentally resolved not to give more than two rubles. The door wasopen; for the mistress, in cooking some fish, had raised such a smoke in thekitchen that not even the beetles were visible. Akakiy Akakievitch passedthrough the kitchen unperceived, even by the housewife, and at length reached aroom where he beheld Petrovitch seated on a large unpainted table, with his legstucked under him like a Turkish pasha. His feet were bare, after the fashion oftailors who sit at work; and the first thing which caught the eye was his thumb,with a deformed nail thick and strong as a turtle's shell. About Petrovitch'sneck hung a skein of silk and thread, and upon his knees lay some old garment.He had been trying unsuccessfully for three minutes to thread his needle, andwas enraged at the darkness and even at the thread, growling in a low voice, "Itwon't go through, the barbarian! you pricked me, you rascal!"Akakiy Akakievitch was vexed at arriving at the precise moment when Petrovitchwas angry; he liked to order something of Petrovitch when the latter was alittle downhearted, or, as his wife expressed it, "when he had settled himselfwith brandy, the one-eyed devil!" Under such circumstances, Petrovitch generallycame down in his price very readily, and even bowed and returned thanks.Afterwards, to be sure, his wife would come, complaining that her husband wasdrunk, and so had fixed the price too low; but, if only a ten-kopek piece wereadded, then the matter was settled. But now it appeared that Petrovitch was in asober condition, and therefore rough, taciturn, and inclined to demand, Satanonly knows what price. Akakiy Akakievitch felt this, and would gladly have beata retreat; but he was in for it. Petrovitch screwed up his one eye very intentlyat 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 Akakiy Akakievitchexpressed himself chiefly by prepositions, adverbs, and scraps of phrases whichhad no meaning whatever. If the matter was a very difficult one, he had a habitof never completing his sentences; so that frequently, having begun a phrasewith the words, "This, in fact, is quite --" he forgot to go on, thinking thathe had already finished it."What is it?" asked Petrovitch, and with his one eye scanned Akakievitch's wholeuniform from the collar down to the cuffs, the back, the tails and the button-holes, all of which were well known to him, 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 little dusty, and looks old,but it is new, only here in one place it is a little -- on the back, and here onone of the shoulders, it is a little worn, yes, here on this shoulder it is alittle -- do you see? that is all. And a little work --"Petrovitch took the cloak, spread it out, to begin with, on the table, lookedhard at it, shook his head, reached out his hand to the window-sill for hissnuff-box, adorned with the portrait of some general, though what general isunknown, for the place where the face should have been had been rubbed throughby the finger, and a square bit of paper had been pasted over it. Having taken apinch of snuff, Petrovitch held up the cloak, and inspected it against thelight, and again shook his head once more. After which he again lifted thegeneral-adorned lid with its bit of pasted paper, and having stuffed his nosewith snuff, closed and put away the snuff-box, and said finally, "No, it isimpossible 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 pleading voice of achild; "all that ails it is, that it is worn on the shoulders. You must havesome pieces --""Yes, patches could be found, patches are easily found," said Petrovitch, "butthere's nothing to sew them to. The thing is completely rotten; if you put aneedle 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 in strengtheningit; it is too far gone. It's lucky that it's cloth; for, if the wind were toblow, it would fly away.""Well, strengthen it again. How will this, in fact --""No," said Petrovitch decisively, "there is nothing to be done with it. It's athoroughly bad job. You'd better, when the cold winter weather comes on, makeyourself some gaiters out of it, because stockings are not warm. The Germansinvented them in order to make more money." Petrovitch loved, on all occasions,to have a fling at the 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 saw clearly wasthe general with the paper face on the lid of Petrovitch's snuff-box. "A newone?" said he, as if still in a dream: "why, I have no 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," said Petrovitch,and pursed up his lips significantly. He liked to produce powerful effects,liked to stun utterly and suddenly, and then to glance sideways to see what facethe stunned person would put on the matter."A hundred and fifty rubles for a cloak!" shrieked poor Akakiy Akakievitch,perhaps for the first time in his life, for his voice had always beendistinguished for softness."Yes, sir," said Petrovitch, "for any kind of cloak. If you have a marten fur onthe collar, or a silk-lined hood, it will mount up to two hundred.""Petrovitch, please," said Akakiy Akakievitch in a beseeching tone, not hearing,and not trying to hear, Petrovitch's words, and disregarding all his "effects,""some repairs, in order that it may wear yet a little longer.""No, it would only be a waste of time and money," said Petrovitch; and AkakiyAkakievitch went away after these words, utterly discouraged. But Petrovitchstood for some time after his departure, with significantly compressed lips, andwithout betaking himself to his work, satisfied that he would not be dropped,and an artistic tailor employed.Akakiy Akakievitch went out into the street as if in a dream. "Such an affair!"he said to himself: "I did not think it had come to --" and then after a pause,he added, "Well, so it is! see what it has come to at last! and I never imaginedthat it was so!" Then followed a long silence, after which he exclaimed, "Well,so it is! see what already -- nothing unexpected that -- it would be nothing --what a strange circumstance!" So saying, instead of going home, he went inexactly the opposite direction without himself suspecting it. On the way, achimney-sweep bumped up against him, and blackened his shoulder, and a wholehatful of rubbish landed on him from the top of a house which was building. Hedid not notice it; and only when he ran against a watchman, who, having plantedhis halberd beside him, was shaking some snuff from his box into his horny hand,did he recover himself a little, and that because the watchman said, "Why areyou poking yourself 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 survey his positionin its clear and actual light, and to argue with himself, sensibly and frankly,as with a reasonable friend with whom one can discuss private and personalmatters. "No," said Akakiy Akakievitch, "it is impossible to reason withPetrovitch now; he is that -- evidently his wife has been beating him. I'dbetter go to him on Sunday morning; after Saturday night he will be a littlecross-eyed and sleepy, for he will want to get drunk, and his wife won't givehim any money; and at such a time, a ten-kopek piece in his hand will -- he willbecome more fit to reason with, and then the cloak, and that --" Thus arguedAkakiy Akakievitch with himself, regained his courage, and waited until thefirst Sunday, when, seeing from afar that Petrovitch's wife had left the house,he went straight to him.Petrovitch's eye was, indeed, very much askew after Saturday: his head drooped,and he was very sleepy; but for all that, as soon as he knew what it was aquestion of, it seemed as though Satan jogged his memory. "Impossible," said he:"please to order a new one." Thereupon Akakiy Akakievitch handed over the ten-kopek piece. "Thank you, sir; I will drink your good health," said Petrovitch:"but as for the cloak, don't trouble yourself about it; it is good for nothing.I will make you a capital new one, so let us settle about it now."Akakiy Akakievitch was still for mending it; but Petrovitch would not hear ofit, and said, "I shall certainly have to make you a new one, and you may dependupon it that I shall do my best. It may even be, as the fashion goes, that thecollar can be fastened by silver hooks under a flap."Then Akakiy Akakievitch saw that it was impossible to get along without a newcloak, and his spirit sank utterly. How, in fact, was it to be done? Where wasthe money to come from? He might, to be sure, depend, in part, upon his presentat Christmas; but that money had long been allotted beforehand. He must havesome new trousers, and pay a debt of long standing to the shoemaker for puttingnew tops to his old boots, and he must order three shirts from the seamstress,and a couple of pieces of linen. In short, all his money must be spent; and evenif the director should be so kind as to order him to receive forty-five rublesinstead of forty, or even fifty, it would be a mere nothing, a mere drop in theocean towards the funds necessary for a cloak: although he knew that Petrovitchwas often wrong-headed enough to blurt out some outrageous price, so that evenhis own wife could not refrain from exclaiming, "Have you lost your senses, youfool?" At one 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 cloak for eightyrubles, still, where was he to get the eighty rubles from? He might possiblymanage half, yes, half might be procured, but where was the other half to comefrom? But the reader must first be told where the first half came from. AkakiyAkakievitch had a habit of putting, for every ruble he spent, a groschen into asmall 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 the heap ofcoppers, and changed it for silver. This he had done for a long time, and in thecourse of years, the sum had mounted up to over forty rubles. Thus he had onehalf on hand; but where was he to find the other half? where was he to getanother forty rubles from? Akakiy Akakievitch thought and thought, and decidedthat it would be necessary to curtail his ordinary expenses, for the space ofone year at 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's room, and workby her light. When he went into the street, he must walk as lightly as he could,and as cautiously, upon the stones, almost upon tiptoe, in order not to wear hisheels down in too short a time; he must give the laundress as little to wash aspossible; and, in order not to wear out his clothes, he must take them off, assoon as he got home, and wear only his cotton dressing-gown, which had been longand carefully saved.To tell the truth, it was a little hard for him at first to accustom himself tothese deprivations; but he got used to them at length, after a fashion, and allwent smoothly. He even got used to being hungry in the evening, but he made upfor it by treating himself, so to say, in spirit, by bearing ever in mind theidea of his future cloak. From that time forth his existence seemed to become,in some way, 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 had consentedto travel along life's path with him, the friend being no other than the cloak,with thick wadding and a strong lining incapable of wearing out. He became morelively, and even his character grew firmer, like that of a man who has made uphis mind, and set himself a goal. From his face and gait, doubt and indecision,all hesitating and wavering traits disappeared of themselves. Fire gleamed inhis eyes, and occasionally the boldest and most daring ideas flitted through hismind; why not, for instance, have marten fur on the collar? The thought of thisalmost made him absent-minded. Once, in copying a letter, he nearly made amistake, so that he exclaimed almost aloud, "Ugh!" and crossed himself. Once, inthe course of every month, he had a conference with Petrovitch on the subject ofthe cloak, where it would be better to buy the cloth, and the colour, and theprice. He always returned home satisfied, though troubled, reflecting that thetime would come at last when it could all be bought, and then the cloak made.The affair progressed more briskly than he had expected. Far beyond all hishopes, the director awarded neither forty nor forty-five rubles for AkakiyAkakievitch's share, but sixty. Whether he suspected that Akakiy Akakievitchneeded a cloak, or whether it was merely chance, at all events, twenty extrarubles were by this means provided. This circumstance hastened matters. Two orthree months more of hunger and Akakiy Akakievitch had accumulated about eightyrubles. His heart, generally so quiet, began to throb. On the first possibleday, he went shopping in company with Petrovitch. They bought some very goodcloth, and at a reasonable rate too, for they had been considering the matterfor six months, and rarely let a month pass without their visiting the shops toinquire prices. Petrovitch himself said that no better cloth could be had. Forlining, they selected a cotton stuff, but so firm and thick that Petrovitchdeclared it to be better than silk, and even prettier and more glossy. They didnot buy the 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 whichmight, indeed, be taken for marten at a distance.Petrovitch worked at the cloak two whole weeks, for there was a great deal ofquilting: otherwise it would have been finished sooner. He charged twelve rublesfor the job, it could not possibly have been done for less. It was all sewedwith silk, in small, double seams; and Petrovitch went over each seam afterwardswith his own teeth, stamping in various patterns.It was -- it is difficult to say precisely on what day, but probably the mostglorious one in Akakiy Akakievitch's life, when Petrovitch at length broughthome the cloak. He brought it in the morning, before the hour when it wasnecessary to start for the department. Never did a cloak arrive so exactly inthe nick of time; for the severe cold had set in, and it seemed to threaten toincrease. Petrovitch brought the cloak himself as befits a good tailor. On hiscountenance was a significant expression, such as Akakiy Akakievitch had neverbeheld there. He seemed fully sensible that he had done no small deed, andcrossed a gulf separating tailors who only put in linings, and execute repairs,from those who make new things. He took the cloak out of the pocket handkerchiefin which he had brought it. The handkerchief was fresh from the laundress, andhe put it in his pocket for use. Taking out the cloak, he gazed proudly at it,held it up with both hands, and flung it skilfully over the shoulders of AkakiyAkakievitch. Then he pulled it and fitted it down behind with his hand, and hedraped it around Akakiy Akakievitch without buttoning it. Akakiy Akakievitch,like an experienced man, wished to try the sleeves. Petrovitch helped him onwith them, and it turned out that the sleeves were satisfactory also. In short,the cloak appeared to be perfect, and most seasonable. Petrovitch did notneglect to observe that it was only because he lived in a narrow street, and hadno signboard, and had known Akakiy Akakievitch so long, that he had made it socheaply; but that if he had been in business on the Nevsky Prospect, he wouldhave charged seventy-five rubles for the making alone. Akakiy Akakievitch didnot care to argue this point with Petrovitch. He paid him, thanked him, and setout at once in his new cloak for the department. Petrovitch followed him, and,pausing in the street, gazed long at the cloak in the distance, after which hewent to one side expressly to run through a crooked alley, and emerge again intothe street beyond to gaze once more upon the cloak from another point, namely,directly in front.Meantime Akakiy Akakievitch went on in holiday mood. He was conscious everysecond of the time that he had a new cloak on his shoulders; and several timeshe laughed with internal satisfaction. In fact, there were two advantages, onewas its warmth, the other its beauty. He saw nothing of the road, but suddenlyfound himself at the department. He took off his cloak in the ante-room, lookedit over carefully, and confided it to the especial care of the attendant. It isimpossible to say precisely how it was that every one in the department knew atonce that Akakiy Akakievitch had a new cloak, and that the "cape" no longerexisted. All rushed at the same moment into the ante-room to inspect it. Theycongratulated him and said pleasant things to him, so that he began at first tosmile and then to grow ashamed. When all surrounded him, and said that the newcloak must be "christened," and that he must give a whole evening at least tothis, Akakiy Akakievitch lost his head completely, and did not know where hestood, what to answer, or how to get out of it. He stood blushing all over forseveral minutes, 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 in fact the old"cape."At length one of the officials, a sub-chief probably, in order to show that hewas not at all proud, and on good terms with his inferiors, said, "So be it,only I will give the party instead of Akakiy Akakievitch; I invite you all totea with me to-night; it happens quite a propos, as it is my name-day." Theofficials naturally at once offered the sub-chief their congratulations andaccepted the invitations with pleasure. Akakiy Akakievitch would have declined,but all declared that it was discourteous, that it was simply a sin and a shame,and that he could not possibly refuse. Besides, the notion became pleasant tohim when he recollected that he should thereby have a chance of wearing his newcloak in the evening also.That whole day was truly a most triumphant festival day for Akakiy Akakievitch.He returned home in the most happy frame of mind, took off his cloak, and hungit carefully on the wall, admiring afresh the cloth and the lining. Then hebrought out his old, worn-out cloak, for comparison. He looked at it andlaughed, so vast was the difference. And long after dinner he laughed again whenthe condition of the "cape" recurred to his mind. He dined cheerfully, and afterdinner wrote nothing, but took his ease for a while on the bed, until it gotdark. Then he dressed himself leisurely, put on his cloak, and stepped out intothe street. Where the host lived, unfortunately we cannot say: our memory beginsto fail us badly; and the houses and streets in St. Petersburg have become somixed up in our head that it is very difficult to get anything out of it againin proper form. This much is certain, that the official lived in the best partof the city; and therefore it must have been anything but near to AkakiyAkakievitch's residence. Akakiy Akakievitch was first obliged to traverse a kindof wilderness of deserted, dimly-lighted streets; but in proportion as heapproached the official's quarter of the city, the streets became more lively,more populous, and more brilliantly illuminated. Pedestrians began to appear;handsomely dressed ladies were more frequently encountered; the men had otterskin collars to their coats; peasant waggoners, with their grate-like sledgesstuck over with brass-headed nails, became rarer; whilst on the other hand, moreand more drivers in red velvet caps, lacquered sledges and bear-skin coats beganto appear, and carriages with rich hammer-cloths flew swiftly through thestreets, their wheels scrunching the snow. Akakiy Akakievitch gazed upon allthis as upon a novel sight. He had not been in the streets during the eveningfor years. He halted out of curiosity before a shop-window to look at a picturerepresenting a handsome woman, who had thrown off her shoe, thereby baring herwhole foot in a very pretty way; whilst behind her the head of a man withwhiskers and a handsome moustache peeped through the doorway of another room.Akakiy Akakievitch shook his head and laughed, and then went on his way. Why didhe laugh? Either because he had met with a thing utterly unknown, but for whichevery one cherishes, nevertheless, some sort of feeling; or else he thought,like many officials, as follows: "Well, those French! What is to be said? Ifthey do go in anything of that sort, why --" But possibly he did not think atall.Akakiy Akakievitch at length reached the house in which the sub-chief lodged.The sub-chief lived in fine style: the staircase was lit by a lamp; hisapartment being on the second floor. On entering the vestibule, AkakiyAkakievitch beheld a whole row of goloshes on the floor. Among them, in thecentre of the room, stood a samovar or tea-urn, humming and emitting clouds ofsteam. On the walls hung all sorts of coats and cloaks, among which there wereeven some with beaver collars or velvet facings. Beyond, the buzz ofconversation was audible, and became clear and loud when the servant came outwith a trayful of empty glasses, cream-jugs, and sugar-bowls. It was evidentthat the officials had arrived long before, and had already finished their firstglass of tea.Akakiy Akakievitch, having hung up his own cloak, entered the inner room. Beforehim all at once appeared lights, officials, pipes, and card-tables; and he wasbewildered by the sound of rapid conversation rising from all the tables, andthe noise of moving chairs. He halted very awkwardly in the middle of the room,wondering what he ought to do. But they had seen him. They received him with ashout, and all thronged at once into the ante-room, and there took another lookat his cloak. Akakiy Akakievitch, although somewhat confused, was frank-hearted,and could not refrain from rejoicing when he saw how they praised his cloak.Then, of course, they all dropped him and his cloak, and returned, as wasproper, to the tables set out for whist.All this, the noise, the talk, and the throng of people was rather overwhelmingto Akakiy Akakievitch. He simply did not know where he stood, or where to puthis hands, his feet, and his whole body. Finally he sat down by the players,looked at the cards, gazed at the face of one and another, and after a whilebegan to gape, and to feel that it was wearisome, the more so as the hour wasalready long past when he usually went to bed. He wanted to take leave of thehost; but they 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 an hour,supper, consisting of vegetable salad, cold veal, pastry, confectioner's pies,and champagne, was served. They made Akakiy Akakievitch drink two glasses ofchampagne, after which he felt things grow livelier.Still, he could not forget that it was twelve o'clock, and that he should havebeen at home long ago. In order that the host might not think of some excuse fordetaining him, he stole out of the room quickly, sought out, in the ante-room,his cloak, which, to his sorrow, he found lying on the floor, brushed it, pickedoff every speck upon it, put it on his shoulders, and descended the stairs tothe street.In the street all was still bright. Some petty shops, those permanent clubs ofservants and all sorts of folk, were open. Others were shut, but, nevertheless,showed a streak of light the whole length of the door-crack, indicating thatthey were not yet free of company, and that probably some domestics, male andfemale, were finishing their stories and conversations whilst leaving theirmasters in complete ignorance as to their whereabouts. Akakiy Akakievitch wenton in a happy frame of mind: he even started to run, without knowing why, aftersome lady, who flew past like a flash of lightning. But he stopped short, andwent on very quietly as before, wondering why he had quickened his pace. Soonthere spread before him those deserted streets, which are not cheerful in thedaytime, to say nothing of the evening. Now they were even more dim and lonely:the lanterns began to grow rarer, oil, evidently, had been less liberallysupplied. Then came wooden houses and fences: not a soul anywhere; only the snowsparkled in the streets, and mournfully veiled the low-roofed cabins with theirclosed shutters. He approached the spot where the street crossed a vast squarewith houses barely visible on its farther side, a square which seemed a fearfuldesert.Afar, a tiny spark glimmered from some watchman's box, which seemed to stand onthe edge of the world. Akakiy Akakievitch's cheerfulness diminished at thispoint in a marked degree. He entered the square, not without an involuntarysensation of fear, as though his heart warned him of some evil. He glanced backand on both sides, it was like a sea about him. "No, it is better not to look,"he thought, and went on, closing his eyes. When he opened them, to see whetherhe was near the end of the square, he suddenly beheld, standing just before hisvery nose, some bearded individuals of precisely what sort he could not makeout. All grew dark before his eyes, and his heart throbbed."But, of course, the cloak is mine!" said one of them in a loud voice, seizinghold of his collar. Akakiy Akakievitch was about to shout "watch," when thesecond man thrust a fist, about the size of a man's head, into his mouth,muttering, "Now scream!"Akakiy Akakievitch felt them strip off his cloak and give him a push with aknee: he fell headlong upon the snow, and felt no more. In a few minutes herecovered consciousness and rose to his feet; but no one was there. He felt thatit was cold in the square, and that his cloak was gone; he began to shout, buthis voice did not appear to reach to the outskirts of the square. In despair,but without ceasing to shout, he started at a run across the square, straighttowards the watchbox, beside which stood the watchman, leaning on his halberd,and apparently curious to know what kind of a customer was running towards himand shouting. Akakiy Akakievitch ran up to him, and began in a sobbing voice toshout that he was asleep, and attended to nothing, and did not see when a manwas robbed. The watchman replied that he had seen two men stop him in the middleof the square, but supposed that they were friends of his; and that, instead ofscolding vainly, he had better go to the police on the morrow, so that theymight make a search for whoever had stolen the cloak.Akakiy Akakievitch ran home in complete disorder; his hair, which grew verythinly upon his temples and the back of his head, wholly disordered; his body,arms, and legs covered with snow. The old woman, who was mistress of hislodgings, on hearing a terrible knocking, sprang hastily from her bed, and, withonly one shoe on, ran to open the door, pressing the sleeve of her chemise toher bosom out of modesty; but when she had opened it, she fell back on beholdingAkakiy Akakievitch in such a state. When he told her about the affair, sheclasped her hands, and said that he must go straight to the district chief ofpolice, for his subordinate would turn up his nose, promise well, and drop thematter there. The very best thing to do, therefore, would be to go to thedistrict chief, whom she knew, because Finnish Anna, her former cook, was nownurse at his house. She often saw him passing the house; and he was at churchevery Sunday, praying, but at the same time gazing cheerfully at everybody; sothat he must be a good man, judging from all appearances. Having listened tothis opinion, Akakiy Akakievitch betook himself sadly to his room; and how hespent the night there any one who can put himself in another's place may readilyimagine.Early in the morning, he presented himself at the district chief's; but was toldthat this official was asleep. He went again at ten and was again informed thathe was asleep; at eleven, and they said: "The superintendent is not at home;" atdinner time, and the clerks in the ante-room would not admit him on any terms,and insisted upon knowing his business. So that at last, for once in his life,Akakiy Akakievitch felt an inclination to show some spirit, and said curtly thathe must see the chief in person; that they ought not to presume to refuse himentrance; that he came from the department of justice, and that when hecomplained of them, they would see.The clerks dared make no reply to this, and one of them went to call the chief,who listened to the strange story of the theft of the coat. Instead of directinghis attention to the principal points of the matter, he began to question AkakiyAkakievitch: Why was he going home so late? Was he in the habit of doing so, orhad he been to some disorderly house? So that Akakiy Akakievitch got thoroughlyconfused, 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 the department.The next day he made his appearance, very pale, and in his old cape, which hadbecome even more shabby. The news of the robbery of the cloak touched many;although there were some officials present who never lost an opportunity, evensuch a one as the present, of ridiculing Akakiy Akakievitch. They decided tomake a collection for him on the spot, but the officials had already spent agreat deal in subscribing for the director's portrait, and for some book, at thesuggestion of the head of that division, who was a friend of the author; and sothe sum was trifling.One of them, moved by pity, resolved to help Akakiy Akakievitch with some goodadvice at least, and told him that he ought not to go to the police, foralthough it might happen that a police-officer, wishing to win the approval ofhis superiors, might hunt up the cloak by some means, still his cloak wouldremain in the possession of the police if he did not offer legal proof that itbelonged to him. The best thing for him, therefore, would be to apply to acertain prominent personage; since this prominent personage, by entering intorelations with the proper persons, could greatly expedite the matter.As there was nothing else to be done, Akakiy Akakievitch decided to go to theprominent personage. What was the exact official position of the prominentpersonage remains unknown to this day. The reader must know that the prominentpersonage had but recently become a prominent personage, having up to that timebeen only an insignificant person. Moreover, his present position was notconsidered prominent in comparison with others still more so. But there isalways a circle of people to whom what is insignificant in the eyes of others,is important enough. Moreover, he strove to increase his importance by sundrydevices; for instance, he managed to have the inferior officials meet him on thestaircase when he entered upon his service; no one was to presume to comedirectly to him, but the strictest etiquette must be observed; the collegiaterecorder must make a report to the government secretary, the governmentsecretary to the titular councillor, or whatever other man was proper, and allbusiness must come before him in this manner. In Holy Russia all is thuscontaminated with the love of imitation; every man imitates and copies hissuperior. They even say that a certain titular councillor, when promoted to thehead of some small separate room, immediately partitioned off a private room forhimself, called it the audience chamber, and posted at the door a lackey withred collar and braid, who grasped the handle of the door and opened to allcomers; though the audience chamber could hardly hold an ordinary writing-table.The manners and customs of the prominent personage were grand and imposing, butrather exaggerated. The main foundation of his system was strictness."Strictness, strictness, and always strictness!" he generally said; and at thelast word he looked significantly into the face of the person to whom he spoke.But there was no necessity for this, for the half-score of subordinates whoformed the entire force of the office were properly afraid; on catching sight ofhim afar off they left their work and waited, drawn up in line, until he hadpassed through the room. His ordinary converse with his inferiors smacked ofsternness, and consisted chiefly of three phrases: "How dare you?" "Do you knowwhom you are speaking to?" "Do you realise who stands before you?"Otherwise he was a very kind-hearted man, good to his comrades, and ready tooblige; but the rank of general threw him completely off his balance. Onreceiving any one of that rank, he became confused, lost his way, as it were,and never knew what to do. If he chanced to be amongst his equals he was still avery nice kind of man, a very good fellow in many respects, and not stupid; butthe very moment that he found himself in the society of people but one ranklower than himself he became silent; and his situation aroused sympathy, themore so as he felt himself that he might have been making an incomparably betteruse of his time. In his eyes there was sometimes visible a desire to join someinteresting conversation or group; but he was kept back by the thought, "Wouldit not be a very great condescension on his part? Would it not be familiar? andwould he not thereby lose his importance?" And in consequence of suchreflections he always remained in the same dumb state, uttering from time totime a few monosyllabic sounds, and thereby earning the name of the mostwearisome of men.To this prominent personage Akakiy Akakievitch presented himself, and this atthe most unfavourable time for himself though opportune for the prominentpersonage. The prominent personage was in his cabinet conversing gaily with anold acquaintance and companion of his childhood whom he had not seen for severalyears and who had just arrived when it was announced to him that a person namedBashmatchkin had come. He asked abruptly, "Who is he?" --"Some official," hewas informed. "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: he had saidall he had to say to his friend long before; and the conversation had beeninterspersed for some time with very long pauses, during which they merelyslapped each other on the leg, and said, "You think so, Ivan Abramovitch!" "Justso, Stepan Varlamitch!" Nevertheless, he ordered that the official should bekept waiting, in order to show his friend, a man who had not been in the servicefor a long time, but had lived at home in the country, how long officials had towait in his ante-room.At length, having talked himself completely out, and more than that, having hadhis fill of pauses, and smoked a cigar in a very comfortable arm-chair withreclining back, he suddenly seemed to recollect, and said to the secretary, whostood by the door with papers of reports, "So it seems that there is atchinovnik waiting to see me. Tell him that he may come in." On perceivingAkakiy Akakievitch'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 hadpractised in his room in private, and before the looking-glass, for a whole weekbefore being raised to his present rank.Akakiy Akakievitch, who was already imbued with a due amount of fear, becamesomewhat confused: and as well as his tongue would permit, explained, with arather more frequent addition than usual of the word "that," that his cloak wasquite new, and had been stolen in the most inhuman manner; that he had appliedto him in order that he might, in some way, by his intermediation -- that hemight enter into correspondence with the chief of police, and find the cloak.For some inexplicable reason this conduct seemed familiar to the prominentpersonage. "What, my dear sir!" he said abruptly, "are you not acquainted withetiquette? Where have you come from? Don't you know how such matters aremanaged? You should first have entered a complaint about this at the courtbelow: it would have gone to the head of the department, then to the chief ofthe division, then it would have been handed over to the secretary, and thesecretary would have given it to me.""But, your excellency," said Akakiy Akakievitch, trying to collect his smallhandful of wits, and conscious at the same time that he was perspiring terribly,"I, your excellency, presumed to trouble you because secretaries -- are anuntrustworthy race.""What, what, what!" said the important personage. "Where did you get suchcourage? Where did you get such ideas? What impudence towards their chiefs andsuperiors has spread among the young generation!" The prominent personageapparently had not observed that Akakiy Akakievitch was already in theneighbourhood of fifty. If he could be called a young man, it must have been incomparison with some one who was twenty. "Do you know to whom you speak? Do yourealise who stands before you? Do you realise it? do you realise it? I ask you!"Then he stamped his foot and raised his voice to such a pitch that it would havefrightened even a different man from Akakiy Akakievitch.Akakiy Akakievitch's senses failed him; he staggered, trembled in every limb,and, if the porters had not run to support him, would have fallen to the floor.They carried him out insensible. But the prominent personage, gratified that theeffect should have surpassed his expectations, and quite intoxicated with thethought that his word could even deprive a man of his senses, glanced sidewaysat his friend in order to see how he looked upon this, and perceived, notwithout satisfaction, 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 and got intothe street. He felt neither his hands nor feet. Never in his life had he been sorated by any high official, let alone a strange one. He went staggering onthrough the snow-storm, which was blowing in the streets, with his mouth wideopen; the wind, in St. Petersburg fashion, darted upon him from all quarters,and down every cross-street. In a twinkling it had blown a quinsy into histhroat, and he reached home unable to utter a word. His throat was swollen, andhe lay down on his bed. So powerful is sometimes a good scolding!The next day a violent fever showed itself. Thanks to the generous assistance ofthe St. Petersburg climate, the malady progressed more rapidly than could havebeen expected: and when the doctor arrived, he found, on feeling the sick man'spulse, that there was nothing to be done, except to prescribe a fomentation, sothat the patient might not be left entirely without the beneficent aid ofmedicine; but at the same time, he predicted his end in thirty-six hours. Afterthis he turned to the landlady, and said, "And as for you, don't waste your timeon him: order his pine coffin now, for an oak one will be too expensive forhim." Did Akakiy Akakievitch hear these fatal words? and if he heard them, didthey produce any overwhelming effect upon him? Did he lament the bitterness ofhis life? -- We know not, for he continued in a delirious condition. Visionsincessantly appeared to him, each stranger than the other. Now he sawPetrovitch, and ordered him to make a cloak, with some traps for robbers, whoseemed to him to be always under the bed; and cried every moment to the landladyto pull one of them from under his coverlet. Then he inquired why his old mantlehung before him when he had a new cloak. Next he fancied that he was standingbefore the prominent person, listening to a thorough setting-down, and saying,"Forgive me, your excellency!" but at last he began to curse, uttering the mosthorrible words, so that his aged landlady crossed herself, never in her lifehaving heard anything of the kind from him, the more so as those words followeddirectly after the words "your excellency." Later on he talked utter nonsense,of which nothing could be made: all that was evident being, that his incoherentwords and thoughts hovered ever about one thing, his cloak.At length poor Akakiy Akakievitch breathed his last. They sealed up neither hisroom nor his effects, because, in the first place, there were no heirs, and, inthe second, there was very little to inherit beyond a bundle of goose-quills, aquire of white official paper, three pairs of socks, two or three buttons whichhad burst off his trousers, and the mantle already known to the reader. To whomall this fell, God knows. I confess that the person who told me this tale tookno interest in the matter. They carried Akakiy Akakievitch out and buried him.And St. Petersburg was left without Akakiy Akakievitch, as though he had neverlived there. A being disappeared who was protected by none, dear to none,interesting to none, and who never even attracted to himself the attention ofthose students of human nature who omit no opportunity of thrusting a pinthrough a common fly, and examining it under the microscope. A being who boremeekly the jibes of the department, and went to his grave without having doneone unusual deed, but to whom, nevertheless, at the close of his life appeared abright visitant in the form of a cloak, which momentarily cheered his poor life,and upon whom, thereafter, an intolerable misfortune descended, just as itdescends upon the mighty of this world!Several days after his death, the porter was sent from the department to hislodgings, with an order for him to present himself there immediately; the chiefcommanding it. But the porter had to return unsuccessful, with the answer thathe could not come; and to the question, "Why?" replied, "Well, because he isdead! he was buried four days ago." In this manner did they hear of AkakiyAkakievitch's death at the department, and the next day a new official sat inhis place, with a handwriting by no means so upright, but more inclined andslanting.But who could have imagined that this was not really the end of AkakiyAkakievitch, that he was destined to raise a commotion after death, as if incompensation for his utterly insignificant life? But so it happened, and ourpoor story unexpectedly gains a fantastic ending.A rumour suddenly spread through St. Petersburg that a dead man had taken toappearing on the Kalinkin Bridge and its vicinity at night in the form of atchinovnik seeking a stolen cloak, and that, under the pretext of its being thestolen cloak, he dragged, without regard to rank or calling, every one's cloakfrom his shoulders, be it cat-skin, beaver, fox, bear, sable; in a word, everysort of fur and skin which men adopted for their covering. One of the departmentofficials saw the dead man with his own eyes and immediately recognised in himAkakiy Akakievitch. This, however, inspired him with such terror that he ran offwith all his might, and therefore did not scan the dead man closely, but onlysaw how the latter threatened him from afar with his finger. Constant complaintspoured in from all quarters that the backs and shoulders, not only of titularbut even of court councillors, were exposed to the danger of a cold on accountof the frequent dragging off of their cloaks.Arrangements were made by the police to catch the corpse, alive or dead, at anycost, and punish him as an example to others in the most severe manner. In thisthey nearly succeeded; for a watchman, on guard in Kirushkin Alley, caught thecorpse by the collar on the very scene of his evil deeds, when attempting topull off the frieze coat of a retired musician. Having seized him by the collar,he summoned, with a shout, two of his comrades, whom he enjoined to hold himfast while he himself 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 sort which even acorpse could not endure. The watchman having closed his right nostril with hisfinger, had no sooner succeeded in holding half a handful up to the left thanthe corpse sneezed so violently that he completely filled the eyes of all three.While they raised their hands to wipe them, the dead man vanished completely, sothat they positively did not know whether they had actually had him in theirgrip at all. Thereafter the watchmen conceived such a terror of dead men thatthey were afraid even to seize the living, and only screamed from a distance,"Hey, there! go your way!" So the dead tchinovnik began to appear even beyondthe Kalinkin Bridge, causing no little terror to all timid people.But we have totally neglected that certain prominent personage who may really beconsidered as the cause of the fantastic turn taken by this true history. Firstof all, justice compels us to say that after the departure of poor, annihilatedAkakiy Akakievitch he felt something like remorse. Suffering was unpleasant tohim, for his heart was accessible to many good impulses, in spite of the factthat his rank often prevented his showing his true self. As soon as his friendhad left his cabinet, he began to think about poor Akakiy Akakievitch. And fromthat day forth, poor Akakiy Akakievitch, who could not bear up under an officialreprimand, recurred to his mind almost every day. The thought troubled him tosuch an extent that a week later he even resolved to send an official to him, tolearn whether he really could assist him; and when it was reported to him thatAkakiy Akakievitch had 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 the disagreeableimpression, he set out that evening for one of his friends' houses, where hefound quite a large party assembled. What was better, nearly every one was ofthe same rank as himself, so that he need not feel in the least constrained.This had a marvellous effect upon his mental state. He grew expansive, madehimself agreeable in conversation, in short, he passed a delightful evening.After supper he drank a couple of glasses of champagne -- not a bad recipe forcheerfulness, as every one knows. The champagne inclined him to variousadventures; and he determined not to return home, but to go and see a certainwell-known lady of German extraction, Karolina Ivanovna, a lady, it appears,with whom he was on a very friendly footing.It must be mentioned that the prominent personage was no longer a young man, buta good husband and respected father of a family. Two sons, one of whom wasalready in the service, and a good-looking, sixteen-year-old daughter, with arather retrousse but pretty little nose, came every morning to kiss his hand andsay, "Bonjour, papa." His wife, a still fresh and good-looking woman, first gavehim her hand to kiss, and then, reversing the procedure, kissed his. But theprominent personage, though perfectly satisfied in his domestic relations,considered it stylish to have a friend in another quarter of the city. Thisfriend was scarcely prettier or younger than his wife; but there are suchpuzzles in the world, and it is not our place to judge them. So the importantpersonage descended the stairs, stepped into his sledge, said to the coachman,"To Karolina Ivanovna's," and, wrapping himself luxuriously in his warm cloak,found himself in that delightful frame of mind than which a Russian can conceiveno better, namely, when you think of nothing yourself, yet when the thoughtscreep into your mind of their own accord, each more agreeable than the other,giving you no trouble either to drive them away or seek them. Fully satisfied,he recalled all the gay features of the evening just passed, and all the motswhich had made the little circle laugh. Many of them he repeated in a low voice,and found them quite as funny as before; so it is not surprising that he shouldlaugh heartily at them. Occasionally, however, he was interrupted by gusts ofwind, which, coming suddenly, God knows whence or why, cut his face, drovemasses of snow into it, filled out his cloak-collar like a sail, or suddenlyblew it over his head with supernatural force, and thus caused him constanttrouble to disentangle himself.Suddenly the important personage felt some one clutch him firmly by the collar.Turning round, he perceived a man of short stature, in an old, worn uniform, andrecognised, not without terror, Akakiy Akakievitch. The official's face waswhite as snow, and looked just like a corpse's. But the horror of the importantpersonage transcended all bounds when he saw the dead man's mouth open, and,with a terrible odour of the grave, gave vent to the following remarks: "Ah,here you are 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 your own."The pallid prominent personage almost died of fright. Brave as he was in theoffice and in the presence of inferiors generally, and although, at the sight ofhis manly form and appearance, every one said, "Ugh! how much character he had!"at this crisis, he, like many possessed of an heroic exterior, experienced suchterror, that, not without cause, he began to fear an attack of illness. He flunghis cloak hastily from his shoulders and shouted to his coachman in an unnaturalvoice, "Home at full speed!" The coachman, hearing the tone which is generallyemployed at critical moments and even accompanied by something much moretangible, drew his head down between his shoulders in case of an emergency,flourished his whip, and flew on like an arrow. In a little more than sixminutes the prominent personage was at the entrance of his own house. Pale,thoroughly scared, and cloakless, he went home instead of to KarolinaIvanovna's, reached his room somehow or other, and passed the night in thedirest distress; so that the next morning over their tea his daughter said, "Youare very pale to-day, papa." But papa remained silent, and said not a word toany one of what had happened to him, where he had been, or where he had intendedto go.This occurrence made a deep impression upon him. He even began to say: "How dareyou? do you realise who stands before you?" less frequently to the under-officials, and if he did utter the words, it was only after having first learnedthe bearings of the matter. But the most noteworthy point was, that from thatday forward the apparition of the dead tchinovnik ceased to be seen. Evidentlythe prominent personage's cloak just fitted his shoulders; at all events, nomore instances of his dragging cloaks from people's shoulders were heard of. Butmany active and apprehensive persons could by no means reassure themselves, andasserted that the dead tchinovnik still showed himself in distant parts of thecity.In fact, one watchman in Kolomna saw with his own eyes the apparition come frombehind a house. But being rather weak of body, he dared not arrest him, butfollowed him in the dark, until, at length, the apparition looked round, paused,and inquired, "What do you want?" at the same time showing a fist such as isnever seen on living men. The watchman said, "It's of no consequence," andturned back instantly. But the apparition was much too tall, wore hugemoustaches, and, directing its steps apparently towards the Obukhoff bridge,disappeared in the darkness of the night.