“What are you saying!” exclaimed Major Kovalyov. He was tonguetied with joy. He stared at the police officer standing in front of him, on whose full lips and cheeks the trembling light of the candle flickered. “How?”

“By an odd piece of luck—he was intercepted on the point of leaving town. He was about to board a stagecoach and leave for Riga. He even had a passport made out a long time ago in the name of a certain civil servant. Strangely enough, I also at first took him for a gentleman. But fortunately I had my glasses with me and I saw at once that it was a nose. You see, I am nearsighted and when you stand before me all I can see is that you have a face, but I can’t make out if you have a nose or a beard or anything. My mother-in-law, that is, my wife’s mother, can’t see anything, either.’

Kovalyov was beside himself. “Where is it? Where? I’ll run there at once.”

“Don’t trouble yourself. Knowing that you need it I have brought it with me. And the strange thing is that chïef villain in this business is that rascally barber from Voznesensky Street who is now in a lockup. I have long suspected him of drunkenness and theft, and as recently as the day before yesterday he stole a dozen buttons from a certain shop. Your nose is quite in order.”—With these words the police officer reached into his pocket and pulled out a nose wrapped up in a piece of paper.

“That’s it!” shouted Kovalyov. “That’s it, all right! Do join me in a little cup of tea today.”

“I would consider it a great pleasure, but I simply can’t: I have to drop in at a mental asylum.… All food prices have gone up enormously.… I have my mother-in-law, that’s my wife’s mother, living with me, and my children; the eldest is particularly promising, a very clever lad, but we haven’t the means to educate him.”

Kovalyov grasped his meaning and, snatching up a red banknote from the table, thrust it into the hands of the inspector who, clicking his heels, went out the door. Almost the very same instant Kovalyov heard his voice out in the street where he was admonishing with his fist a stupid peasant who had driven his cart onto the boulevard.

After the police officer had left, the collegiate assessor remained for a few minutes in a sort of indefinable state and only after several minutes recovered the capacity to see and feel: his unexpected joy had made him lose his senses. He carefully took the newly found nose in both his cupped hands and once again examined it thoroughly.

“That’s it, that’s it, all right,” said Major Kovalyov. “Here on the left side is the pimple which swelled up yesterday.” The major very nearly laughed with joy.

But there is nothing enduring in this world, and that is why even joy is not as keen in the moment that follows the first; and a moment later it grows weaker still and finally merges imperceptibly into one’s usual state of mind, just as a ring on the water, made by the fall of a pebble, merges finally into the smooth surface. Kovalyov began to reflect and realized that the whole business was not yet over: the nose was found but it still had to be affixed, put in its proper place.

“And what if it doesn’t stick?”

At this question, addressed to himself, the major turned pale.

Seized by unaccountable fear, he rushed to the table and drew the looking-glass closer, to avoid affixing the nose crookedly. His hands trembled. Carefully and deliberately, he put it in its former place. O horror! the nose wouldn’t stick.…He carried it to his mouth, warmed it slightly with his breath, and again brought it to the smooth place between his two cheeks; but the nose just wouldn’t stay on.