“Well, come on, come on, you fool!” he kept saying to it. But the nose was as though made of wood and plopped back on the table with a strange corklike sound. The major’s face was twisted in convulsion. “Won’t it really grow on?” he said fearfully. But no matter how many times he tried to fit it in its proper place, his efforts were unsuccessful as before.

He called Ivan and sent him for the doctor who occupied the best apartment on the first floor of the same house. The doctor was a fine figure of a man; he had beautiful pitch-black sidewhiskers, a fresh, healthy wife, ate raw apples first thing in the morning, and kept his mouth extraordinarily clean, rinsing it every morning for nearly three quarters of an hour and polishing his teeth with five different kinds of little brushes. The doctor came at once. After asking him how long ago the mishap had occurred, he lifted Major Kovalyov’s face by the chin and flicked him with his thumb on the very spot where the nose used to be, so that the major had to throw his head back with such force that he hit the back of it against the wall. The doctor said this didn’t matter and, suggesting that he move a little away from the wall, told him first to bend his head to the right, and, after feeling the spot where the nose had been, said “Hmm!” Then he told him to bend his head to the left and said “Hmm!”; and in conclusion he again flicked him with his thumb so that Major Kovalyov jerked his head like a horse whose teeth are being examined. Having carried out this test, the doctor shook his head and said: “No, can’t be done. You’d better stay like this, or we might make things even worse. Of course, it can be stuck on. I daresay, I could do it right now for you, but I assure you it’ll be worse for you.”

“I like that! How am I to remain without a nose?” said Kovalyov. “It couldn’t possibly be worse than now. This is simply a hell of a thing! How can I show myself anywhere in such a scandalous state? I have acquaintances in good society; why, this evening, now, I am expected at parties in two houses. I know many people: Mrs. Chekhtaryova, a state councillor’s wife, Mrs. Podtochina, a field officer’s wife…although after what she’s done now I’ll have nothing more to do with her except through the police. I appeal to you,” pleaded Kovalyov, “is there no way at all? Fix it on somehow, even if not very well, just so it stays on; in an emergency, I could even prop it up with my hand. And besides, I don’t dance, so I can’t do any harm by some careless movement. As regards my grateful acknowledgment of your visits, be assured that as far as my means allow.…”

“Would you believe it,” said the doctor in a voice that was neither loud nor soft but extremely persuasive and magnetic, “I never treat people out of self-interest. This is against my principles and my calling. It is true that I charge for my visits, but solely in order not to offend by my refusal. Of course I could affix your nose; but I assure you on my honor, if you won’t take my word for it, that it will be much worse. Rather, let nature take its course. Wash the place more often with cold water, and I assure you that without a nose you’ll be as healthy as if you had one. As for the nose itself, I advise you to put the nose in a jar with alcohol, or, better still, pour into the jar two tablespoonfuls of aqua fortis and warmed-up vinegar—and then you can get good money for it. I’ll buy it myself, if you don’t ask too much.”

“No, no! I won’t sell it for anything!” exclaimed Major Kovalyov in desperation. “Let it rather go to blazes!”

“Excuse me!” said the doctor, bowing himself out, “I wanted to be of some use to you.… Never mind! At least you saw my good will.” Having said this the doctor left the room with a dignified air. Kovalyov didn’t even notice his face and in his benumbed state saw nothing but the cuffs of his snow-white shirt peeping out of the sleeves of his black tailcoat.

The very next day he decided, before lodging a complaint, to write to Mrs. Podtochina requesting her to restore him his due without a fight. The letter ran as follows:

Dear Madam Alexandra¹

Grigoryevna, I fail to understand your strange behavior. Be assured that, acting in this way, you gain nothing and certainly will not force me to marry your daughter. Believe me that the incident with my nose is fully known to me, just as is the fact that you—and no one else—are the principal person involved. Its sudden detachment from its place, its flight and its disguise, first as a certain civil servant, then at last in its own shape, is nothing other than the result of a spell cast by you or by