“The case of Cossack Bokítok for stealing a cow.”

“Very good; read it! Yes, so I go to him.… I can even tell you in detail how he entertained me. There was vodka and dried sturgeon, excellent! Yes, not our sturgeon” (here the judge smacked his tongue, and smiled, upon which his nose took a snuff at its usual snuff-box), “such as our Mirgorod shops furnish us. I ate no herrings, for, as you know, they give me heart-burn; but I tasted the caviare—very fine caviare! There’s no doubt about it, excellent. Then I drank some peach-brandy, real gentian. There was saffron- brandy too; but, as you know, I never take that. You see, it was very good. In the first place, to whet your appetite, as they say, and then to satisfy it… Ah! speak of an angel”… exclaimed the judge, all at once, catching sight of Ivan Ivanovich as he entered.

“God be with us! I wish you a good-morning,” said Ivan Ivanovich, bowing all round with his usual politeness. My God! how well he understood the art of fascinating everybody with all his ways! I never beheld such refinement. He knew his own worth quite well, and therefore looked for universal respect as his due. The judge himself handed Ivan Ivanovich a chair; and his nose inhaled all the snuff from his upper lip, which, with him, was always a sign of great pleasure.

“What will you take, Ivan Ivanovich?” he inquired: “will you have a cup of tea?”

“No, much obliged,” replied Ivan Ivanovich, bowed and seated himself.

“Do me the favor—one little cup,” repeated the judge.

“No, thank you; much obliged for your hospitality,” replied Ivan Ivanovich, and rose, bowed, and sat down.

“Just one little cup,” repeated the judge.

“No, do not trouble yourself, Demyan Demyanovich.” Whereupon Ivan Ivanovich again rose, bowed, and sat down.

“A little cup!”

“Very well, then, just a little cup,” said Ivan Ivanovich, and reached out his hand to the tray.

My Heavens! What a depth of refinement there was in that man! It is impossible to describe what a pleasant impression such manners produce!

“Will you not have another cup?”

“I thank you sincerely,” answered Ivan Ivanovich, turning his cup upside down upon the tray, and bowing.

“Do me the favor, Ivan Ivanovich.”

“I cannot; much obliged.” Thereupon Ivan Ivanovich bowed, and sat down.

“Ivan Ivanovich, for the sake of our friendship, just one little cup!”

“No: I am extremely indebted for your hospitality.” So saying, Ivan Ivanovich bowed, and seated himself.

“Only a cup, one little cup!”

Ivan Ivanovich put out his hand to the tray, and took a cup.

Oh, the deuce! How, how can a man contrive to support his dignity!

“Demyan Demyanovich,” said Ivan Ivanovich, swallowing the last mouthful, “I have pressing business with you: I want to enter a complaint.”