“2. And the same impolite and indecent nobleman, moreover, attempted injury to my property, inherited by me from my father, a member of the clerical profession, Ivan Pererépenko, son of Onisieff, of blessed memory, in that he, contrary to all law, transported directly opposite my porch, a goose-coop, which was done with no other intention than to emphasize the insult offered me; for the said coop had, up to that time, stood in a very good situation, and was still sufficiently strong. But the loathsome intention of the aforesaid nobleman consisted simply in this: viz., in making me a witness of unpleasant occurrences; for it is well known, that no man goes into a coop, much less into a goose-coop, for polite purposes. In the commission of his lawless deed, the two front posts trespassed on my land, received by me during the lifetime of my father, Ivan Pererépenko, son of Onisieff, of blessed memory, beginning at the granary, thence in a straight line to the spot where the women wash the pots.

“3. The above-described nobleman, whose very name and surname inspire thorough disgust, cherishes in his mind a malicious design to burn me in my own house. Which the infallible signs, hereinafter mentioned, fully demonstrate: in the first place, the said wicked nobleman has begun to emerge frequently from his apartments, which he never did formerly on account of his laziness and the disgusting corpulence of his body; in the second place, in his servants’ apartments, adjoining the fence, surrounding my own land, received by me from my father, of blessed memory, Ivan Pererépenko, son of Onisieff, a light burns every day, and for a remarkably long period of time, which is also a clear proof of the fact. For hitherto, owing to his repulsive niggardliness, not only the tallow-candle, but also the grease-lamp, has been extinguished.

“And therefore I pray that the said nobleman, Ivan Dovgochkhun, son of Ivan, being plainly guilty of incendiarism, of insult to my rank, name, and family, and of illegal appropriation of my property, and, worse than all else, of malicious and deliberate addition to my surname, of the nickname of goose, be condemned by the court, to fine, satisfaction, costs, and damages, and that the aforesaid be put in irons as a criminal, and, being chained, be removed to the town jail, and that judgment be rendered upon this, my petition, immediately and without delay.

“Written and composed by Ivan Pererépenko, son of Ivan, nobleman, and landed proprietor of Mirgorod.”

After the reading of the petition was concluded, the judge approached Ivan Ivanovich, took him by the button, and began to talk to him after this fashion. “What are you doing, Ivan Ivanovich? Fear God! throw away that petition, let it go! may Satan carry it off! Better take Ivan Nikiforovich by the hand, and kiss him, and buy some Santurinski or Nikopolski liquor, simply make a punch, and call me. We will drink it up together, and forget all.”

“No, Demyan Demyanovich! it’s not that sort of an affair,” said Ivan Ivanovich, with the dignity which always became him so well; “it is not an affair which can be arranged by a friendly agreement. Farewell! Good-day to you also, gentlemen,” he continued with the same dignity, turning to them all. “I hope that my petition will give rise to the proper action.” And out he went, leaving all present in a state of stupefaction.

The judge sat down without uttering a word; the secretary took a pinch of snuff; the clerks upset some broken fragments of bottles which served for ink-stands; and the judge himself, in absence of mind, spread out a puddle of ink upon the table with his finger.

“What do you say to this, Dorofei Trofimovich?” said the judge, turning to the assistant after a pause.

“I’ve nothing to say,” replied the clerk.

“What things do go on!” continued the judge. He had not finished saying this, when the door creaked, and the front half of Ivan Nikiforovich presented itself in the court-room: the rest of him remained in the ante-room. The appearance of Ivan Nikiforovich, and in court, too, seemed so extraordinary, that the judge screamed; the secretary stopped reading; and one clerk, in his frieze imitation of a dress-coat, took his pen in his lips; and the other swallowed a fly; even the constable on service, and the watchman, a discharged soldier, who up to that moment had stood by the door scratching about his dirty blouse, with its chevrons of merit on the shoulder, even this invalid dropped his jaw, and trod on some one’s foot.