“How dared you, I repeat, in disregard of all decency, call me a goose?”

“I spit on your head, Ivan Ivanovich! What are you screaming so for?”

Ivan Ivanovich could no longer control himself: his lips quivered; his mouth lost its usual V shape, and became like the letter O; he winked so that he was terrible to look at. This very rarely happened with Ivan Ivanovich: it was necessary that he should be extremely angry first.

“Then, I declare to you,” exclaimed Ivan Ivanovich, “that I will not know you!”

“A great pity! By Heaven, I shall never cry on that account!” retorted Ivan Nikiforovich. He lied, he lied, by Heaven, he lied! it was very annoying to him.

“I will never put my foot inside your house again!”

“Oho, ho!” said Ivan Nikiforovich, vexed, yet not knowing himself what to do, and rising to his feet, contrary to his custom. “Hey, there, woman, boy!” Thereupon, there appeared at the door the same fat woman, and small boy, enveloped in a long and wide surtout. “Take Ivan Ivanovich by the arms, and lead him to the door!”

“What! a nobleman?” shouted Ivan Ivanovich with a feeling of vexation and dignity. “Just do it if you dare! Come on! I’ll annihilate you and your stupid master. The crow won’t be able to find your bones.” (Ivan Ivanovich spoke with uncommon force when his spirit was up.)

The group presented a striking picture: Ivan Nikiforovich standing in the middle of the room; the woman with her mouth wide open, and the most senseless, terrified look on her face; Ivan Ivanovich with uplifted hand, as the Roman tribunes are depicted. This was an extraordinary moment, a magnificent spectacle: and yet there was but one spectator; this was the boy in the extensive surtout, who stood quite quietly, and picked his nose with his finger.

Finally Ivan Ivanovich took his hat. “You have behaved well, Ivan Nikiforovich, extremely well! I shall remember it.”

“Go, Ivan Ivanovich, go! and see that you don’t come in my way: if you do, I’ll beat your ugly face to a jelly, Ivan Ivanovich!”

“Take that, Ivan Nikiforovich!” retorted Ivan Ivanovich, making an insulting gesture, and banged the door, which squeaked and flew open behind him.

Ivan Nikiforovich appeared at the door, and wanted to add something more; but Ivan Ivanovich did not glance back, and hastened from the yard.

III

What Took Place after Ivan Ivanovich’s Quarrel with Ivan Nikiforovich

And thus two respectable men, the pride and honor of Mirgorod, had quarrelled, and about what? About a bit of nonsense—a goose. They would not see each other, broke off all connection, while hitherto they had been known as the most inseparable friends. Every day Ivan Ivanovich and Ivan Nikiforovich had sent to inquire about each other’s health, and often conversed together from their balconies, and said such charming things as it did the heart good to listen to. On Sundays, Ivan Ivanovich, in his lambskin bekesha, and Ivan Nikiforovich, in his yellowish cinnamon-colored nankeen casaquin, used to set out for church almost arm in arm; and if Ivan Ivanovich, who had remarkably sharp eyes, was the first to catch sight of a puddle or any dirt in the street, which sometimes happened in Mirgorod, he always said to Ivan Nikiforovich, “Look out! don’t put your foot there, it’s dirty.” Ivan Nikiforovich, on his side, exhibited the same touching tokens of friendship; and wherever he chanced to be standing, he always held out