I put on my old overcoat and took an umbrella, because it was pouring rain. There was nobody in the streets; only peasant women with their skirts pulled over their heads and Russian merchants under umbrellas and messenger boys caught my eye. Of the gentry I met only a fellow clerk. I saw him at an intersection. As I noticed him, I said to myself at once, "Oh-ho! No, dear heart, you're not going to the office, you're rushing after that thing running ahead of you and ogling her little feet." Our fellow clerk is quite a customer! By God, he won't yield to any officer; if a pretty thing in a bonnet passes by, he's sure to tag after her. While I was thinking that, I saw a carriage drive up to a shop I was walking past. I recognized it at once: it was our director's carriage. "But he has no business in that shop," I thought, "it must be his daughter." I pressed myself to the wall. The lackey opened the doors, and she fluttered out of the carriage like a little bird. As she glanced right and left, as she flashed her eyebrows and eyes… Lord God! I'm lost, I'm utterly lost! And why does she have to go out in such rainy weather! Go on, now, tell me women don't have a great passion for all these rags. She didn't recognize me, and I tried to wrap myself up the best I could, because the overcoat I had on was very dirty, and old-fashioned besides. Now everyone wears cloaks with tall collars, and mine is short, overlapping; and the broadcloth isn't waterproof at all. Her lapdog didn't manage to get through the door into the shop and was left in the street. I know this dog. She's called Medji. A minute hadn't passed when I suddenly heard a piping little voice: "Hello, Medji!" Well, I'll be! Who said that? I looked around and saw two ladies walking under an umbrella: one a little old lady, the other a young one; but they had already passed by when I heard beside me: "Shame on you, Medji!" What the devil! I saw Medji and the little dog that was following the ladies sniff each other. "Oh-ho!" I said to myself, "what, am I drunk or something? Only that seldom seems to happen with me." "No, Fidele, you shouldn't think so," I myself saw Medji say it, "I've been bow-wow! I've been bow-wow-wow! very sick." Ah, you pup! I confess, I was very surprised to hear her speak in human language. But later, when I'd thought it over properly, I at once ceased to be surprised. Actually, there have already been many such examples in the world. They say in "England a fish surfaced who spoke a couple of words in such a strange language that scholars have already spent three years trying to define them and still haven't found anything out. I also read in the papers about two cows that came to a grocer's and asked for a pound of tea. But, I confess, I was much more surprised when Medji said, "I wrote to you, Fidele. It must be that Polkan didn't deliver my letter!" May my salary be withheld! Never yet in my life have I heard of a dog being able to write. Only a gentleman can write correctly. Of course, there are sometimes merchants' clerks and even certain serfs who can write a bit; but their writing is mostly mechanical- no commas, no periods, no style.
This surprised me. I confess, lately I had begun sometimes to hear and see things no one had ever seen or heard before. "I'll just follow that little dog," I said to myself, "and find out what she is and what she thinks."
I opened my umbrella and followed the two ladies. They went down Gorokhovaya, turned onto Meshchanskaya, from there to Stolyarnaya, and finally to the Kokushkin Bridge, where they stopped in front of a big house. "I know that building," I said to myself. "That's Zverkov's building." What a pile! And the sorts that live in it: so many cooks, so many out-of-towners! and our fellow clerks-like pups, one on top of the other. I, too, have a friend there, a very good trumpet player. The ladies went up to the fifth floor. "Very well," I thought, "I won't go up now, but I'll note the place and be sure to make use of it at the first opportunity."
October 4.
Today is Wednesday, and so I was in my superior's study. I came earlier on purpose, sat down to work, and sharpened all the pens. Our director must be a very intelligent man. His whole study is filled with bookcases. I read the titles of some of the books: it's all learning, such learning as our kind can't even come close to: all in French, or in German. And to look at his face: pah, such importance shines in his eyes! I've never yet heard him utter an extra word. Except maybe when I hand him some papers, and he asks, "How is it outside?" "Wet, Your Excellency!" Yes, there's no comparison with our kind! A real statesman. I notice, though, that he has a special liking for me. If only the daughter also… ah, confound it!… Never mind, never mind, silence! I read the little Bee. 1 What fools these Frenchmen are! So, what is it they want? By God, I'd take the lot of them and give them a good birching! I also read a very pleasant portrayal of a ball there, described by a Kursk landowner. Kursk landowners are good writers. After that I noticed it had already struck twelve-thirty, and our man had never left his bedroom. But around one-thirty an event took place which no pen can describe. The door opened, I thought it was the director and jumped up from the chair with my papers; but it was she, she herself! Heavens above, how she was dressed! Her gown was white as a swan, and so magnificent, pah! and her glance-the sun, by God, the sun! She nodded and said, "Papa hasn't been here?" Aie, aie, aie! what a voice! A canary, truly, a canary! "Your Excellency," I almost wanted to say, "don't punish me, but if it is your will to punish me, punish me with Your Excellency's own hand." But, devil take it, my tongue somehow refused to move, and I said only, "No, ma'am." She looked at me, at the books, and dropped her handkerchief. I rushed headlong, slipped on the cursed parquet, almost smashed my nose, nevertheless kept my balance and picked up the handkerchief. Heavens, what a handkerchief! The finest cambric-ambrosia, sheer ambrosia! it simply exuded excellency. She thanked me and just barely smiled, so that her sugary lips scarcely moved, and after that she left. I sat for another hour, when suddenly a lackey came in and said, "Go home, Aksenty Ivanovich, the master has already gone out." I can't stand the lackey circle: there is one always sprawled in the front hall who won't even nod his head. Moreover, one of the knaves decided once to offer me some snuff without getting up. But don't you know, stupid churl, that I am an official, a man of noble birth? However, I took my hat and put my overcoat on by myself- because these gentlemen never help you-and left. At home I lay in bed most of the time. Then I copied out some very nice verses: "I was gone from her an hour, / Yet to me it seemed a year; / Life itself for me turned sour, / And the future dark and drear." Must be Pushkin's writing. 2 In the evening, wrapped in my overcoat, I went to Her Excellency's front gates and waited for a long time to see whether she'd come out for a carriage, to have one more look-but no, she didn't come out.