Early in the nineteenth century, when there were as yet no railways or
macadamized roads, no gaslight, no stearine candles, no low couches
with sprung cushions, no unvarnished furniture, no disillusioned youths
with eye glasses, no liberalizing women philosophers, nor any charming
dames aux camelias of whom there are so many in our times, in those
naive days, when leaving Moscow for Petersburg in a coach or carriage
provided with a kitchenful of home-made provisions one traveled for
eight days along a soft, dusty or muddy road and believed in chopped
cutlets, sledge-bells, and plain rolls; when in the long autumn
evenings the tallow candles, around which family groups of twenty or
thirty people gathered, had to be snuffed; when ball-rooms were
illuminated by candelabra with wax or spermaceti candles, when
furniture was arranged symmetrically, when our fathers were still young
and proved it not only by the absence of wrinkles and grey hair but by
fighting duels for the sake of a woman and rushing from the opposite
corner of a room to pick up a bit of handkerchief purposely or
accidentally dropped; when our mothers wore short-waisted dresses and
enormous sleeves and decided family affairs by drawing lots, when the
charming dames aux camelias hid from the light of day - in those
naïve days of Masonic lodges, Martinists, and Tugenbunds, the days of
Miloradoviches and Davydovs and Pushkins - a meeting of landed
proprietors was held in the Government town of K--, and the nobility
elections were being concluded.
I
"Well, never mind, the saloon will do," said a young officer in a fur
cloak and hussar's cap, who had just got out of a post-sledge and was
entering the best hotel in the town of K--.
"The assembly, your Excellency, is enormous," said the boots, who had
already managed to learn from the orderly that the hussar's name was
Count Turbin, and therefore addressed him as "your Excellency."
"The proprietress of Afremovo with her daughters has said she is
leaving this evening, so No. 11 will be at your disposal as soon as
they go," continued the boots, stepping softly before the count along
the passage and continually looking round.
In the general saloon at a little table under the dingy full-length
portrait of the Emperor Alexander the First, several men, probably
belonging to the local nobility, sat drinking champagne, while at
another side of the room sat some travelers - tradesmen in blue, fur-
lined cloaks.
Entering the room and calling in Blucher, a gigantic grey mastiff he
had brought with him, the count threw off his cloak, the collar of
which was still covered with hoar-frost, called for vodka, sat down at
the table in his blue-satin Cossack jacket, and entered into
conversation with the gentlemen there.
The handsome open countenance of the newcomer immediately predisposed
them in his favour and they offered him a glass of champagne. The
count first drank a glass of vodka and then ordered another bottle of
champagne to treat his new acquaintances. The sledge-driver came in to
ask for a tip.
"Sashka!" shouted the count. "Give him something!"
The driver went out with Sashka but came back again with the money in
his hand.
"Look here, y'r 'xcelence, haven't I done my very best for y'r honour? Didn't you promise me half a ruble, and he's only given me a quarter!"
"Give him a ruble, Sashka."
Sashka cast down his eyes and looked at the driver's feet.
"He's had enough!" he said, in a bass voice. "And besides, I have no
more money."
The count drew from his pocket-book the two five-ruble notes which were
all it contained and gave one of them to the driver, who kissed his
hand and went off.
"I've run it pretty close!" said the count. "These are my last five
rubles."
"Real hussar fashion, Count," said one of the nobles who from his
moustache, voice, and a certain energetic freedom about his legs, was
evidently a retired cavalryman. "Are you staying here some time, Count?"
"I must get some money. I shouldn't have stayed here at all but for
that. And there are no rooms to be had, devil take them, in this
accursed pub."