He bit his lips in irritation, left the pastry-shop and decided that, contrary to his usual habit, he would not look at anyone and not smile at anyone either. He came to a sudden halt, as if rooted to the ground, at the doors of a certain house: before his very eyes and event took place which was totally inexplicable: a carriage pulled up to the portico; its doors opened; a gentleman in uniform, bent over, jumped out and ran up the stairs. Imagine the horror and with it the amazement of Kovalev as he recognized that this was his own nose! With this extraordinary sight it seemed to Kovalev that everything went topsy-turvy; he felt himself barely able to stand but, trembling all over as if in delirium, decided that come what may he would want for the gentleman to return to his carriage. In two minutes the nose in fact did come out. He was in a uniform embroidered in gold thread with a tall standing collar; he wore suede breeches; there was a sword at his side. From his plumed hat one deduced that he held the rank of state councilor. All in all it was clear that he had been paying a visit. He looked both ways, called to the coachman “Drive on!” took his seat and drove off.
Poor Kovalev nearly lost his mind. He had no notion what to think about such a strange event. How was it even possible that his nose which only yesterday had been on his face and could not ride in a carriage or walk,—be wearing a uniform? He ran after the carriage which, fortunately, had not driven far but had stopped in front of Kazan Cathedral.
Kovalev rushed into the Cathedral, making his way past the ranks of beggar women with their faces swathed in rags and two holes for the eyes, at which he used to laugh heartily, and entered the church. There were few worshippers inside; they all stood near the entry doors. Kovalev felt himself in such a state of consternation that he was utterly unable to pray, and he darted his gaze about looking for the gentleman in every corner. Finally he saw him, off to one side. The nose had completely concealed his face in his tall standing collar and with an air of the very greatest piety was saying his prayers.
“How can I approach him?—thought Kovalev—All the signs, his uniform, his hat, make it clear that he’s a state councilor. Devil only known how it’s to be done!”
He began to cough in the gentleman’s vicinity: but the nose did not for a moment abandon his pious demeanor, and made deep bows.
—Gracious sir …—said Kovalev, mentally forcing himself to take courage,—gracious sir …
—What is it you want?—replied the nose, turning.
—I find it strange, gracious sir … I feel … you must know your place. And then I come upon you, and where?—in church. You must agree …
—Excuse me but I can make nothing of what you say … Explain yourself
“How am I to explain things to him?” thought Kovalev, and, with a deep breath, he began:
—Of course I … in fact, I am a major. For me to go about with no nose, you must agree, this is inappropriate. Some sort of market-woman selling sliced oranges on Vosnesensky bridge, she can do without a nose; but given my expectations … and moreover being acquainted with ladies in many respectable homes: Chekhtyreva the state counselor’s wife, and others … Judge for yourself … I don’t know, gracious sir … (at this point Major Kovalev shrugged his shoulders) … Excuse me … if you look at this in the light of the laws of duty and honor.. you yourself can understand …
—I understand absolutely nothing at all,—replied the nose.—Explain yourself in a more satisfactory way.
—Gracious sir …—said Kovalev with a sense of his own dignity,—I don’t know how to take your words … Everything about this affair is, I think perfectly obvious … Or do you mean to say … After all, you’re my personal nose!
The nose looked at the major and slightly knit his brows.
—You are mistaken, gracious sir. I am a person in my own right. There can be no close relationship between us. Judging by the buttons on your uniform, you must serve in the Senate or, at least, somewhere in the judiciary. I am in the academic service.—With these words the nose turned away and continued his devotions.
Kovalev was completely confounded, with no idea what to do or even what to think. At that moment he heard the pleasant rustle of a lady’s gown: an elderly lady approached, all decked out in lace, and with her was a slender miss, in a white dress that delineated her slender figure very prettily, wearing a straw hat light as a cream-puff. Behind them waited a tall footman with immense sideburns and fully a dozen capes to his coat, who flicked open his snuff-box.
Kovalev edged nearer, tugged at the batiste collar of his shirt-front, put the seals on his gold watch chain in good order and, looking about him with a smile, turned his attention to the delicate young lady who, like a spring blossom, had slightly bowed her head and raised to her brow her small white hand with its semi-translucent fingers. The smile on Kovalev’s face broadened even more when beneath her hat-brim he caught a glimpse of her small, round, snow-white chin and a bit of her cheek, flushed with the tint of the first rose of spring. But suddenly he leapt back as if scorched. He had remembered that where his nose should be he had nothing at all, and tears started from his eyes. He turned, intending to tell the uniformed gentleman straight out the her was only pretending to be a state counselor, that he was a buffoon and a scoundrel and that he was nothing more than Kovalev’s own nose … But the nose was gone: he had managed to dash off, very likely to pay someone else a call.
This sent Kovalev into despair. He retraced his steps and stood for a minute beneath the colonnade looking carefully in all directions for a glimpse of the nose. He remembered very clearly that the nose’s hat had had a plume and his uniform gold embroidery; but he hadn’t noticed the greatcoat, nor the color of his carriage or horses, or even if there had been any sort of footman, and in what sort of livery. And then there were so many carriages rushing to and fro with such speed that it was difficult to pick one out; but if he did manage to pick it out he had no means of stopping it. It was a lovely sunny day, There was a swarm of people on Nevsky; an absolute floral waterfall of ladies flowed along every inch of sidewalk from the Politseisky [Police] Bridge to the Anichkin. And just there was a court counselor of his acquaintance, whom Kovalev would address as “lieutenant” especially if they happened to be in the presence of others. And there was Yaryzhkin, head clerk of the senate, a great friend of his, who at boston always got into difficulties when he played the eight. And there another major who had received his assessorship in the Caucasus was waving at Kovalev, beckoning him over …
—O damn it all!—said Kovalev.—Hey, driver, take me straight to the chief of police!
Kovalev got into the droshky and to the coachman shouted only: “Go hell for leather!”
—Is the police chief in?—he cried, entering the reception.
—No,—responded the private secretary,—he’s just left.
—A fine thing!
—Yes,—added the secretary,—not so long ago either, but he did leave.
If you’d come a minute earlier maybe you would have caught him in.
Kovalev, without lowering his handkerchief from his face, got into his droshky and cried in a despairing voice: “Drive on!”
—Where?—said the driver.
—Straight ahead!
—How do you mean, straight ahead? The road turns: left or right?
The question gave Kovalev pause and forced him to think once more. It his position it was better to set off directly for the police station, not because it was directly connected to the police but because its actions could be much swifter than others: to look for satisfaction in the offices of the department in which the nose claimed to work would be senseless because from the nose’s own words it was plain that he was a person who held nothing sacred and could just as easily have lied about that as he had lied when he swore he had never seen Kovalev before. And so Kovalev was just about to order the driver to take him to the police station when he had another thought, namely that this buffoon and charlatan, who in their first meeting had behaved in such an unscrupulous manne
r, might again easily, seizing the moment, slip out of town,—and then all searches might be in vain or might drag on, God forbid, for an entire month. Finally, it seemed, Providence itself enlightened him. He decided to set off straight for the newspaper office, and immediately post an advertisement with a detailed description of the nose’s every particular, such that anyone meeting him could bring him to Kovalev instantly or at least let the latter know of his whereabouts. And so, Kovalev, having made this decision, ordered the driver to the newspaper office and along the way did not leave off pounding the man’s back with his fist and repeating “Faster, scum! Faster, crook!” “Eh now, barin!”—said the driver, shaking his head and slapping the reins of his horse, which had a long coat like a lapdog’s. The droshky finally halted and Kovalev, panting, ran into the small reception room where a grey-haired clerk in an ancient frock coat and spectacles sat at a desk and, his pen between his teeth, was counting the coins he had received.
—Who is it here accepts the advertisements?—cried Kovalev.—Ah, hello!
—At your service,—said the grey-haired clerk. raising his eyes for an instant and lowering them again to the serried heaps of coins.
—I should like to print …
—To be sure. If you would be so good as to wait,—said the grey-haired clerk, with his right hand noting a figure on the paper and moving two beads of his abacus over with the fingers of his left. A footman in braided livery and an air which showed his familiarity with the aristocratic home stood next to the table holding a note, and considered appropriate to make a show of his wide experience: “Believe me, sir, when I say the dog isn’t worth eight pounds, that is, I wouldn’t give eight pence for it; but the countess loves it, by God she does,—so him that kidnapped it gets one hundred roubles! To put it proper, just as we’re talking now, people’s tastes are incompatible: well if you’re a hunter, you want to keep a hound or a poodle; then don’t blink at giving five hundred or a thousand for it, just so long as it’s a fine dog.”
The respectable clerk was listening to all this with an air of importance and was at the same time making up his estimate; how many letters were in the proposed announcement? Along the walls were standing many old ladies, merchants’ shop-men and lackeys, all with announcements. One noted that a coachman of sober deportment was seeking employment; another—a slightly used carriage, brought from Paris in 1814; there a servant girl of nineteen, experienced in laundry matters but good for other types of work, was on offer, a sturdy droshky, lacking only springs; a young spirited horse, dapple grey, seventeen years old; new seeds, received from England, for turnips and radishes; a dacha with all the conveniences; two horse-stalls and a plot on which an excellent birch or fir grove could be established; also there was a call for any interested in the purchase of old shoe-leather together with an invitation to present themselves at the exchange any day between the hours of eight and three. The room in which this company milled about was small and the air was extraordinarily close; but collegiate assessor Kovalev was not able to sense the smells because he had his kerchief to his face and his nose itself was God knows where.
—Gracious sir, if I may be so bold as to request … I am in great need,—Kovalev uttered finally, with impatience.
—Directly, directly! Two roubles forty three kopeks! This instant! One rouble sixty-four kopeks—said the grey-haired gentleman, tossing the old ladies’ and lackeys’ notices back in their faces.
—What may I do for you?—he finally said, turning to Kovalev.
I request …—said Kovalev,—there’s been a crime or a prank, as yet I have no way of knowing which. I merely wish to advertise the fact that any person who will bring the scoundrel to me will receive an appropriate reward.
—May I ask your surname?
—No, what do you need my surname for? I must not reveal it. I have such a large acquaintance: Chetyrekheva, the state counselor’s wife, Palegeya Grigorevna Podtochina, [Mrs. Undercut] the staff-officer’s wife. If they were suddenly to find out, God forbid! You may simply put: a collegiate assessor or, even better, one who holds the rank of major.
—And the runaway was your lackey?
—What lackey? That wouldn’t be such a great crime! The one who’s run away is … my nose …
—Hmmm what a strange surname! And has this Mr. Mynose robbed you of a good sum?
—My nose, that is … You’re mistaken! My nose, my very own nose has disappeared to who knows where. The Devil’s played a trick on me!
—How do you mean, it’s disappeared? There’s something here that I can’t quite grasp.
—I can’t tell you how it happened; the main thing is that it’s now riding around town and calling itself a state counselor. And therefore I ask you to announce that whoever catches it should come to me immediately, losing as little time as possible. Judge for yourself, really, how can I go on without such a prominent part of the body? It’s not anything like a little toe, where I stick the foot into my boot—and no one will see it’s not there. On Thursdays I visit Chekhtyreva the state counselor’s wife: Palageya Grigorievna Podtochina, the staff-officer’s wife, her daughter is very pretty, and has pretty friends, and judge for yourself, how could I now … I can’t appear there now.
The clerk became pensive, as signaled by his firmly compressed lips.
—No, I can’t place such an announcement in the papers,—he said at last, after a long silence.
—What? Why?
—Because. The paper might loose its reputation. If everyone were to start writing in that his nose had run off … As it is, they say we publish lots of absurdities and false rumors.
—Just how is this an absurdity? There is, I think, nothing like that in it at all.
—It seems to you there isn’t. But just last week there was a case of the same kind. An official like yourself came in here, the same as you just did, he brought in a notice, it came to two roubles 73 kopeks, and the whole of the announcement was that a poodle with a black coat had run away. You’d think—what of that? But it turned out to be a lampoon: the poodle was a bursar, can’t recall what department.
But I’m not making an announcement about a poodle, but about my own nose: so it’s almost as if it were about myself.
—No, I can’t put in an announcement like that.
—Even if my nose really has disappeared!
—If it’s disappeared, that’s a case for a doctor. They say there are people who can put on any sort of nose you want. But I have to say, by the way, that you must be a person with a merry disposition who likes to have his joke in public.
—I swear to you, as God is my witness! Well if it comes to that, I’ll show you.
—Why trouble yourself!—continued the clerk, taking a pinch of snuff.—However, if it’s no trouble,—he added with a gesture of curiosity,—then I’d like to have a look.
The collegiate assessor lowered the kerchief from his face.
—In point of fact it’s extraordinarily strange!—said the clerk,—the spot is perfectly smooth, like a pancake right out of the pan. Yes, it’s unbelievably flat!
—So are you going to argue with me any more? you can see for yourself that you can’t not print it. I’ll be especially grateful and very glad that this occurrence has given me the opportunity of making your acquaintance …—the major, as is clear from the forgoing, had decided to resort to a bit of low flattery.
—To print it, of course, is no great thing,—said the clerk, it’s just that I don’t foresee any profit for you in doing so. If you like give it to someone with a clever pen who can describe it as a rare phenomenon of nature and print the piece in The Northern Bee (at this juncture he took another pinch of snuff) for the edification of youth (here he wiped his nose) or just as is, for general interest.
The collegiate assessor was left utterly hopeless. He ran his eye down the news sheet to the theatrical notices; his face was preparing to smile when he encountered the name of an actress who was quite pretty, and his hand moved tow
ards his pocket: did he have a blue bank-note? Because staff-officers, in Kovalev’s opinion, must sit in the stalls,—but the thought of his nose spoiled everything!
Even the clerk, it seemed, was touched by the difficult position Kovalev was in. Wanting to relieve his sorrow in some way he thought it would be appropriate to express his sympathy in a few words: “I am, truly, very distressed that you’ve experienced this sort of anecdote. Wouldn’t you like a pinch of snuff? It dispels headaches and gloomy moods: even in connection with hemorrhoids it’s helpful. Saying this the clerk offered Kovalev his snuff-box, rather cleverly flipping back the lid with its portrait of a lady wearing a hat.
This thoughtless action put an end to Kovalev’s patience. “I fail to understand how you can make jokes,” he said heatedly:—Can’t you see I don’t have the very thing I could take a pinch with? Devil take your snuff! I can’t even look at it now, and not just at your nasty Berezin, but even if you offered me real rappee. With this, deeply agitated, he left the newspaper offices and set off for the home of the constable, who was extraordinarily fond of sugar. In his home the foyer, and the dining room as well, were well-furnished with the sugar-loaves that merchants had brought to him as tokens of friendship. His cook was at that moment pulling off his official boots; the sword and all his professional armor had already been hung peaceably in the corners, his intimidating tricorne hat was in the hands of his three-year old son, and he himself, after his fierce martial service, was preparing to taste life’s pleasures.
Kovalev came upon him just as he had stretched, (wheezed/quacked) and said: “Eh, I could use a good two hour’s sleep!” One might therefore foresee that the collegiate assessor’s arrival would not be very well-timed. And I don’t know whether even if Kovalev had brought him several pounds of tea or a length of cloth he would have been received too joyfully. The constable was a great admirer of all the arts and manufactures; but he preferred a bank-note to anything. “That’s a thing,—he customarily said;—than which there is no thing better: it doesn’t get hungry, doesn’t take up much room, always fits in your pocket, and if you drop it—it won’t break.”
Worlds Apart Page 29
