The constable received Kovalev rather coldly and said that after dinner was no time to pursue an investigation, that nature itself decreed that, having eaten, one should take a rest (from this the collegiate assessor could see that the constable was not unacquainted with the pronouncements of the ancient sages), that proper gentlemen didn’t get their noses torn off and that there are all kinds of majors in the world whose linen isn’t even in a respectable condition and who gad about to all sorts of indecent places.
That is to say, no glancing blow, but a facer! It must be noted that Kovalev was an extraordinarily thin-skinned person. He could forgive anything said about himself, but could never excuse anything relating to his rank or title. He even proposed that in theatrical productions one might allow anything at all concerning chief officers, but that field-rank officers must not be impugned in any way. The reception given him by the constable flustered him to such a degree that he shook his head to clear it and said with a sense of dignity: “I confess that after such insulting remarks on your part, I have nothing to add …”—and he left.
He came to his door barely able to feel his legs beneath him. It was already dusk. After all these fruitless searches his rooms seemed gloomy or even extraordinarily nasty to him. Entering the foyer he saw on the stained leather divan his servant Ivan who, lying on his back was spitting at the ceiling and hitting the same spot with considerable accuracy. Such indifference in a human being infuriated Kovalev; he struck Ivan on the forehead with his hat, saying: “You, you swine, you’re always doing something stupid.!”
Ivan hastily jumped from his position and threw himself with all his might into helping Kovalev off with coat.
Entering his bed-chamber the major, tired and gloomy, threw himself into an armchair and at last, after heaving several sighs, said:
“My God! My God! What kind of rotten luck is this? If I were missing a hand or a foot—it would still be better; if I were missing my ear—that would be vile, but still more tolerable; but a man missing his nose is—Devil knows what; neither fish nor fowl nor good red herring; just take him and throw him out the window! And let’s say it was cut off in battle or in a duel, or it was my own fault; but it just disappeared for no reason, for nothing! … But no, it can’t be,—he added after a moment’s thought.—It’s unbelievable that a nose should disappear, unbelievable in every way. This is probably either a dream or a hallucination; maybe somehow, by accident, instead of water I drank down the vodka I wipe down my bead with after I shave. That fool Ivan didn’t take it away and I got hold of it somehow.” To really convince himself that he wasn’t drunk the major gave himself such a painful pinch that he yelped. The pain absolutely convinced him that he was acting and living in the waking world. He cautiously approached the mirror and at first screwed up his eyes with the notion that maybe the nose would appear in its rightful place. But that instant he jumped back saying “What a travesty!”
This was, really, incomprehensible. If some button had been lost, a silver spoon, a watch, or some other similar thing—but to have lost this, and in his own apartment to boot! … Thinking over all the circumstances, Major Kovalev concluded that the nearest thing to the truth must be that the guilty person was none other than Madame Podtochina, who had wanted him to marry her daughter. He himself had liked flirting with the girl, had but avoided a definite engagement. When the mother told him to his face that she wanted to give him her daughter’s hand, he had slyly put her off with his compliments, saying that he was still young, that he must serve for five years so as to be exactly forty-two. And for this reason Madame Podtochina had made up her mind, probably for revenge, to ruin him, and had hired for the purpose some peasant witches, because it was impossible to suppose that the nose had been cut off in any way; no one had come into his room; the barber Ivan Yakovlevich had shaved him on Wednesday, and all Wednesday and even all Thursday his nose had been all right—that he remembered and was quite certain about; besides, he would have felt pain, and there was no doubt that the wound could not have healed so soon and been as flat as a pancake. He formed various plans in his mind: either to summon Madame Podtochina formally before the court or to go to her himself and confront her with it These reflections were interrupted by a light which gleamed through all the cracks of the door and informed him that a Ivan had lit a candle in the hall. Soon Ivan himself appeared, holding the candle before him and lighting up the whole room. Kovalev’s first movement was to snatch up his handkerchief and cover the place where yesterday his nose had been, so that his really stupid servant might not gape at the sight of anything so peculiar in his master.
Ivan had hardly time to retreat to his lair when there was the sound of an unfamiliar voice in the hall, pronouncing the words: “Does the collegiate assessor Kovalev live here?”
“Come in, Major Kovalev is here,” said Kovalev, jumping up hurriedly and opening the door.
A police officer walked in. He was of handsome appearance, with whiskers neither too fair nor too dark, and rather fat cheeks, the same officer who at the beginning of our story was standing at the end of St. Isaac’s Bridge.
“Did you lose your nose, sir?”
“That is so.”
“It is now found.”
“What are you saying?” cried Major Kovalev. He could not speak for joy. He stared at the police officer standing before him, on whose full lips and cheeks the flickering light of the candle was brightly reflected. “How?”
“By extraordinary luck: he was caught almost on the road. He had already taken his seat in the stagecoach and was intending to go to Riga, and had already taken a passport in the name of a government clerk. And the strange thing is that I myself took him for a gentleman at first, but fortunately I had my spectacles with me and I soon saw that it was a nose. I am a bit shortsighted. And if you’re standing right in front of me I only see that you have a face, but I don’t notice your nose or your beard or anything. My mother-in-law, that is my wife’s mother, doesn’t see anything either.”
Kovalev was beside himself with joy. “Where? Where? I’ll go at once.”
“Don’t disturb yourself. Knowing that you were in need of it I brought it along with me. And the strange thing is that the man who has had the most to do with the affair is a rascal of a barber on Voznesensky Avenue, who is now in our custody. For a long time I’ve suspected him of drunkenness and thieving, and only the day before yesterday he carried off a strip of buttons from a shop. Your nose is exactly as it was.” With this the police officer put his hand in his pocket and drew out the nose just as it was.
“That’s it!” Kovalev cried. “That’s certainly it You must have a cup of tea with me this evening.”
“I’d consider it a great pleasure, but I can’t possibly manage it: I have to go from here to the penitentiary…. How the price of food is going up! … At home I have my mother-in-law, that is my wife’s mother, and my children, the eldest particularly gives signs of great promise, he is a very intelligent child; but we have absolutely no means for his education …”
Kovalev took the hint and, taking from the table a red bank-note he thrust it into hand of the officer who, clicking his heels, took his leave. The next instant Kovalev heard his voice on the street, raking over the coals a stupid peasant who had driven his cart right out onto the boulevard.
For some time after the policeman’s departure the collegiate assessor remained in a state of bewilderment, and it was only a few minutes later that he was capable of feeling and understanding again: so reduced was he to stupefaction by this unexpected good fortune. He took the recovered nose carefully in his two hands, holding them together like a cup, and once more examined it attentively.
“Yes, that’s it, it’s certainly it,” said Major Kovalev. “There’s the pimple that came out on the left side yesterday.” The major almost laughed aloud with joy.
But nothing in this world is of long duration, and so his joy was not so great the next moment; and the moment after it was still less, and
in the end he passed imperceptibly into his ordinary frame of mind, just as a circle on the water caused by a falling stone gradually passes away into the unbroken smoothness of the surface. Kovalev began to think, and reflected that the business was not finished yet; the nose was found, but it had to be put on, fixed in its proper place.
“And what if it won’t stick?”
Asking himself this question, the major turned pale.
With a feeling of irrepressible terror he rushed to the table and moved the mirror forward so as m not to put the nose on crooked. His hands trembled. Cautiously and gently he replaced it in its former position. Oh horror, the nose wouldn’t stick! …
He put it to his lips, slightly warmed it with his breath, and again applied it to the flat space between his two cheeks; but nothing would make the nose stick.
“Come on, come on, stick, you fool!” he said to it; but the nose felt wooden and fell on the table with a strange sound like a bottle-cork. The major’s face twisted convulsively.
“It’s not possible it won’t go back, is it?” But however often he applied it to the proper place, each attempt was as unsuccessful as the first.
He called for Ivan and sent him for the doctor who lived in the best apartment on the first floor of the same house. The doctor was a handsome man; he had magnificent pitch-black whiskers, a fresh-faced and healthy wife, he ate fresh apples in the morning, and kept his mouth extraordinarily clean, rinsing it out for nearly three-quarters of an hour every morning and cleaning his teeth with five different sorts of brushes. The doctor appeared immediately. Asking Major Kovalev how long ago the trouble had occurred, he took him by the chin and with his thumb gave him a flip on the spot where the nose had been, making the major jerk back his head so abruptly that he knocked the back of it against the wall. The doctor said that was nothing to worry about, and, advising Kovalev to move a little away from the wall, he told him to tilt his head: first to the right, and feeling the place where the nose had been, the doctor said, “Hmm!” Then he told Kovalev to tilt his head to the left side and again said “Hmm!” And in conclusion he gave him another flip with his thumb, so that Major Kovalev threw up his head like a horse when his teeth are being looked at. After making this experiment the doctor shook his head and said:
“No, it’s impossible. You’d better stay as you are, or it might get much worse. Of course, it could be stuck on; I could stick it on for you at once, if you like; but I assure you it would be worse for you.”
“That’s a nice thing to say! How can I stay without my nose?” said Kovalev. “Things can’t possibly be worse than they are now. This whole affair is Devil knows what! Where can I show myself with this caricature of a face? I have a good circle of acquaintances. Today, for instance, I ought to be at two evening parties. I know a great many people; Chekhtyreva, the wife of the state councilor, Podtochina, the staff-officer’s wife … though after the way she’s behaved, I won’t have anything more to do with her except through the police. Do me a favor,” Kovalev went on in a pleading voice; “isn’t there any way? … Even if it’s not perfect, just as long as it would stay on; I could even hold it steady with my hand at risky moments. I wouldn’t dance in any case, because I might hurt it without meaning to. As for remuneration for your services, you may be assured that as far as my means allow …”
“Believe me,” said the doctor, in a voice neither loud nor low but persuasive and magnetic, “that I never work from mercenary motives. That is opposed to my principles and my calling. It’s true I do accept a fee for my visits, but that’s simply to avoid wounding my patients by refusing it. Of course I could replace your nose; but I assure you on my honor, since you do not believe my word, that it will be much worse for you. You’d better wait for the action of nature itself. Wash the spot frequently with cold water, and I assure you that even without a nose you’ll be just as healthy as with one. And I advise you to put the nose in a bottle, in spirits or, better still, put two tablespoonfuls of strong vodka on it, and distilled vinegar—and then you might get quite a sum of money for it. I’d even take it myself, if you don’t ask too much for.”
“No, no, I wouldn’t sell it for anything,” Major Kovalev cried in despair; “I’d rather lose it altogether!”
“Excuse me!” said the doctor, bowing himself out, “I was trying to be of use to you…. Well, there’s nothing I can do! Anyway, you see that I’ve done my best.”
Saying this the doctor walked out of the room with a majestic air. Kovalev had not noticed his face, and, almost unconscious, had seen nothing but the cuffs of his immaculate white shirt peeping out from the sleeves of his black tail coat.
Next day he decided, before lodging a complaint with the police, to write to Madame Podtochina to see whether she would consent, without argument, to compensate him appropriately. The letter was as follows:
Most gracious Madam,
ALEXANDRA GRIGORIEVNA!
I cannot understand this strange conduct on your part. You may rest assured that you will gain nothing by what you have done, and you will in no way force me to marry your daughter. Believe me that the business with my nose is perfectly clear to me, as is the fact that you and only you are the person chiefly responsible. The sudden parting of the same from its natural position, its flight and its masquerading at one time as a government clerk and finally in its own shape, is nothing else than the consequence of the sorceries engaged in by you or by those who are versed in the same honorable arts as you are. For my part I consider it my duty to warn you that if the above-mentioned nose is not in its proper place today, I shall be obliged to resort to the assistance and protection of the law.
I have, however, with complete respect to you, the honor to be
Your respectful servant,
PLATON KOVALEV
Most gracious Sir,
PLATON KUZMICH!
Your letter greatly astonished me. I must frankly confess that I did not expect it, especially in regard to your unjust reproaches. I assure you I have never received the government clerk of whom you speak in my house, neither in masquerade nor in his own attire. It is true that Filipp Ivanovich Potanchikov has been to see me, and although, indeed, he is asking me for my daughter’s hand and is a well-conducted, sober man of great learning, I have never encouraged his hopes. You also make some reference to your nose. If you wish me to understand by that that you imagine that I’ve been thumbing my nose at you, that is, giving you a formal refusal, I am surprised that you should speak of such a thing when, as you know perfectly well, I was quite of the opposite way of thinking, and if you are courting my daughter with a view to lawful matrimony I am ready to satisfy you immediately, seeing that has always been the object of my keenest desires, in the hopes of which I remain always ready to be of service to you.
ALEXANDRA PODTOCHINA
“No,” said Kovalev to himself after reading the letter, “she’s really not guilty. It’s impossible. This letter is written in a way that no one guilty of a crime could write.” The collegiate assessor was an expert on this subject, as he had been sent several times to the Caucasus to conduct investigations. “In what way, by what fate, has this happened? Only the devil could understand it!” he said at last, throwing up his hands.
Meanwhile the rumors of this strange occurrence were spreading all over the town, and of course, not without special additions. At just that time everyone was particularly interested in the marvelous: experiments in the influence of magnetism had been attracting public attention only recently. Moreover the story of the dancing chair in Koniushennaia [Horse] Street was still fresh, and so it’s not surprising that people were soon beginning to say that the nose of a collegiate assessor called Kovalev went walking along Nevsky Prospect at exactly three in the afternoon. Numbers of inquisitive people flocked there every day. Somebody said that the nose was in Yunker’s shop—and near Yunker’s there was such a crowd and such a crush that the police were actually obliged to intervene. One speculator, a man of dignified appearan
ce with whiskers, who used to sell all sorts of cakes and tarts at the doors of the theaters, purposely constructed some very strong wooden benches which he offered to the curious to stand on for eighty kopeks each. One very worthy colonel left home earlier on account of it, and with a great deal of trouble made his way through the crowd; but to his great indignation, instead of the nose, he saw in the shop windows the usual woolen undershirt and lithograph depicting a girl pulling up her stocking while a foppish young man, with a cutaway waistcoat and a small beard, peeps at her from behind a tree; a picture which had been hanging in the same place for more than ten years. As he walked away he said with vexation: “How can people be led astray by such stupid and incredible stories!” Then the rumor spread that it was not on Nevsky Prospect but in Tavrichersky Park that Major Kovalev’s nose took its walks; that it had been there for a long time; that even when Khozrev-Mirza had lived there he had been greatly surprised at this strange freak of nature. Several students from the Academy of Surgery made their way to the park. One worthy lady of high rank wrote a letter to the superintendent of the park asking him to show her children this rare phenomenon with, if possible, an explanation that would be edifying and instructive for the young.
All the gentlemen who invariably attend social gatherings and like to amuse the ladies were extremely thankful for all these events, since their stock of anecdotes had been completely exhausted. A small group of worthy and well-intentioned persons were greatly displeased. One gentleman said with indignation that he could not understand how in the present enlightened age people could spread abroad these absurd stories, and that he was surprised that the government took no notice of it. This gentleman, as may be seen, belonged to the number of those who would like the government to meddle in everything, even in their daily quarrels with their wives.
Worlds Apart Page 30
