Two friends -- one a fat man and the other a thin man
-- met at the Nikolaevsky station. The fat man had just dined in the station
and his greasy lips shone like ripe cherries. He smelt of sherry and fleur d'orange. The thin man had just slipped out
of the train and was laden with portmanteaus, bundles, and bandboxes. He smelt
of ham and coffee grounds. A thin woman with a long chin, his wife, and a tall
schoolboy with one eye screwed up came into view behind his back.
"Porfiry," cried the fat man on seeing the
thin man. "Is it you? My dear fellow! How many summers, how many
winters!"
"Holy
saints!" cried the thin man in amazement. "Misha! The friend of my
childhood! Where have you dropped from?"
The friends
kissed each other three times, and gazed at each other with eyes full of tears.
Both were agreeably astounded.
"My
dear boy!" began the thin man after the kissing. "This is unexpected!
This is a surprise! Come have a good look at me! Just as handsome as I used to
be! Just as great a darling and a dandy! Good gracious me! Well, and how are
you? Made your fortune? Married? I am married as you see. . . . This is my wife
Luise, her maiden name was Vantsenbach . . . of the
Lutheran persuasion. . . . And this is my son Nafanail,
a schoolboy in the third class. This is the
friend of my childhood, Nafanya. We were boys at school together!"
Nafanail
thought a little and took off his cap.
"We
were boys at school together," the thin man went on. "Do you remember
how they used to tease you? You were nicknamed Herostratus
because you burned a hole in a schoolbook with a cigarette, and I was nicknamed
Ephialtes because I was fond of telling tales.
Ho--ho! . . . we were children! . . . Don't be shy, Nafanya. Go nearer to him.
And this is my wife, her maiden name was Vantsenbach, of the Lutheran
persuasion. . . ."
Nafanail
thought a little and took refuge behind his father's back.
"Well,
how are you doing my friend?" the fat man asked, looking enthusiastically
at his friend. "Are you in the service? What grade have you reached?"
"I am,
dear boy! I have been a collegiate assessor for the last two years and I have the Stanislav. The salary is poor, but that's no
great matter! The wife gives music lessons, and I go in for carving wooden
cigarette cases in a private way. Capital cigarette cases! I sell them for a
rouble each. If any one takes ten or more I make a reduction of course. We get
along somehow. I served as a clerk, you know, and now I have been transferred
here as a head clerk in the same department. I am going to serve here. And what
about you? I bet you are a civil councillor by now? Eh?"
"No
dear boy, go higher than that," said the fat man. "I have risen to privy councillor already . . . I have two
stars."
The thin man
turned pale and rigid all at once, but soon his face twisted in all directions
in the broadest smile; it seemed as though sparks were flashing from his face
and eyes. He squirmed, he doubled together, crumpled up. . . . His portmanteaus,
bundles and cardboard boxes seemed to shrink and crumple up too. . . . His
wife's long chin grew longer still; Nafanail drew himself up to attention and
fastened all the buttons of his uniform.
"Your
Excellency, I . . . delighted! The friend, one may say, of childhood and to
have turned into such a great man! He--he!"
"Come,
come!" the fat man frowned. "What's this tone for? You and I were
friends as boys, and there is no need of this official obsequiousness!"
"Merciful
heavens, your Excellency! What are you saying.
. . ?" sniggered the thin man, wriggling more than ever. "Your
Excellency's gracious attention is like refreshing manna. . . . This, your
Excellency, is my son Nafanail, . . . my wife Luise, a Lutheran in a certain
sense."
The fat man
was about to make some protest, but the face of the thin man wore an expression
of such reverence, sugariness, and mawkish respectfulness that the privy
councillor was sickened. He turned away from the thin man, giving him his hand
at parting.
The thin man
pressed three fingers, bowed his whole body and sniggered like a Chinaman:
"He--he--he!" His wife smiled. Nafanail scraped
with his foot and dropped his cap. All three were agreeably overwhelmed.
NOTES
fleur
d'orange: a perfume
of the
Lutheran persuasion: the thin man has married well; after the Decembrist revolt
of 1825 the Russian government depended heavily on its ethnic German minority,
who were mostly Lutheran
Nafanail: an
unusual and humorous-sounding name in Russian
third class:
third grade
Herostratus:
madman who in 356 BC burned the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, one of the Seven
Wonders of the World
Ephialtes:
Greek who betrayed his country at Thermopylae in 480 BC
the
Stanislav: the thin man has reached the 13th grade (college assessor) in the
Civil Service, and has received the order of St. Stanislas
privy
councillor: 3rd grade, typically reserved for very distinguished members of the
Civil Service, such as ambassadors
you: the
thin man has switched to the formal "you"
scraped with
his foot: a sign of subservience
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