setter?' 'I haven't a dog,' I said, 'and never have had one!' 'You
haven't? Why, what's this?' 'What's this?' said I, 'why, light
the candle and then you will see for yourself.' 'Isn't it a dog?'
'No.' Vassily Vassilitch turned over in bed. 'But you are joking, dash
it all.' 'No, I am not joking.' I heard him go strike, strike, with a
match, while the creature persisted in scratching its ribs. The light
flared up ... and, hey presto! not a trace remained! Vassily
Vassilitch looked at me and I looked at him. 'What trick is this?' he
said. 'It's a trick,' I said, 'that, if you were to set Socrates
himself on one side and Frederick the Great on the other, even they
could not make it out.' And then I told him all about it. Didn't my
Vassily Vassilitch jump out of bed! As though he had been scalded! He
couldn't get into his boots. 'Horses,' he cried, 'horses!' I began
trying to persuade him, but it was no use! He positively gasped! 'I
won't stay,' he said, 'not a minute! You must be a man under a curse!
Horses.' However, I prevailed upon him. Only his bed was dragged into
another room and nightlights were lighted everywhere. At our tea in
the morning he had regained his equanimity; he began to give me
advice. 'You should try being away from home for a few days, Porfiry
Kapitonitch,' he said, 'perhaps this abomination would leave you.' And
I must tell you: my neighbour was a man of immense intellect. He
managed his mother-in-law wonderfully: he fastened an I. O. U. upon
her; he must have chosen a sentimental moment! She became as soft as
silk, she gave him an authorisation for the management of all her
estate--what more would you have? You know it is something to get the
better of one's mother-in-law. Eh! You can judge for yourselves.
However, he took leave of me in some displeasure; I'd stripped him of
a hundred roubles again. He actually abused me. 'You are ungrateful.'
he said, 'you have no feeling'; but how was I to blame? Well, be that
as it may, I considered his advice. That very day I drove off to the
town and put up at an inn, kept by an old man I knew, a Dissenter. He
was a worthy old fellow, though a little morose from living in
solitude, all his family were dead. But he disliked tobacco and had
the greatest loathing for dogs; I believe he would have been torn to
pieces rather than consent to let a dog into his room. 'For how can
one?' he would say, 'the Queen of Heaven herself is graciously pleased
to be on my wall there, and is an unclean dog to put his infidel nose
there?' Of course, it was lack of education! However, to my thinking,
whatever wisdom a man has he had better stick to that."
"I see you are a great philosopher," Anton Stepanitch interrupted a
second time with the same sarcastic smile.
This time Porfiry Kapitonitch actually frowned.
"How much I know of philosophy I cannot tell," he observed, tugging
grimly at his moustache, "but I would be glad to give you a lesson in
it."
We all simply stared at Anton Stepanitch. Every one of us expected a
haughty reply, or at least a glance like a flash of lightning.... But
the civil councillor turned his contemptuous smile into one of
indifference, then yawned, swung his foot and--that was all!
"Well, I stayed at that old fellow's," Porfiry Kapitonitch went on.
"He gave me a little room, not one of the best, as we were old
friends; his own was close by, the other side of the partition--and
that was just what I wanted. The tortures I faced that night! A little
room, a regular oven, stuffiness, flies, and such sticky ones; in the
corner an extraordinarily big shrine with ancient ikons, with dingy
setting in relief on them. It fairly reeked of oil and some other
stuff, too; there were two featherbeds on the beds. If you moved the
pillow a black beetle would run from under it.... I had drunk an
incredible quantity of tea, feeling so dreary--it was simply dreadful!
I got into bed; there was no possibility of sleeping--and, the other
side of the partition, my host was sighing, clearing his throat,
repeating his prayers. However, he subsided at last. I heard him begin
to snore, but only faintly, in the old-fashioned polite way. I had put
my candle out long ago, but the little lamp was burning before the
ikons.... That prevented it, I suppose. So I got up softly with bare
feet, climbed up to the lamp, and blew it out.... Nothing happened.
'Oho!' I thought, 'so it doesn't come off in other people's houses.'
"But I had no sooner got into bed than there was a commotion again. He
was scraping on the floor and scratching himself and shaking his
ears ... the usual thing, in fact. Very good! I lay still and waited to
see what would happen. I heard the old man wake up. 'Sir,' he said,
'hey, sir.' 'What is it?' 'Did you put out the lamp?' But without
waiting for my answer, he burst out all at once. 'What's that? What's
that, a dog? A dog! Ah, you vile heretic!' 'Wait a bit, old man, before
you scold,' I said. 'You had better come here yourself. Things are
happening,' I said, 'that may well make you wonder.' The old man
stirred behind the partition and came in to me, with a candle, a very,
very thin one, made of yellow wax; I was surprised when I looked at
him! He looked bristling all over, with hairy ears and eyes as fierce
as a weasel's; he had on a white woollen night cap, a beard to his
waist, white; too, and a waistcoat with copper buttons on it over his
shirt and fur boots on his feet and he smelt of juniper. In this
attire he approached the ikons, crossed himself three times with his
two fingers crossed, lighted the lamp, crossed himself again and,
turning to me, just grunted: 'Explain!' And thereupon, without delay,
I told him all that had happened. The old man listened to my account
and did not drop one word, simply shook his head. Then he sat down on
my bed and still said nothing. He scratched his chest, the back of his
head and so on and said nothing. 'Well,' I said, 'Fedul Ivanitch, what