Let us begin from earliest morning, when the whole of Petersburg smells of hot, freshly baked bread and is filled with old women in tattered dresses and coats carrying out their raids on churches and compassionate passers-by. At that time Nevsky Prospect is empty: the stout shop owners and their salesclerks are still asleep in their Holland nightshirts or are soaping their noble cheeks and drinking coffee; beggars gather near the pastry shops, where a sleepy Ganymede, 2 who yesterday was flying about with chocolate like a fly, crawls out, tieless, broom in hand, and tosses them stale cakes and leftovers. Down the streets trudge useful folk: Russian muzhiks pass by occasionally, hurrying to work, their boots crusted with lime that even the Ekaterininsky Canal, famous for its cleanness, would be unable to wash off. At that time it is usually unfitting for ladies to go about, because the Russian people like to express themselves in such sharp terms as they would probably not hear even in the theater. An occasional sleepy clerk will plod by, briefcase under his arm, if he has to pass Nevsky Prospect on his way to the office. One may say decidedly that at that time, that is, until twelve o'clock, Nevsky Prospect does not constitute anyone's goal, it serves only as a means: it gradually fills with people who have their own occupations, their own cares, their own vexations, and do not think about it at all. The Russian muzhik talks about his ten coppers or seven groats, the old men and women wave their arms and talk to themselves, sometimes with quite expressive gestures, but no one listens to them or laughs at them, except perhaps some urchins in hempen blouses, with empty bottles or repaired shoes in their hands, racing along Nevsky Prospect like lightning. At that time, however you may be dressed, even if you have a peaked cap on your head instead of a hat, even if your collar sticks out too far over your tie-no one will notice it.
At twelve o'clock Nevsky Prospect is invaded by tutors of all nations with their charges in cambric collars. English Joneses and French Coques walk hand in hand with the charges entrusted to their parental care and, with proper gravity, explain to them that the signs over the shops are made so that by means of them one may learn what is to be found inside the shop. Governesses, pale misses and rosy Slavs, walk majestically behind their light, fidgety girls, telling them to raise their shoulders a bit higher and straighten their backs; in short, at this time Nevsky Prospect is a pedagogical Nevsky Prospect. But the closer it comes to two o'clock, the fewer in number are the tutors, pedagogues, and children: they are finally supplanted by their loving progenitors, who hold on their arms their bright, multicolored, weak-nerved companions. Gradually their company is joined by all those who have finished their rather important domestic business, to wit: discussing the weather with their doctor, as well as a little pimple that has popped out on the nose, informing themselves about the health of their horses and children, who incidentally show great promise, reading an advertisement in the newspaper and an important article on arrivals and departures, and, finally, drinking a cup of coffee or tea; and these are joined by those on whom an enviable fate has bestowed the blessed title of official for special missions. And these are joined by those who serve in the foreign office and are distinguished by the nobility of their occupations and habits. God, how beautiful some posts and jobs are! how they elevate and delight the soul! but, alas! I am not in the civil service and am denied the pleasure of behold- ing my superiors' refined treatment of me. Whatever you meet on Nevsky Prospect is all filled with decency: men in long frock coats, their hands in their pockets, ladies in pink, white, and pale blue satin redingotes and hats. Here you will meet singular side-whiskers, tucked with extraordinary and amazing art under the necktie, velvety whiskers, satiny whiskers, black as sable or coal, but, alas, belonging only to the foreign office. Providence has denied black side-whiskers to those serving in other departments; they, however great the unpleasantness, must wear red ones. Here you will meet wondrous mustaches, which no pen or brush is able to portray; mustaches to which the better part of a lifetime is devoted-object of long vigils by day and by night; mustaches on which exquisite perfumes and scents have been poured, and which have been anointed with all the most rare and precious sorts of pomades, mustaches which are wrapped overnight in fine vellum, mustaches which are subject to the most touching affection of their possessors and are the envy of passers-by. A thousand kinds of hats, dresses, shawls-gay-colored, ethereal, for which their owners' affection sometimes lasts a whole two days-will bedazzle anyone on Nevsky Prospect. It seems as if a whole sea of butterflies has suddenly arisen from the stems, their brilliant cloud undulating over the black beedes of the male sex. Here you will meet such waists as you have never seen in dreams: slender, narrow waists, no whit thicker than a bottle's neck, on meeting which you deferentially step aside, lest you somehow imprudently nudge them with your discourteous elbow; timidity and fear will come over your heart, lest somehow from your imprudent breath the loveliest work of nature and art should be broken. And what ladies' sleeves you meet on Nevsky Prospect! Ah, how lovely! They somewhat resemble two airborne balloons, so that the lady would suddenly rise into the air if the man were not holding her; for raising a lady into the air is as easy and pleasant as bringing a champagne-filled glass to your lips. Nowhere do people exchange bows when they meet with such nobility and nonchalance as on Nevsky Prospect. Here you will meet that singular smile, the height of art, which may cause you sometimes to melt with plea- sure, sometimes suddenly to see yourself lower than grass, and you hang your head, sometimes to feel yourself higher than the Admiralty spire, 3 and you raise it. Here you will meet people discussing a concert or the weather with an extraordinary nobility and sense of their own dignity. You will meet thousands of inconceivable characters and phenomena. O Creator! what strange characters one meets on Nevsky Prospect! There is a host of such people as, when they meet you, unfailingly look at your shoes, and, when you pass by, turn to look at your coattails. To this day I fail to understand why this happens. At first I thought they were shoemakers, but no, that is not the case: for the most part they serve in various departments, many are perfectly well able to write an official letter from one institution to another; or else they are people occupied with strolling, reading newspapers in pastry shops-in short, they are nearly all decent people. At this blessed time, from two to three in the afternoon, when Nevsky Prospect may be called a capital in motion, there takes place a major exhibition of the best products of humanity. One displays a foppish frock coat with the best of beavers, another a wonderful Greek nose, the third is the bearer of superb side-whiskers, the fourth of a pair of pretty eyes and an astonishing little hat, the fifth of a signet ring with a talisman on his smart pinkie, the sixth of a little foot in a charming bootie, the seventh of an astonishment-arousing necktie, the eighth of an amazement-inspiring mustache. But it strikes three and the exhibition is over, the crowd thins out… At three, a new change. Suddenly spring comes to Nevsky Prospect: it gets all covered with clerks in green uniforms. Hungry titular, court, and other councillors try with all their might to put on speed. Young collegiate registrars, provincial and collegiate secretaries hasten to make use of their time and take a stroll on Nevsky Prospect with a bearing which suggests that they have not spent six hours sitting in an office. But the old collegiate secretaries, titular and court councillors walk briskly, their heads bowed: they cannot be bothered with gazing at passers-by; they are not yet completely torn away from their cares; there is a jumble in their heads and a whole archive of started and unfinished cases; for a long time, instead of a signboard, they see a carton of papers or the plump face of the office chief.