about all the country gentlemen of consequence: how many souls of peasants each owned, how far from the town he lived, what were his characteristics and how often he visited the town. He made careful inquiries concerning the health of the countryside, whether there were any complaints in the province—such as epidemics, fevers, small-pox, and such like, and all this with a preciseness which betrayed more than simple curiosity. The gentleman had something solid and respectable in his manners and he blew his nose extremely loud. I cannot say how he did it but his nose resounded like a trumpet. This apparently innocent merit gained him much respect from the waiter, for every time he heard the sound he shook his locks, drew himself up more respectfully, and bending his head inquired whether he wanted anything. After dinner the gentleman drank a cup of coffee and sat on the sofa, propping his back against one of those cushions which in Russian hotels are stuffed not with supple wool but with something extraordinarily like bricks and pebbles. At this point he began to yawn and bade the waiter take him to his room, where he lay down and slept for a couple of hours. When he had rested he wrote, at the request of the waiter, on a slip of paper his rank in the service, his Christian name, and his surname to be presented in due course to the police. As he went downstairs the waiter spelled out as follows: 'Pavel Ivanovitch Tchitchikov, collegiate councillor and landowner, travelling on his private business.'
