After drinking tea he sat down before his table, ordered a candle, took the poster out of his pocket, held it to the light and began to read it, slightly screwing up his right eye. There was little of interest in the poster however: a play of Kotzebue's was being performed with Poplyovin in the part of Rolla and Mademoiselle Zyablov in that of Cora, and the other performers were even less noteworthy; he read through all their names, however, and even went on to the price of the orchestra stalls, and learned that the poster had been printed at the printing press of the government department of the province. Then he turned it over to find out if there was anything of interest on the other side, but, finding nothing, rubbed his eyes, folded it up neatly and put it in his chest, in which he had the habit of stowing away everything that turned up. The day was, I believe, concluded by a plateful of cold veal, a pint of sour cabbage soup, and a sound sleep, with every tap turned on, as the expression is in some parts of the spacious Russian empire.
The whole of the following day was devoted to visits. The new-comer set off to make calls upon all the dignitaries of the town. He paid his respects to the governor who, as it turned out, was like Tchitchikov himself, neither stout nor thin; he had the Anna on his neck, and was even said to have been recommended for a star. He was, however, a very simple and good-natured fellow, and sometimes actually embroidered on net. Then he went to the deputy-governor's, then visited the public prosecutor, the president of the court of
