The Nose

Kovalyov the collegiate assessor woke up early next morning and made the sound “brrrr ...” with the lips as he always did when he woke up, though he could not himself have explained the reason for his doing so. Kovalyov stretched and asked for a little looking-glass that was standing on the table. He wanted to look at a pimple which had come out upon his nose on the previous evening, but to his great astonishment there was a completely flat space where his nose should have been. Kovalyov in a fright asked for some water and a towel to rub his eyes: there really was no nose. He began feeling with his hand, and pinched himself to see whether he was still asleep: it appeared that he was not asleep. The collegiate assessor jumped out of bed, he shook himself—there was still no nose.... He ordered his clothes to be given him at once and flew off straight to the head police-master.

But meanwhile we must say a word about Kovalyov in order that the reader may have some idea of what kind of collegiate assessor he was. Collegiate assessors who receive that title through learned diplomas cannot be compared with those who are created collegiate assessors in the Caucasus. They are two quite different species. The learned collegiate assessors ... But Russia is such a wonderful country that, if you say a word about one collegiate assessor, all the collegiate assessors from Riga to Kamchatka would certainly take it to themselves; and it is the same, of course, with all grades and titles. Kovalyov was a collegiate assessor from the Caucasus. He had only been of that rank for the last two years, and so could not forget it for a moment; and to give himself greater weight and dignity he did not call himself simply collegiate assessor but always spoke of himself as a major. “Listen, my dear,” he would usually say when he met in the street a woman selling shirt-fronts, “you go to my house; I live in Sadovoy Street; just ask, does Major Kovalyov live here? Any one will show you.” If he met some prepossessing little baggage he would give her besides a secret instruction, adding: “You ask for Major Kovalyov’s flat, my love.” For this reason we will for the future speak of him as the major.

Major Kovalyov was in the habit of walking every day up and down the Nevsky Prospect. The collar of his shirt-front was always extremely clean and well starched. His whiskers were such as one may see nowadays on provincial and district surveyors, on architects and army doctors, also on those employed on special commissions and in general on all such men as have full ruddy cheeks and are very good hands at a game of boston: these whiskers start from the middle of the cheek and go straight up to the nose. Major Kovalyov used to wear a number of cornelian seals, some with crests on them and others on which were carved Wednesday, Thursday, Monday, and so on. Major Kovalyov had come to Petersburg on business, that is, to look for a post befitting his rank: if he were successful, the post of a vice-governor, and failing that the situation of an executive clerk in some prominent department. Major Kovalyov was not averse to matrimony, but only on condition he could find a bride with a fortune of two hundred thousand. And so the reader may judge for himself what was the major’s position when he saw, instead of a nice-looking, well-proportioned nose, an extremely stupid level space.

As ill-luck would have it, not a cab was to be seen in the street, and he was obliged to walk, wrapping himself in his cloak and hiding his face in his handkerchief, as though his nose were bleeding. “But perhaps it was my imagination: it’s impossible I could have been so silly as to lose my nose,” he thought, and went into a confectioner’s on purpose to look at himself in the looking-glass. Fortunately there was no one in the shop: some boys were sweeping the floor and putting all the chairs straight; others with sleepy faces were bringing in hot turnovers on trays: yesterday’s papers covered with coffee stains were lying about on the tables and chairs. “Well, thank God, there is nobody here,” he thought; “now I can look.” He went timidly up to the mirror and looked. “What the devil’s the meaning of it? how nasty!” he commented, spitting. “If only there had been something instead of a nose, but there is nothing! ...”

Biting his lips, he went out of the confectioner’s with annoyance, and resolved, contrary to his usual practice, not to look or smile at any one. All at once he stood as though rooted to the spot before the door of a house. Something inexplicable took place before his eyes: a carriage was stopping at the entrance; the carriage door flew open; a gentleman in uniform, bending down, sprang out and ran up the steps. What was the horror and at the same time amazement of Kovalyov when he recognised that this was his own nose! At this extraordinary spectacle it seemed to him that everything was heaving before his eyes; he felt that he could scarcely stand; but he made up his mind, come what may, to await the gentleman’s return to the carriage, and he stood trembling all over as though in fever. Two minutes later the nose actually did come out. He was in a gold-laced uniform with a big stand-up collar; he had on chamois-leather breeches, at his side was a sword. From his plumed hat it might be gathered that he was of the rank of a civil councillor. Everything showed that he was going somewhere to pay a visit. He looked to both sides, called to the coachman to open the carriage door, got in and drove off.

Poor Kovalyov almost went out of his mind; he did not know what to think of such a strange occurrence. How was it possible for a nose—which had only yesterday been on his face and could neither drive nor walk—to be in uniform! He ran after the carriage, which luckily did not go far, but stopped before the entrance to the bazaar.

He hurried in that direction, made his way through a row of old beggar women with their faces tied up and two chinks in place of their eyes at whom he used to laugh so merrily. There were not many people about. Kovalyov felt so upset that he could not make up his mind what to do, and looked for the gentleman up and down the street; at last he saw him standing before a shop. The nose was hiding his face completely in a high stand-up collar and was surveying some goods in the shop window with the utmost attention.

“How am I to approach him?” thought Kovalyov. “One can see by everything—from his uniform, from his hat—that he is a civil councillor. The devil only knows how to do it!”

He began by coughing at his side; but the nose never changed his position for a minute.

“Sir,” said Kovalyov, inwardly forcing himself to speak confidently. “Sir....”

“What do you want?” answered the nose, turning round.

“It seems ... strange to me, sir.... You ought to know your proper place, and all at once I find you, where? ... You will admit ...”

“Excuse me, I cannot understand what you are talking about.... Explain.”

“How am I to explain to him?” thought Kovalyov, and plucking up his courage he began: “Of course I ... I am a major, by the way. For me to go about without a nose you must admit is improper. An old woman selling peeled oranges on Voskresensky Bridge may sit there without a nose; but having prospects of obtaining ... and being besides acquainted with a great many ladies in the families of Tchehtarev the civil councillor and others ... You can judge for yourself ... I don’t know, sir (at this point Major Kovalyov shrugged his shoulders) ... excuse me ... if you look at the matter in accordance with the principles of duty and honour ... you can understand of yourself ...”

“I don’t understand a word,” said the nose. “Explain it more satisfactorily.”

“Sir,” said Kovalyov, with a sense of his own dignity, “I don’t know how to understand your words. The matter appears to me perfectly obvious ... either you wish ... Why, you are my own nose!”

The nose looked at the major and his eyebrows slightly quivered.

“You are mistaken, sir, I am an independent individual. Moreover, there can be no sort of close relations between us. I see, sir, from the buttons of your uniform, you must be serving in a different department.” Saying this the nose turned away.

Kovalyov was utterly confused, not knowing what to do or even what to think. Meanwhile they heard the agreeable rustle of a lady’s dress: an elderly lady was approaching, all decked out in lace, and with her a slim lady in a white dress which looked very charming on her slender figure, in a straw-coloured hat as light as a pastry puff. Behind them stood, opening his snuff-box, a tall footman with big whiskers and quite a dozen collars.

Kovalyov came nearer, pulled out the cambric collar of his shirt-front, arranged the seals on his gold watch-chain, and, smiling from side to side, turned his attention to the ethereal lady who, like a spring flower, faintly swayed forward and put her white hand with its half-transparent fingers to her brow. The smile on Kovalyov’s face broadened when he saw under the hat her round, dazzlingly white chin and part of her cheek flushed with the hues of the first spring rose; but all at once he skipped away as though he had been scalded. He recollected that he had absolutely nothing on his face in place of a nose, and tears oozed from his eyes. He turned away to tell the gentleman in uniform straight out that he was only pretending to be a civil councillor, that he was a rogue and a scoundrel, and that he was nothing else than his own nose.... But the nose was no longer there; he had managed to gallop off, probably again to call on some one.

This reduced Kovalyov to despair. He went back and stood for a minute or two under the colonnade, carefully looking in all directions to see whether the nose was anywhere about. He remembered very well that there was a plume in his hat and gold lace on his uniform; but he had not noticed his greatcoat nor the colour of his carriage, nor his horses, nor even whether he had a footman behind him and if so in what livery. Moreover, such numbers of carriages were driving backwards and forwards and at such a speed that it was difficult even to distinguish them; and if he had distinguished one of them he would have had no means of stopping it. It was a lovely, sunny day. There were masses of people on the Nevsky; ladies were scattered like a perfect cataract of flowers all over the pavement from Politseysky to the Anitchkin Bridge. Here he saw coming towards him an upper-court councillor of his acquaintance whom he used to call “lieutenant-colonel,” particularly if he were speaking to other people. There he saw Yaryzhkin, a head clerk in the senate, a great friend of his, who always lost points when he went eight at boston. And here was another major who had received the rank of assessor in the Caucasus, beckoning to him....

“Ah, deuce take it,” said Kovalyov. “Hi, cab! drive straight to the police-master’s.”

Kovalyov got into a cab and shouted to the driver:

“Drive like a house on fire.”

“Is the police-master at home?” he cried, going into the entry.

“No,” answered the porter, “he has only just gone out.”

“Well, I declare!”

“Yes,” added the porter, “and he has not been gone so long: if you had come but a tiny minute earlier you might have found him.”

Kovalyov, still keeping the handkerchief over his face, got into the cab and shouted in a voice of despair: “Drive on.”

“Where?” asked the cabman.

“Drive straight on!”

“How straight on? Here’s the turning, is it to right or to left?”

This question pulled Kovalyov up and forced him to think again. In his position he ought first of all to address himself to the department of law and order, not because it had any direct connection with the police but because the intervention of the latter might be far more rapid than any help he could get in other departments. To seek satisfaction from the higher officials of the department in which the nose had announced himself as serving would have been injudicious, since from the nose’s own answers he had been able to perceive that nothing was sacred to that man and that he might tell lies in this case too, just as he had lied in declaring that he had never seen him before. And so Kovalyov was on the point of telling the cabman to drive to the police station, when again the idea occurred to him that this rogue and scoundrel who had at their first meeting behaved in such a shameless way might seize the opportunity and slip out of the town—and then all his searches would be in vain, or might be prolonged, which God forbid, for a whole month. At last it seemed that Heaven itself directed him. He decided to go straight to a newspaper office and without loss of time to publish a circumstantial description of the nose, so that any one meeting it might at once present it to him or at least let him know where it was. And so, deciding upon this course, he told the cabman to drive to the newspaper office, and all the way never ceased pommelling him with his fist on the back, saying as he did so, “Quicker, you rascal; make haste, you knave!”

“Ugh, sir!” said the cabman, shaking his head and flicking with the reins at the horse, whose coat was as long as a lapdog’s. At last the droshky stopped and Kovalyov ran panting into a little reception room where a grey-headed clerk in spectacles, wearing an old tailcoat, was sitting at a table and with a pen between his teeth was counting over some coppers he had before him.

“Who receives inquiries here?” cried Kovalyov. “Ah, good day!”

“I wish you good day,” said the grey-headed clerk, raising his eyes for a moment and then dropping them again on the money lying in heaps on the table.

“I want to insert an advertisement ...”

“Allow me to ask you to wait a minute,” the clerk pronounced, with one hand noting a figure on the paper and with the finger of his left hand moving two beads on the reckoning board. A flunkey with braid on his livery and a rather clean appearance, which betrayed that he had at some time served in an aristocratic family, was standing at the table with a written paper in his hand and thought fit to display his social abilities: “Would you believe it, sir, that the little cur is not worth eighty kopecks; in fact I wouldn’t give eight for it, but the countess is fond of it—my goodness, she is fond of it, and here she will give a hundred roubles to any one who finds it! To speak politely, as you and I are speaking now, people’s tastes are quite incompatible: when a man’s a sportsman then he’ll keep a setter or a poodle; he won’t mind giving five hundred or a thousand so long as it is a good dog.”

The worthy clerk listened to this with a significant air, and at the same time was reckoning the number of letters in the advertisement brought him. Along the sides of the room stood a number of old women, shop-boys, and house-porters who had brought advertisements. In one it was announced that a coachman of sober habits was looking for a situation; in the next a second-hand carriage brought from Paris in 1814 was offered for sale; next a maid-servant, aged nineteen, experienced in laundry work and also competent to do other work, was looking for a situation; a strong droshky with only one spring broken was for sale; a spirited, young, dappled grey horse, only seventeen years old, for sale; a new consignment of turnip and radish seed from London; a summer villa with all conveniences, stabling for two horses, and a piece of land that might well be planted with fine birches and pine trees; there was also an appeal to those wishing to purchase old boot-soles, inviting such to come for the same every day between eight o’clock in the morning and three o’clock in the afternoon. The room in which all this company was assembled was a small one and the air in it was extremely thick, but the collegiate assessor Kovalyov was incapable of noticing the stench both because he kept his handkerchief over his face and because his nose was goodness knows where.

“Dear sir, allow me to ask you ... my case is very urgent,” he said at last impatiently.

“In a minute, in a minute! ... Two roubles, forty-three kopecks! ... This minute! One rouble and sixty-four kopecks!” said the grey-headed gentleman, flinging the old women and house-porters the various documents they had brought. “What can I do for you?” he said at last, turning to Kovalyov.

“I want to ask ...” said Kovalyov. “Some robbery or trickery has occurred; I cannot make it out at all. I only want you to advertise that any one who brings me the scoundrel will receive a handsome reward.”

“Allow me to ask what is your surname?”

“No, why put my surname? I cannot give it you! I have a large circle of acquaintances: Madame Tchehtarev, wife of a civil councillor, Pelageya Grigoryevna Podtatchin, widow of an officer ... they will find out. God forbid! You can simply put: ‘a collegiate assessor,’ or better still, ‘a person of major’s rank.’ ”

“Is the runaway your house-serf, then?”

“A house-serf indeed! that would not be so great a piece of knavery! It’s my nose ... has run away from me ... my own nose.”

“H’m, what a strange surname! And is it a very large sum this Mr. Nosov has robbed you of?”

“Nosov! ... you are on the wrong tack. It is my nose, my own nose that has disappeared, I don’t know where. The devil wanted to have a joke at my expense.”

“But in what way did it disappear? There is something I can’t quite understand.”

“And indeed, I can’t tell you how it happened; the point is that now it is driving about the town, calling itself a civil councillor. And so I beg you to announce that any one who catches him must bring him at once to me as quickly as possible. Only think, really, how can I get on without such a conspicuous part of my person. It’s not like a little toe, the loss of which I could hide in my boot and no one could say whether it was there or not. I go on Thursdays to Madame Tchehtatrev’s; Pelageya Grigoryevna Podtatchin, an officer’s widow, and her very pretty daughter are great friends of mine; and you can judge for yourself what a fix I am in now.... I can’t possibly show myself now....”

The clerk pondered, a fact which was manifest from the way he compressed his lips.

“No, I can’t put an advertisement like that in the paper,” he said at last, after a long silence.

“What? Why not?”

“Well. The newspaper might lose its reputation. If every one is going to write that his nose has run away, why ... As it is, they say we print lots of absurd things and false reports.”

“But what is there absurd about this? I don’t see anything absurd in it.”

“You fancy there is nothing absurd in it? But last week, now, this was what happened. A government clerk came to me just as you have; he brought an advertisement, it came to two roubles seventy-three kopecks, and all the advertisement amounted to was that a poodle with a black coat had strayed. You wouldn’t think that there was anything in that, would you? But it turned out to be a lampoon on some one: the poodle was the cashier of some department, I don’t remember which.”

“But I am not asking you to advertise about poodles but about my own nose; that is almost the same as about myself.”

“No, such an advertisement I cannot insert.”

“But since my nose really is lost!”

“If it is lost that is a matter for the doctor. They say there are people who can fit you with a nose of any shape you like. But I observe you must be a gentleman of merry disposition and are fond of having your joke.”

“I swear as God is holy! If you like, since it has come to that, I will show you.”

“I don’t want to trouble you,” said the clerk, taking a pinch of snuff. “However, if it is no trouble,” he added, moved by curiosity, “it might be desirable to have a look.”

The collegiate assessor took the handkerchief from his face. “It really is extremely strange,” said the clerk, “the place is perfectly flat, like a freshly fried pancake. Yes, it’s incredibly smooth.”

“Will you dispute it now? You see for yourself I must advertise. I shall be particularly grateful to you and very glad this incident has given me the pleasure of your acquaintance.”

The major, as may be seen, made up his mind on this occasion to resort to a little flattery.

“To print such an advertisement is, of course, not such a very great matter,” said the clerk. “But I do not foresee any advantage to you from it. If you do want to, put it in the hands of some one with a skilful pen, describe it as a rare freak of nature, and publish the little article in the Northern Bee” (at this point he once more took a pinch of snuff) “for the benefit of youth” (at this moment he wiped his nose), “or anyway as a matter of general interest.”

The collegiate assessor felt quite hopeless. He dropped his eyes and looked at the bottom of the paper where there was an announcement of an entertainment; his face was ready to break into a smile as he saw the name of a pretty actress, and his hand went to his pocket to feel whether he had a five-rouble note there, for an officer of his rank ought, in Kovalyov’s opinion, to have a seat in the stalls; but the thought of his nose spoilt it all.

Even the clerk seemed touched by Kovalyov’s difficult position. Desirous of relieving his distress in some way, he thought it befitting to express his sympathy in a few words: “I am really very much grieved that such an incident should have occurred to you. Wouldn’t you like a pinch of snuff? it relieves headache and dissipates depression; even in intestinal trouble it is of use.” Saying this the clerk offered Kovalyov his snuff-box, rather neatly opening the lid with a portrait of a lady in a hat on it.

This unpremeditated action drove Kovalyov out of all patience.

“I can’t understand how you can think fit to make a joke of it,” he said angrily; “don’t you see that I am without just what I need for sniffing! The devil take your snuff! I can’t bear the sight of it now, not merely your miserable Berezina stuff but even if you were to offer me rappee itself!” Saying this he walked out of the newspaper office, deeply mortified, and went in the direction of the local police superintendent.

Kovalyov walked in at the very moment when he was stretching and clearing his throat and saying: “Ah, I should enjoy a couple of hours’ nap!” And so it might be foreseen that the collegiate assessor’s visit was not very opportune. The police superintendent was a great patron of all arts and manufactures; but the paper note he preferred to everything. “That is a thing,” he used to say, “there is nothing better than that thing; it does not ask for food, it takes up little space, there is always room for it in the pocket, and if you drop it, it does not break.”

The police superintendent received Kovalyov rather coldly and said that after dinner was not the time to make an enquiry, that nature itself had ordained that man should rest a little after eating (the collegiate assessor could see from this that the sayings of the ancient sages were not unfamiliar to the local superintendent), and that a respectable man does not have his nose pulled off.

This was adding insult to injury. It must be said that Kovalyov was very easily offended. He could forgive anything whatever said about himself, but could never forgive insult to his rank or his calling. He was even of the opinion that any reference to officers of the higher ranks might be allowed to pass in stage plays, but that no attack ought to be made on those of a lower grade. The reception given him by the local superintendent so disconcerted him that he tossed his head and said with an air of dignity and a slight gesticulation of surprise: “I must observe that after observations so insulting on your part I can add nothing more ...” and went out.

He went home hardly conscious of the ground under his feet. But now it was dusk. His lodgings seemed to him melancholy or rather utterly disgusting after all these unsuccessful efforts. Going into his entry he saw his valet, Ivan, lying on his dirty leather sofa; he was spitting on the ceiling and rather successfully aiming at the same spot. The nonchalance of his servant enraged him; he hit him on the forehead with his hat, saying: “You pig, you are always doing something stupid.”

Ivan leapt up and rushed headlong to help him off with his cloak.

Going into his room, weary and dejected, the major threw himself into an easy chair, and at last, after several sighs, said:—

“My God, my God! Why has this misfortune befallen me? If I had lost an arm or a leg—anyway it would have been better; but without a nose a man is goodness knows what: neither fish nor fowl nor human being, good for nothing but to fling out of window! And if only it had been cut off in battle or in a duel, or if I had been the cause of it myself, but, as it is, it is lost for no cause or reason, it is lost for nothing, absolutely nothing! But no, it cannot be,” he added after a moment’s thought; “it’s incredible that a nose should be lost. It must be a dream or an illusion. Perhaps by some mistake I drank instead of water the vodka I use to rub my chin after shaving. Ivan, the fool, did not remove it and very likely I took it.” To convince himself that he was not drunk, the major pinched himself so painfully that he shrieked. The pain completely convinced him that he was living and acting in real life. He slowly approached the looking-glass and at first screwed up his eyes with the idea that maybe his nose would appear in its proper place; but at the same minute sprang back, saying: “What a caricature.”

It really was incomprehensible; if a button had been lost or a silver spoon or a watch or anything similar—but to have lost this, and in one’s own flat too! ... Thinking over all the circumstances, Major Kovalyov reached the supposition that what might be nearest the truth was that the person responsible for this could be no other than Madame Podtatchin, who wanted him to marry her daughter. He himself liked flirting with her, but avoided a definite engagement. When the mother had informed him directly that she wished for the marriage, he had slyly put her off with his compliments, saying that he was still young, that he must serve for five years so as to be exactly forty-two. And that Madame Podtatchin had therefore made up her mind, probably out of revenge, to ruin him, and had hired for the purpose some peasant witches, because it was impossible to suppose that the nose had been cut off in any way; no one had come into his room; the barber Ivan Yakovlevitch had shaved him on Wednesday, and all Wednesday and even all Thursday his nose had been all right—that he remembered and was quite certain about; besides, he would have felt pain, and there could have been no doubt that the wound could not have healed so soon and been as flat as a pancake. He formed various plans in his mind: either to summon Madame Podtatchin formally before the court or to go to her himself and tax her with it. These reflections were interrupted by a light which gleamed through all the cracks of the door and let him know that a candle had been lighted in the entry by Ivan. Soon Ivan himself appeared, holding it before him and lighting up the whole room. Kovalyov’s first movement was to snatch up his handkerchief and cover the place where yesterday his nose had been, that his really stupid servant might not gape at the sight of anything so peculiar in his master.

Ivan had hardly time to retreat to his lair when there was the sound of an unfamiliar voice in the entry, pronouncing the words: “Does the collegiate assessor Kovalyov live here?”

“Come in, Major Kovalyov is here,” said Kovalyov, jumping up hurriedly and opening the door.

There walked in a police officer of handsome appearance, with whiskers neither too fair nor too dark, and rather fat cheeks, the very one who at the beginning of our story was standing at the end of St. Isaac’s Bridge.

“You have been pleased to lose your nose, sir?”

“That is so.”

“It is now found.”

“What are you saying?” cried Major Kovalyov. He could not speak for joy. He gazed open-eyed at the police officer standing before him, on whose full lips and cheeks the flickering light of the candle was brightly reflected. “How?”

“By a strange chance: he was caught almost on the road. He had already taken his seat in the diligence and was intending to go to Riga, and had already taken a passport in the name of a government clerk. And the strange thing is that I myself took him for a gentleman at first, but fortunately I had my spectacles with me and I soon saw that it was a nose. You know I am short-sighted. And if you stand before me I only see that you have a face, but I don’t notice your nose or your beard or anything. My mother-in-law, that is my wife’s mother, doesn’t see anything either.”

Kovalyov was beside himself with joy. “Where? Where? I’ll run at once.”

“Don’t disturb yourself. Knowing that you were in need of it I brought it along with me. And the strange thing is that the man who has had the most to do with the affair is a rascal of a barber in the Voznesensky Street, who is now in custody. I have long suspected him of drunkenness and thieving, and only the day before yesterday he carried off a strip of buttons from one shop. Your nose is exactly as it was.” With this the police officer put his hand in his pocket and drew out the nose just as it was.

“That’s it!” Kovalyov cried. “That’s certainly it. You must have a cup of tea with me this evening.”

“I should look upon it as a great pleasure, but I can’t possibly manage it: I have to go from here to the penitentiary.... How the prices of all provisions are going up! ... At home I have my mother-in-law, that is my wife’s mother, and my children, the eldest particularly gives signs of great promise, he is a very intelligent child; but we have absolutely no means for his education....”

For some time after the policeman’s departure the collegiate assessor remained in a state of bewilderment, and it was only a few minutes later that he was capable of feeling and understanding again: he was reduced to such stupefaction by this unexpected good fortune. He took the recovered nose carefully in his two hands, holding them together like a cup, and once more examined it attentively.

“Yes, that’s it, it’s certainly it,” said Major Kovalyov. “There’s the pimple that came out on the left side yesterday.” The major almost laughed aloud with joy.

But nothing in this world is of long duration, and so his joy was not so great the next moment; and the moment after, it was still less, and in the end he passed imperceptibly into his ordinary frame of mind, just as a circle on the water caused by a falling stone gradually passes away into the unbroken smoothness of the surface. Kovalyov began to think, and reflected that the business was not finished yet; the nose was found, but it had to be put on, fixed in its proper place.

“And what if it won’t stick?” Asking himself this question, the major turned pale.

With a feeling of irrepressible terror he rushed to the table and moved the looking-glass forward that he might not put the nose on crooked. His hands trembled. Cautiously and circumspectly he replaced it in its former position. Oh horror, the nose would not stick on! ... He put it to his lips, slightly warmed it with his breath, and again applied it to the flat space between his two cheeks; but nothing would make the nose keep on.

“Come, come, stick on, you fool!” he said to it; but the nose seemed made of wood and fell on the table with a strange sound as though it were a cork. The major’s face worked convulsively.

“Is it possible that it won’t grow on again?” But, however often he applied it to the proper place, the attempt was as unsuccessful as before.

He called Ivan and sent him for a doctor who tenanted the best flat on the first storey of the same house. The doctor was a handsome man, he had magnificent pitch-black whiskers, a fresh and healthy wife, ate fresh apples in the morning and kept his mouth extraordinarily clean, rinsing it out for nearly three-quarters of an hour every morning and cleaning his teeth with five different sorts of brushes. The doctor appeared immediately. Asking how long ago the trouble had occurred, he took Major Kovalyov by the chin and with his thumb gave him a flip on the spot where the nose had been, making the major jerk back his head so abruptly that he knocked the back of it against the wall. The doctor said that that did not matter, and, advising him to move a little away from the wall, he told him to bend his head round first to the right, and feeling the place where the nose had been, said, “H’m!” Then he told him to turn his head round to the left side and again said “H’m!” And in conclusion he gave him again a flip with his thumb, so that Major Kovalyov threw up his head like a horse when his teeth are being looked at. After making this experiment the doctor shook his head and said:—

“No, it’s impossible. You had better stay as you are, for it may be made much worse. Of course, it might be stuck on; I could stick it on for you at once, if you like; but I assure you it would be worse for you.”

“That’s a nice thing to say! How can I stay without a nose?” said Kovalyov. “Things can’t possibly be worse than now. It’s simply beyond everything. Where can I show myself with such a caricature of a face? I have a good circle of acquaintances. To-day, for instance, I ought to be at two evening parties. I know a great many people; Madame Tchehtarev, the wife of a civil councillor, Madame Podtatchin, an officer’s widow ... though after the way she has behaved, I’ll have nothing more to do with her except through the police. Do me a favour,” Kovalyov went on in a supplicating voice; “is there no means of sticking it on? Even if it were not neatly done, so long as it would keep on; I could even hold it on with my hand at critical moments. I wouldn’t dance in any case for fear of a rash movement upsetting it. As for remuneration for your services, you may be assured that as far as my means allow ...”

“Believe me,” said the doctor, in a voice neither loud nor low but persuasive and magnetic, “that I never work from mercenary motives; that is opposed to my principles and my science. It is true that I accept a fee for my visits, but that is simply to avoid wounding my patients by refusing it. Of course I could replace your nose; but I assure you on my honour, since you do not believe my word, that it will be much worse for you. You had better wait for the action of nature itself. Wash it frequently with cold water, and I assure you that even without a nose you will be just as healthy as with one. And I advise you to put the nose in a bottle, in spirits or, better still, put two tablespoonfuls of sour vodka on it and heated vinegar—and then you might get quite a sum of money for it. I’d even take it myself, if you don’t ask too much for it.”

“No, no, I wouldn’t sell it for anything,” Major Kovalyov cried in despair; “I’d rather it were lost than that!”

“Excuse me!” said the doctor, bowing himself out, “I was trying to be of use to you.... Well, there is nothing for it! Anyway, you see that I have done my best.” Saying this the doctor walked out of the room with a majestic air. Kovalyov did not notice his face, and, almost lost to consciousness, saw nothing but the cuffs of his clean and snow-white shirt peeping out from the sleeves of his black tail-coat.

Next day he decided, before lodging a complaint with the police, to write to Madame Podtatchin to see whether she would consent to return him what was needful without a struggle. The letter was as follows:—

Dear Madam,

Alexandra Grigoryevna.

I cannot understand this strange conduct on your part. You may rest assured that you will gain nothing by what you have done, and you will not get a step nearer forcing me to marry your daughter. Believe me, that business in regard to my nose is no secret, no more than it is that you and no other are the person chiefly responsible. The sudden parting of the same from its natural position, its flight and masquerading, at one time in the form of a government clerk and finally in its own shape, is nothing else than the consequence of the sorceries practised by you or by those who are versed in the same honourable arts as you are. For my part I consider it my duty to warn you, if the above-mentioned nose is not in its proper place to-day, I shall be obliged to resort to the assistance and protection of the law.

I have, however, with complete respect to you, the honour to be

Your respectful servant,

Platon Kovalyov.

Dear Sir,

Platon Kuzmitch!

Your letter greatly astonished me. I must frankly confess that I did not expect it, especially in regard to your unjust reproaches. I assure you I have never received the government clerk of whom you speak in my house, neither in masquerade nor in his own attire. It is true that Filipp Ivanovitch Potantchikov has been to see me, and although, indeed, he is asking me for my daughter’s hand and is a well conducted, sober man of great learning, I have never encouraged his hopes. You make some reference to your nose also. If you wish me to understand by that that you imagine that I meant to make a long nose at you, that is, to give you a formal refusal, I am surprised that you should speak of such a thing when, as you know perfectly well, I was quite of the opposite way of thinking, and if you are courting my daughter with a view to lawful matrimony I am ready to satisfy you immediately, seeing that has always been the object of my keenest desires, in the hope of which I remain always ready to be of service to you.

Alexandra Podtatchin.

“No,” said Kovalyov to himself after reading the letter, “she really is not to blame. It’s impossible. The letter is written as it could not be written by any one guilty of a crime.” The collegiate assessor was an expert on this subject, as he had been sent several time to the Caucasus to conduct investigations. “In what way, by what fate, has this happened? Only the devil could make it out!” he said at last, letting his hands fall to his sides.

Meanwhile the rumours of this strange occurrence were spreading all over the town, and of course not without especial additions. Just at that time the minds of all were particularly interested in the marvellous: experiments in the influence of magnetism had been attracting public attention only recently. Moreover, the story of the dancing chair in Konyushenny Street was still fresh, and so there is nothing to be surprised at in the fact that people were soon beginning to say that the nose of a collegiate assessor called Kovalyov was walking along the Nevsky Prospect at exactly three in the afternoon. Numbers of inquisitive people flocked there every day. Somebody said that the nose was in Yunker’s shop—and near Yunker’s there was such a crowd and such a crush that the police were actually obliged to intervene. One speculator, a man of dignified appearance with whiskers, who used to sell all sorts of cakes and tarts at the doors of the theatres, made purposely some very strong wooden benches, which he offered to the curious to stand on, for eighty kopecks each. One very worthy colonel left home earlier on account of it, and with a great deal of trouble made his way through the crowd; but to his great indignation, instead of the nose, he saw in the shop windows the usual woollen vest and a lithograph depicting a girl pulling up her stocking while a foppish young man, with a waist-coat with revers and a small beard, peeps at her from behind a tree; a picture which had been hanging in the same place for more than ten years. As he walked away he said with vexation: “How can people be led astray by such stupid and incredible stories!” Then rumour would have it that it was not on the Nevsky Prospect but in the Tavritchesky Park that Major Kovalyov’s nose took its walks abroad; that it had been there for ever so long; that, even when Hozrev-Mirza used to live there, he was greatly surprised at this strange freak of nature. Several students from the Academy of Surgery made their way to the park. One worthy lady of high rank wrote a letter to the superintendent of the park asking him to show her children this rare phenomenon with, if possible, an explanation that should be edifying and instructive for the young.

All the gentlemen who invariably attend social gatherings and like to amuse the ladies were extremely thankful for all these events, for their stock of anecdotes was completely exhausted. A small group of worthy and well-intentioned persons were greatly displeased. One gentleman said with indignation that he could not understand how in the present enlightened age people could spread abroad these absurd inventions, and that he was surprised that the government took no notice of it. This gentleman, as may be seen, belonged to the number of those who would like the government to meddle in everything, even in their daily quarrels with their wives. After this ... but here again the whole adventure is lost in fog, and what happened afterwards is absolutely unknown.