Chapter 5 - Page 2

everyone who has to
go to work then gets out of bed. First of all, tea is partaken
of. Most of the tea-urns belong to the landlady; and since there
are not very many of them, we have to wait our turn. Anyone who
fails to do so will find his teapot emptied and put away. On the
first occasion, that was what happened to myself. Well, is there
anything else to tell you? Already I have made the acquaintance
of the company here. The naval officer took the initiative in
calling upon me, and his frankness was such that he told me all
about his father, his mother, his sister (who is married to a
lawyer of Tula), and the town of Kronstadt. Also, he promised me
his patronage, and asked me to come and take tea with him. I kept
the appointment in a room where card-playing is continually in
progress; and, after tea had been drunk, efforts were made to
induce me to gamble. Whether or not my refusal seemed to the
company ridiculous I cannot say, but at all events my companions
played the whole evening, and were playing when I left. The dust
and smoke in the room made my eyes ache. I declined, as I say, to
play cards, and was, therefore, requested to discourse on
philosophy, after which no one spoke to me at all--a result which
I did not regret. In fact, I have no intention of going there
again, since every one is for gambling, and for nothing but
gambling. Even the literary tchinovnik gives such parties in his
room--though, in his case, everything is done delicately and with
a certain refinement, so that the thing has something of a
retiring and innocent air.

In passing, I may tell you that our landlady is NOT a nice woman.
In fact, she is a regular beldame. You have seen her once, so
what do you think of her? She is as lanky as a plucked chicken in
consumption, and, with Phaldoni (her servant), constitutes the
entire staff of the establishment. Whether or not Phaldoni has
any other name I do not know, but at least he answers to this
one, and every one calls him by it. A red-haired, swine-jowled,
snub-nosed, crooked lout, he is for ever wrangling with Theresa,
until the pair nearly come to blows. In short, life is not overly
pleasant in this place. Never at any time is the household wholly
at rest, for always there are people sitting up to play cards.
Sometimes, too, certain things are done of which it would be
shameful for me to speak. In particular, hardened though I am, it
astonishes me that men WITH FAMILIES should care to live in this
Sodom. For example, there is a family of poor folk who have
rented from the landlady a room which does not adjoin the other
rooms, but is set apart in a corner by itself. Yet what quiet
people they are! Not a sound is to be heard from them. The
father--he is called