On driving up to the entrance-hall, Tchichikoff beheld two faces at once, looking out through the window: the one was a feminine face, narrow and long, like a cucumber; the other was the round face of a man, broad like a Moldavian pumpkin, out of which our Russian peasants are accustomed to make their light and two-stringed balalaikas, the charming instrument with which, some handsome cock of the village will on a fine summer\'s evening gather young and old around him, and sing and whistle some merry ditty to the white-bosomed maiden of his heart, who delights in the slow and melancholy strains of his music.

The two faces which had just presented themselves at the window disappeared again suddenly. A servant, dressed in a grey jacket with a blue upstanding collar, came out upon the landing and led Tchichikoff into a reception-room, in which soon after the host himself made his appearance. Perceiving and recognizing who his guest was, the host exclaimed abruptly: "Pray, enter!" and he led him into the interior of his house.

As Tchichikoff cast a side glance upon Sobakevitch, the man seemed to him very much like a bear of the middle size. To complete this resemblance, he wore a coat perfectly of the colour of a bear\'s skin, with large sleeves, and a pair of large inexpressibles. His walk was by starts, sideways and bent together, and he was in the continual habit of treading upon other people\'s feet. His complexion was of a glowing, hot colour, like that of a new penny.

Tchichikoff glanced once more and stealthily at him as they were passing the dining-room; "A bear, a complete bear!" he thought to himself. It was impossible to conceive a more striking resemblance. Knowing that he had the habit of trampling upon other persons\' feet, our hero was very careful how he placed his, and allowed him to walk before him. The host seemed to feel the sin of his awkwardness and immediately turned round and said, "Have I, by any chance, hurt you?" But Tchichikoff thanked him, and said, "That as yet he had not felt any inconvenience."

On entering the reception-room, Sobakevitch pointed to an arm-chair, saying again, abruptly, "Pray be seated!" In sitting down Tchichikoff looked at the walls and the pictures that were hanging on them. The pictures all represented finely grown men, apparently the leaders of the last struggle for Hellenic independence; they were full-sized engravings; Mavrocordato in a pair of red breeches and military dress, with a pair of spectacles upon his nose; Miaouli and Kanaris.

All these heroes were represented with such enormous ties-and extraordinary moustachios, that the sight of them made Tchichikoff shudder. Among the heroic Hellenes there was also the portrait of the Russian General Bagration, memorable for his services in the year 1812, a meagre, careworn old man; heaven knows why he had been placed among these dashing heroes. Next came the portrait of the Grecian heroine, Bobelina, whose foot seemed to be larger than the whole trunk of any of the fashionables of our present drawing-rooms.

The host being a healthy and strong-built man himself, seemed to like that his rooms should also be adorned with the portraits of strong and healthy persons. Close to the Grecian heroine, Bobelina, and quite close to the window, hung a cage, from which a well-fed blackbird was peeping out, which was also very much like Sobakevitch.

The guest and host had not been silent for two minutes, when the door suddenly opened and the lady hostess made her appearance, a lady of a very high figure, in a cap profusely ornamented with ribbons, which seemed to have been dyed at home. She entered the room very ceremoniously, holding her head as straight as a palm-tree.

"This is my beloved Pheodulia Ivanovna!" said Sobakevitch.

Tchichikoff respectfully approached Pheodulia Ivanovna, and according to Russian fashion, kissed her hand, which she nearly pushed between his lips, at the same time he had an opportunity to observe, or rather smell, that her hands had been washed in salt cucumber water.

"My darling, allow me to introduce you to Pavel Ivanovitch Tchichikoff!" continued Sobakevitch, "I had the honour of making his acquaintance at our Lord-Lieutenant\'s, and at the Postmaster-general\'s."

Pheodulia Ivanovna asked Tchichikoff to sit down, saying also very abruptly, "I beg you will be seated!" and making a peculiar movement with her head, not unlike that of an actress playing a tragedy queen. After having done this, she seated herself upon the sofa, covered herself with a merino shawl, and did not again move either her eyes or her lips.

Tchichikoff lifted up his eyes again and beheld once more the Grecian hero, Kanaris, with his enormous ties and interminable moustachios, as well as the heroine, Bobelina, and the blackbird in its cage.

For more than five minutes all three remained silent; the only sign of animation proceeded from the blackbird, who was pecking the wood of his cage with his beak, and gathering the bread crumbs on the bottom of it. Tchichikoff glanced once more around the room, and all, whatever his eyes beheld—all was solid, clumsy, and tasteless in the highest degree, and had a particular and strange resemblance to the host himself; in one of the comers of the room, there stood a large paunch-bellied nutwood bureau, upon four shapeless legs, a perfect bear. The table, the arm-chairs, the common chairs, all were of the most heavy and uncomfortable description, in a word, every article which constituted the furniture of this room seemed to speak; and I am also Sobakevitch!

"We have been thinking of you at the house of the President of the Courts of Justice, Ivan Gregorievitch," at last said Tchichikoff, perceiving that no one seemed inclined to break the silence and begin to speak, "we thought of you on Thursday last. I spent a very pleasant evening there."

"True, I was not at the President\'s on that evening," answered Sobakevitch.

"He is an excellent and worthy man!" exclaimed Tchichikoff.

"Whom do you mean?" said Sobakevitch, looking at the corner of his store.

"The President of the Courts of Justice, to be sure."

"Well, he might have seemed so to you; he is a freemason, and such a fool, that the world cannot produce his equal."

Tchichikoff was rather startled when he heard this cutting qualification of a person he knew, but recovering immediately from his surprise, he continued: "To be sure, every man has his foibles, but I cannot help expressing my admiration for the Governor-General."

"The Lord-Lieutenant, a man worthy of admiration?"

"Yes, and I hope you will agree with me in that opinion?"

"He is the greatest scoundrel on the face of the earth."

"What did you say? the Governor-General the greatest scoundrel?" exclaimed Tchichikoff, perfectly incapable of comprehending how the Lord-Lieutenant of the government of Smolensk could possibly have entered the ranks of scoundrels.

"I must confess, I should never have believed that," he continued. "However, allow me to observe, his actions do not at all seem such, on the contrary, I should rather say that I believe him a man who possesses many pleasant weaknesses." Here he also alluded to the knitting and embroidery talents of his Excellency the Lord-Lieutenant of the province, as an authority for his opinion of him, and expressed himself in the highest terms of the winning expression of the Governor-General\'s countenance.

"And his face even, is that of a scoundrel!" said Sobakevitch. "Only place a knife in his hands, and let him free upon the high road, he will cut your throat, he will murder you even for a copek! He and the Vice-Governor, also, are of the same cast, they both are Gog and Magog."

"No, I cannot be mistaken, he is not on good terms with them," thought Tchichikoff to himself. "And I think I shall do better to speak to him about the Chief of the Police force, he seems to be his friend."

"However, as far as I am personally concerned," he said, "I must confess that I like the............