as it may, I considered his advice. That very day I drove off to the
town and put up at an inn, kept by an old man I knew, a Dissenter. He
was a worthy old fellow, though a little morose from living in
solitude, all his family were dead. But he disliked tobacco and had
the greatest loathing for dogs; I believe he would have been torn to
pieces rather than consent to let a dog into his room. 'For how can
one?' he would say, 'the Queen of Heaven herself is graciously pleased
to be on my wall there, and is an unclean dog to put his infidel nose
there?' Of course, it was lack of education! However, to my thinking,
whatever wisdom a man has he had better stick to that.'
'I see you are a great philosopher,' Anton Stepanitch interrupted a
second time with the same sarcastic smile.
This time Porfiry Kapitonitch actually frowned.
'How much I know of philosophy I cannot tell,' he observed, tugging
grimly at his moustache, 'but I would be glad to give you a lesson in
it.'
We all simply stared at Anton Stepanitch. Every one of us expected a
haughty reply, or at least a glance like a flash of lightning.... But
the civil councillor turned his contemptuous smile into one of
indifference, then yawned, swung his foot and--that was all!
'Well, I stayed at that old fellow's,' Porfiry Kapitonitch went on.
'He gave me a little room, not one of the best, as we were old
friends; his own was close by, the other side of the partition--and
that was just what I wanted. The tortures I faced that night! A little
room, a regular oven, stuffiness, flies, and such sticky ones; in the
corner an extraordinarily big shrine with ancient ikons, with dingy
setting in relief on them. It fairly reeked of oil and some other
stuff, too; there were two featherbeds on the beds. If you moved the
pillow a black beetle would run from under it.... I had drunk an
incredible quantity of tea, feeling so dreary--it was simply dreadful!
I got into bed; there was no possibility of sleeping--and, the other
side of the partition, my host was sighing, clearing his throat,
repeating his prayers. However, he subsided at last. I heard him begin
to snore, but only faintly, in the old-fashioned polite way. I had put
my candle out long ago, but the little lamp was burning before the
ikons.... That prevented it, I suppose. So I got up softly with bare
feet, climbed up to the lamp, and blew it out.... Nothing happened.
'Oho!' I thought, 'so it doesn't come off in other people's houses.'
'But I had no sooner got into bed than there was a commotion again. He
was scraping on the floor and scratching himself and shaking his
ears ... the usual thing, in fact. Very good! I lay still and waited to
see what would happen. I heard the old man wake up. 'Sir,' he said,
'hey, sir.' 'What is it?' 'Did you put out the lamp?' But without
waiting for my answer, he burst out all at once. 'What's that? What's
that, a dog? A dog! Ah, you vile heretic!' 'Wait a bit, old man, before
you scold,' I said. 'You had better come here yourself. Things are
happening,' I said, 'that may well make you wonder.' The old man
stirred behind the partition and came in to me, with a candle, a very,
very thin one, made of yellow wax; I was surprised when I looked at
him! He looked bristling all over, with hairy ears and eyes as fierce
as a weasel's; he had on a white woollen night cap, a beard to his
waist, white; too, and a waistcoat with copper buttons on it over his
shirt and fur boots on his feet and he smelt of juniper. In this
