§10
Just as I got out of the Government of Vyatka, I came in contact for the last time with the officials, and this final appearance was quite in their best manner.
We stopped at a post-house, and the driver began to unharness the horses. A tall peasant appeared at the door and asked who I was.
“What business is that of yours?”
“I am the inspector’s messenger, and he told me to ask.”
“Very well: go to the office and you will find my passport there.”
The peasant disappeared but returned in a moment and told the driver that he could not have fresh horses.
This was too much. I jumped out of the sledge and entered the house. The inspector was sitting on a bench and dictating to a clerk; both were half-seas over. On another bench in a corner a man was sitting, or rather lying, with fetters on his feet and hands. There were several bottles in the room, glasses, and a litter of papers and tobacco ash on the table.
“Where is the inspector?” I called out loudly, as I went in.
“I am the inspector,” was the reply. I had seen the man before in Vyatka; his name was Lazarev. While speaking he stared very rudely at me—and then rushed towards me with open arms.