I was so disgusted by the whole scene that I went out again into the yard. The inspector ran out after me, with a bottle of rum in one hand and a glass in the other, and pressed me to have a drink.
In order to get rid of him, I accepted. He caught me by the arm and said: “I am to blame, I admit; but I hope you will not mention the facts to His Excellency and so ruin an honest man.” As he spoke, he caught hold of my hand and actually kissed it, repeating a dozen times over, “In God’s name, don’t ruin an honest man!” I pulled away my hand in disgust and said:
“You needn’t be afraid; what need have I to tell tales?”
“But can’t I do you some service?”
“Yes; you can make them harness the horses quicker.”
“Look alive there!” he shouted out, and soon began tugging at the straps himself.
§11
I never forgot this incident. Nine years later I was in Petersburg for the last time; I had to visit the Home Office to arrange about a passport. While I was talking to the secretary in charge, a gentleman walked through the room, distributing friendly handshakes to the magnates of the office and condescending bows to the lesser lights. “Hang it! it can’t surely be him!” I thought. “Who is that?” I asked.
“His name is Lazarev; he is specially employed by the Minister and is a great man here.”
“Did he serve once as inspector in the Government of Vyatka?”