N. a singer; speaks to nobody, his throat muffled up—he takes care of his voice, but no one has ever heard him sing.
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About absolutely everything: "What's the good of that? It's useless!"
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He wears felt boots summer and winter and gives this explanation: "It's better for the head, because the blood, owing to the heat, is drawn down into the feet, and the thoughts are clearer."
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A woman is jocularly called Fiodor Ivanovitch.
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A farce: N., in order to marry, greased the bald patch on his head with an ointment which he read of in an advertisement, and suddenly there began to grow on his head pig's bristles.
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