The general did not sleep a wink, but walked, groaning, up and down his room. At three o’clock in the morning he went out into the yard and tapped at the steward’s window.
“It isn’t Gelder, is it?” he asked almost in tears.
“No, not Gelder, your Excellency,” answered Ivan, sighing apologetically.
“Perhaps it isn’t a horsey name at all? Perhaps it is something entirely different?”
“No, no, upon my word, it’s a horsey name, your Excellency, I remember that perfectly.”
“What an abominable memory you have, brother! That name is worth more than anything on earth to me now! I’m in agony!”
Next morning the general sent for the dentist again.
“I’ll have it out!” he cried. “I can’t stand this any longer!”
The dentist came and pulled out the aching tooth. The pain at once subsided, and the general grew quieter. Having done his work and received his fee, the dentist climbed into his gig, and drove away. In the field outside the front gate he met Ivan. The steward was standing by the roadside plunged in thought, with his eyes fixed on the ground at his feet. Judging from the deep wrinkles that furrowed his brow, he was painfully racking his brains over something, and was muttering to himself:
“Dunn—Sadler—Buckle—Coachman——”