“I do,”—returned “my dear sir,” whose real name was Porfíry Kapítonitch.
“Incompatible with the laws of nature?”—energetically repeated Antón Stepánitch, who evidently liked that phrase.
“Precisely ... yes; precisely the sort of thing you allude to.”
“This is astonishing! What think you, gentlemen?”—Antón Stepánitch endeavoured to impart to his features an ironical expression, but without result—or, to speak more accurately, the only result was to produce the effect that Mr. State Councillor smelt a bad odour.—“Will not you be so kind, my dear sir,”—he went on, addressing the landed proprietor from Kalúga,—“as to communicate to us the particulars of such a curious event?”
“Why not? Certainly!”—replied the landed proprietor, and moving forward to the middle of the room in an easy manner he spoke as follows:
I have, gentlemen, as you are probably aware,—or as you may not be aware,—a small estate in Kozyól County. I formerly derived some profit from it—but now, of course, nothing but unpleasantness is to be anticipated. However, let us put politics aside! Well, sir, on that same estate I have a “wee little” manor: a vegetable garden, as is proper, a tiny pond with little carp, and some sort of buildings—well, and a small wing for my own sinful body.... I am a bachelor. So, sir, one day—about six years ago—I had returned home rather late; I had been playing cards at a neighbour’s house—but I beg you to observe, I was not tipsy, as the expression goes. I undressed, got into bed, and blew out the light. And just imagine, gentlemen; no sooner had I blown out the light, than something began to rummage under my bed! Is it a rat? I thought. No, it was not a rat: it clawed and fidgeted and scratched itself.... At last it began to flap its ears!
It was a dog—that was clear. But where had the dog come from? I keep none myself. “Can some stray animal have run in?” I thought. I called to my servant; his name is Fílka. The man entered with a candle.
“What’s this,”—says I,—“my good Fílka? How lax thou art! A dog has intruded himself under my bed.”
“What dog?”—says he.
“How should I know?”—says I;—“that’s thy affair—not to allow thy master to be disturbed.”