This question reminded our hero that really there was no reason or inducement for him to stay any longer with the old miser.
"Yes, it is high time for me to depart," said he, whilst taking up his hat.
"Won't you really stay and take a cup of tea?"
"No, thank you; I think we had better leave it till the next time I have the pleasure of seeing you."
"Why, I have given orders for the tea-urn to be heated. For my own part, I must confess, I am not at all partial to tea-drinking, like the rest of our countrymen; the beverage is very dear, and besides, sugar has risen to a most unmerciful price. Froschka! I don't want the samovar; take the cake back again to Mavra, mind you understand me rightly; tell her to put it on the same shelf where she took it from; but no, stop—leave it on the table; I think I shall take it back again myself."
"Farewell, then, my dear Sir, the Almighty bless and keep you. As for the letter to the President, do not forget to give it him immediately on your return to Smolensk, as well as my kindest regards. Yes, let my dear old friend read it; I know he will be pleased to hear from me. How should he not recollect me? we used to live together, like two wheels of the same carriage."
After this, that ancient apparition, the worn-out old miser, led his guest the same road back on which he had entered his house, and saw him into the court-yard, and safe into his carriage, but as soon as the britchka had passed the gates, he ordered them to be closed immediately; he then made a turn of inspection around his extensive premises, with the view of convincing himself that the watchmen were all on their guard, for he had posted sentinels at every available corner; these poor fellows kept thumping with a large wooden spoon against the bottom of small empty casks, instead of upon iron plates.
Being satisfied that every one was doing his duty, he entered the kitchen, under the pretence that he came there to convince himself that the food of his servants was good and eatable, and thus tasting of everything, he stuffed himself with cabbage and porridge to his heart's content; he then scolded them all, down to the scullery-maid, reproached them with bad conduct, and, after having done this, he quietly returned to his own room.
When he found himself alone, he began to think how he could manage to mark his sense of gratitude to his amiable guest for an act of such unheard-of generosity.
"I think I shall present him," thought he to himself, "with my watch. It is a good one, a silver lever one, not one of those common Geneva or pinchbeck watches. I remember it is rather a little out of repair; but what does that matter? he can get it repaired himself. He seems a young man yet, and of course he wants a watch—it will help to please his sweetheart.