"Yes, rather," answered Tchichikoff, when he had arrived at the landing leading towards his room. "Well, and how are you?"
"Thank heavens and your glory for your kindness!" replied the head-waiter, bowing lowly in acknowledgment of the condescension. "A cornet in the Lancers arrived last night, and has taken number sixteen, the apartment next to that of your glory's."
"Who? a cornet! of what regiment?"
"I really cannot inform your glory to what regiment he belongs, but he comes from Rizan, has a splendid carriage and three beautiful horses."
"Very well, that will do; go and behave yourself well in future," said Tchichikoff. But as he crossed the ante-room, he quickly turned up his nose, and said to Petruschka, whilst hurrying along, "You ought at least to have opened the windows, you careless fellow!"
"I have had them opened, your glory," replied Petruschka; but in saying this, he told a falsehood, and though his master knew well enough that he was trying to impose upon him, he did not condescend to waste another word about it. After the fatigues of his journey and adventures, he felt exceedingly tired, and was anxious to retire. He ordered a very light supper to be brought up, which consisted of a few thin slices of tender sucking-pig, which he ate rather hastily, and then undressing himself quickly, he went to bed immediately, and tucked himself well up in his blankets, and was soon fast and sound asleep. He began to snore most wonderfully, and slept as soundly as only those happy mortals sleep who do not suffer from the attacks of gout or flies, nor from any superabundance of mental faculties.
[CHAPTER VI.]
Tchichikoff was just awaking, and stretching out his hands and legs like a man preparing for gymnastics, he also began to be aware that he had slept uncommonly well. After lying for about two minutes longer thus outstretched upon his back, he suddenly smacked his fingers in the air, for he at once distinctly remembered, and with a face radiant with satisfaction, that he now possessed nearly four hundred serfs, a stock worth about half a million of silver roubles.
After these satisfactory reflections, he jumped gaily out of bed, and did not even think of looking at his face, for which he had a particular affection, and in which, as it seemed, he thought his chin was the most attractive feature, because he had the habit of passing his hand frequently over it when in the presence of any intimate friend; he did this particularly when he had been shaving in the morning.