It was the birthday of Petroff, the bootmaker, and he had been celebrating it in the customary manner. That is to say, he had consumed so much of his favourite beverage, vodka, that he had now become hopelessly and helplessly intoxicated. In fact, so drunk was Petroff that the proprietor of the St. Petersburg inn where he had been soaking steadily all the afternoon had just turned him out into the street on the sufficient grounds that he could neither drink nor purchase any more liquor.
As poor Petroff staggered from the inhospitable doors of the inn, accompanied by the jeers of the remaining patrons, he fell into the arms of a couple of stalwart policemen.
"Lemme go," he protested, as the detaining hands tightened on his wrists. "I tell you I'm not—hic—drunk! I'm all ri'—shober as a judge, in fact. I want to go home."
The policemen laughed callously.
"You're going to the station with us," remarked the senior, with a grin at his comrade. "A night in the cells will cool your head, old man. Now, then, come along. Go quietly, or it will be the worse for you."
Petroff's legs swayed, and he would have fallen had not his escort, who were accustomed to dealing with such cases, held him tightly in their grasp.
The spectacle of the tipsy old man being led through the streets in custody promptly attracted a crowd, who followed the little procession at a respectful distance. Petroff turned his bleary eyes upon them, in the vain hope that they might light upon someone who would soften the hearts of his captors. Then another thought struck him with a chill feeling of dismay. If—as seemed certain to be his fate—he were locked up all night his wife would demand an explanation the next time he saw her. Mme. Petroff was a bit of a virago, and the drunken old reprobate had a wholesome terror of what might be in store for him if she got wind of his misbehaviour.
"Lemme go home," he whimpered. "I've a mosh important engagement—hic! My wife is waiting for me. It's all ri', I tell you."
The crowd laughed uproariously, as though they had just heard an excellent joke, while the policemen gave their prisoner a push forward.
Petroff wept bitterly. He was just going to burst into an angry denunciation upon their conduct, when his attention was attracted by a couple of officers in military uniform, who strode up to him with outstretched hands.