The hereditary honorable citizen Oziaboushkin always tries to make out that his ancestors had the right to the title of Count.

* * * * *

“He is a perfect dab at it.”  “O, O, don’t use that expression; my mother is very particular.”

* * * * *

I have just married my third husband ... the name of the first was Ivan Makarivitch ... of the second Peter ...  Peter ...  I have forgotten.

* * * * *

The writer Gvozdikov thinks that he is very famous, that every one knows him.  He arrives at S., meets an officer who shakes his hand for a long time, looking with rapture into his face.  G. is glad, he too shakes hands warmly....  At last the officer:  “And how is your orchestra?  Aren’t you the conductor?”

* * * * *

Morning; M.’s mustaches are in curl papers.

* * * * *

And it seemed to him that he was highly respected and valued everywhere, anywhere, even in railway buffets, and so he always ate with a smile on his face.

* * * * *

The birds sing, and already it begins to seem to him that they do not sing, but whine.

* * * * *

N., father of a family, listens to his son reading aloud J.J.  Rousseau to the family, and thinks:  “Well, at any rate, J.J.  Rousseau had no gold medal on his breast, but I have one.”

* * * * *

N. has a spree with his step-son, an undergraduate, and they go to a brothel.  In the morning the undergraduate is going away, his leave is up; N. sees him off.  The undergraduate reads him a sermon on their bad behavior; they quarrel.  N:  “As your father, I curse you.”—­“And I curse you.”

* * * * *

A doctor is called in, but a nurse sent for.

* * * * *

N.N.V. never agrees with anyone:  “Yes, the ceiling is white, that can be admitted; but white, as far as is known, consists of the seven colors of the spectrum, and it is quite possible that in this case one of the colors is darker or brighter than is necessary for the production of pure white; I had rather think a bit before saying that the ceiling is white.”

* * * * *

He holds himself exactly as though he were an icon.

* * * * *

“Are you in love?”—­“There’s a little bit of that in it.”

* * * * *

Whatever happens, he says:  “It is the priests.”

* * * * *

Firzikov.

* * * * *

N. dreams that he is returning from abroad, and that at Verzhbolovo, in spite of his protests, they make him pay duty on his wife.