One of them, moved by pity, resolved to help Akaky Akakiyevich with some good advice, at least, and told him that he ought not to go to the police, for although it might happen that a police-officer, wishing to win the approval of his superiors, might hunt up the cloak by some means, still, his cloak would remain in the possession of the police if he did not offer legal proof that it belonged to him.  The best thing for him, therefore, would be to apply to a certain prominent personage; since this prominent personage, by entering into relation with the proper persons, could greatly expedite the matter.

As there was nothing else to be done, Akaky Akakiyevich decided to go to the prominent personage.  What was the exact official position of the prominent personage, remains unknown to this day.  The reader must know that the prominent personage had but recently become a prominent personage, having up to that time been only an insignificant person.  Moreover, his present position was not considered prominent in comparison with others still more so.  But there is always a circle of people to whom what is insignificant in the eyes of others, is important enough.  Moreover, he strove to increase his importance by sundry devices.  For instance, he managed to have the inferior officials meet him on the staircase when he entered upon his service; no one was to presume to come directly to him, but the strictest etiquette must be observed; the collegiate recorder must make a report to the government secretary, the government secretary to the titular councillor, or whatever other man was proper, and all business must come before him in this manner.  In Holy Russia, all is thus contaminated with the love of imitation; every man imitates and copies his superior.  They even say that a certain titular councillor, when promoted to the head of some small separate office, immediately partitioned off a private room for himself, called it the audience chamber, and posted at the door a lackey with red collar and braid, who grasped the handle of the door, and opened to all comers, though the audience chamber would hardly hold an ordinary writing table.

The manners and customs of the prominent personage were grand and imposing, but rather exaggerated.  The main foundation of his system was strictness.  “Strictness, strictness, and always strictness!” he generally said; and at the last word he looked significantly into the face of the person to whom he spoke.  But there was no necessity for this, for the halfscore of subordinates, who formed the entire force of the office, were properly afraid.  On catching sight of him afar off, they left their work, and waited, drawn up in line, until he had passed through the room.  His ordinary converse with his inferiors smacked of sternness, and consisted chiefly of three phrases:  “How dare you?” “Do you know whom you are speaking to?” “Do you realise who is standing before you?”