“Devil a bit of it!  Not much to be greedy over—­two roubles is all he gives me; a necktie as an extra....  It’s poverty, not greediness.  And it would be jolly, now, you know, to be going with a party to the service, and then to break the fast....  To drink and to have a bit of supper and tumble off to sleep....  One sits down to the table, there’s an Easter cake and the samovar hissing, and some charming little thing beside you....  You drink a glass and chuck her under the chin, and it’s first-rate....  You feel you’re somebody....  Ech h-h!...  I’ve made a mess of things!  Look at that hussy driving by in her carriage, while I have to sit here and brood.”

“We each have our lot in life, Ivan Danilitch.  Please God, you’ll be promoted and drive about in your carriage one day.”

“I?  No, brother, not likely.  I shan’t get beyond a ‘titular,’ not if I try till I burst.  I’m not an educated man.”

“Our General has no education either, but...”

“Well, but the General stole a hundred thousand before he got his position.  And he’s got very different manners and deportment from me, brother.  With my manners and deportment one can’t get far!  And such a scoundrelly surname, Nevyrazimov!  It’s a hopeless position, in fact.  One may go on as one is, or one may hang oneself...”

He moved away from the window and walked wearily about the rooms.  The din of the bells grew louder and louder....  There was no need to stand by the window to hear it.  And the better he could hear the bells and the louder the roar of the carriages, the darker seemed the muddy walls and the smutty cornice and the more the lamp smoked.

“Shall I hook it and leave the office?” thought Nevyrazimov.

But such a flight promised nothing worth having....  After coming out of the office and wandering about the town, Nevyrazimov would have gone home to his lodging, and in his lodging it was even grayer and more depressing than in the office....  Even supposing he were to spend that day pleasantly and with comfort, what had he beyond?  Nothing but the same gray walls, the same stop-gap duty and complimentary letters....

Nevyrazimov stood still in the middle of the office and sank into thought.  The yearning for a new, better life gnawed at his heart with an intolerable ache.  He had a passionate longing to find himself suddenly in the street, to mingle with the living crowd, to take part in the solemn festivity for the sake of which all those bells were clashing and those carriages were rumbling.  He longed for what he had known in childhood—­the family circle, the festive faces of his own people, the white cloth, light, warmth...!  He thought of the carriage in which the lady had just driven by, the overcoat in which the head clerk was so smart, the gold chain that adorned the secretary’s chest....  He thought of a warm bed, of the Stanislav order, of new boots, of a uniform without holes in the elbows....  He thought of all those things because he had none of them.