"Aa! hei! May the--" Then he looked at himself in the glass hanging there at the window, and arranged his hair. At last the mayor broke the silence. "Pan Zolzik," said he, with a Mazovian accent, "write that _rapurt_; it is somehow awkward for me. Besides, you are the writer [secretary]." But Pan Zolzik was in bad humor, and whenever he was in bad humor the mayor had to do everything himself. "Well, what if I am the secretary?" replied he, with contempt. "The secretary is here for the purpose of writing to the chief and the commissioner; but to such a mayor as you are, write yourself." Then he added with majestic contempt, "But what is a mayor to me? What? A peasant, and that is the end of it! Do what you like with a peasant, he will always be a peasant!" Then he arranged his hair, and looked again in the glass. The mayor felt touched, and answered,-- "But see here! Haven't I drunk tea with the marshal?" "A great deal I care about your tea!" said Zolzik, carelessly. "And besides without arrack, I suppose?" "That is not true! for it was with arrack." "Well, let it be with arrack; but still I will not write the report!" "If the gentleman is of such delicate make-up, why did he ask to be secretary?" answered the mayor, in anger. "But who asked you? I am secretary only through acquaintance with the chief--" "Oh, great acquaintance, when he comes here you won't let a breath out of your lips!" "Burak! Burak! I give warning that you are letting your tongue out too much. Your peasant bones are sticking in my throat, together with your office of secretary. A man of education can only grow common among you. If I get angry, I will throw the secretaryship, and you, to the devil--" "Will you! And what will become of you, then?" "What? Shall I go to gnawing the rafters without this office? A man with education will take care of himself. Have no fear about a man with education! Only yesterday Stolbitski, the inspector, said to me, 'Ei, Zolzik! thou wouldst be a devil, not a sub-inspector, for thou knowest how grass grows.' Talk to the fool! For me your secretaryship is a thing to be spat upon. A man with education--" "Oh, but the world will not come to an end if you leave us!" "The world will not come to an end, but you will dip a dishcloth in a tar bucket, and write in the books with it. It will be pleasant for you till you feel the stick through your velvet." The mayor began to scratch his head. "If anything is said you are on your hind-legs right away." "Well, don't open your lips too much--" "There it is, there it is!" Again there was silence, except that the mayor's pen was squeaking slowly on paper. At last the mayor straightened himself, wiped his pen on his coat, and said,-- "Well, now! I have done it, with the help of God." "Read what you have tacked together." "What had I to tack? I have written out accurately everything that is needed." "Read it over, I say." The mayor took the paper in both hands and began to read:--