“Schoolmaster from the Pobiràkhinsky district, from the village of Bezzùbov. I humbly venture to trouble you with a request; can I not obtain some kind of situation?” “I don’t want a schoolmaster,” said the owner of the house. “I can take other situations. I have heard that you are looking for a clerk?” “Why did you leave your situation in Bezzùbov?” “The school was destroyed by fire.” “Long ago?” “On All Soul’s day. The cause is not known—the whole village was burnt down.” “Yes, one is constantly hearing of fires nowadays. A village close to us has been burnt down too.... Allow me to ask, though, how did you become a teacher?” “After completing my education I lived in my brother’s house in the village of Khmyèlnoye. I did not work, but he supported me. Then I took a situation as tutor in a country gentleman’s house at Ogoùrtzov, at a salary of two roubles a month. But I did not stop with him long, and while there I served chiefly as coachman....” “But why?” “Because my pupil did not like studying, and his parents let him have his own way, and employed me temporarily as coachman....” “That’s strange!” “I did the work properly! I had no choice....” “How much did you get for it?” “Nothing! only board and lodging, and a cast-off dressing-gown that the gentleman gave me. In that dressing-gown I went back to my brother, and he said: ‘What are you hanging about here for, doing nothing? can’t you set to and learn something, if it’s only singing—you might get to be choir-master in time.’ So I began to study singing, and then my brother got tired of hearing me. ‘Confound it all!’ he said, ‘I’m sick of this; go home to father.’ Well, then I went home. Of course my people abused me:—‘Always hanging about in the way! We’ve had enough of this!’ What would you have me do, sir, when I couldn’t get a situation anywhere? I thought one time of going into a monastery; but just then I got a letter from my brother, telling me to come to him. I went, and he said, ‘The prince’s steward wants to start a choir. You must engage yourself as choir-master.’ I asked him how did he suppose I was to do that when I don’t know how to sing myself? But all he would say was: ‘Don’t be afraid! you’ll learn in teaching your class.’ So I took the post. They gave me a tuning-fork——” “May I ask,” interrupted the gentleman, “whether you were attired in the dressing-gown?”... “No, in my mother’s cloak; the dressing-gown was worn out.... It was a short cloak, ... home-made....” “Well, and how did you get on?”