In the first-floor rooms, facing the street, where visitors were received, everything was affected and severe. The red wood furniture was like immensely magnified toy models; it was quite awkward for ordinary people to sit in--when you sat down you felt as if you had dropped on a stone, but the heavy host seemed to sit down quite comfortably. The Archimandrite of the suburban monastery, who often visited the Mayor, called these "soul-saving chairs," to which the Mayor would answer: "Yes, I don't like those womanish luxuries that you see in other houses. You sit down on springs and you shake--you shake yourself and the furniture shakes--what's the use of that? And in any case the doctors also don't approve of soft furniture." The Mayor, Yakov Anikyevitch Skouchayev, met Peredonov on the threshold of his drawing-room. He was a tall, robust man with closely cropped dark hair; he comported himself with dignity and courtesy, though not altogether free from contemptuousness towards people of small means. Peredonov sat down heavily in a broad chair and said in answer to his host's first polite questions: "I've come on business." "With pleasure. What can I do for you?" said the Mayor politely. In his cunning little black eyes suddenly glimmered a spark of contempt. He thought that Peredonov had come to borrow money, and decided that he could not let him have more than a hundred and fifty roubles. There were quite a number of officials in town who owed Skouchayev more or less significant sums. Skouchayev never referred to the loan, but he never extended further credit to the delinquent debtors. He always gave willingly the first time according to the standing and condition of the borrower. "You, as Mayor, Yakov Anikyevitch, are the first personage in the town," said Peredonov. "That's why I came to have a talk with you." Skouchayev assumed an important air and inclined his head slightly as he sat in the chair. "All sorts of scandal are being spread about me," said Peredonov morosely. "They invent things that never happened." "You can't gag other people's mouths," said the Mayor. "And, in any case, in our little Palestines it's well known that gossips have nothing to do except to wag their tongues." "They say I don't go to church, but that's not true," continued Peredonov. "I do go; it's true I didn't go on St. Elias' day, but that was because I had a stomach ache. Otherwise I always go." "That's quite true," the host confirmed, "I happened to see you there myself, though I don't often go to your church, I usually go to the monastery. It's been a custom of our family for a long time." "All sorts of scandal are being spread about me," said Peredonov. "They say that I tell the schoolboys nasty tales, but that's nonsense. Of course, I sometimes tell them something amusing at a lesson, to make it interesting. You yourself have a boy at school. Now, he hasn't told you anything of the sort about me, has he?"