* * * * *

Perkaturin.

* * * * *

Every day he forces himself to vomit—­for the sake of his health, on the advice of a friend.

* * * * *

A Government official began to live an original life; a very tall chimney on his house, green trousers, blue waistcoat, a dyed dog, dinner at midnight; after a week he gave it up.

* * * * *

Success has already given that man a lick with its tongue.

* * * * *

In the bill presented by the hotel-keeper:  was among other things:  “Bugs—­fifteen kopecks.”  Explanation.

* * * * *

“N. has fallen into poverty.”—­“What?  I can’t hear.”—­“I say N. has fallen into poverty.”—­“What exactly do you say?  I can’t make out.  What N.?”—­“The N. who married Z.”—­“Well, what of it?”—­“I say we ought to help him.”—­“Eh?  What him?  Why help?  What do you mean?”—­and so on.

* * * * *

How pleasant to sit at home, when the rain is drumming on the roof, and to feel that there are no heavy dull guests coming to one’s house.

* * * * *

N. always even after five glasses of wine, takes valerian drops.

* * * * *

He lives with a parlormaid who respectfully calls him Your Honor.

* * * * *

I rented a country house for the summer; the owner, a very fat old lady, lived in the lodge, I in the great house; her husband was dead and so were all her children, she was left alone, very fat, the estate sold for debt, her furniture old and in good taste; all day long she reads letters which her husband and son had written to her.  Yet she is an optimist.  When some one fell ill in my house, she smiled and said again and again:  “My dear, God will help.”

* * * * *

N. and Z. are school friends, each seventeen or eighteen years old; and suddenly N. learns that Z. is with child by N.’s father.

* * * * *

The priezt came ... zaint ... praize to thee, O Lord.

* * * * *

What empty words these discussions about the rights of women!  If a dog writes a work of talent, they will even accept the dog.

* * * * *

Haemorrhage:  “It’s an abscess that’s just burst inside you ... it’s all right, have some more vodka.”

* * * * *

The intelligentsia are good for nothing, because they drink a lot of tea, talk a lot in stuffy rooms, with empty bottles.

* * * * *

When she was young, she ran away with a doctor, a Jew, and had a daughter by him; now she hates her past, hates the red-haired daughter, and the father still loves her as well as the daughter, and walks under her window, chubby and handsome.