The Diary of a Superfluous Man and Other Stories | Page 6

cartload of yellow hay, and
one government hen struts to and fro. In short, existence in the town of
O---- is truly delightful. During the first days of my stay in this town, I
almost went out of my mind with boredom. I ought to say of myself
that, though I am, no doubt, a superfluous man, I am not so of my own
seeking; I'm morbid myself, but I can't bear anything morbid.... I'm not
even averse to happiness-- indeed, I've tried to approach it right and
left.... And so it is no wonder that I too can be bored like any other
mortal. I was staying in the town of O---- on official business.
Terentyevna has certainly sworn to make an end of me. Here's a
specimen of our conversation:--
TERENTYEVNA. Oh--oh, my good sir! what are you for ever writing

for? it's bad for you, keeping all on writing.
I. But I'm dull, Terentyevna.
SHE. Oh, you take a cup of tea now and lie down. By God's mercy
you'll get in a sweat and maybe doze a bit.
I. But I'm not sleepy.
SHE. Ah, sir! why do you talk so? Lord have mercy on you! Come, lie
down, lie down; it's better for you.
I. I shall die any way, Terentyevna!
SHE. Lord bless us and save us!... Well, do you want a little tea?
I. I shan't live through the week, Terentyevna!
SHE. Eh, eh! good sir, why do you talk so?... Well, I'll go and heat the
samovar.
Oh, decrepit, yellow, toothless creature! Am I really, even in your eyes,
not a man?
_March 24. Sharp frost_.
On the very day of my arrival in the town of O----, the official business,
above referred to, brought me into contact with a certain Kirilla
Matveitch Ozhogin, one of the chief functionaries of the district; but I
became intimate, or, as it is called, 'friends' with him a fortnight later.
His house was in the principal street, and was distinguished from all the
others by its size, its painted roof, and the lions on its gates, lions of
that species extraordinarily resembling unsuccessful dogs, whose
natural home is Moscow. From those lions alone, one might safely
conclude that Ozhogin was a man of property. And so it was; he was
the owner of four hundred peasants; he entertained in his house all the
best society of the town of O----, and had a reputation for hospitality.
At his door was seen the mayor with his wide chestnut-coloured
droshky and pair--an exceptionally bulky man, who seemed as though

cut out of material that had been laid by for a long time. The other
officials, too, used to drive to his receptions: the attorney, a yellowish,
spiteful creature; the land surveyor, a wit--of German extraction, with a
Tartar face; the inspector of means of communication--a soft soul, who
sang songs, but a scandalmonger; a former marshal of the district--a
gentleman with dyed hair, crumpled shirt front, and tight trousers, and
that lofty expression of face so characteristic of men who have stood on
trial. There used to come also two landowners, inseparable friends, both
no longer young and indeed a little the worse for wear, of whom the
younger was continually crushing the elder and putting him to silence
with one and the same reproach. 'Don't you talk, Sergei Sergeitch!
What have you to say? Why, you spell the word cork with two _k_'s in
it.... Yes, gentlemen,' he would go on, with all the fire of conviction,
turning to the bystanders, 'Sergei Sergeitch spells it not cork, but kork.'
And every one present would laugh, though probably not one of them
was conspicuous for special accuracy in orthography, while the
luckless Sergei Sergeitch held his tongue, and with a faint smile bowed
his head. But I am forgetting that my hours are numbered, and am
letting myself go into too minute descriptions. And so, without further
beating about the bush,--Ozhogin was married, he had a daughter,
Elizaveta Kirillovna, and I fell in love with this daughter.
Ozhogin himself was a commonplace person, neither good-looking nor
bad-looking; his wife resembled an aged chicken; but their daughter
had not taken after her parents. She was very pretty and of a bright and
gentle disposition. Her clear grey eyes looked out kindly and directly
from under childishly arched brows; she was almost always smiling,
and she laughed too, pretty often. Her fresh voice had a very pleasant
ring; she moved freely, rapidly, and blushed gaily. She did not dress
very stylishly, only plain dresses suited her. I did not make friends
quickly as a rule, and if I were at ease with any one from the
first--which, however, scarcely ever occurred--it said, I must own, a
great deal for my new