reached out his hand to
the window-sill for his snuff-box, adorned with the portrait of some
general, though what general is unknown, for the place where the face
should have been had been rubbed through by the finger, and a square
bit of paper had been pasted over it. Having taken a pinch of snuff,
Petrovitch held up the cloak, and inspected it against the light,
and again shook his head once more. After which he again lifted the
general-adorned lid with its bit of pasted paper, and having stuffed his
nose with snuff, closed and put away the snuff-box, and said finally,
"No, it is impossible to mend it; it's a wretched garment!"

Akakiy Akakievitch's heart sank at these words.

"Why is it impossible, Petrovitch?" he said, almost in the pleading
voice of a child; "all that ails it is, that it is worn on the
shoulders. You must have some pieces--"

"Yes, patches could be found, patches are easily found," said
Petrovitch, "but there's nothing to sew them to. The thing is completely
rotten; if you put a needle to it--see, it will give way."

"Let it give way, and you can put on another patch at once."

"But there is nothing to put the patches on to; there's no use in
strengthening it; it is too far gone. It's lucky that it's cloth; for,
if the wind were to blow, it would fly away."

"Well, strengthen it again. How will this, in fact--"

"No," said Petrovitch decisively, "there is nothing to be done with it.
It's a thoroughly bad job. You'd better, when the cold winter weather
comes on, make yourself some gaiters out of it, because stockings
are not warm. The Germans invented them in order to make more money."
Petrovitch loved, on all occasions, to have a fling at the Germans. "But
it is plain you must have a new cloak."

At the word "new," all grew dark before Akakiy Akakievitch's eyes,
and everything in the room began to whirl round. The only thing he saw
clearly was the general with the paper face on the lid of Petrovitch's
snuff-box. "A new one?" said he, as if still in a dream: "why, I have no
money for that."

"Yes, a new one," said Petrovitch, with barbarous composure.

"Well, if it came to a new one, how would it--?"

"You mean how much would it cost?"

"Yes."

"Well, you would have to lay out a hundred and fifty or more," said
Petrovitch, and pursed up his lips significantly. He liked to produce
powerful effects, liked to stun utterly and suddenly, and then to glance
sideways to see what face the st