the fence, with the intention of climbing
over into his yard, when suddenly Ivan Nikiforovitch's voice was heard
crying: "Come back! it won't do!" But Ivan Ivanovitch found it very
tiresome. It is quite possible that these worthy men would have made
their peace next day if a certain occurrence in Ivan Nikiforovitch's
house had not destroyed all hopes and poured oil upon the fire of enmity
which was ready to die out.

*****

On the evening of that very day, Agafya Fedosyevna arrived at Ivan
Nikiforovitch's. Agafya Fedosyevna was not Ivan Nikiforovitch's
relative, nor his sister-in-law, nor even his fellow-godparent. There
seemed to be no reason why she should come to him, and he was not
particularly glad of her company; still, she came, and lived on him for
weeks at a time, and even longer. Then she took possession of the keys
and took the management of the whole house into her own hands. This was
extremely displeasing to Ivan Nikiforovitch; but he, to his amazement,
obeyed her like a child; and although he occasionally attempted to
dispute, yet Agafya Fedosyevna always got the better of him.

I must confess that I do not understand why things are so arranged, that
women should seize us by the nose as deftly as they do the handle of a
teapot. Either their hands are so constructed or else our noses are good
for nothing else. And notwithstanding the fact that Ivan Nikiforovitch's
nose somewhat resembled a plum, she grasped that nose and led him about
after her like a dog. He even, in her presence, involuntarily altered
his ordinary manner of life.

Agafya Fedosyevna wore a cap on her head, and a coffee-coloured cloak
with yellow flowers and had three warts on her nose. Her figure was like
a cask, and it would have been as hard to tell where to look for her
waist as for her to see her nose without a mirror. Her feet were small
and shaped like two cushions. She talked scandal, ate boiled beet-soup
in the morning, and swore extremely; and amidst all these various
occupations her countenance never for one instant changed its
expression, which phenomenon, as a rule, women alone are capable of
displaying.

As soon as she arrived, everything went wrong.

"Ivan Nikiforovitch, don't you make peace with him, nor ask his
forgiveness; he wants to ruin you; that's the kind of man he is! you
don't know him yet!" That cursed woman whispered and whispered, and
managed so that Ivan Nikiforovitch would not even hear Ivan Ivanovit