it his
calves. Unfortunately, he had donned this particular pair of trousers;
and he had hardly given himself up to meditation before a fearful
barking on all sides saluted his ears. Anton Prokofievitch raised such
a yell, no one could scream louder than he, that not only did the
well-known woman and the occupant of the endless coat rush out to meet
him, but even the small boys from Ivan Ivanovitch's yard. But although
the dogs succeeded in tasting only one of his calves, this sensibility
diminished his courage, and he entered the porch with a certain amount
of timidity.

CHAPTER VII

HOW A RECONCILIATION WAS SOUGHT TO BE EFFECTED AND A LAW SUIT ENSUED

"Ah! how do you do? Why do you irritate the dogs?" said Ivan
Nikiforovitch, on perceiving Anton Prokofievitch; for no one spoke
otherwise than jestingly with Anton Prokofievitch.

"Hang them! who's been irritating them?" retorted Anton Prokofievitch.

"You have!"

"By Heavens, no! You are invited to dinner by Peter Feodorovitch."

"Hm!"

"He invited you in a more pressing manner than I can tell you. 'Why,'
says he, 'does Ivan Nikiforovitch shun me like an enemy? He never comes
round to have a chat, or make a call.'"

Ivan Nikiforovitch stroked his beard.

"'If,' says he, 'Ivan Nikiforovitch does not come now, I shall not know
what to think: surely, he must have some design against me. Pray, Anton
Prokofievitch, persuade Ivan Nikiforovitch!' Come, Ivan Nikiforovitch,
let us go! a very choice company is already met there."

Ivan Nikiforovitch began to look at a cock, which was perched on the
roof, crowing with all its might.

"If you only knew, Ivan Nikiforovitch," pursued the zealous ambassador,
"what fresh sturgeon and caviare Peter Feodorovitch has had sent to
him!" Whereupon Ivan Nikiforovitch turned his head and began to listen
attentively. This encouraged the messenger. "Come quickly: Thoma
Grigorovitch is there too. Why don't you come?" he added, seeing that
Ivan Nikiforovitch still lay in the same position. "Shall we go, or
not?"

"I won't!"

This "I won't" startled Anton Prokofievitch. He had fancied that his
alluring representations had quite moved this very worthy man; but
instead, he heard that decisive "I won't."

"Why won't you?" he asked, with a vexation which he very rarely
exhibited, even when they put burning paper on his head, a trick which
the judge and the chief of police were particularly fond of indulging
in.

Ivan Nikiforo