ussians may be surpassed by foreigners, at least
we surpass them in adroitness of manner. In fact the various shades and
subtleties of our social intercourse defy enumeration. A Frenchman or
a German would be incapable of envisaging and understanding all its
peculiarities and differences, for his tone in speaking to a millionaire
differs but little from that which he employs towards a small
tobacconist--and that in spite of the circumstance that he is accustomed
to cringe before the former. With us, however, things are different. In
Russian society there exist clever folk who can speak in one manner to
a landowner possessed of two hundred peasant souls, and in another to
a landowner possessed of three hundred, and in another to a landowner
possessed of five hundred. In short, up to the number of a million
souls the Russian will have ready for each landowner a suitable mode of
address. For example, suppose that somewhere there exists a government
office, and that in that office there exists a director. I would beg of
you to contemplate him as he sits among his myrmidons. Sheer nervousness
will prevent you from uttering a word in his presence, so great are the
pride and superiority depicted on his countenance. Also, were you to
sketch him, you would be sketching a veritable Prometheus, for his
glance is as that of an eagle, and he walks with measured, stately
stride. Yet no sooner will the eagle have left the room to seek the
study of his superior officer than he will go scurrying along (papers
held close to his nose) like any partridge. But in society, and at the
evening party (should the rest of those present be of lesser rank than
himself) the Prometheus will once more become Prometheus, and the man
who stands a step below him will treat him in a way never dreamt of by
Ovid, seeing that each fly is of lesser account than its superior fly,
and becomes, in the presence of the latter, even as a grain of sand.
"Surely that is not Ivan Petrovitch?" you will say of such and such a
man as you regard him. "Ivan Petrovitch is tall, whereas this man is
small and spare. Ivan Petrovitch has a loud, deep voice, and never
smiles, whereas this man (whoever he may be) is twittering like a
sparrow, and smiling all the time." Yet approach and take a good look at
the fellow and you will see that is IS Ivan Petrovitch. "Alack, alack!"
will be the only remark you can make.

Let us return to our characters in real life. We have seen that, on