atering mouth at a dish of
unattainable sweetmeats.

A knock at the door at last roused him from his reverie. It was promptly
followed by the entrance of his landlord, accompanied by the
_Nadziratel_, or police-inspector of the quarter--a gentleman whose
appearance is, if possible, more disagreeable to the poor than the face
of a petitioner is to the rich. The landlord of the small house in which
Tchartkoff lodged, was no bad type of the class of house-owners in such
quarters as the fifteenth line of the Vasilievskue Ostrov. In his youth,
he had been a captain in the army, where he was noted as a noisy
quarrelsome fellow; transferred thence to the civil service, he proved
himself a thorough master of the art of petty tyranny, a bustling
coxcomb and a blockhead. Age had done little to improve his character.
He had been some time a widower, had long retired from the service, was
less given to quarrels and coxcombry, but more trivial and teasing. His
chief happiness consisted in drinking tea, propagating scandal, and in
sauntering about his apartment, with hands behind his back. These
intellectual occupations were varied by an occasional inspection of the
roof of his house, by ferreting his _dvornik_, or porter, fifty times
a-day out of the kennel in which he oftener slept than watched, and by a
monthly attack upon his lodgers for their rent.

"Do me the favour to see about it yourself, Varukh Kusmitch," said the
landlord, to the Kvartalnue: "he won't pay his rent--he won't pay, sir."

"How can I, without money? Give me time, and I will pay."

"Time, my good sir! impossible! I can't hear of such a thing," said the
landlord in a rage, flourishing the key he held in his hand. "Perhaps
you don't know that Colonel Potogonkin lodges in my house--a colonel,
sir, and has lived here these seven years; and Anna Petrovna
Buchmisteroff--a lady of fortune, sir, who rents a coach-house, and a
two-stall stable, sir, and keeps three out-door servants: these are the
sort of lodgers I have. My house, I tell you plainly, is not one of
those establishments where people live who don't pay their rent. So I
will thank you to pay yours directly, and be off bag and baggage."

"You had better pay," said the Kvartalnue Nadziratel, with a slight but
significant shake of the head, sticking his forefinger through a
button-hole of his uniform.

"It's very easy to say pay, but where is the money? I have not a sous."

"In that case, you can satisf