hich stood nearer to his heart, than the
motive which I have just given; and of that purpose the reader will
learn if only he will have the patience to read this prefatory narrative
(which, lengthy though it be, may yet develop and expand in proportion
as we approach the denouement with which the present work is destined to
be crowned).

One evening, therefore, Selifan the coachman received orders to have
the horses harnessed in good time next morning; while Petrushka
received orders to remain behind, for the purpose of looking after the
portmanteau and the room. In passing, the reader may care to become
more fully acquainted with the two serving-men of whom I have spoken.
Naturally, they were not persons of much note, but merely what folk call
characters of secondary, or even of tertiary, importance. Yet, despite
the fact that the springs and the thread of this romance will not DEPEND
upon them, but only touch upon them, and occasionally include them,
the author has a passion for circumstantiality, and, like the average
Russian, such a desire for accuracy as even a German could not rival.
To what the reader already knows concerning the personages in hand it is
therefore necessary to add that Petrushka usually wore a cast-off brown
jacket of a size too large for him, as also that he had (according to
the custom of individuals of his calling) a pair of thick lips and
a very prominent nose. In temperament he was taciturn rather than
loquacious, and he cherished a yearning for self-education. That is to
say, he loved to read books, even though their contents came alike to
him whether they were books of heroic adventure or mere grammars or
liturgical compendia. As I say, he perused every book with an equal
amount of attention, and, had he been offered a work on chemistry,
would have accepted that also. Not the words which he read, but the mere
solace derived from the act of reading, was what especially pleased his
mind; even though at any moment there might launch itself from the page
some devil-sent word whereof he could make neither head nor tail. For
the most part, his task of reading was performed in a recumbent position
in the anteroom; which circumstance ended by causing his mattress to
become as ragged and as thin as a wafer. In addition to his love of
poring over books, he could boast of two habits which constituted two
other essential features of his character--namely, a habit of
retiring to rest in his clothes (th