.

Fyodor slapped the customer on the shoulder and said to his brother:

"Here, Alyosha, I must introduce our Tambov benefactor, Grigory
Timofeitch. He might serve as an example for the young men of the
day; he's passed his fiftieth birthday, and he has tiny children."

The clerks laughed, and the customer, a lean old man with a pale
face, laughed too.

"Nature above the normal capacity," observed the head-clerk, who
was standing at the counter close by. "It always comes out when
it's there."

The head-clerk--a tall man of fifty, in spectacles, with a dark
beard, and a pencil behind his ear--usually expressed his ideas
vaguely in roundabout hints, while his sly smile betrayed that he
attached particular significance to his words. He liked to obscure
his utterances with bookish words, which he understood in his own
way, and many such words he used in a wrong sense. For instance,
the word "except." When he had expressed some opinion positively
and did not want to be contradicted, he would stretch out his hand
and pronounce:

"Except!"

And what was most astonishing, the customers and the other clerks
understood him perfectly. His name was Ivan Vassilitch Potchatkin,
and he came from Kashira. Now, congratulating Laptev, he expressed
himself as follows:

"It's the reward of valour, for the female heart is a strong
opponent."

Another important person in the warehouse was a clerk called
Makeitchev--a stout, solid, fair man with whiskers and a perfectly
bald head. He went up to Laptev and congratulated him respectfully
in a low voice:

"I have the honour, sir. . . The Lord has heard your parent's prayer.
Thank God."

Then the other clerks began coming up to congratulate him on his
marriage. They were all fashionably dressed, and looked like perfectly
well-bred, educated men. Since between every two words they put in
a "sir," their congratulations--something like "Best wishes, sir,
for happiness, sir," uttered very rapidly in a low voice--sounded
rather like the hiss of a whip in the air--"Shshsh-s s s s s!"
Laptev was soon bored and longing to go home, but it was awkward
to go away. He was obliged to stay at least two hours at the warehouse
to keep up appearances. He walked away from the counter and began
asking Makeitchev whether things had gone well while he was away,
and whether anything new had turned up, and the clerk answered him
respectfully, avoiding his eyes. A boy with a cropped head, wearing
a gre