All sorts of plans clashed in his head: should he take the lady to court or would it be better to go directly to her and denounce her to her face? But his thoughts were interrupted by light seeping in through the cracks in the door, indicating that Ivan had lit a candle in the entrance hall. Soon Ivan appeared carrying the candle high above his head, lighting up the entire room. Kovalev’s first thought was to grab the handkerchief and cover the place where, only yesterday, the nose had sat, so that this stupid man should not stand there gaping, noticing the peculiar state of his masters face.
But no sooner had Ivan left than he heard an unknown voice coming from the apartment door ask:
“Does Collegiate Assessor Kovalev live here?”
“Come in. Major Kovalev is in,” Kovalev shouted, jumping up and rushing into the hall.
It was a police officer, a quite handsome man with whiskers neither too light nor too dark and with rather full cheeks. In fact it was the same one who, at the beginning of this story, had been standing by the Isakievsky Bridge.
“Did you happen to lose your nose, sir?”
“Yes, I did.”
“It has been found.”
“Is it possible?”
Joy paralyzed the major’s tongue. He stared at the police officer standing in front of him, the reflection of the candlelight shining on his damp, full lips.
“How did it happen?” he managed to say at last.
“By sheer coincidence. Your nose was caught as he was getting on the stagecoach for Riga. He had a passport made out in the name of a government official and the strange thing is that, at first, I myself took him for a gentleman. But luckily I had my glasses with me, so I put them on and recognized immediately that he was a nose. The thing is, I am very shortsighted, sir, and with you standing right in front of me there, I can make out your face but I can’t discern your beard, or your nose, or anything else. My mother-in-law, that’s the mother of my wife, can’t see a thing either.”
Kovalev was beside himself with excitement.
“Where is he? Where? I’ll run over there now ….”
“Don’t trouble, sir. I thought you might need it, so I brought it along. But you know, the funny part about it is that the main suspect in the affair is the barber from Voznesensky Avenue, a crook who’s now being held at the police station. I’ve had my eye on him for some time because I suspected him of being a thief and a drunkard. As a matter of fact, he lifted a box of buttons in a store the other day. By the way, your nose is exactly as before, sir.”
Saying this, the police officer put his hand in his pocket and extracted the nose wrapped in a piece of paper.
“That’s it! That’s it!” Kovalev shouted. “No doubt about it! Do come in and have some tea with me, won’t you?”
“It would be a great honour, sir, but I am afraid I can’t. I must stop over at the house of correction—prices are going up, sir …. My mother-in-law, I mean the wife’s mother, is living with me … we have children too. The eldest son is particularly promising, a very clever boy, but we have no money for his education ….”
When the police officer had left, the collegiate assessor remained for some minutes in an indeterminate state, just barely able to see and feel. It was his immense joy that had plunged him into his half-consciousness. Very carefully he held his just-recovered nose in his cupped hands and once again looked it over.
“Yes, that’s it, that’s it all right. And here, on the left side, is the pimple that sprang up the other day.”
The major almost shouted with pleasure.
But there is nothing long-lived in this world and one’s joy in the minute that follows the first is no longer as vivid. It further weakens during the third and finally dissolves into one’s everyday state just as the circles produced on the surface of a pond by the fall of a pebble dissolve into the smooth surface. Kovalev began to ponder and realized that his troubles were not quite over: the nose had been found. That was fine; but it still had to be put back, fixed in its old place.
“And what if it doesn’t stick?”
As he asked himself this question, the major turned white.
With inexpressible anxiety he leapt toward his dressing table and pulled the mirror closer, fearing that he would stick the nose on crooked. His hands trembled. Finally, with infinite hesitations and precautions he pressed the nose into place. Oh, horror! It wouldn’t stick! He brought it close to his mouth and warmed it slightly with his breath. Then he placed it again on top of the smooth area between his two cheeks. But the nose would not stay on.
“Come on! Come on now! Stick—you fool!” Kovalev told the nose again and again. But the nose felt as if it were made of wood and kept falling off. And as it hit the dressing table it produced a queer light sound, like a cork. The major’s face twisted spasmodically. Panic pervaded him.
“Can it possibly not stick?”
He repeatedly pressed the nose against the approximate spot, but his efforts were futile. Then he decided to send Ivan to fetch the doctor who occupied the best apartment in the house where the major lived.
The doctor was a fine figure of a man. He had pitch-black whiskers and a quite fresh and healthy wife. Furthermore, he ate fresh apples in the morning and kept his mouth in a state of incredible cleanliness, rinsing it for about three-quarters of an hour at a time and then brushing his teeth with five different kinds of toothbrush.
The doctor arrived within the minute. Having asked the major how long ago the misfortune had struck, he grabbed him by the chin and tweaked him so hard on the former site of his nose that Kovalev recoiled violently and banged the back of his head against the wall. The doctor said that it was quite all right and, advising him to move a bit further away from the wall, ordered him to bend his head to the right, felt the spot vacated by the nose with his fingers and said, “Hmmm …” Then he asked him to bend his head to the left, touched the spot again and said, “Hmmm ….” Finally the doctor delivered another tweak with his thumb and forefinger, making Kovalev toss up his head like a horse whose teeth are being inspected.
Having thus completed his examination, the doctor shook his head and declared:
“No. Can’t be done. You’d better stay as you are or your condition might deteriorate even further. Of course, it is possible to stick it on. I could have stuck it on now. But, take my advice, that would make it worse for you.”
“That’s fine! And how can I stay without a nose? And how could I be worse off than I am? It is absolutely disgusting! And where can I show myself in this obscene condition? I have an active social life. Why, even today I was invited to two important parties. And I have many connections … Mrs. Chekhtareva, the wife of a state councilor, Mrs. Podtochina, the wife of a senior army officer … although after this business I don’t want to have anything to do with her, except through the police ….”
And Kovalev added imploringly:
“Do me a great favor, Doctor, can’t you think of a way? Make it stick somehow. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t hold too well—just as long as it stays on somehow. I could even support it with my hand in case of emergency. I don’t even dance, you know, and so couldn’t jeopardize it by some inadvertent jerk. As to my appreciation of your services, please rest assured that in the measure of my resources—”
“Believe it or not,” the doctor said neither too loudly nor too softly but with persuasiveness and magnetic force, “I never dispense my services out of material considerations. It would be contrary to my principles and to professional ethics. True, I do charge for my visits but only in order not to offend people by refusing to accept a fee. Of course I could stick your nose back on, but I assure you, on my honor, if you won’t take my simple word for it, that it will be much worse. You’re better off letting things take their natural course. Wash often with cold water and I assure you that you’ll feel just as healthy without a nose as you felt with one. As to the nose, you can put it in a jar of alcohol or, better still, add two soupspoonfuls of vodka and warme
d-up vinegar to it. I’ll bet you could make money out of it. In fact, I’d purchase it myself if it weren’t too expensive.” “No, no! I’ll never sell it,” shouted the desolate major, “I’d rather it disappeared again!”
“Forgive me,” the doctor said, “I was simply trying to help. Well, I can do no more. At least you see that I tried.”
The doctor departed with dignity. Kovalev had not even looked at his face; dazed as he was, he was only aware of the spotless white cuffs sticking out of the black sleeves of the doctor’s frock coat.
THE NEXT DAY Kovalev decided to write to Mrs. Podtochina asking her to restore to him voluntarily what was rightfully his and saying that otherwise he would be forced to lodge a complaint. The letter he composed read as follows:
Dear Madam,
I am at a loss to understand your strange action. Rest assured that you will achieve nothing by acting this way, and you certainly won’t force me to marry your daughter. Please believe me, Madam, that I am fully aware of exactly what happened to my nose as well as of the fact that you, and nobody else, are the prime instigator of this affair. Its sudden detachment from its assigned place, its desertion, and its masquerading first as a state councilor and then in its natural shape is nothing but the result of witchcraft practiced by you or by those specialized in such pursuits. For my part, I deem it my duty to warn you that if the above-mentioned nose is not back in its proper place this very day, I shall be forced to avail myself of my rights and ask for the protection of the law.
I remain,
Faithfully yours,
Platon Kovalev.
To which the lady sent an immediate reply:
My dear Platon,
I was very surprised by your letter. To be perfectly frank, I never expected anything of this kind from you, especially your unfair reproaches. For your information, I have never received the state councilor you mention at my house, either in disguise or in his natural shape. However, I did receive Philip Ivanovich, but, despite the fact that he asked me for my daughter’s hand and was a man of irreproachable character, sober habits, and great learning, I never held out any hopes for him. You also mention your nose. If you mean it symbolically, that I wanted you to stop nosing around my daughter, i.e., that I had decided to refuse you her hand, I am surprised at your saying such things when you are fully aware of my feelings on the subject, namely that, if you asked for her hand formally tomorrow, I would be prepared to grant your request forthwith, since it has always been in agreement with my wishes and in hope of which,
I remain,
Always at your service,
Alexandra Podtochina.
“She,” Kovalev said, after he had read the letter, “is certainly not involved. Someone guilty of a crime couldn’t write such a letter.”
And the collegiate assessor knew what he was talking about because he had taken part in several judicial investigations back in the Caucasus.
“But then, how the devil did it happen, after all? How’ll I ever get it straight?” he said, dropping his arms to his sides.
In the meantime, rumours about the extraordinary occurrence spread all over the capital and, as was to be expected, not without all sorts of embellishments. At that time people were prone to fall for supernatural things: only a short time before, experiments with magnetism had caused a sensation. Also, the story about the dancing chairs of Stables Street was still fresh, and people soon began to repeat that Collegiate Assessor Kovalev’s nose was to be seen taking a daily walk on Nevsky Avenue at 3:00 P.M. sharp. And every day a multitude of the curious gathered there. Then someone said that the nose was in Junker’s Department Store, and, as a result, such a melee developed there that the police had to interfere. A shady character with side whiskers, who nevertheless looked very respectable, and who sold all sorts of dry cakes at the entrance to the theatre, got hold of some special wooden benches, perfectly safe to stand on, and invited the curious to do so for a fee of eighty kopeks per person. A highly respected colonel, who had left his home especially early for this purpose, managed to make his way through the dense throng with great difficulty only to see in the display window not a nose but an ordinary woollen sweater and a lithograph of a girl pulling up her stocking with a well-dressed gentleman wearing a waist-coat with lapels and a small beard, a lithograph that had rested there, in the identical spot, for more than ten years. As the colonel left, he declared:
“It shouldn’t be allowed—befuddling people with such stupid and improbable rumours!”
Then a rumour spread that Major Kovalev’s nose was taking promenades, not on Nevsky Avenue, but in the Tavrichesky Gardens, and that it had been doing so for some time now. In fact, even when Khosrov Mirza lived there he used to marvel at this freak of nature. Students from the School of Surgeons went there. One socially prominent lady wrote a special letter to the director of the park suggesting that he show this rare object to children, if possible with explanations and instructions that would edify the younger generation.
All this was quite welcome to those who never miss a party and like to display their wit before the ladies; without it topics of conversation would have been exhausted. But there was also a dissatisfied and displeased minority among respectable people. One gentleman said he could not understand how it was possible in our enlightened age for such preposterous lies to be believed and that he was flabbergasted at the passivity of the authorities. Apparently this gentleman was one of those who desire the government to interfere in everything, including his daily fights with his wife.
Following these events … but here again, things become beclouded and what followed these events has remained completely unknown.
CHAPTER 3
The world is full of absolute nonsense. Sometimes it is really unbelievable. Suddenly, the very nose that used to go around as a state councilor and caused such a stir all over the city turned up, as though nothing had happened, in its proper place, namely between the cheeks of Major Kovalev. This happened on April 7. Waking up and chancing to glance in the mirror, what did he see but his nose! He grabbed it with his hand—no doubt about it—it was his nose, all right!
“Aha!” Kovalev said.
And in his infinite joy he would have performed a jig, barefoot as he was, had not Ivan come in at that moment. He ordered Ivan to bring him some water to wash with and, while washing, looked again into the mirror: he had his nose. Drying himself with his towel, he looked again—the nose was still there!
“Here, Ivan, look, I think I have a pimple on my nose,” he said, all the while thinking anxiously: “Wouldn’t it be terrible if Ivan came out with something like, ‘No, sir, not only is there no pimple on your nose, there is no nose on your face.’”
But Ivan simply said:
“Nothing, sir, I see no pimple, the nose is clear.”
“Feels good, dammit!” the major said to himself and snapped his fingers gaily.
At that moment, through the partly opened door, there appeared the head of Ivan Yakovlevich, the barber, wearing the expression of a cat that had just been smacked for the theft of a piece of suet.
“Your hands clean?” Kovalev shouted out to him.
“They’re clean, sir.”
“Liar!”
“I swear they’re clean.”
“You know, they’d better be.”
Kovalev sat down. The barber wrapped a towel around his neck and in one instant transformed the major’s whiskers and a part of his cheek into whipped cream of the kind that is likely to be served at a birthday party in the house of a rich merchant.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Ivan Yakovlevich muttered under his breath, looking at the nose. Then he turned the major’s head and looked at the nose from the other side and muttered. “Well, well, well … who would have thought …” and he stared at the nose for a moment.
Then, with a daintiness that can only be imagined, he lifted two fingers to catch the nose by its tip. Such was Ivan Yakovlevich’s shaving style.
“Look
out, look out, careful!” Kovalev shouted and Ivan Yakovlevich dropped his hand and stood there frozen and embarrassed as never before. Finally he snapped out of it and started carefully tickling the major under his chin with the razor. And although it felt quite awkward and unusual for him to shave someone without holding him by the olfactory organ of the human body, he managed, somehow, by resting his rough thumb on Kovalev’s cheek, then on his lower gum, to overcome all the obstacles and complete the shaving operation.
When he was through being shaved, Kovalev hurried to get dressed, rushed out, took a cab and drove to the tearoom. Before even sitting down, he shouted: “Waiter, a cup of chocolate!” then rushed over to the mirror: the nose was there. Happy, he glanced around the room and twisted his face into a sarcastic expression by slightly screwing up his eyes, when he saw two army officers, one of whom had a nose about the size of a waistcoat button. Then he left for the department through which he was trying to get the vice-gubernatorial post or, failing that, a position in the administration. Walking through the reception room, he glanced in the mirror: the nose was in its place.