"Why is it impossible, Petrovitch?" he said, almost in the pleading voice of a child; "all that ails it is, that it is worn on the shoulders.You must have some pieces--""Yes, patches could be found, patches are easily found," said Petrovitch, "but there's nothing to sew them to.The thing is completely rotten; if you put a needle to it--see, it will give way.""Let it give way, and you can put on another patch at once.""But there is nothing to put the patches on to; there's no use in strengthening it; it is too far gone.It's lucky that it's cloth; for, if the wind were to blow, it would fly away.""Well, strengthen it again.How will this, in fact--""No," said Petrovitch decisively, "there is nothing to be done with it.It's a thoroughly bad job.You'd better, when the cold winter weather comes on, make yourself some gaiters out of it, because stockings are not warm.The Germans invented them in order to make more money." Petrovitch loved, on all occasions, to have a fling at the Germans."But it is plain you must have a new cloak."At the word "new," all grew dark before Akakiy Akakievitch's eyes, and everything in the room began to whirl round.The only thing he saw clearly was the general with the paper face on the lid of Petrovitch's snuff-box."A new one?" said he, as if still in a dream: "why, I have no money for that.""Yes, a new one," said Petrovitch, with barbarous composure.
"Well, if it came to a new one, how would it--?""You mean how much would it cost?"
"Yes."
"Well, you would have to lay out a hundred and fifty or more," said Petrovitch, and pursed up his lips significantly.He liked to produce powerful effects, liked to stun utterly and suddenly, and then to glance sideways to see what face the stunned person would put on the matter.
"A hundred and fifty rubles for a cloak!" shrieked poor Akakiy Akakievitch, perhaps for the first time in his life, for his voice had always been distinguished for softness.
"Yes, sir," said Petrovitch, "for any kind of cloak.If you have a marten fur on the collar, or a silk-lined hood, it will mount up to two hundred.""Petrovitch, please," said Akakiy Akakievitch in a beseeching tone, not hearing, and not trying to hear, Petrovitch's words, and disregarding all his "effects," "some repairs, in order that it may wear yet a little longer.""No, it would only be a waste of time and money," said Petrovitch; and Akakiy Akakievitch went away after these words, utterly discouraged.
But Petrovitch stood for some time after his departure, with significantly compressed lips, and without betaking himself to his work, satisfied that he would not be dropped, and an artistic tailor employed.
Akakiy Akakievitch went out into the street as if in a dream."Such an affair!" he said to himself: "I did not think it had come to--" and then after a pause, he added, "Well, so it is! see what it has come to at last! and I never imagined that it was so!" Then followed a long silence, after which he exclaimed, "Well, so it is! see what already--nothing unexpected that--it would be nothing--what a strange circumstance!" So saying, instead of going home, he went in exactly the opposite direction without himself suspecting it.On the way, a chimney-sweep bumped up against him, and blackened his shoulder, and a whole hatful of rubbish landed on him from the top of a house which was building.He did not notice it; and only when he ran against a watchman, who, having planted his halberd beside him, was shaking some snuff from his box into his horny hand, did he recover himself a little, and that because the watchman said, "Why are you poking yourself into a man's very face? Haven't you the pavement?" This caused him to look about him, and turn towards home.
There only, he finally began to collect his thoughts, and to survey his position in its clear and actual light, and to argue with himself, sensibly and frankly, as with a reasonable friend with whom one can discuss private and personal matters."No," said Akakiy Akakievitch, "it is impossible to reason with Petrovitch now; he is that--evidently his wife has been beating him.I'd better go to him on Sunday morning;after Saturday night he will be a little cross-eyed and sleepy, for he will want to get drunk, and his wife won't give him any money; and at such a time, a ten-kopek piece in his hand will--he will become more fit to reason with, and then the cloak, and that--" Thus argued Akakiy Akakievitch with himself, regained his courage, and waited until the first Sunday, when, seeing from afar that Petrovitch's wife had left the house, he went straight to him.
