The Inspector-General

BOBCHINSKY. Pardon me for having troubled you with my presence.

KHLESTAKOV. Not at all, not at all. It was my pleasure. [Sees them to the door.]

SCENE VIII

KHLESTAKOV [alone]. My, there are a lot of officials here. They seem to be taking me for a government functionary. To be sure, I threw dust in their eyes yesterday. What a bunch of fools! I'll write all about it to Triapichkin in St. Petersburg. He'll write them up in the papers. Let him give them a nice walloping.—Ho, Osip, give me paper and ink.

OSIP [looking in at the door]. D'rectly.

KHLESTAKOV. Anybody gets caught in Triapichkin's tongue had better look out. For the sake of a witticism he wouldn't spare his own father. They are good people though, these officials. It's a nice trait of theirs to lend me money. I'll just see how much it all mounts up to. Here's three hundred from the Judge and three hundred from the Postmaster—six hundred, seven hundred, eight hundred—What a greasy bill!—Eight hundred, nine hundred.—Oho! Rolls up to more than a thousand! Now, if I get you, captain, now! We'll see who'll do whom!

SCENE IX

Khlestakov and Osip entering with paper and ink.

KHLESTAKOV. Now, you simpleton, you see how they receive and treat me. [Begins to write.]

OSIP. Yes, thank God! But do you know what, Ivan Aleksandrovich?

KHLESTAKOV. What?

OSIP. Leave this place. Upon my word, it's time.

KHLESTAKOV [writing]. What nonsense! Why?

OSIP. Just so. God be with them. You've had a good time here for two days. It's enough. What's the use of having anything more to do with them? Spit on them. You don't know what may happen. Somebody else may turn up. Upon my word, Ivan Aleksandrovich. And the horses here are fine. We'll gallop away like a breeze.

KHLESTAKOV [writing]. No, I'd like to stay a little longer. Let's go tomorrow.

OSIP. Why tomorrow? Let's go now, Ivan Aleksandrovich, now, 'pon my word. To be sure, it's a great honor and all that. But really we'd better go as quick as we can. You see, they've taken you for somebody else, honest. And your dad will be angry because you dilly-dallied so long. We'd gallop off so smartly. They'd give us first-class horses here.

KHLESTAKOV [writing]. All right. But first take this letter to the postoffice, and, if you like, order post horses at the same time. Tell the postilions that they should drive like couriers and sing songs, and I'll give them a ruble each. [Continues to write.] I wager Triapichkin will die laughing.

OSIP. I'll send the letter off by the man here. I'd rather be packing in the meanwhile so as to lose no time.

KHLESTAKOV. All right. Bring me a candle.

OSIP [outside the door, where he is heard speaking]. Say, partner, go to the post office and mail a letter, and tell the postmaster to frank it. And have a coach sent round at once, the very best courier coach; and tell them the master doesn't pay fare. He travels at the expense of the government. And make them hurry, or else the master will be angry. Wait, the letter isn't ready yet.

KHLESTAKOV. I wonder where he lives now, on Pochtamtskaya or Grokhovaya Street. He likes to move often, too, to get out of paying rent. I'll make a guess and send it to Pochtamtskaya Street. [Folds the letter and addresses it.]

Osip brings the candle. Khlestakov seals the letter with sealing wax. At that moment Derzhimorda's voice is heard saying: "Where are you going, whiskers? You've been told that nobody is allowed to come in."

KHLESTAKOV [giving the letter to Osip]. There, have it mailed.

MERCHANT'S VOICE. Let us in, brother. You have no right to keep us out. We have come on business.

DERZHIMORDA'S VOICE. Get out of here, get out of here! He doesn't receive anybody. He's asleep.

The disturbance outside grows louder.

KHLESTAKOV. What's the matter there, Osip? See what the noise is about.

OSIP [looking through the window]. There are some merchants there who want to come in, and the sergeant won't let them. They are waving papers. I suppose they want to see you.

KHLESTAKOV [going to the window]. What is it, friends?

MERCHANT'S VOICE. We appeal for your protection. Give orders, your Lordship, that our petitions be received.

KHLESTAKOV. Let them in, let them in. Osip, tell them to come in.

Osip goes out.

KHLESTAKOV [takes the petitions through the window, unfolds one of them and reads]. "To his most honorable, illustrious financial Excellency, from the merchant Abdulin...." The devil knows what this is! There's no such title.

SCENE X

Khlestakov and Merchants, with a basket of wine and sugar loaves.

KHLESTAKOV. What is it, friends?

MERCHANTS. We beseech your favor.

KHLESTAKOV. What do you want?

MERCHANTS. Don't ruin us, your Worship. We suffer insult and wrong wholly without cause.

KHLESTAKOV. From whom?

A MERCHANT. Why, from our governor here. Such a governor there never was yet in the world, your Worship. No words can describe the injuries he inflicts upon us. He has taken the bread out of our mouths by quartering soldiers on us, so that you might as well put your neck in a noose. He doesn't treat you as you deserve. He catches hold of your beard and says, "Oh, you Tartar!" Upon my word, if we had shown him any disrespect, but we obey all the laws and regulations. We don't mind giving him what his wife and daughter need for their clothes, but no, that's not enough. So help me God! He comes to our shop and takes whatever his eyes fall on. He sees a piece of cloth and says, "Oh, my friends, that's a fine piece of goods. Take it to my house." So we take it to his house. It will be almost forty yards.

KHLESTAKOV. Is it possible? My, what a swindler!

MERCHANTS. So help us God! No one remembers a governor like him. When you see him coming you hide everything in the shop. It isn't only that he wants a few delicacies and fineries. He takes every bit of trash, too—prunes that have been in the barrel seven years and that even the boy in my shop would not eat, and he grabs a fist full. His name day is St. Anthony's, and you'd think there's nothing else left in the world to bring him and that he doesn't want any more. But no, you must give him more. He says St. Onufry's is also his name day. What's to be done? You have to take things to him on St. Onufry's day, too.

KHLESTAKOV. Why, he's a plain robber.

MERCHANTS. Yes, indeed! And try to contradict him, and he'll fill your house with a whole regiment of soldiers. And if you say anything, he orders the doors closed. "I won't inflict corporal punishment on you," he says, "or put you in the rack. That's forbidden by law," he says. "But I'll make you swallow salt herring, my good man."

KHLESTAKOV. What a swindler! For such things a man can be sent to Siberia.

MERCHANTS. It doesn't matter where you are pleased to send him. Only the farthest away from here the better. Father, don't scorn to accept our bread and salt. We pay our respects to you with sugar and a basket of wine.

KHLESTAKOV. No, no. Don't think of it. I don't take bribes. Oh, if, for example, you would offer me a loan of three hundred rubles, that's quite different. I am willing to take a loan.

MERCHANTS. If you please, father. [They take out money.] But what is three hundred? Better take five hundred. Only help us.

KHLESTAKOV. Very well. About a loan I won't say a word. I'll take it.