_Postmaster._ Tell me, gentlemen, what is it,--what official is coming?

_Burgomaster._ Have n’t you heard?

_Postmaster._ I have heard from Petr Ivánovich Bobchínski. He was just in my office.

_Burgomaster._ Well, what do you think of it?

_Postmaster._ What I think? Why, there will be a war with Turkey.

_Judge._ That ’s it! I thought so myself.

_Burgomaster._ Well, you ’re both wrong.

_Postmaster._ I insist, with Turkey. It ’s all the Frenchmen’s doing.

_Burgomaster._ Nonsense, war with Turkey! It ’s we who ’ll catch it, not the Turks. So much is certain; I have a letter.

_Postmaster._ If that ’s the case, there will be no war with Turkey.

_Burgomaster._ Well, how do you feel about that, Iván Kuzmích?

_Postmaster._ How I feel? How do you feel, Antón Antónovich?

_Burgomaster._ How I feel? Not exactly afraid, but just a little shaky. The shopkeepers and townspeople worry me. They say I ’ve laid it on to them; but I declare that if I have taken here and there a thing from one, I have done so without any ill-feeling. I even think (_takes his arm and leads him aside_), I even think there might have been some denunciation against me. For why should the Revizór come to us? Listen, Iván Kuzmích, could n’t you, for our common good, you know, just open a little and read every outgoing and incoming letter in your postoffice, to see whether they do not contain some denunciation or simply some report? If there is nothing in them, you may seal the letters again, or for that, you can return the letters unsealed.

_Postmaster._ I know, I know. Don’t teach me; I have been doing it, not exactly as a precaution, but chiefly from curiosity,--I ’m awfully fond of knowing what ’s up in the world. I assure you, it makes most interesting reading! Now and then there is a letter that I read with real pleasure,--there are all kinds of incidents described in them, and they are so edifying,--better than in the Moscow Gazette!

_Burgomaster._ Well, tell me, have n’t you found out from them something about an official from St. Petersburg?

_Postmaster._ No, there ’s nothing in them about anybody from St. Petersburg, but a great deal about Kostromá and Sarátov people. Really, what a pity you do not read letters! There are fine passages in them. For example, there was a lieutenant who in a letter to his friend described a ball in a most playful----yes, very fine: “My life, my dear friend,” says he, “flows in the empyrean: there are plenty of young ladies, music is playing, the flag is flying----” he described it with great, very great feeling. I purposely kept the letter. Do you want me to read it to you?

_Burgomaster._ Well, this is not the right time for it. So do me the favour, Iván Kuzmích: if, by chance, there should be a complaint or denunciation, keep it back without any further ado.

_Postmaster._ With the greatest pleasure.

_Judge._ Look out, you ’ll get into trouble yet.

_Postmaster._ Good gracious!

_Burgomaster._ Not at all, not at all. It would be a different matter, if you were to make a public affair out of it, but this is, so to say, a family matter.

_Judge._ Yes, there ’s mischief brewing! I was really coming to tell you, Antón Antónovich, that I wanted to present to you a puppy, a sister to that dog that you know. You have heard that Chéptovich and Varkhovínski have started a litigation; so I ’m in clover: I hunt hares now on one estate, now on the other.

_Burgomaster._ Lord, what do I care for your hares now! That accursed incognito is running through my head! I am only waiting for the door to open, and----