Nicolai Gogol - The Inspector-General

He goes out on tiptoe, preceded by the Sergeants.

CURTAIN

SCENE: Same as in Act III.

Enter cautiously, almost on tiptoe, Ammos Fiodorovich, Artemy Filippovich, the Postmaster, Luka Lukich, Dobchinskyand Bobchinskyin full dress-uniform.

AMMOS. For god's sake, gentlemen, quick, form your line, and let's have more order. Why, man alive, he goes to Court and rages at the Imperial Council. Draw up in military line, strictly in military line. You, Piotr Ivanovich, take your place there, and you, Piotr Ivanovich, stand here. (Both the Piotr Ivanoviches run on tiptoe to the places indicated.)

ARTEMY. Do as you please, Ammos Fiodorovich, I think we ought to try.

AMMOS. Try what?

ARTEMY. It's clear what.

AMMOS. Grease?

ARTEMY. Exactly, grease.

AMMOS. It's risky, the deuce take it. He'll fly into a rage at us. He's a government official, you know. Perhaps it should be given to him in the form of a gift from the nobility for some sort of memorial?

POSTMASTER. Or, perhaps, tell him some money has been sent here by post and we don't know for whom?

ARTEMY. You had better look out that he doesn't send you by post a good long ways off. Look here, things of such a nature are not done this way in a well-ordered state. What's the use of a whole regiment here? We must present ourselves to him one at a time, and do—what ought to be done, you know—so that eyes do not see and ears do not hear. That's the way things are done in a well-ordered society. You begin it, Ammos Fiodorovich, you be the first.

AMMOS. You had better go first. The distinguished guest has eaten in your institution.

ARTEMY. Then Luka Lukich, as the enlightener of youth, should go first.

LUKA. I can't, i can't, gentlemen. I confess i am so educated that the moment an official a single degree higher than myself speaks to me, my heart stands still and I get as tongue-tied as though my tongue were caught in the mud. No, gentlemen, excuse me. Please let me off.

ARTEMY. It's you who have got to do it, Ammos Fiodorovich. There's no one else. Why, every word you utter seems to be issuing from Cicero's mouth.

AMMOS. What are you talking about! Cicero! The idea! Just because a man sometimes waxes enthusiastic over house dogs or hunting hounds.

ALL (pressing him). N o, not over dogs, but the Tower of Babel, too. Don't forsake us, Ammos Fiodorovich, help us. Be our Saviour!

AMMOS. Let go of me, gentlemen.

Footsteps and coughing are heard in Khlestakov's room. All hurry to the door, crowding and jostling in their struggle to get out. Some are uncomfortably squeezed, and half-suppressed cries are heard.

BOBCHINSKY'S VOICE. Oh, Piotr Ivanovich, you stepped on my foot.

ARTEMY. Look out, gentlemen, look out. Give me a chance to atone for my sins. You are squeezing me to death.

Exclamations of "Oh! Oh!" Finally they all push through the door, and the stage is left empty.

Enter Khlestakov, looking sleepy.

KHLESTAKOV (alone). I seem to have had a fine snooze. Where did they get those mattresses and feather beds from? I even perspired. After the meal yesterday they must have slipped something into me that knocked me out. I still feel a pounding in my head. I see I can have a good time here. I like hospitality, and I must say I like it all the more if people entertain me out of a pure heart and not from interested motives. The Governor's daughter is not a bad one at all, and the mother is also a woman you can still— I don't know, but I do like this sort of life.

Khlestakov and the Judge.

JUDGE (comes in and stops. Talking to himself). O h, God, bring me safely out of this! How my knees are knocking together! (Drawing himself up and holding the sword in his hand. Aloud.) I have the honor to present myself—Judge of the District Court here, College Assessor Liapkin-Tiapkin.

KHLESTAKOV. Please be seated. So you are the judge here?

JUDGE. I was elected by the nobility in 1816 and i have served ever since.

KHLESTAKOV. Does it pay to be a judge?

JUDGE. After serving three terms i was decorated with the Vladimir of the third class with the approval of the government. (Aside.) I have the money in my hand and my hand is on fire.

KHLESTAKOV. I like the Vladimir. Anna of the third class is not so nice.

JUDGE (slightly extending his balled fist. Aside). G ood God! I don't know where I'm sitting. I feel as though I were on burning coals.

KHLESTAKOV. What have you got in your hand there?

AMMOS (getting all mixed up and dropping the bills on the floor). N othing.

KHLESTAKOV. How so, nothing? I see money has dropped out of it.

AMMOS (shaking all over). O h no, oh no, not at all! (Aside.) Oh, Lord! Now I'm under arrest and they've brought a wagon to take me.

KHLESTAKOV. Yes, it is money. (Picking it up.)

AMMOS (aside) . It's all over with me. I'm lost! I'm lost!

KHLESTAKOV. I tell you what—lend it to me.

AMMOS (eagerly). W hy, of course, of course—with the greatest pleasure. (Aside.) Bolder! Bolder! Holy Virgin, stand by me!

KHLESTAKOV. I've run out of cash on the road, what with one thing and another, you know. I'll let you have it back as soon as I get to the village.

AMMOS. Please don't mention it! It is a great honor to have you take it. I'll try to deserve it—by putting forth the best of my feeble powers, by my zeal and ardor for the government. (Rises from the chair and draws himself up straight with his hands hanging at his sides.) I will not venture to disturb you longer with my presence. You don't care to give any orders?

KHLESTAKOV. What orders?

JUDGE. I mean, would you like to give orders for the district court here?

KHLESTAKOV. What for? I have nothing to do with the court now. No, nothing. Thank you very much.

AMMOS (bowing and leaving. Aside.). N ow the town is ours.

KHLESTAKOV. The judge is a fine fellow.

Khlestakov and the Postmaster.

POSTMASTER (in uniform, sword in hand. Drawing himself up). I have the honor to present myself— Postmaster, Court Councilor Shpekin.

KHLESTAKOV. I'm glad to meet you. I like pleasant company very much. Take a seat. Do you live here all the time?

POSTMASTER. Yes, sir. Quite so.

KHLESTAKOV. I like this little town. Of course, there aren't many people. It's not very lively. But what of it? It isn't the capital. Isn't that so—it isn't the capital?

POSTMASTER. Quite so, quite so.