None of his acquaintances has ever been entertained to dinner, supper or even a cup of tea there, but neither is there anyone at whose house he hasn’t been entertained at least fifty times a year. Formerly, he went about clothed in wide and baggy trousers and a knee-length pleated coat, now for everyday wear he sports a frock coat and trousers, and on high days and holidays he appears in a tailcoat, but God only knows of what style. He has a well-fed look, because he has no worries, no cares and nothing to upset him, although he pretends that his whole existence is weighed down with the woes and cares of others, but we all know that the woes and cares of others do not shrink us: that’s just the way it is with people.

As a matter of fact, Anton Ivanych was of no use to anyone, but no ceremonial occasion, no wedding, no funeral was complete without him. He was in attendance at every formal dinner and party, every family discussion; no one could take a step without him. Lest it be thought that perhaps he was particularly helpful, or that he might be entrusted with some important errands, or perhaps offer useful advice or could handle some piece of business – absolutely not! No one would trust him with any function of that kind; he was as incompetent as he was ignorant: he couldn’t help with anything at the courts either as an intermediary or as a conciliator – he was of no use whatsoever.

However, people would ask him to pass on a greeting to someone if he happened to be passing by, and this chore he performed unfailingly, and just as unfailingly would happen to be available to stay for lunch. People would also ask him to tell someone or other that a certain paper had been received, although he wouldn’t be told exactly what paper it was, or to deliver a jar of honey or a handful of seeds with instructions not to spill any, and they would ask him to remind them when it was someone’s name day. They would also make use of him in matters which they thought unsuitable for a servant. “We can’t send Petrushka,” they would say. “Before you know it, he would get it all muddled. No, it’s better to let Anton Ivanych go!” Or: “It wouldn’t do to send a servant, someone might be offended; really better to send Anton Ivanych.”

How astonished everyone would be if there were ever a dinner or party at which for some reason he failed to appear!

“But where’s Anton Ivanych?” everyone would be asking in surprise. “What’s happened to him, why isn’t he here?” The dinner simply didn’t feel right without him. So then they would appoint someone to go and find out what was wrong; was he sick, had he gone away? And if he was sick, even a family member would not have enjoyed such care and attention.

Anton Ivanych approached to take the hand of Anna Pavlovna.

“My respects, Anna Pavlovna! Allow me to congratulate you on your new acquisition.”

“What acquisition, Anton Ivanych?” she asked, looking herself up and down.

“Why, that little bridge down by the gate. I see you’ve just had it put up? I could hear that the planks weren’t bobbing about under the wheels, so I took a look, and sure enough they were new!”

Whenever he met someone he knew, he would usually start by congratulating them on something or other, be it a fast, the spring or autumn, and if after the thaw frost was on its way, then he would congratulate them on the frost, and if a thaw was on its way in after a frost – then on the thaw…

This time, however, none of these opportunities presented themselves, but he was sure to come up with something.

“Alexandra Vasilyevna, Matryona Mikhailovna and Pyotr Sergeich send you their regards,” he said.

“My sincere thanks, Anton Ivanych! Are their children in good health?”

“Thank God. I bring you God’s blessing; the father will be here soon after me. “Have you heard about our Semyon Arkhipych, Anna Pavlovna?”

“What about him?” Asked Anna Pavlovna apprehensively.

“Well, he passed away.”

“Oh no! When was it?”

“Yesterday morning. I found out yesterday evening; some lad rode up to tell me. I left right away, and didn’t sleep all night. Everyone was in tears and needed consoling, and someone had to do some organizing; everyone else was helpless with grief – except me alone.”

“God in heaven! That’s life! But how could it have happened? Just last week he sent his regards through you!”

“Yes, my dear lady, but he had been poorly for quite some time, and he was an old man; it’s a wonder he lasted so long!”

“What do you mean, ‘old’? He was only a year older than my late husband. Well, God rest his soul!” Anna Pavlovna said, crossing herself. “I’m so sorry for poor Fedosya, left alone with the children on her hands. What a terrible thing, with five of them, and almost all girls! When is the funeral?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Of course, everyone has their sorrow, Anton Ivanych; here I am seeing my son off.”

“What can we do, Anna Pavlovna, we’re all mere mortals! We are born to suffering, as it says in the Bible.”

“Please don’t mind my upsetting you – we’ll get over our grief together; you love us like one of your own.”

“Oh my dear lady, who could I love more than you? There are so few like you! You don’t know your own worth. I’ve so much on my plate – can’t get my building project out of my mind. I spent the whole of yesterday morning wrangling with the contractor, but somehow we just couldn’t agree. Then I think, I must go to her: she’s all alone there, what will she do without me? She’s not a young woman, her head must be whirling.”

“God bless you, Anton Ivanych, for not forgetting us. I’m really not myself; can’t keep a thought in my head, I’m in a total fog. My throat hurts from crying. Please have a bite to eat; you’re tired, and you must be hungry.”

“Thank you so much. I have to confess that on the way over I did take a drop and snatched a bite at Pyotr Sergeich’s. But that doesn’t really count. The father’s on his way, and he’ll give you his blessing! Well look, here he is at the door!”

The priest came in, together with Maria Karpovna and her plump, rosy-cheeked daughter, who was smiling, but whose eyes showed signs of recent tears.