I was left with two whole hours still at my disposal.

For a time I walked through the rooms of the house, and looked at myself in all the mirrors — firstly with the tunic buttoned, then with it unbuttoned, and lastly with only the top button fastened. Each time it looked splendid. Eventually, though anxious not to show any excess of delight, I found myself unable to refrain from crossing over to the coach-house and stables to gaze at Krassovchik, Kuzma, and the drozhki. Then I returned and once more began my tour of the rooms, where I looked at myself in all the mirrors as before, and counted my money over in my pocket — my face smiling happily the while. Yet not an hour had elapsed before I began to feel slightly ennuye — to feel a shade of regret that no one was present to see me in my splendid position.