The Enchanted Wanderer and Other Stories

Of the mind and abilities of Galaktion Ilyich scarcely anyone had a clear idea. What he could and could not do—that, too, probably no one knew. His work record was short and simple: at the start of his service, through his father’s efforts, he went to work under Viktor Nikitich Panin,⁵ who loved the old man for some merits known to himself, and having taken the son under his wing, rather quickly promoted him beyond that limit at which “entries” begin.

In any case, it must be thought that he had some merits for which Viktor Nikitich could promote him. But in the world, in society, Galaktion Ilyich had no success and generally was not spoiled with regard to the joys of life. He was of very poor, frail health and of fatal appearance. As tall as his late patron, Count Viktor Nikitich, he did not, however, possess the count’s majestic exterior. On the contrary, Galaktion Ilyich inspired horror, mixed with a certain revulsion. He was at one and the same time a typical village lackey and a typical living corpse. His long, skinny frame was barely enclosed in grayish skin, his excessively high brow was dry and yellow, his temples were tinged with a corpselike greenness, his nose was broad and short like a skull’s, there was no trace of eyebrows, his mouth with its long, glittering teeth was eternally half open, and his eyes were dark, dim, totally colorless, set in deep, perfectly black sockets.

To meet him—was to be frightened.

The peculiarity of Galaktion Ilyich’s looks was that in his youth he was much more frightening, and towards old age he was getting better, so that one could bear him without being horrified.

He was of mild character and had a kind, sensitive, and even—as we shall see presently—a sentimental heart. He loved to dream and, like the majority of ugly-looking people, hid his dreams deeply. At heart he was more a poet than an official and had a greedy love of life, which he never enjoyed to his full content.

He endured his misfortune and knew it was eternal and would be with him till the grave. His very rise in the service brought with it a deep cup of bitterness: he suspected that Count Viktor Nikitich had kept him as a receptionist mainly in consideration of the fact that he had an oppressive effect on people. Galaktion Ilyich saw that when people waiting to be received by the count had to inform him of the purpose of their visit—their eyes grew dim and their knees gave way … Galaktion Ilyich’s contribution was that, after seeing him, each of them found a personal conversation with the count easy and even enjoyable.

With the years Galaktion Ilyich went from being an official who announced people to being the one to whom they were announced, and was entrusted with a very serious and ticklish mission in a distant region, where a supernatural event happened to him, his own account of which follows below.

III

About twenty-five years ago (the ill-born dignitary began), rumors started to reach Petersburg about repeated abuses of power by the governor P——v. These abuses were vast and involved almost all parts of the administration. Letters reported that the governor himself supposedly beat and whipped people with his own hands; confiscated, along with the marshal,⁶ all the local supplies of spirits for his own mills; arbitrarily took loans from the treasury; insisted on personally inspecting all postal correspondence—sent what was suitable, and tore up and burned what was unsuitable, and then took revenge on the authors; locked people up and left them to languish. With all that, he was a lover of art, maintained a big and very good orchestra, loved classical music, and was himself an excellent cellist.

For a long time only rumors came of his outrages, but then a little official appeared there, who dragged himself to Petersburg, wrote up the whole épopée very thoroughly and in detail, and delivered it personally into the proper hands.

The story turned out to be such as merited an immediate senatorial inspection. Indeed, that should have been done, but the governor and the marshal were in good standing with the late sovereign, and therefore it was not so simple to get at them. Viktor Nikitich first wanted to verify everything more precisely through his own man, and his choice fell on me.

He summons me and says:

“Thus and so, such and such sad news has come, and unfortunately it seems there’s some substance to it; but before giving this affair the go-ahead, I’d like to verify it more closely, and I’ve decided to employ you for that.”

I bow and say:

“I will be very happy to do it, if I can.”

“I’m sure you can,” the count replied, “and I’m relying on you. You have this special talent, that people won’t go talking nonsense to you, but will lay out the whole truth.”

That talent (the storyteller explained, smiling gently) is my lamentable appearance, which spreads gloom before it; but one must get by with what one is given.