Diary of a Madman and Other Stories Read Online Free PDF Page A

expected, no doubt, that I would put at the very bottom of the sheet, So-and-So, Clerk in Charge of the Table. Catch me! In the very central space, where the Director of the Department signs his name, I wrote “Ferdinand VIII”! You should have seen the religious silence that ensued! But I only waved my hand, and said: “I don’t insist on any signs of allegiance”; then I walked out. I went straight to the Director’s apartment. He was not at home. The footman did not want to let me in, but I said words to such effect that he let his hands drop. I found my way straight to her dressing-room. She was sitting before the looking-glass. When I came in she jumped up and stepped back. I did not, however, tell her that I was the King of Spain. I only said that there was happiness in store for her, such as she could have no idea of, and that in spite of the intrigues of enemies we should be united. That was all I wished to say, and I walked out. Oh, what a crafty creature woman is! Only now have I realized what woman is. Until now no one knew whom she was in love with. I have been the first to discover it. Woman is in love with the Devil. Yes, quite seriously. Physiologists write all sorts of nonsense saying that she is this or that,—but she loves nothing but the Devil. There she is, in a box of the first tier, fixing her opera-glass. You imagine she is looking at that fat man with decorations? Not at all; she is looking at the Devil, who is standing behind his back. Now he has hidden himself in the fat man’s coat. Now he is making signs to her. And she will marry him, sure enough. And all those fathers, holders of office, all that set of theirs who fawn on everyone and push their way to court, and call themselves patriots and what not,—it’s bonuses, bonuses, all these patriots want! They’d sell their father and mother and God for money,—ambitious snobs, Judases! All this is caused by ambition, and ambition is caused by a little vessel situated under the tongue, and in the vessel there is a small worm no bigger than a pin’s head, and all this is made by a barber who lives in Gorokhovaya Street. I forget his name, but I know for a fact that in concert with a certain midwife he is trying to spread Mahomedanism all over the world, and I am told that in France the majority of the people have already adopted the religion of Mahomet.
    NO DATE. THE DAY WAS DATELESS
    I WALKED incognito in the Nevsky. The Emperor drove past. All the town took off their hats, and I did the same, without, however, letting any sign escape me that I was the King of Spain. I thought it improper to disclose my identity in this way before the crowd, because I ought to begin by being presented at Court. The only thing that has prevented my doing so is that I have not got a Spanish national dress. Some kind of mantle is indispensable. I was going to order one from a tailor, but they are perfect asses; besides, they pay no attention to their work, they have started profiteering, and most of them are now engaged in paving the streets. So I decided to make a mantle out of my new uniform, which I have only worn twice. But in order that those rascals should not ruin it I decided to do the work myself, locking the door so that no one might see me at it. I cut it all to pieces with scissors, because the cut has to be quite different.
    I FORGET THE DATE. NOR WAS THERE ANY MONTH: WHAT IT WAS, THE DEVIL ALONE KNOWS
    THE mantle is ready. Mavra shrieked when I put it on. Nevertheless, I can’t yet be presented at Court: the deputation from Spain has not arrived yet. It would not be proper to go without the delegates: my dignity would be cheapened. I am expecting them any minute.
    The 1st
    I AM exceedingly surprised at the tardiness of the delegates. What can have detained them? Can it be France? Probably, she is the most unfriendly power. I went to inquire at the post office whether the Spanish delegates had arrived;