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the regimental seal and one other document as well. 'In a month's time I am due to receive a loan of twenty-five thousand from the Nobles' Land Bank secured against my aunt's estate. I thought,' he sobbed, knowing perfectly well that the Greek could not possibly be moved to pity, 'that I would get the money and cover the shortfall. But I won't have enough time! The shame of it! There's only one thing left for me - a bullet in the forehead! Save me, Euripides Callistratovich, my dear fellow! Give me twenty-two thousand, and I'll have a power of attorney drawn up for you to receive the loan. I'll go back to the regiment, make amends, save my honour and my life. And in a month you'll receive twenty-five thousand. Profit for you and salvation for me! I implore you!'
    Kandelaki put on his spectacles, read the ominous letter from the regiment and carefully studied the mortgage agreement with the bank (also genuine, drawn up in due, correct form) chewed on his lips for a while and offered fifteen thousand. He finally settled on nineteen.
    The scene in the bank a month later must have been truly remarkable, when the owners of the eleven powers of attorney issued by Mitya all turned up at once. His profits were pretty good, only after that, of course, he had had to change his life in the most radical manner. But to hell with his former life; he didn't regret it at all.
    The former Cornet Sawin was not afraid of any difficulties with the police. The Empire, thank the Lord, was a big one, there were plenty of fools in it and more than enough rich towns. A man of imagination and spirit would always find scope for his ingenious pranks. And a new name and papers were a trifling matter. He could call himself whatever he wanted. He could be whoever he wanted.
    As for his appearance, that was where Momos had been exceptionally lucky. He was very fond of his own face and could spend hours admiring it in the mirror. Hair a wonderful pale blondish-brown colour, like the overwhelming majority of the indigenous Slavonic population. Small, expressionless features, small grey-blue eyes, a nose of indefinite shape, a weak, characterless chin. All in all, absolutely nothing to hold the eye's attention. Not a physiognomy, but a blank canvas - paint whatever you like on it.
    Average height, with no distinguishing features. The voice, it is true, was unusual - deep and resonant; but Momos had learned to control this instrument with consummate skill: he could boom in a deep bass and beguile in a charming tenor, squeak in a falsetto and even squeal a litde in a female soprano.
    In order to change one's appearance and become unrecognisable, it is not enough simply to dye one's hair and glue on a beard. A man is made up of his facial expressions, his way of walking and sitting down, his gestures, intonations, the special little words he uses in conversation, the force of his glance. And, of course, his ambience - the clothes, the first impression, the name, the title.
    If actors had earned big money, Momos would certainly have become a new Shchepkin or Sadovsky - he could sense that he had it in him. But no one paid the kind of sums he wanted, not even to leading actors in the theatres of the capital. And in any case, it was so much more interesting to act out plays not on the stage, with fifteen-minute intervals, but in real life, every day, from morning till night.
    Who had he not played during the last six years? - it was impossible to remember all the roles. And what was more, every play had been entirely his own creation. Following the manner of military strategy, Momos referred to them as 'operations', and before the beginning of a new adventure he liked to imagine himself as Maurice of Saxony or Napoleon. But, of course, these were not sanguinary battles that he planned, but diverting amusements. That is, the other dramatis personae might not perhaps fully appreciate the wittiness of the plot, but Momos himself was always left entirely satisfied.
    Many