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After administering to himself several such lectures Podtyagin, the head ticket collector, begins to feel an irresistible impulse to get to work. It is past one o'clock at night, but in spite of that he wakes the ticket collectors and with them goes up and down the railway carriages, inspecting the tickets. "T-t-t-ickets . . . P-p-p-please!" he keeps shouting, briskly snapping the clippers.
You shall pay for such persecution. Get away!" Podtyagin waves his hand in despair, sighs, and walks out of the carriage. He goes to the attendants' compartment, sits down at the table, exhausted, and complains: "Oh, the public! There's no satisfying them! It's no use working and doing one's best!
Podtyagin considers whether to take offence or not and decides to take offence. "Don't shout here! This is not a tavern!" "No, in a tavern people are more humane. . ." coughs the passenger. "Perhaps you'll let me go to sleep another time!
"Certainly I . . . I'll apologize, of course. . . To be sure. . . ." Half an hour later, Podtyagin having thought of an apologetic phrase which would satisfy the passenger without lowering his own dignity, walks into the carriage. "Sir," he addresses the invalid. "Listen, sir. . . ." The invalid starts and leaps up: "What?" "I . . . what was it? . . . You mustn't be offended. . . ." "Och!
"This gentleman here," Podtyagin begins, "declares that I have no right to ask for his ticket and . . . and is offended at it. I ask you, Mr. Station-master, to explain to him. . . . Do I ask for tickets according to regulation or to please myself? Sir," Podtyagin addresses the scraggy-looking man, "sir! you can ask the station-master here if you don't believe me."
My name is Puzitsky; I am an engineer, and this gentleman is a colonel. If you do not apologize to the passenger, we shall make a complaint to the traffic manager, who is a friend of ours." "Gentlemen! Why of course I . . . why of course you . . ." Podtyagin is panic-stricken. "We don't want explanations. But we warn you, if you don't apologize, we shall see justice done to him."
I'll pay for five extra if you'll only let me die in peace! Have you never been ill yourself? Heartless people!" "This is simply persecution!" A gentleman in military uniform grows indignant. "I can see no other explanation of this persistence." "Drop it . . ." says the station-master, frowning and pulling Podtyagin by the sleeve.
"If you don't leave off shouting and disturbing the public, I shall be obliged to put you out at the next station and to draw up a report on the incident!" "This is revolting!" exclaims "the public," growing indignant. "Persecuting an invalid! Listen, and have some consideration!" "But the gentleman himself was abusive!" says Podtyagin, a little scared.
As though it's not enough killing the passengers with fumes and stuffiness and draughts, they want to strangle us with red tape, too, damn it all! He must have the ticket! My goodness, what zeal! If it were of any use to the company but half the passengers are travelling without a ticket!" "Listen, sir!" cries Podtyagin, flaring up.
One's driven to drinking and cursing it all . . . . If you do nothing they're angry; if you begin doing your duty, they're angry too. There's nothing for it but drink!" Podtyagin empties a bottle straight off and thinks no more of work, duty, and honesty!
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