ceremony. On the contrary, I always like to slip by unobserved.
But it's impossible to conceal oneself, impossible.
I no sooner show myself in a place than they say,
"There goes Ivan Aleksandrovich!" Once I was even
taken for the commander-in-chief. The soldiers rushed
out of the guard-house and saluted. Afterwards an officer,
an intimate acquaintance of mine, said to me:
"Why, old chap, we completely mistook you for the commander-in-chief."

ANNA. Well, I declare!

KHLESTAKOV. I know pretty actresses. I've written
a number of vaudevilles, you know. I frequently meet
literary men. I am on an intimate footing with Pushkin.
I often say to him: "Well, Pushkin, old boy, how goes
it?" "So, so, partner," he'd reply, "as usual." He's
a great original.

ANNA. So you write too? How thrilling it must be
to be an author! You write for the papers also, I suppose?

KHLESTAKOV. Yes, for the papers, too. I am the
author of a lot of works--The Marriage of Figaro,
Robert le Diable, Norma. I don't even remember all the
names. I did it just by chance. I hadn't meant to
write, but a theatrical manager said, "Won't you please
write something for me?" I thought to myself: "All
right, why not?" So I did it all in one evening, surprised
everybody. I am extraordinarily light of thought.
All that has appeared under the name of Baron Brambeus