So the important personage descended the stairs, stepped into his sledge, said to the coachman, "To Karolina Ivanovna's," and, wrapping himself luxuriously in his warm cloak, found himself in that delightful frame of mind than which a Russian can conceive no better, namely, when you think of nothing yourself, yet when the thoughts creep into your mind of their own accord, each more agreeable than the other, giving you no trouble either to drive them away or seek them.

Fully satisfied, he recalled all the gay features of the evening just passed, and all the mots which had made the little circle laugh.

Many of them he repeated in a low voice, and found them quite as funny as before; so it is not surprising that he should laugh heartily at them.

Occasionally, however, he was interrupted by gusts of wind, which, coming suddenly, God knows whence or why, cut his face, drove masses of snow into it, filled out his cloak-collar like a sail, or suddenly blew it over his head with supernatural force, and thus caused him constant trouble to disentangle himself.
Suddenly the important personage felt some one clutch him firmly by the collar.

Turning round, he perceived a man of short stature, in an old, worn uniform, and recognised, not without terror, Akakiy Akakievitch.
The official's face was white as snow, and looked just like a corpse's.
But the horror of the important personage transcended all bounds when he saw the dead man's mouth open, and, with a terrible odour of the grave, gave vent to the following remarks: "Ah, here you are at last! I have you, that--by the collar! I need your cloak; you took no trouble about mine, but reprimanded me; so now give up your own." The pallid prominent personage almost died of fright.