The Nose
The strange case of a civil servant who woke up one morning to find his nose was gone
Page 1
The city of St. Petersburg was still grey with sleep. On the Isaac Bridge, the barber Ivan Yakovlevich clutched a cloth-wrapped bundle. He had a terrible secret, and he thought the cold river was the only place for it. He looked around; the bridge was empty. He leaned over the rail, ready to let it drop, when two police officers at the far end looked his way. He froze, his plan ruined. The city was waking up, and there was nowhere left to hide. "A watery grave is the only place for it," he muttered to himself, heart pounding. "But those guards... they're watching me. What am I to do now?"
Page 2
It had all started an hour earlier in their small room. Ivan Yakovlevich woke to the smell of fresh bread and cut himself a piece. His knife struck something solid. He poked, then pulled it out with his fingers. It was white and firm. "It's a nose!" he whispered, his blood running cold. Worse, he recognised it from one of his customers, Major Kovalyov. Praskovya shrieked, her face a mask of fury. "A nose? In my bread?" she cried. "You drunkard! You cut off a man's nose while you were shaving him!" Ivan stammered, "But I don't remember, I swear it!" She pointed a trembling finger at the door. "Get it out of my house! Before the police come knocking!"
Page 3
At that moment, Collegiate Assessor Kovalyov—who preferred the title 'Major'—woke up in his own bed. He stretched and asked for the small mirror he kept on his table, intending only to inspect a pimple. But when he looked at his reflection, he gasped. Instead of his nose, there was nothing but a perfectly smooth, flat patch of skin. He leaped from the bed and splashed his face with water. It was no dream. "A mirror, quickly!" he called to his valet. He stared into it again, his hand flying to his face. "It cannot be! The skin is completely smooth! What is the meaning of this? Where has it gone?"
Page 4
Kovalyov threw on his coat, covering his face with a handkerchief, and ran into the street. He stood on the pavement when a fine carriage pulled up to a grand house nearby. The door opened, and a gentleman in a gold-embroidered uniform stepped out. Kovalyov stared. The gentleman was his own nose. The Nose, dressed as a State Councillor—a rank higher than Kovalyov’s—walked briskly up the steps. "Good heavens," Kovalyov whispered behind his handkerchief. "That gold embroidery… that plumed hat… it's my own nose!" He took a hesitant step forward. "Sir! Wait! You must be…" But the Nose, with a flick of its high collar, proceeded up the steps and vanished inside without a glance.
Page 5
Kovalyov followed the Nose into the magnificent Kazan Cathedral, where he found it praying piously. Gathering his courage, he approached. "My dear sir," he began, "it seems to me… you are my nose." The Nose turned, its expression one of cold disdain. "You are mistaken, my good man," it said coolly. "I am a person in my own right." Kovalyov sputtered, "But... you're my nose! You belong on my face!" The Nose looked down its, well, self at Kovalyov's more modest uniform. "Judging by the buttons on your uniform, you are of a much lower rank. I cannot be seen speaking with you." With that, it turned its back on him.
Page 6
Humiliated, Kovalyov hurried to the office of a newspaper. He approached a grey-haired clerk behind a high counter piled with papers. "I wish to place an advertisement," Kovalyov said. "It concerns a runaway. A generous reward is offered." The clerk put on his spectacles. "A runaway servant?" Kovalyov took a deep breath. "A runaway nose." The clerk stared, then slowly took off his spectacles. "We cannot print such an advertisement," he said flatly. "It is too… strange. It would damage our reputation." "But it is a fact!" Kovalyov pleaded. "Perhaps to you, sir," the clerk replied, turning back to his work. "To the public, it is nonsense."
Page 7
Kovalyov returned to his apartment in despair. Just then, a firm knock came at the door. It was a police inspector, his moustache bristling with authority. "Are you Major Kovalyov?" he asked. Kovalyov nodded miserably. "We have found your property," the officer announced, holding out a small object wrapped in paper. Kovalyov’s heart leaped. "Is this yours?" the inspector asked. Kovalyov tore it open. "It is! My nose! Thank you, officer!" The inspector nodded gravely. "It was apprehended attempting to board the mail coach for Riga with a fraudulent passport. Most irregular."
Page 8
His joy was short-lived. The nose would not stick back on. Meanwhile, the city went mad with rumour. Kovalyov, venturing out with his face heavily wrapped, heard it everywhere. He hid in the crowd of a busy shopping arcade, listening. "They say it was seen right here!" a lady whispered excitedly to her friend. "Indeed! My cousin's milliner saw it ordering snuff!" her companion replied. "This is unbearable," Kovalyov muttered into his scarf. "I have become a city-wide spectacle." His private, mortifying problem had become the city's favorite joke, and he was forced to listen to everyone gossip about his missing part.
Page 9
Days passed in misery. Then, on the morning of April 7th, Kovalyov woke and, out of habit, picked up his mirror. He held it up, expecting the same smooth horror. But he gasped. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. It was there. The nose was there, as if it had never been away. He touched it. It was real. "It's back!" he shouted to the empty room, his voice cracking with joy. "It's there! It's really back!" He laughed, a wild, incredulous sound, and poked it with his finger to be sure. Everything, for no reason at all, was suddenly, miraculously back to normal.
Page 10
The sun shone brightly on Nevsky Prospekt, St. Petersburg's grandest street. Among the strolling crowds was Major Kovalyov, his uniform immaculate, his posture proud, and his nose held high. He saw an acquaintance and gave a crisp nod. "A fine day, is it not, General?" he said, his voice resonant and clear. The general returned the greeting, noticing nothing amiss. Kovalyov smiled to himself, a man of status once more. The strangest things can happen in this world. Sometimes, a nose will leave a man's face, parade around town, and then return as if nothing happened. And life, absurdly, simply goes on.
About this story
- Audience: general readers
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