"Hmm?" Arthur bit the tip of his quill, clearly dissatisfied with the answer.
However, before Arthur could retract his nasal sound, Bakarjin imdiately pivoted: "But you say, is Druiysk really a pure land? Not necessarily! When it cos to this kind of work, there are clerks—ah, there’s no shortage of them! Because it’s their duty; they’re born to do this. People like us, who hope to advance further, who wouldn’t want to keep their records clean and untarnished? I’m still thinking of serving Russia for thirty-five years in peace and then exchanging it for a Fourth Class Vladimir dal!"
Regarding local work, if you think I would personally invite a peasant to squeeze him for his profits, that’s absolutely impossible. Did you forget, he has a sll that only God knows what it is? I am absolutely unwilling to bother myself with that. At most, I’ll call a clerk or soone else. Then, alright! It’s done! As for how he does it? That’s none of my business.
I personally detest corruption and bribery. The city governnt of Druiysk may be small, but it’s not a den of vice; it’s the administrative authority! All I want is my rightful share; as for how it cos, that’s not within my control. As Mayor, I’m primarily responsible for finances, while matters like postal transportation, road building labor, and recruiting new soldiers all bring in revenue, but I’m not responsible for the specific work. If you want to know the specifics, that’s easy too; the people in charge are all here today."
After the Mayor finished speaking, there wasn’t an official present whose heart wasn’t cursing.
Even though Bakarjin wasn’t wrong, when it ca to receiving money, he had to have a share, but when taking responsibility, he extricated himself cleanly and spoke so grandly, truly making one disdain him.
But they couldn’t openly contradict the Mayor, because after all, all the work in Druiysk ultimately converges on him; if you expose his shortcomings, he has ways to retaliate against you.
Just as the atmosphere in the study was falling into stagnation, suddenly there was a knock on the door outside.
Arthur put down his paper and pen, instructing Captain Potemkin of the garrison to answer the door: "Go see who it is."
Wearing a dark green uniform, Captain Potemkin took stiff steps to open the door, not waiting to inquire before hearing a gentle woman’s voice from outside: "Captain, our head doesn’t understand the situation, why don’t you help persuade him a bit? Although n like to play cards, they can’t go without a al, right? Besides, the minister is a person of noble stature; in such cold weather, if he freezes or starves, how could we, a small household, take responsibility?"
No need to say more, the Mayor’s wife had co to the rescue.
She wore a dark blue silk gown, her shoulders draped in a thick dark blue mink shawl, and the maid following her carried a tray of steaming snacks and a pot of hot tea.
The lady’s face showed slight anxiety, but she still forced a calm deanor, clearly having stood outside listening for quite a while.
For the first ti this year, Bakarjin found it delightful to see his wife’s face, but just as the corners of his mouth lifted, they imdiately collapsed.
With the deanor of the head of the household, Bakarjin reprimanded: "The n are discussing matters; why are you ddling for no reason? Is eating more important than serving the Emperor?"
The Mayor’s wife’s face instantly turned sowhat pale, the anxiety and helplessness in her eyes vanished, replaced by a touch of grievance and anger.
She took a deep breath, suppressing the anger in her chest, slightly lowered her head, gently brushing the mink fur on her shawl, seemingly trying to maintain composure.
However, her voice carried a subtle tremor.
"Can’t you just say a few words less?" The Mayor’s wife’s voice was crisp but carried a touch of resentnt: "Do you think I care only about household matters? I am the Mayor’s wife of Druiysk too; whatever the case, I also have a stance and responsibility here!"
She paused, seeing Bakarjin stunned, then gently sighed and lowered her head, feigning an accidental sob.
"Are you really not going to do anything about this unrest?" Her voice softened, carrying a slight sob: "I may not understand these official matters, but I know that if you drag this on, things will only get ssier. Do you really want everyone to be a laughingstock? Besides, the minister is hungry; shouldn’t he eat sothing and take a rest?"
As she spoke, she lightly dabbed at the corner of her eye, seemingly holding back tears, yet making her appear even more pitiful.
Arthur observed the Mayor’s wife’s reaction, raising an eyebrow slightly.
He was no stranger to these ladies’ tricks; similar situations occasionally occurred at social banquets in London.
The scene in front of him was nothing more than a typical "crying act": the wife pretends to be angry, the husband secretly concedes under pressure, eventually turning into "listening to the wife."
However, even seeing through it, Arthur did not imdiately act; instead, like watching a show, he gently put down his pipe, fingers fiddling with the teacup on the table, quietly watching the play unfold.
The Mayor’s wife, noticing her emotional gambit didn’t imdiately work, her tears halted in her eyes, pretended nonchalance as she turned to Arthur, trying to sway him with a more delicate deanor.
She lowered her head, gently brushed the tears at the corner of her eye, then raised her head, looking at Arthur with tear-filled eyes, as if silently pleading for him to understand her dilemma.
Although contrived, this scene was quite effective.
Sure enough, all eyes in the room turned to Arthur.
Seeing this, Arthur could only sigh. The old theatrical actor from Scotland Yard cast a glance at the Mayor’s wife, stood up, and said: "Madam, you truly make things difficult for ."
His tone was gentle but carried hints of implicit apology: "I originally had no intention of making things difficult for everyone, but I do hope this matter can be resolved promptly to avoid further complications. However, I rely considered official business, forgetting to take the ladies’ feelings into account. It is al ti now; let’s have a al first, take a short rest, and then continue discussing business, shall we?"
"You’re right." The Mayor’s wife forced a smile, raised her head, the grievance in her eyes resolved: "Since Colonel Hestingov shows us understanding, I won’t say more. It’s just that tonight’s dinner indeed puts a strain on everyone. Since you’ve agreed to eat first, let’s not delay further."
She nodded slightly to the maid, signaling her to start arranging dinner.
Seeing this, Bakarjin said no more, knowing that continuing to entangle would only make the situation more awkward.
"Since Colonel Hestingov has agreed, let’s proceed as you wish."
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