He stood up intending to throw a punch at the British guy, but as soon as he took half a step, he froze in place, feeling a familiar sharp pain in his rear. The sweat beads on his hooked nose sparkled like the bribe ruby that the Mayor of Druiysk could never rid of.
Gogol clutched his butt and sat back down, burying his head and quietly hissing.
The commotion drew sideways glances from the surrounding guests, and Arthur, with a look of apology, summoned a waiter: "Please, bring a cushion with a thick and warm pad over here. It seems Mr. Gogol’s ailnt has flared up."
The nearby guests, hearing this, nodded helplessly in acknowledgnt to Arthur.
The flare-up of hemorrhoids is sothing many of the guests present could empathize with; that feeling is indeed unpleasant.
Arthur started comforting Gogol: "Look! Your condition requires rest; you shouldn’t be too worked up. I genuinely consider you a friend and always have your best interest at heart."
Gogol took quite so ti before he had the strength to speak. He looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes with a resigned expression: "You’re practically like a Devil sent specifically to punish ."
The Red Devil, who hadn’t stirred in the cold Russian weather for many days, snorted with disdain upon hearing this: "I am not such a lowly thing."
Arthur glanced at the Red Devil and then continued to build rapport with Gogol: "Perhaps helping you secure a post at Peterburg University deviated from your original expectations, but given the situation, why not look forward to a bright future? In this vast world, you’re already quite a lucky person. Look at , when I was in university, I imagined becoming a dignified person, hoping in Russian terms, to sit in an office sharpening quill pens for ministers and directors. But, destiny always liked playing jokes on . Not only did I not get the chance to sharpen quill pens, but I graduated into an economic downturn, so I ended up donning a blue uniform doing those lowly jobs you disdain."
"Lowly jobs?" Gogol recalled hearing about Arthur’s past: "Being a policeman? Oh no, that’s probably just one of them."
Arthur, nonchalantly sipping his tea, said: "Specific details I can’t elaborate on, writing even an ’Imperial Envoy,’ took great determination on my part. But in summary, you’ve been quite fortunate, despite location issues, at least you’re doing the teaching job you love, which is relaxed, prosperous, and socially respected. Money, little work, and being close to ho - these three are usually hard to have together."
Gogol sighed hearing this: "Maybe you have a point. It’s just, you might have misunderstood ; I don’t actually like teaching, I just like having money and little work. The teaching post at Peterburg University is harder than I imagined, teaching at a university podium is far more stressful than at a won’s college podium."
Arthur frowned hearing this: "You an, you feel unqualified?"
"It’s not that I’m unqualified; I still have confidence in my knowledge." Gogol replied hesitantly: "Did Pushkin ever tell you about my first lecture at Peterburg University?"
"I heard him talk about it last week." Arthur replied, laughing: "He said your first lecture was very successful, many important figures attended the class, including St. Petersburg’s Inspector, Peterburg University’s Academic Director and Dean, the Crown Prince’s Tutor Rukovski, Duke Viamzevsky, Pushkin, Pogokin... I heard half of St. Petersburg’s literary circle was there supporting you."
Gogol’s cheeks reddened, he muttered: "Don’t even ntion it! My performance that day was terrible. If you were there, you’d see how terribly pale and distressed I looked..."
Arthur asked, half-believingly: "But Pushkin told your first lecture was passably decent?"
"There were indeed decent parts." Gogol unabashedly recounted his embarrassnt: "As the opening remarks were about to end, I suddenly felt confident, and my speech beca much more fluid and coherent. But then, the Dean and Academic Director suddenly walked into the classroom. They exchanged a few courteous words of welco with , greeted the students, and took their seats in the armchairs prepared for them. Imdiately after, a pin-drop silence descended, throwing back into the previous tense state, my face turning pale again. However, by then, hesitation was not an option. Hence, I had no choice but to step onto the podium and start lecturing..."
Gogol covered his face: "I swear to God, that was the most embarrassing experience of my life, a disaster comparable to the Battle of Austerlitz!"
"Co on, Nikolai, you’re just overthinking it." Arthur chid in: "When I visited Peterburg University two days ago, I even talked with the students there about you. One student who attended your class spoke highly of you. However, he also complained that your first class was the best, and the subsequent lectures were increasingly lackluster, disorganized, and tediously dull. Moreover, how co your Wednesday class only lasted twenty minutes before you declared you couldn’t continue? Was it because of the setback at the first class that you didn’t prepare for the rest of the lectures?"
Gogol was hit right at the heart by Arthur’s words, quickly denying: "Of course I prepared, it’s just that my enthusiasm for preparation was indeed dampened."
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