 Dead Souls. Part 1. Chapter 4. Section 1. On reaching the tavern, Chichikov called a halt. His reasons for this were twofold, namely that he wanted to rest the horses and that he himself desired some refreshment. In this connection, the author feels bound to confess that the appetite and the capacity of such men are greatly to be envied. Of those well-to-do folk of St. Petersburg and Moscow who spend their time in considering what they shall eat on the morrow and in composing a dinner for the day following, and who never sit down to a meal without first of all injecting a pill and then swallowing oysters and crabs and a quantity of other monsters, while eternally departing from Carlsbad or the Caucasus, the author has but a small opinion. Yes, they are not the persons to inspire envy. Rather, it is the folk of the middle classes. Rather, it is the folk of the middle classes. Rather, it is the folk of the middle classes. Folk who at one post house call for bacon, and at another for a sucking pig, and at a third for a steak of sturgeon or a baked pudding with onions, and who can sit down to table at any hour as though they had never had a meal in their lives and can devour fish of all sorts and guzzle and chew it with a view to provoking further appetite. These, I say, are the folk who enjoy heaven's most favored gift. To attain such a celestial condition the great folk of whom I have spoken would sacrifice half their serfs and half their mortgaged and non-mortgage property with the foreign and domestic improvements thereon, if thereby they could compass such a stomach as is possessed by the folk of the middle class. But, unfortunately, neither money nor real estate, whether improved or non-improved, can purchase such a stomach. The little wooden tavern with its narrow but hospitable curtains suspended from a pair of rough-hewn door-posts like old church candlesticks seemed to invite Chichikov to enter. True, the establishment was only a Russian hut of the ordinary type, but it was a hut of larger dimensions than usual and had around its windows and gables carved in patterned cornices of bright-colored wood which threw into relief the darker hue of the walls and consorted well with the flowered pitchers painted on the shutters. Ascending the narrow wooden staircase to the upper floor and arriving upon a broad landing, Chichikov found himself confronted with a creaking door and a stout old woman in a striped print gown. "'This way, if you please,' she said. Within the apartment designated, Chichikov encountered the old friends which one invariably finds in such roadside hostelries, two wit, a heavy samovar, four smooth, bescratched walls of white pine, a three-cornered press with cups and teapots, egg cups of gilded china standing in front of icons suspended by blue and red ribbons, a cat lately delivered of a family, a mirror which gives one four eyes instead of two and a pancake for a face, and, beside the icons, some bunches of herbs and carnations of such faded dustiness that should one attempt to smell them, one is bound to burst out sneezing. Have you a sucking pig, Chichikov inquired of the landlady as she stood expectantly before him? Yes, and some horseradish and sour cream? Yes, then serve them. The landlady departed for the purpose and returned with a plate, a napkin, the latter starched to the consistency of dried bark, a knife with a bone handle beginning to turn yellow, a two-pronged fork as thin as a wafer, and a salt cellar incapable of being made to stand upright. Following the accepted custom, our hero entered into conversation with the woman and inquired whether she herself or a landlord kept the tavern, how much income the tavern brought in, whether her sons lived with her, whether the oldest was a bachelor or married, whom the eldest had taken to wife, whether the dowry had been large, whether the father-in-law had been satisfied, and whether the said father-in-law had not complained of receiving too small a present at the wedding. In short, Chichikov touched on every conceivable point. Likewise, of course, he displayed some curiosity as to the landowners of the neighborhood. Their names he ascertained were Blachen, Pochikeyev, Minoy, Cheprakov, and Sobekevich. Then you were acquainted with Sobekevich, he said, whereupon the old woman informed him that she knew not only Sobekevich, but also Manilov, and that the latter was the more delicate eater of the two, since, whereas Manilov always ordered a roast fowl and some veal and mutton, and then tasted merely a morsel of each, Sobekevich would order one dish only, but consume the whole of it, and then demand more at the same price. Whilst Chichikov was thus conversing and partaking of the sucking pig, until only a fragment of it seemed likely to remain, the sound of an approaching vehicle made itself heard. Peering through the window, he saw draw up to the tavern door a light britchka drawn by three fine horses, from it that ascended two men, one flaxen-haired and tall, the other dark-haired, and of a slighter build. While the flaxen-haired man was clad in a dark blue coat, the other one was wrapped in a coat of striped pattern. Behind the britchka stood a second, but an empty turnout, drawn by four long-coated steeds and ragged collars and rope harnesses. The flaxen-haired man lost no time in ascending the staircase, while his darker friend remained below to fumble at something in a britchka, talking, as he did so, to the driver of the vehicle which stood hitched behind. Somehow the dark-haired man's voice struck Chichikov as familiar. And, as he was taking another look at him, the flaxen-haired gentleman entered the room. The newcomer was a man of lofty stature, with a small red mustache and a lean, hard-bitten face, whose redness made it evident that its acquaintance, if not with the smoke of gunpowder, at all events with that of tobacco, was intimate and extensive. Nevertheless, he greeted Chichikov civilly, and the latter returned his bow. Indeed, the pair would have entered into conversation and have made one another's acquaintance, since a beginning was made with their simultaneously expressing satisfaction at the circumstances that the previous night's rain had laid the dust on the roads, and thereby made driving cool and pleasant. When the gentleman's dark-favored friend also entered the room, and, throwing his cap upon the table, pushed back a mass of disheveled black locks from his brow. The latest arrival was a man of medium height, but well put together, and possessed of a pair of full red cheeks, a set of teeth as white as snow, and cold black whiskers. Indeed, so fresh was his complexion that it seemed to have been compounded of blood and milk, while health danced in his every feature. Ha-ha-ha! he cried, with a gesture of astonishment at the sight of Chichikov, what chance brings you here? Upon that Chichikov recognized Nosdreff, the men whom he had met at dinner at the public prosecutors, and who, within a minute or two of the introduction, had become so intimate with his fellow guest as to address him in the second person singular, in spite of the fact that Chichikov had given him no opportunity for doing so. Where have you been today? Nosdreff inquired, and without waiting for an answer went on. For myself, I am just from the fair, and completely cleaned out. Actually, I have had to do the journey back with stage-horses. Look out the window and see them for yourself, and he turned Chichikov's head so sharply in the desired direction that he came very near to bumping it against the window frame. Did you ever see such a bag of tricks? The cursed things have only just managed to get here. In fact, on the way I had to transfer myself to this fellow's britchka. He indicated his companion with a finger. By the way, don't you know one another? He is Mizhev, my brother-in-law. He and I were talking of you only this morning. Just you see, said I to him, if we do not fall in with Chichikov before we have done. Heavens how completely cleaned out I am. Not only have I lost four good horses, but also my watch and chain. Chichikov perceived that in very truth his interlocutor was minus the articles named, as well as that one of Nosdreff's whiskers was less bushy in appearance than the other one. Had I had another twenty rubles in my pocket when on Nosdreff, I should have won back all that I lost, as well as have pouched a further thirty thousand. Yes, I give you my word of honour on that. But you were saying the same thing when last I met you, put in the Flaxenhaired man. Even though I lent you fifty rubles, you lost them all. But I should not have lost them this time. Don't try to make me out of fool. I should not have lost them, I tell you. Had I only played the right card, I should have broken the bank. But you did not break the bank, remarked the Flaxenhaired man. No. That was because I did not play my cards right. But what about your precious major's play? Is that good? Good or not, at least he beat you. Splendid of him. Nevertheless, I will get my own back. Let him play me at doubles, and we shall soon see what sort of player he is. Friend Chichikov, at first we had a glorious time, for the fair was a tremendous success. Indeed, the tradesmen said that never yet had there been such a gathering. I myself managed to sell everything from my estate at a good price. In fact, we had a magnificent time. I can't help thinking of it, devil take me. What a pity you were not there. Three verts from the town there is quartered a regiment of dragoons, and you would scarcely believe what a lot of officers it has. Forty at least there are, and they do a fine lot of knocking about the town and drinking. In particular, Staff Captain Putsuluev is a splendid fellow. You should see his moustache, why he calls Good Claret trash. Bring me some of the usual trash, is his way of ordering it. And Lieutenant Kuvshinokov too, he is as delightful as the other man. In fact, I may say that every one of the lot is a rake. I spent my whole time with them, and you can imagine that Ponomarev the wine merchant did a fine trade indeed. All the same, he is a rascal you know and ought not to be dealt with, for he puts all sorts of rubbish into his liquor. Indian wood and burnt cork and elderberry juice, the villain. Nevertheless, get him to produce a bottle from what he calls his special cellar, and you will fancy yourself in the seventh heaven of delight. And what quantities of champagne we drank. Compared with it, provincial stuff is quas. Footnote one. Try to imagine not merely Klikko, but a blend of Klikko and Metrodura, Klikko of double strength. Also, Ponomarev produced a bottle of French stuff, which he calls bonbon. Had it a bouquet, ask you why it had the bouquet of a rose garden, of anything else you like. What times we had to be sure, just after we had left Ponomarev's place, some prince or other arrived in the town and sent out for some champagne, but not a bottle was there left, for the officers had drunk every one. Why, I myself got through seventeen bottles at a sitting. Footnote one. A liquor distilled from fermented bread-crusts or sour fruit. Come, come, you can't have got through seventeen, remarked the flaxen-haired man. But I did, I give you my word of honor, retorted Nostrev. Imagine what you like, but you didn't drink even ten bottles at a sitting. Will you bet that I did not? No, for what would be the use of betting about it? Then at least wager the gun which you have bought. No, I am not going to do anything of the kind. Just an experiment? No. It is well for you that you don't, since otherwise you would have found yourself minus both gun and cap. However, friend Chichikov, it is a pity you were not there. Had you been there, I feel sure you would have found yourself unable to part with Lieutenant Kovshinikov. You and he would have hit it off splendidly. You know, he is quite a different sort from the public prosecutor and our other provincial skin-flints, those who shiver in their shoes before they will spend a single co-pack. He will play farro, or anything else, and at any time. Why did you not come with us instead of wasting your time on cattle-breeding or something of the sort? But never mind. Embrace me. I like you immensely. Nizhev, see how curiously things have turned out? Chichikov has nothing to do with me or I with him. Yet here is he, come from God knows where and landed in the very spot where I happen to be living. I may tell you that no matter how many carriages I possessed, I should gamble the lot away. Recently I went in for a turn at billiards and lost two jars of pomade, a china teapot, and a guitar. Then I staked some more things and, like a fool, lost them all and six rubles in addition. What a dog is that Kovshinikov? He and I attended nearly every ball in the place. In particular, there was a woman, de colater, and such a swell, I merely thought to myself, that devil take her. But Kovshinikov is such a swag that he sat down beside her and began paying her strings of compliments in French. However, I did not neglect the damsels altogether, although he calls that sort of thing going in for strawberries. By the way, I have a splendid piece of fish and some caviar with me. Tis all I have brought back. In fact, it's a lucky chance that I happened to buy the stuff before my money was gone. Where are you for? I am about to call on a friend. On what friend? Let him go to the devil and come to my place instead. I cannot, I cannot. I have business to do. Oh, business again! I thought so. But I have business to do, and pressing business at that. I wager that you're lying. If not, tell me whom you're going to call upon. Upon Sobekevich. Instantly, nose-dreve burst into a laugh, compassable only by a healthy man, and whose head every tooth still remains as white as sugar. By this, I mean the laugh of quivering cheeks, the laugh which causes a neighbor who is sleeping behind double doors three rooms away to leap from his bed and exclaim with distended eyes, Hello? Something has upset him. What is there to laugh at, asked Chichikov, a trifle meddled, but nose-dreve laughed more unrestrainedly than ever, ejaculating, Oh, spare us all! The thing is so amusing that I shall die of it. I say that there is nothing to laugh at, repeated Chichikov. It is in fulfillment of a promise that I am on my way to Sobekevich's. Then you will scarcely be glad to be alive when you've got there, for he is the various miser in the countryside. Oh, I know you. However, if you think to find there either pharaoh or a bottle of bonbon, you are mistaken. Look here, my good friend. Let Sobekevich go to the devil and come to my place, where at least I shall have a piece of sturgeon to offer you for dinner. Ponamara have said to me on parting, This piece is just the thing for you. Even if you were to search the whole market, you would never find a better one. But, of course, he is a terrible rogue. I said to him outright, You and the collector of taxes are the two greatest skin flints in the town. But he only stroked his beard and smiled. Every day I used to breakfast with Kovshinokov in his restaurant. Well, what I was nearly forgetting is this. That, though I am aware that you can't forego your engagement, I am not going to give you up. No, not for ten thousand rubles of money. I tell you that in advance. Here he broke off to run to the window and shout to his servant, who was holding a knife in one hand and a crust of bread and a piece of sturgeon in the other. He had contrived to filch the latter while fumbling in a britchka for something else. Hi, Pofiti, bring here that puppy, you rascal. What a puppy it is. Unfortunately, that thief of a landlord has given it nothing to eat, even though I have promised him the wrong filly, which, as you may remember, I swapped from Kovshinokov. As a matter of fact, Chichinokov had never in his life seen either Kovshinokov or the wrong filly. Baron, do you wish for anything to eat? Inquired the landlady as she entered. No, nothing at all. Ah, friend Chichikov, what times we had. Yes, give me a glass of vodka, old woman. What sort do you keep? Aniseed. Then bring me a glass of it, repeated Nostref. And one for me as well, added the flaxen-haired man. At the theatre went on Nostref. There was an actress who sang like a canary. Kovshinokov, who happened to be sitting with me, said, My boy, you had better go and gather that strawberry. As for the booths at the fair, they numbered, I should say fifty. At this point he broke off to take the glass of vodka from the landlady, who bowed low in acknowledgement of his doing so. At the same moment, Pofiti, a fellow dressed like his master, that is to say, in a greasy wadded overcoat, entered with the puppy. Put the brute down here, commanded Nostref, and then fasten it up. Pofiti deposited the animal upon the floor, whereupon it proceeded to act in the manner of dogs. There's a puppy for you, cried Nostref, catching a hole of it by the back and lifting it up. The puppy uttered a piteous yelp. I can see that you haven't done what I told you to do, he continued to Pofiti after an inspection of the animal's belly. You have quite forgotten to brush him. I did brush him, protested Pofiti. Then where did these fleas come from? I cannot think. Perhaps they have leapt into his coat out of obichka. You liar! As a matter of fact, you have forgotten to brush him. Nevertheless, look at these ears, Chichakoff, just feel them. Why should I? Without doing that I can see that he is well bred. Nevertheless, catch hold of his ears and feel them. To humor the fellow, Chichakoff did as he had requested, remarking, Yes, he seems likely to turn out well, and feel the coldness of his nose. Just take it in your hand. Not wishing to offend his interlocutor, Chichakoff felt the puppy's nose saying, Someday he will have an excellent scent. Yes, will he not? It is the right sort of muzzle for that. I must say that I have long been wanting such a puppy. Pofiti, take him away again. Pofiti lifted up the puppy and bore it downstairs. Look here, Chichakoff, resumed Nostrev, you must come to my place. It lies only five versets away, and we can go there like the wind, and you can visit Sobekevich afterwards. Shall I or shall I not go to Nostrev's, reflected Chichakoff? Is he likely to prove any more useful than the rest? Well, at least he is as promising, even though he has lost so much at play. But he has a head on his shoulders, and therefore I must go carefully if I am to tackle him concerning my scheme. With that he added aloud, Very well, I will come with you, but do not let us be long, for my time is very precious. That's right, that's right, cried Nostrev. Splendid, splendid, let me embrace you, and he fell upon Chichakoff's neck. All three of us will go. No, no, put in the flaxen-haired man, you must excuse me, for I must be off home. Rubbish, rubbish, I am not going to excuse you. But my wife will be furious with me. You and Montseur Chichakoff must change into the other britchka. Come, come, the thing is not to be thought of. The flaxen-haired man was one of those people in whose character, at first sight, there seems to lurk a certain grain of stubbornness, so much so that almost before one has begun to speak they are ready to dispute one's words and to disagree with anything that may be opposed to their peculiar form of opinion. For instance, they will decline to have folly called wisdom, or any tune danced to but their own. Always, however, will there become manifest in their character a soft spot, and in the end they will accept what hitherto they had denied, and call what is foolish sensible, and even dance, yes, better than any one else will do, to a tune set by someone else. In short, they generally begin well, but always end badly. Rubbish, said Nosdrev, in answer to a further objection on his brother-in-law's part, and sure enough, no sooner had Nosdrev clapped his cap upon his head than the flaxen-haired man started to follow him and his companion. But the gentleman is not paid for the vodka, put in the old woman. All right, all right, good mother, look here, brother-in-law, pay her, will you, for I have not a co-pec left. How much, inquired the brother-in-law? What, sir? Eighty co-pecs, if you please, replied the old woman. A lie! Give her half a ruble, that will be quite enough. No, it will not, baron, protested the old woman. However, she took the money gratefully, and even ran to the door to open it for the gentleman. As a matter of fact, she had lost nothing by the transaction, since she had demanded fully a quarter more than the vodka was worth. The travellers took their seats, and since Chichikov's Brechka kept along the Brechka wherein Nosdrev and his brother-in-law were seated, it was possible for all three men to converse together as they proceeded. Behind them came Nosdrev's smaller buggy, with its team of lean, stage-horses, and Pofiri and the puppy. But, in as much as the conversation which the travellers maintained was not of a kind likely to interest the reader, I might do worse than say something concerning Nosdrev himself, seeing that he is destined to play no small role in our story. Nosdrev's face will be familiar to the reader, seeing that everyone must have encountered many such. Fellows of the kind are known as gay young sparks, and even in their boyhood and school days earn a reputation for being Bond's comrades, though with it all they come in for some hard knocks, for the reason that their faces evince an element of frankness, directness, and enterprise which enables them soon to make friends, and almost before you have had time to look around to start addressing you in a second person singular. Yet, while cementing such friendships for all eternity, almost always they begin quarreling the same evening, since throughout they are a loquacious, dissipated, high-spirited, over-showy tribe. Indeed at thirty-five Nosdrev was just what he had been at eighteen and twenty. He was just such a lover of fast living. Nor had his marriage in any way changed him, and the less so since his wife had soon departed to another world, and left behind her two children, whom he did not want, and who were therefore placed in the charge of a good-looking nursemaid. Never at any time could he remain at home for more than a single day, for his keen scent could range over scores and scores of versts, and detect any fare which promised balls and crowds. Consequently, in a trice he would be there, quarreling and creating disturbance over the gaming-table, like all men of his tribe he had a perfect passion for cards, yet playing neither a faultless nor an overclean game, since he was both a blunderer and able to indulge in a large number of illicit cuts and other devices. The result was that the game often ended in another kind of sport altogether. That is to say, either he received a good kicking or he had his thick and very handsome whiskers pulled, with the result that on certain occasions he returned home with one of those appendages looking decidedly ragged. Yet his plump, healthy-looking cheeks were so robustly constituted and contained such an abundance of recreative vigor that a new whisker soon sprouted in place of the old one, and even surpassed its predecessor. Again, and the following is a phenomenon peculiar to Russia, a very short time would have elapsed before once more he would be consorting with the very cronies who had recently cuffed him, and consorting with them as though nothing whatsoever had happened, no reference to the subject being made by him and they too holding their tongues. In short, Nostrev was, as it were, a man of incident. Never was he present at any gathering without some sort of a fracas occurring thereat. Either he would require to be expelled from the room by gendarmes or his friends would have to kick him out into the street. At all events should neither of those occurrences take place, at least he did something of a nature which would not otherwise have been witnessed. That is to say, should he not play the fool in a buffet to such an extent as to make everyone smile, you may be sure that he was engaged in lying to a degree which at times abashed even himself. Moreover, the man lied without reason. For instance, he would begin telling a story to the effect that he possessed a blue-coated or a red-coated horse. Until, in the end, his listeners would be forced to leave him with the remark, you are giving us some fine fluff, old fellow! Also, men like Nostrev have a passion for insulting their neighbors without the least excuse afforded. For that matter, even a man of good standing and of respectable exterior, a man with a star on his breast, may unexpectedly press your hand one day and begin talking to you on subjects of a nature to give food for serious thought. Yet, just as unexpectedly, may that man start abusing you to your face and do so in a manner worthy of a collegiate registrar, rather than of a man who wears a star on his breast and aspires to converse on subjects which merit reflection. All that one can do in such a case is to stand shrugging one's shoulders in amazement. Well, Nostrev had just such a weakness. The more he became friendly with the man, the sooner would he insult him and be ready to spread calamities as to his reputation. Yet, all the while, he would consider himself the insulted one's friend, and should he meet him again, would greet him in the most amicable style possible and say, You rascal, why have you given up coming to see me? Thus, taken all around, Nostrev was a person of many aspects and numerous potentialities. In one and the same breath would he propose to go with you wither so ever you might choose, even to the very ends of the world should you so require, or to enter upon any sort of an enterprise with you, or to exchange any commodity with any other commodity which you might care to name. Guns, horses, dogs, all were subjects for barter, though not for profit so far as you were concerned. Such traits are mostly the outcome of a boisterous temperament, as is additionally exemplified by the fact that if at a fair he chanced to fall in with a simpleton and to fleece him, he would then proceed to buy a quantity of the very first articles which came to hand. Horse collars, cigar lighters, dresses for his nursemaid, foals, raisins, silver ewers, lengths of Holland, wheatmeal, tobacco, revolvers, dried herrings, pictures, wet stones, crockery, boots, and so forth, until every atom of his money was exhausted. Yet sell them where these articles conveyed home, since, as a rule, the same day saw them lost to some more skillful gambler in addition to his pipe, his tobacco pouch, his mouthpiece, his four-horse turnout, and his coachman, with the result that, stripped to his very shirt, he would be forced to beg the loan of a vehicle from a friend. Such was Nostrev. Some may say that characters of his type have become extinct, that Nostrevs no longer exist. Alas, such as say this will be wrong, for many a day must pass before the Nostrevs will have disappeared from our ken. Everywhere there are to be seen in our midst, the only difference between the new and the old being a difference of garments. Persons of superficial observation are apt to consider that a man clad in a different coat is quite a different person from what he used to be. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dead Souls by Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol. Translated by D. J. Hogarth. Part 1 Chapter 4 Section 2 To continue, the three vehicles bowled up to the steps of Nostrev's house, and their occupants alighted. But no preparations whatsoever had been made for the guest's reception. Front some wooden trestles in the centre of the dining-room, a couple of peasants were engaged in whitewashing the ceiling, and drawing out an endless song as they splashed their stuff about the floor. Hastily bidding peasants and trestles to be gone, Nostrev departed to another room with further instructions. Indeed so audible was the sound of his voice as he ordered dinner, that Chichikov, who was beginning to feel hungry once more, was unable to gather that it would be at least five o'clock before a meal of any kind would be available. On his return Nostrev invited his companions to inspect his establishment, even though as early as two o'clock he had to announce that nothing more was to be seen. The tour began with a view of the stables, where the party saw two mares, the one of Grey and the other of Rhone, and a colt. Which latter animal, though far from showy, Nostrev declared to have cost him ten thousand rubles. You never paid ten thousand rubles for the brute, exclaimed the brother-in-law, he isn't worth even a thousand. By God I did pay ten thousand, asserted Nostrev, you can swear that as much as you like, retorted the other. Will you bet that I did not? asked Nostrev, but the brother-in-law declined the offer. Next Nostrev showed his guests some empty stalls, where a number of equally fine animals, so he alleged, had lately stood. Also there was on view the goat, which an old belief still considers to be an indispensable adjunct to such places, even though its apparent use is to pace up and down beneath the noses of the horses, as though the place belonged to it. Thereafter the host took his guests to look at a young wolf which he had got tied to a chain. He is fed on nothing but raw meat, he explained, for I want him to grow up as fierce as possible. Then the party inspected a pond in which there were fish of such a size that it would take two men all their time to lift one of them out. This piece of information was received with renewed incredulity on the part of the brother-in-law. Now Chichikov went on Nostrev, let me show you a truly magnificent brace of dogs. The hardness of their muscles will surprise you, and they have jowls as sharp as needles. So saying he led the way to a small but neatly built shed, surrounded on every side with a fenced-in run. Entering this run the visitors beheld a number of dogs of all sorts and sizes and colors. In their midst Nostrev looked like a father lording it over his family circle. Erecting their tails, their stems, as dog fanciers call those members, the animals came bounding to greet the party, and fully a score of them laid their paws upon Chichikov's shoulders. Indeed one dog was moved with such friendliness that standing on its hind legs it licked him on the lips, and so forced him to spit. That done the visitors duly inspected the couple already mentioned, and expressed astonishment at their muscles. True enough, they were fine animals. Next the party looked at a Crimean bitch, which, though blind and fascinating her end, had, two years ago, been a truly magnificent dog. At all events, so said Nostrev. Next came another bitch, also blind. Then an inspection of the water mill, which lacked the spindle socket, wherein the upper stone ought to have been revolving, fluttering to use the Russian peasant's quaint expression. But never mind, said Nostrev, let us proceed to the blacksmith's shop. So to the blacksmith's shop the party proceeded, and when the said shop had been viewed, Nostrev said as he pointed to a field, In this field I have seen such numbers of hairs as to render the ground quite invisible. Indeed, on one occasion I, with my own hands, caught a hair by the hind legs. You never caught a hair by the hind legs with your hands, remarked the brother-in-law. But I did, reiterated Nostrev. However, let me show you the boundary where my lands come to an end. So saying, he started to conduct his guests across a field which consisted mostly of mole heaps, and in which the party had to pick their way between strips of plowed land and of herald. Soon Chichikov began to feel weary, for the train was so low-lying that in many spots water could be heard squelching underfoot. And though for a while the visitors watched their feet and stepped carefully, they soon perceived that such a course availed them nothing, and took to following their noses without either selecting or avoiding the spots where the mire happened to be deeper or the reverse. At length, when a considerable distance had been covered, they caught sight of a boundary post and a narrow ditch. That is the boundary, said Nostrev. Everything that you see on this side of the post is mine, as well as the forest on the other side of it, and what lies beyond the forest. When did that forest become yours? asked the brother-in-law. It cannot be long since you purchased it, for it never used to be yours. Yes, it isn't long since I purchased it, said Nostrev. How long? How long? Why, I purchased it three days ago and gave a pretty sum for it as the devil knows. Indeed, why, three days ago, you were at the fair. Wiseacre cannot one be at a fair and buy land at the same time? Yes, I was at the fair, and my steward bought the land in my absence. Oh, your steward bought it! The brother-in-law seemed doubtful and shook his head. The guests returned by the same route as that by which they had come, whereafter, on reaching the house, Nostrev conducted them to his study, which contained not a trace of the things usually to be found in such apartments, such things as books and papers. On the contrary, the only articles to be seen were a sword and a brace of guns. The one of them were three hundred rubles, and the other about eight hundred. The brother-in-law inspected the articles in question, and then shook his head as before. Next the visitors were shown some real Turkish daggers, of which one bore the inadvertent inscription, Seveli Seberyakov, footnote two, master Cutler. Then came a barrel organ, on which Nostrev started to play some tune or other. For a while the sounds were not wholly unpleasing, but suddenly something seemed to go wrong. For a Mazurka started, to be followed by Marlboro has gone to the war, and to this again there succeeded an antiquated waltz. Also, long after Nostrev had ceased to turn the handle, one particularly shrill-pitched pipe, which had throughout refused to harmonize with the rest, kept up a protracted whistling on its own account. Then followed an exhibition of tobacco pipes, pipes of clay, of wood, of mischum, pipes smoked and non-smoked, pipes wrapped in cami leather and not-so-wrapped, an amber-mounted hookah, a stake-worn at cards, and a tobacco pouch. Worked it was alleged by some countess who had fallen in love with Nostrev at a post-house, and whose handiwork Nostrev aveered to constitute the sublimity of superfluity, a term which, in the Nostrevian vocabulary, purported to signify the acme of perfection. Footnote two, that is to say, a distinctly Russian name. Finally, after some more derves of Sturgeon's back, they sat down to table, the time being then nearly five o'clock. But the meal did not constitute, by any means, the best of which Chichikov had ever partaken, seeing that some of the dishes were overcooked and others were scarcely cooked at all. Evidently their compounder had trusted chiefly to inspiration. She had laid hold of the first thing which had happened to come to hand. For instance, had pepper represented the nearest article within reach, she had added pepper wholesale. Had a cabbage chanced to be so encountered, she had pressed it also into service, and the same with milk, bacon, and peas. In short, her rule seemed to have been, make a hot dish of some sort and some sort of taste will result. For the rest, Nostrev drew heavily upon the wine. Even before the soup had been served, he had poured out for each guest a bumper of port and another of hot sautern. Never in provincial towns is ordinary vulgar sautern ever procurable. Next he called for a bottle of Madeira, as fine a tipple as ever a field-martial drank. But the Madeira only burnt the mouth, since the dealers, familiar with the taste of our landed gentry, who love good Madeira, invariably doctored the stuff with copious dashes of rum and imperial vodka, in the hope that Russian stomachs will thus be enabled to carry off the lot. After this bottle, Nostrev called for another, and a very special brand, a brand which he declared to consist of a blend of burgundy and champagne, and of which he poured generous measures into the glasses of Chichikov and the brother-in-law as they sat to the right and left of him. But since Chichikov noticed that, after doing so, he added only a scanty modicum of the mixture to his own tumbler, our hero determined to be cautious, and therefore took advantage of a moment when Nostrev had again plunged into conversation and was yet a third time engaged in refilling his brother-in-law's glass, to contrive to upset his, Chichikov's, glass over his plate. In time there came also to table a tart of mountain ash berries, berries which the host declared to equal in taste, ripe plums, but which, curiously enough, smacked more of corn brandy. Next the company consumed a sort of pasty, of which the precise name has escaped me, but which the host rendered differently even on the second occasion of its being mentioned. The meal over, and the whole tale of wines tried, the guests still retained their seats, a circumstance which embarrassed Chichikov, seeing that he had no mind to propound his pet scheme in the presence of Nostrev's brother-in-law, who is a complete stranger to him. No, that subject called for amicable and private conversation. Nevertheless the brother-in-law appeared to bode little danger, seeing that he had taken on board a full cargo, and was now engaged in doing nothing of a more menacing nature than picking his nose. At length he himself noticed that he was not altogether in a responsible condition, wherefore he rose and began to make excuses for departing homewards. Though in a tone so drowsy and lethargic that, to quote the Russian proverb, he might also have been pulling a collar onto a horse by the clasps. No, no, cried Nostrev, I am not going to let you go. But I must go, replied the brother-in-law. Don't try to hinder me, you are annoying me greatly. Rubbish, we are going to play a game of banker. No, no, you must play it without me my friend. My wife is expecting me at home, and I must go and tell her all about the fair. Yes, I must go if I am to please her. Do not try to detain me. Your wife beat, but have you really an important piece of business with her? No, no my friend. The real reason is that she is a good and trustful woman. And that she does a great deal for me. The tears spring to my eyes as I think of it. Do not detain me as an honorable man. I say that I must go. Of that I do assure you in all sincerity. Oh, let him go. Put in Chichikov under his breath. What use will he be? Very well, said Nostrev, though damn it I do not like fellows who lose their heads. Then he added to his brother-in-law. All right, Thetok. Footnote three. Off you go to your wife and your woman's talk, and may the devil go with you. Footnote three. A jeering appellation which owes its origin to the fact that certain Russians cherish a prejudice against the initial character of the word, namely the Greek letter theta or th. Do not insult me with the term Thetok, retorted the brother-in-law. To her I owe my life, and she is a dear, good woman, and has shown me much affection. At the very thought of it I could weep, you see she will be asking me what I have seen at the fair, and tell her about it I must. For she is such a dear, good woman. Then off you go to her with your pack of lies. Here's your cup. No, good friend, you are not to speak of her like that. By so doing you offend me greatly, I say that she is a dear, good woman. Then run along home to her. Yes, I am just going. Excuse me for having been unable to stay gladly what I have stayed, but really I cannot. The brother-in-law repeated his excuses again and again, without noticing that he had entered the Burica that had passed through the gates, and that he was now in the open country. Permissibly we may suppose that his wife succeeded in gleaning from him few details of the fair. What a fool said Nostrev as, standing by the window he watched the departing vehicle. Yet his off-horse is not such a bad one. For a long time past I have been wanting to get hold of it. A man like that is simply impossible. Yes, he is a thetok, a regular thetok. With that they repaired to the parlor, where, on Pofiri bringing candles, Chichikov perceived that his host had produced a pack of cards. I tell you what said Nostrev, pressing the sides of the pack together and then slightly bending them so that the pack cracked and a few cards flew out. How would it be if, to pass the time, I were to make a bank of three hundred? Chichikov pretended not to have heard him, but remarked with an air of having just recollected a forgotten point. By the way, I had admitted to say that I have a request to make of you. What request? First give me your word that you will grant it. What is the request, I say? Then you give me your word, do you? Certainly. Your word of honor? My word of honor. This, then, is my request. I presume that you have a large number of dead serfs whose names have not yet been removed from the revision list. I have, but why do you ask? Because I want you to make them over to me. Of what use would they be to you? Never mind, I have a purpose in wanting them. What purpose? A purpose which is strictly my own affair. In short, I need them. You seem to have hatched a very fine scheme. Out with it now. What is in the wind? How could I have hatched such a scheme as you say? One could not very well hatch a scheme out of such a trifle as this. Then, for what purpose do you want the serfs? Oh, the curiosity of the man he wants to poke his fingers into and smell over every detail. Why do you decline to say what is in your mind? At all events, until you do say I shall not move in the matter. But how would it benefit you to know what my plans are? A whim is seized me, that is all. Nor are you playing fair. You have given me your word of honor, yet now you are trying to back out of it. No matter what you desire me to do, I decline to do it until you have told me your purpose. I just say to the fellow, thought Chichikov, he reflected for a moment and then explained that he wanted the dead souls in order to acquire a better standing in society, since at present he possessed little-landed property and only a handful of serfs. You are lying, said Nozdrev, without even letting him finish. Yes, you are lying, my good friend. Chichikov himself perceived that his device had been a clumsy one and his pretext weak. I must tell him straight out, he said to himself, as he pulled his wits together. Should I tell you the truth, he added aloud, I must beg of you not to repeat it. The truth is that I am thinking of getting married, but unfortunately my betrothed's father and mother are very ambitious people and do not want me to marry her, since they desire the bridegroom to own not less than three hundred souls, whereas I own but a hundred and fifty and that number is not sufficient. Again you are lying, said Nozdrev. Then look here, I have been lying only to this extent, and Chichikov marked off upon his little finger a minute portion. Nevertheless, I will bet my head that you have been lying throughout. Come, come, that is not very civil of you. Why should I have been lying? Because I know you and know that you are a regular skin-flint. I say that in all friendship. If I possessed any power over you, I should hang you to the nearest tree. This remark hurt Chichikov, for at any time he disliked expressions gross or offensive to decency and never allowed anyone, no, not even persons of the highest rank, to behave towards him with an undue measure of familiarity. Consequently his sense of umbridge on the present occasion was unbounded. By God I would hang you, repeated Nozdrev. I say this frankly and not for the purpose of offending you, but simply to communicate to you my friendly opinion. To everything there are limits, retorted Chichikov stiffly. If you want to indulge in speeches of that sort, you had better return to the barracks. However, after a pause he added, if you do not care to give me the serfs, why not sell them? Sell them? I know you, you rascal. You wouldn't give me very much for them, would you? Unnice fellow, look here, what are they to you? So many diamonds, eh? I thought so, I know you. Pardon me, but I could wish that you were a member of the Jewish persuasion. You would give them to me fast enough then. On the contrary, to show you that I am not a user, I will decline to ask of you a single co-peck for the serfs. All that you need to do is buy that cult of mine, and then I will throw in the serfs in addition. But what should I want with your cult? said Chichikov, genuinely astonished at the proposal. What should you want with him, why I have bought him for ten thousand rubles and I am ready to let you have him for four? I ask you again of what use could the cult possibly be to me? I am not the keeper of a breeding establishment. Ah, I see that you fail to understand me. Let me suggest that you pay down at once three thousand rubles of the purchase money and leave the other thousand until later. But I do not mean to buy the cult, damn him, then buy the Rhone mare. No, nor the Rhone mare. Then you shall have both the mare and the gray horse which you have seen in my stables for two thousand rubles. I require no horses at all. But you would be able to sell them again, you would be able to get thrice their purchase price at the very first fair that was held. Then sell them at that fair yourself, seeing that you are so certain of making a triple profit. Oh, I should make it fast enough only I want you to benefit by the transaction. Chichikov duly thanked his interlocutor, but continued to decline either the gray horse or the Rhone mare. Then buy a few dogs, said Nostrov, I can sell you a couple of hides of quiver, ears well pricked, coats like quills, ribs barrel shaped, and paws so tucked up as scarcely to graze the ground when they run. Of what use would those dogs be to me? I am not a sportsman. But I want you to have the dogs. Listen, if you won't have the dogs then buy my barrel organ. Tis a splendid instrument. As a man of honor I can tell you that when new it cost me fifteen hundred rubles. Well, you shall have it for nine hundred. Come, come. What should I want with a barrel organ? I am not a German to go hauling it about the roads and begging for coppers. But this is quite a different kind of organ from the one which Germans take about with them. You see, it is a real organ. Look at it for yourself. It is made of the best wood. I will take you to have another view of it. And, seizing Chichikov by the hand, Nostrov drew him towards the other room where, in spite of the fact that Chichikov, with his feet planted firmly on the floor, assured his host again and again that he knew exactly what the organ was like, he was forced once more to hear how Marlboro went to the war. Then, since you don't care to give me any money for it, persisted Nostrov, listen to the following proposal. I will give you the barrel organ and all the dead souls which I possess, and in return you shall give me your britchka and another three hundred rubles into the bargain. Listen to the man. In that case, what should I have left to drive in? Oh, I would stand you another britchka. Come to the coach house and I will show you the one I mean. It only needs repainting to look a perfectly splendid britchka. The ramping incorrigible devil thought Chichikov to himself as at all hazards he resolved to escape from britchka's organs and every species of dog however marvelously barrel-ribbed and tucked up of paw. And in exchange you shall have the britchka, the barrel organ, and the dead souls, repeated Nostrov. I must decline the offer, said Chichikov. And why? Because I don't want the things. I am full up already. I can see that you don't know how things should be done between good friends and comrades. Plainly, you are a man of two faces. What do you mean, you fool? Think for yourself. Why should I acquire articles which I don't want? Say no more about it if you please. I have quite taken your measures, but see here. Should you care to play a game of banker, I am ready to stake both the dead souls and the barrel organette cards. No. To leave an issue to cards means to submit oneself to the unknown, said Chichikov, covertly glancing at the pack which Nostrov had gotten in his hands. Somehow the way in which his companion had cut that pack seemed to him suspicious. Why to the unknown, asked Nostrov. There is no such thing as the unknown. Should luck be on your side, you may win the devil knows what a haul. Oh, luck, luck, he went on, beginning to deal in the hope of raising a quarrel. Here is the cursed nine upon which the other night I lost everything. All along I knew that I should lose my money. Said I to myself, the devil take you, you false accursed card. Just as Nostrov uttered the words, Porfiry entered with a fresh bottle of liquor, but Chichikov declined either to play or to drink. Why do you refuse to play, asked Nostrov, because I feel indisposed to do so. Moreover, I must confess that I am no great hand at cards. Why are you no great hand at them? Chichikov shrugged his shoulders. Because I am not, he replied. You are no great hand at anything, I think. What does that matter? God has made me so. The truth is that you are athetic and nothing else. Once upon a time I believed you to be a good fellow, but now I see that you don't understand civility. One cannot speak to you as one would to an intimate, for there is no frankness or sincerity about you. You are a regular Sobachevich, just such another as he. For what reason are you abusing me? Am I in any way at fault for declining to play cards? Sell me those souls if you are the man to hesitate over such rubbish. The foul fiend take you. I was about to have given them to you for nothing, but now you shan't have them at all, not if you offer me three kingdoms in exchange. Henceforth I will have nothing to do with you, you cobbler, you dirty blacksmith. Porphyry, go and tell the Osler to give the gentleman's horses no oats, but only hay. This development, Chichikov, had hardly expected. And you, added Nostrath to his guest, get out of my sight. Yet, in spite of this, host and guest took supper together. Even though, on this occasion, the table was adorned with no wines of fictitious nomenclature, but only with a bottle which reared its solitary head beside a jug of what is usually known as Vin Ordinaire. When supper was over, Nostrath said to Chichikov as he conducted him to a side room where a bed had been made up. This is where you are to sleep. I cannot very well wish you good night. Left to himself on Nostrath's departure, Chichikov felt in a most unenviable frame of mind. Full of inward vexation, he blamed himself bitterly for having come to see this man in so wasted valuable time. But even more did he blame himself for having told him of his scheme, for having acted as carelessly as a child or a madman. Of a surety, the scheme was not one which ought to have been confided to a man like Nostrath. For he was a worthless fellow who might lie about it and append additions to it, and spread such stories as would give rise to God knows what scandals. This is indeed bad, Chichikov said to himself. I have been an absolute fool. Consequently he spent an uneasy night. This uneasiness being increased by the fact that a number of small but vigorous insects so feasted upon him that he could do nothing but scratch the spots in its claim. The devil take you and knows devil like. Only one morning was approaching did he fall asleep. On rising he made it his first business, after donning dressing gown and slippers, to cross the courtyard to the stable for the purpose of ordering Selefan to harness the britchka. Just as he was returning from his errand, he encountered Nostrath, clad in a dressing gown and holding a pipe between his teeth. Host and guest greeted one another in friendly fashion, and Nostrath inquired how Chichikov had slept. Fairly well, replied Chichikov, but with a touch of dryness in his tone. The same with myself, said Nostrath. The truth is that such a lot of nasty brutes kept crawling over me that even to speak of it gives me the shutters. Likewise, as the effect of last night's doings, a whole squadron of soldiers seems to be camping on my chest and giving me a flogging. Ugg! And whom also do you think I saw in a dream? You would never guess. Why, it was Staff, Captain, Potsilev, and Lieutenant Kuvshinikov. Yes, thought Chichikov to himself, and I wish they too would give you a public thrashing. I felt so ill a wint on Nostrath, and just after I had fallen asleep, something did come and sting me. Probably it was a party of hag fleas. Now dress yourself, and I will be with you presently. First of all, I must give that scoundrel of a bailiff a wigging. Chichikov departed to his own room to wash and dress. Which process completed, he entered the dining room to find the table laid with tea-things and a bottle of rum. Clearly, no broom had yet touched the place, for there remained traces of the previous night's dinner and supper in the shape of crumbs thrown over the floor and tobacco ash on the tablecloth. The host himself, when he entered, was still clad in a dressing-gown exposing a hairy chest, and as he sat holding his pipe in his hand and drinking tea from a cup, he would have made a model for the sort of painter who prefers to portray gentlemen of the less curled and scented order. What, thank you, he asked of Chichikov after a short silence. Are you willing now to play me for those souls? I have told you that I never play cards. If the souls are for sale, I will buy them. I declined to sell them. Such would not be the course proper between friends, but a game of banker would be quite another matter. Let us steal the cards. I have told you that I declined to play. And you will not agree to an exchange? No. Then look here. Suppose we play a game of chess. If you win, the souls shall be yours. There are a lot which I should like to see crossed off the revision list. Hi, Pofiti, bring me the chess board. You are wasting your time. I will play neither chess nor cards. But chess is different from playing with a bank. In chess there can be neither luck nor cheating, for everything depends upon skill. In fact, I warn you that I cannot possibly play with you unless you allow me a move or two in advance. The same with me, thought Chichikov. Shall I or shall I not play this fellow? I use not to be a bad chess player, and it is a sport in which he would find it more difficult to be up to his tricks. Very well, he added aloud, I will play you at chess. And stake the souls for a hundred rubles? No. Why for a hundred? Would it not be sufficient to stake them for fifty? No. What would be the use of fifty? Nevertheless, for the hundred rubles I will throw in a moderately old puppy, or else a gold seal and watch chain. Very well, assented Chichikov. Then how many moves are you going to allow me? Is that to be part of the bargain? Why none, of course. At least allow me two. No, none. I myself am only a poor player. I know you in your poor play, said Nostradov, moving a chess man. In fact, it is a long time since last I had a chess man in my hand, replied Chichikov, also moving a piece. Ah, I know you in your poor play, repeated Nostradov, moving a second chess man. I say again, that it is a long time since last I had a chess man in my hand, and Chichikov in his turn moved. I know you in your poor play, repeated Nostradov, for the third time, as he made a third move. At the same moment, the cuff of one of his sleeves happened to dislodge another chess man from its position. Again, I say, said Chichikov, that it is a long time since last but, hi, look here, put that piece back in its place. What piece? This one. And almost as Chichikov spoke, he saw a third chess man coming into view between the queens. God only knows once that chess man had materialized. No, no, shouted Chichikov as he rose from the table. It is impossible to play with a man like you. People don't move three pieces at once. How? Three pieces? All that I have done is to make a mistake, to move one of my pieces by accident. If you like, I will forfeit it to you. And once has the third piece come? What third piece? The one now standing between the queens? Just one of your own pieces, surely you are forgetting. No, no, my friend, I have counted every move and can remember each one. That piece has only just become added to the board. Put it back in its place, I say. Its place? Which is its place? But Nostradov had readened a good deal. I perceive you to be a strategist at the game. No, no, good friend, you are the strategist. Though an unsuccessful one as it happens. Then of what are you supposing me capable of cheating you? I am not supposing you capable of anything. All that I say is that I will not play with you any more. But you can't refuse to, said Nostradov, growing heated. You see the game has begun. Nevertheless, I have a right not to continue it, seeing that you are not playing as an honest man should do. You are lying. You cannot truthfully say that. It is you who are lying. But I have not cheated. Consequently, you cannot refuse to play, but must continue the game to a finish. You cannot force me to play, retorted Chichikov coldly, as, turning to the chessboard, he swept the pieces into confusion. Nostradov approached Chichikov with a manner so threatening that the other fell back a couple of paces. I will force you to play, said Nostradov. It is no use you making a mess of the chessboard, for I can remember every move. We will replace the chessmen exactly as they were. No, no, my friend. The game is over, and I play you no more. You say that you will not? Yes. Surely you can see for yourself that such a thing is impossible. That cock won't fight. Say it once that you refuse to play with me, and Nostradov approached a step nearer. Very well, I do say that, replied Chichikov, and at the same moment raised his hands towards his face, for the dispute was growing heated. Nor was the act of caution altogether unwarranted, for Nostradov also raised his fist, and it may be that one of our hero's plump, pleasant-looking cheeks would have sustained an indelible insult, had not he, Chichikov, parried the blow, and, seizing Nostradov by his whirling arms, held them fast. Hearing the words, Chichikov, both because he wished to avoid rendering the servants witnesses of the unedifying scene, and because he felt that it would be of no avail to hold Nostradov any longer, let go of the latter's arms. But at the same moment Porfiriy and Pavlushka entered the room, a pair of stout rascals with whom it would be unwise to meddle. Do you or do you not intend to finish the game, said Nostradov? Give me a direct answer. No, it will not be possible to finish the game, replied Chichikov, glancing out of the window. He could see his britchka standing ready for him, and Selefin evidently awaiting orders to draw up to the entrance steps. But from the room there was no escape, since in the doorway was posted the couple of well-built serving men. Then it is as you say, you refuse to finish the game, repeated Nostradov, his face as red as fire. I would have finished it had you played like a man of honor, but as it is, I cannot. You cannot, eh, you villain! You find that you cannot as soon as you find that you are not winning. Thrash him, you fellows! And as he spoke, Nostradov grasped the cherrywood shank of his pipe. Chichikov turned as white as a sheet. He tried to say something, but his quivering lips emitted no sound. Thrash him again, shouted Nostradov as he rushed forward in a state of heat and perspiration, more proper to a warrior who was attacking an impregnable fortress. Thrash him again, he shouted in a voice like that of some half-demented lieutenant whose desperate bravery has acquired such a reputation that orders have had to be issued that his hands shall be held lest he attempt deeds of over presumptuous daring. Seized with the military spirit, however, the lieutenant's head began to whirl, and before his eyes there flits the image of Suvorov. Footnote four. He advances to the great encounter and impulsively cries, forward my sons! cries it without reflecting that he may be spoiling the plan of the general attack, that millions of rifles may be protruding their muzzles through the embrasures of the impregnable, towering walls of the fortress, that his own impotent assault may be destined to be dissipated like dust before the wind, and that already there may have been launched on its whistling career the bullet which is to close forever his vociferous throat. However, if Nostradov resembled the headstrong desperate lieutenant whom we have just pictured as advancing upon a fortress, at least the fortress itself in no way resembled the impregnable stronghold which I have described. As a matter of fact, the fortress became seized with a panic which drove its spirit into its boots. First of all, the chair with which Chichikov, the fortress in question, sought to defend himself was rested from his grasp by the serfs, and then, blinking and neither dead nor alive, he turned to parry of a circassian pipe-stem of his host. In fact, God only knows what would have happened had not the fates been pleased by a miracle to deliver Chichikov's elegant back and shoulders from the onslaught. Suddenly, and as unexpectedly as though the sound had come from the clouds, there made itself heard the tinkling notes of a collarbell, and then the rumble of wheels approaching the entrance steps, and lastly the snorting and hard-breathing of a team of horses as a vehicle came to a standstill. Involuntarily, all present glanced through the window and saw a man clad in a semi-military greatcoat leap from a buggy. After making an inquiry or two in the hall, he entered the dining-room just at the juncture when Chichikov, almost swooning with terror, had found himself placed in about as awkward a situation as could well befall a mortal man. The great Russian general, who, after winning fame in the Seven Years' War, met with disaster when attempting to assist the Austrians against the French in 1799. Kindly tell me which of you is Monsieur Nosdrev, said the unknown with a glance of perplexity both at the person named, who was still standing with pipe-shank upraised, and at Chichikov, who was just beginning to recover from his unpleasant predicament. Kindly tell me whom I have the honour of addressing, retorted Nosdrev as he approached the official. I am the superintendent of rural police. And what do you want? I have come to fulfil a commission imposed upon me. That is to say, I have come to place you under arrest until your case shall have been decided. Wabish! What case, pray! The case in which you involved yourself when, in a drunken condition, and through the instrumentality of a walking-stick, you offered grave offence to the person of land-owner Maximov. You lie to your face, I tell you, that never in my life have I set eyes upon land-over Maximov. Good sir, allow me to represent to you that I am a government officer. Speeches like that you may address to your servants, but not to me. At this point Chichikov, without waiting for Nosdrev's reply, seized his cap, slipped behind the superintendent's back, rushed out onto the veranda, sprang into his butchka, and ordered Selefin to drive like the wind. End of Part 1, Chapter 4 Dead Souls Part 1, Chapter 5, Section 1 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Dead Souls by Nikolay Vasilyevich Gogol Translated by DJ Hogarth Part 1, Chapter 5, Section 1 Read by Ewan Baylis Certainly Chichikov was a thorough coward, for although the britchka pursued its headlong course, until Nosdrev's establishment had disappeared behind Hilux and Hedgerows. Our hero continued to glance nervously behind him, as though every moment expecting to see a stern chase begin. His breath came with difficulty, and when he tried his heart with his hands, he could feel it fluttering, like a quail caught in a net. What a sweat the fellow has thrown me into, he thought to himself, while many a dire and forceful aspiration passed through his mind. Indeed, the expressions to which he gave vent were most inelegant in their nature. But what was to be done next? He was a Russian and thoroughly aroused. The affair had been no joke. But for the superintendent, he reflected, I might never again have looked upon God's daylight. I might have vanished like a bubble on a pool, and left neither trace nor posterity, nor property, nor an honourable name for my future offspring to inherit. It seemed that our hero was particularly anxious with regard to his possible issue. What a scurvy baron used cellophane as he drove along. Never have I seen such a baron. I should like to spit in his face. It is better to allow a man nothing to eat than to refuse to feed a horse properly. A horse needs his oats. They are his proper fare. Even if you make a man procure a meal at his own expense, don't deny a horse his oats, for he ought always to have them. An equally poor opinion of Nosdreff seemed to be cherished also by the Steeds. For not only were the bay and the assessor clearly out of spirits, but even the skew-bold was wearing a dejected air. True, at home the skew-bold got none but the poorer sorts of oats to eat, and cellophane never filled his trough, without having first called him a villain. But at least they were oats, and not hay. They were stuff which could be chewed with a certain amount of relish. Also, there was the fact that at intervals he could intrude his long nose into his companion's troughs, especially when cellophane happened to be absent from the stable, and ascertain what their preventer was like. But at Nosdreff's there had been nothing but hay. That was not right. All three horses felt greatly discontented. But presently the malcontents had their reflections cut short in a very rude and unexpected manner. That is to say they were brought back to practicalities by coming into violent collision with a six-horse vehicle. While upon their heads descended both a babel of cries from the ladies inside, and a storm of curses and abuse from the coachman. Ah, you damned fool! he vociferated. I shouted to you loud enough. Draw out, you old raven, and keep to the right. Are you drunk? Cellophane himself felt conscious that he had been careless. But since a Russian does not care to admit a fault in the presence of strangers, he retorted with dignity. Why have you run into us? Did you leave your eyes behind you at the last tavern that you stopped at? With that he started to back the bridge-car in the hope that it might get clear of the other's harness. But this would not do, for the pair were too hopelessly intertwined. Meanwhile the skew-bolts snuffed curiously at his new acquaintances as they stood planted on either side of him, while the ladies in the vehicle regarded the scene with an expression of terror. One of them was an old woman, and the other a damsel of about sixteen. A mass of golden hair fell daintily from a small head, and the oval of her commonly-faced was as shapely as an egg, and white with the transparent whiteness seen when the hands of a housewife hold a new laid egg to the light to let the sun's rays filter through its shell. The same tints marked the maiden's ears, where they glowed in the sunshine, and, in short, what were the tears in her wide-open, resting eyes? She presented so attractive a picture, that our hero bestowed upon it more than a passing glance, before he turned his attention to the hubbub, which was being raised among the horses and the coachmen. Back out, you wook of nizhny Novgorod, the strangest coachman shouted. Seliphantite and his reins, and the other driver did the same. The horses stepped back a little, and then came together again, this time getting a leg or two over the traces. In fact, so pleased did the skew-balled scene with his new friends, that he refused to stir from the melee into which an unforeseen chant had been heard. into which an unforeseen chant had plunged him. Laying his muzzle lovingly upon the neck of one of his recently acquired acquaintances, he seemed to be whispering something in that acquaintance's ear, and whispering, pretty nonsense too, to judge from the way in which that confidant kept shaking his ears. At length, peasants from a village, which happened to be near the scene of the accident, tackled the mess, and since a spectacle of that kind is to the Russian muzhik what a newspaper or a club meeting is to the German, the vehicle soon became the centre of a crowd, and the village denuded even of its old women and children. The traces were disentangled, and a few slaps on the nose forced the skew-balled to draw back a little, after which the teams were straightened out and separated. Nevertheless, either sheer obstinacy or vexation at being parted from the new friends caused the team absolutely to refuse to move a leg. Their driver laid the whip about them, but still they stood as though rooted to the spot. At length the participatory efforts of the peasants rose to an unprecedented degree of enthusiasm, and they shouted in an intermittent chorus the advice, Do you, Andrusha, take the head of the trace-horse on the right, while Uncle Mithai mounts the shaft horse? Get up, Uncle Mithai! Upon that the lean, long and red-bearded Uncle Mithai mounted the shaft horse, in which position he looked like a village steeple or the winder which is used to raise water from wells. The coachman whipped up his steed afresh, but nothing came of it, and Uncle Mithai had proved useless. Hold on, hold on, shouted the peasants again. Do you, Uncle Mithai, mount the trace horse, while Uncle Mithai mounts the shaft horse? Whereupon Uncle Mithai, a peasant with a pair of broad shoulders, a beard as black as charcoal, and a belly like the huge samovar, in which speed ten is brewed for all attending a local market, hasten to seat himself upon the shaft horse, which almost sank to the ground beneath his weight. Now they will go all right, the Muzhiks exclaimed. Lay it on hot, lay it on hot, give that sorrow horse the whip, and make him squirm like a quorumora. Footnote, a kind of large gnat. End of footnote. Nevertheless, the affair in no way progressed, wherefore, seeing that flogging was of no use, Uncle Mithai and Meenai both mounted the sorrow, while Andrusha seated himself upon the trace horse. Then the coachman himself lost patience, and sent the two uncles about their business, and not before it was time, seeing that the horses were steaming in a way that made it clear that, unless they were first winded, they would never reach the next post house. So they were given a moment's rest. That done, they moved off of their own accord. Throughout, Chichikov had been gazing at the young unknown with great attention, and had even made one or two attempts to enter into conversation with her, but without success. Indeed, when the ladies departed, it was as in a dream that he saw the girl's comely presence, the delicate features of her face, and the slender outline of her form vanished from his sight. It was as in a dream that once more he saw only the road, the bridgecar, the three horses, cellophane, and the bare empty fields. Everywhere in life, yes, even in the plainest, the dingiest ranks of society, as much as in those which are uniformly bright and presentable. A man may happen upon some phenomenon, which is so entirely different from those which have hitherto fallen to his lot. Everywhere, through the web of sorrow of which our lives are woven, there may suddenly break a clear, radiant thread of joy. Even as suddenly along the street of some poor, poverty-stricken village, which, ordinarily, sees naught but a farm wagon, there may come bowling a gorgeous coach with plaited harness, picturesque courses, and a glitter of glass, so that the peasants stand gaping, and do not resume their caps until long after the strange equipage has become lost to sight. Thus the golden-haired maiden makes a sudden, unexpected appearance in our story, and as suddenly, as unexpectedly, disappears. Indeed, had it not been that the person concerned was Chichikov, and not some youth of twenty summers, a Hussar, or a student, or, in general, a man standing on the threshold of life, what thoughts would not have sprung to birth, and stirred and spoken within him? For what a length of time would he not have stood and tranced as he stared into the distance, and forgot, like his journey, the business still to be done, the possibility of incurring loss through lingering, himself, his vocation, the world, and everything else that the world contains? But in the present case the hero was a man of middle age, and of cautious and frigid temperament. True, he pondered over the incident, but in the more deliberate fashion than a younger man would have done. That is to say, his reflections were not so irresponsible and unsteady. She was a comely damsel, he said to himself, as he opened his snuff-box and took a pinch. But the important point is, is she also a nice damsel? One thing she has in her favour, and that is that she appears only just to have left school, and not to have had time to become womanly in the worse sense. At present, therefore, she is like a child. Everything in her is simple, and she says just what she thinks, and laughs merely when she feels inclined. Such a damsel might be made into anything, or she might be turned into worthless rubbish. The latter I surmise for trudging after her where her own father wouldn't know her. And to that there will be added pride and affectation, and she will begin to observe established rules, and to rack her brains as to how and how much she ought to talk, and to whom, and where, and so forth. Every moment will see her growing timorous and confused, lest she be saying too much. Finally, she will develop into a confirmed prevaricator, an end by marrying the devil knows whom. Chichikov paused a while. Then he went on. Yet I should like to know who she is, and who her father is, and whether he is a rich landowner of good standing, or merely a respectable man who has acquired a fortune in the service of the government. Should he allow her, or marriage, a dowry of, say, two hundred thousand rubles, she will be a very nice catch indeed. She might even, so to speak, make a man of good breathing happy. Indeed, so attractively did the idea of the two hundred thousand rubles begin to dance before his imagination, that he felt a twinge of self-reproach because, during the hobbub, he had not inquired of the postillion, or the coachman who the travellers might be. But soon the sight of Sabakovic's country-house dissipated his thoughts, and forced him to return to his stock-subject of reflection. Sabakovic's country-house and his state were a very fair size, and on each side of the mansion were expanses of birch and pine forest in two shades of green. The wooden edifice itself had dark grey walls, and a red-gabled roof, for it was a mansion of the kind which Russia builds for her military settlers, and for German colonists. A noticeable circumstance was the fact that the taste of the architect had differed from that of the proprietor, the former having manifestly been a pedant and desirous of symmetry, and the latter having wished only for comfort. Consequently he, the proprietor, had dispensed with all windows on one side of the mansion, and had caused to be inserted in their place only a small aperture which doubtless was intended to light an otherwise dark lumber room. Likewise the architect's best efforts had failed to cause the pediment to stand in the centre of the building, since the proprietor had had one of its four original columns removed. Evidently durability had been considered throughout, for the courtyard was enclosed by a strong and very high wooden fence, and both the stables, the coach-house and the culinary premises were partially constructed of beams warranted to last for centuries. Nay, even the wooden huts of the peasantry were wonderful in the solidity of their construction, and not a clay wall or a carved pattern or other device was to be seen. Everything fitted exactly into its right place, and even the draw well of the mansion was fashioned of the oak wood usually thought suitable only for mills or ships. In short, wherever Chichikov's eye turned he saw nothing that was not free from shoddy make, and well and skillfully arranged. As he approached the entrance steps he caught sight of two faces peering from a window. One of them was that of a woman in a mob cap with features as long and as narrow as a cucumber, and the other that of a man with features as broad and as short as the Moldavian pumpkins known as Golianki. Whereof, balalaiki, the species of light two-stringed instruments which constitutes the pride and the joy of the gay young fellow of twenty, as he sits winking and smiling at the white-necked white-buzzened maidens who are gathered to listen to his low-pitched tinkling are fashioned. This scrutiny made, both faces withdrew, and there came out onto the entrance steps a lackey clad in a grey jacket and a stiff blue collar. This functionary conducted Chichikov into the hall, where he was met by the master of the house himself, who requested his guest to enter, and then led him into the inner part of the mansion. A covert glance at Sabakovic showed our hero that his host exactly resembled a moderate-sized bear. To complete the resemblance, Sabakovic's long frock-coat and baggy trousers were of the precise colour of a bear's hide, while when shuffling across the floor he made a crisscross motion of his legs, and had, in addition, a constant habit of treading upon his companion's toes. As for his face, it was of the warm, ardent tint of a pier-talk. Footnote. A copper coin worth five co-pecs. End of footnote. Persons of this kind, persons to whose designing nature, has devoted not much thought, and in the fashioning of whose frames, she has used no instruments so delicate as a file or a gimlet or so forth, are not uncommon. Such persons she merely rough-hues. One cut with a hatchet, and their results a nose. Another such cut with a hatchet, and then materialises a pair of lips. Two thrusts with a drill, and their issues a pair of eyes. Lastly, scorning to plane down the roughness, she sends out that person into the world, saying, There is another live creature. Sabakovich was just such a ragged, curiously put-together figure, though the above model would seem to have been followed more in his upper portion than in his lower. One result was that he seldom turned his head to look at the person with whom he was speaking, but rather directed his eyes towards, say, the stove-corner or the doorway. As host and guest crossed the living room, Chichikov directed a second glance at his companion. He is a bear, and nothing but a bear, he thought to himself. And indeed, the strange comparison was inevitable. Incidentally, Sabakovich's Christian name and patronymic were Michael Semenovich. Of his habit of treading upon other people's toes, Chichikov had become fully aware. Wherefore, he stepped cautiously, and throughout, allowed his host to take the lead. As a matter of fact, Sabakovich himself seemed conscious of his failing. For at intervals he would inquire, I hope I have not hurt you. And Chichikov, with a word of thanks, would reply that, as yet, he had sustained no injury. At length they reached the drawing-room, where Sabakovich pointed to an armchair, and invited his guest to be seated. Chichikov gazed with interest at the walls and the pictures. In every such picture there were portrayed either young men or Greek generals of the type of Mofregordato, clad in red uniform and breeches, Canaris and others. And all these heroes were depicted with the solidity of Thay and the wealth of Mustache, which made the beholder simply shudder with awe. Among them there were placed also, according to some unknown system, and, for some unknown reason, firstly, Bregratium. Footnote, a Russian general who fought against Napoleon and was mortally wounded at Borodino. End of footnote. Tall and thin, and with a cluster of small flags and cannon beneath him, and the whole set in the narrowest of frames. And secondly, the Greek heroine, Bobelina, whose legs look larger than do the whole bodies of the drawing-room dandies of the present day. Apparently the master of the house was himself a man of health and strength, and, therefore, like to have his apartments adorned with non-but-folk of equal vigor and robustness. Lastly, in window, and suspected cheap by jowl with Bobelina, their hunger cage went at intervals that peered forth a white-spotted blackbird. Like everything else in the apartment, it bore a strong resemblance to Sabakovic. When host and guest had been conversing for two minutes or so, the door opened, and there entered the hostess a tall lady in a cap adorned with ribbons of domestic colouring and manufacture. She entered deliberately and held her head as erect as a palm. End of part one, chapter five, section one.