Dead Souls

by Nikolai Vasilevich Gogol

  CHAPTER VI

  Chichikov's amusement at the peasant's outburst prevented him fromnoticing that he had reached the centre of a large and populous village;but, presently, a violent jolt aroused him to the fact that he wasdriving over wooden pavements of a kind compared with which thecobblestones of the town had been as nothing. Like the keys of a piano,the planks kept rising and falling, and unguarded passage over thementailed either a bump on the back of the neck or a bruise on theforehead or a bite on the tip of one's tongue. At the same timeChichikov noticed a look of decay about the buildings of the village.The beams of the huts had grown dark with age, many of their roofs wereriddled with holes, others had but a tile of the roof remaining, and yetothers were reduced to the rib-like framework of the same. It wouldseem as though the inhabitants themselves had removed the laths andtraverses, on the very natural plea that the huts were no protectionagainst the rain, and therefore, since the latter entered in bucketfuls,there was no particular object to be gained by sitting in such huts whenall the time there was the tavern and the highroad and other places toresort to.

  Suddenly a woman appeared from an outbuilding--apparently thehousekeeper of the mansion, but so roughly and dirtily dressed as almostto seem indistinguishable from a man. Chichikov inquired for the masterof the place.

  "He is not at home," she replied, almost before her interlocutor had hadtime to finish. Then she added: "What do you want with him?"

  "I have some business to do," said Chichikov.

  "Then pray walk into the house," the woman advised. Then she turned uponhim a back that was smeared with flour and had a long slit in the lowerportion of its covering. Entering a large, dark hall which reeked likea tomb, he passed into an equally dark parlour that was lighted only bysuch rays as contrived to filter through a crack under the door. WhenChichikov opened the door in question, the spectacle of the untidinesswithin struck him almost with amazement. It would seem that the floorwas never washed, and that the room was used as a receptacle for everyconceivable kind of furniture. On a table stood a ragged chair, with,beside it, a clock minus a pendulum and covered all over with cobwebs.Against a wall leant a cupboard, full of old silver, glassware, andchina. On a writing table, inlaid with mother-of-pearl which, in places,had broken away and left behind it a number of yellow grooves (stuffedwith putty), lay a pile of finely written manuscript, an overturnedmarble press (turning green), an ancient book in a leather cover withred edges, a lemon dried and shrunken to the dimensions of a hazelnut,the broken arm of a chair, a tumbler containing the dregs of some liquidand three flies (the whole covered over with a sheet of notepaper), apile of rags, two ink-encrusted pens, and a yellow toothpick with whichthe master of the house had picked his teeth (apparently) at leastbefore the coming of the French to Moscow. As for the walls, they werehung with a medley of pictures. Among the latter was a long engraving ofa battle scene, wherein soldiers in three-cornered hats were brandishinghuge drums and slender lances. It lacked a glass, and was set in a frameornamented with bronze fretwork and bronze corner rings. Beside it hunga huge, grimy oil painting representative of some flowers and fruit,half a water melon, a boar's head, and the pendent form of a deadwild duck. Attached to the ceiling there was a chandelier in a hollandcovering--the covering so dusty as closely to resemble a huge cocoonenclosing a caterpillar. Lastly, in one corner of the room lay a pileof articles which had evidently been adjudged unworthy of a place on thetable. Yet what the pile consisted of it would have been difficult tosay, seeing that the dust on the same was so thick that any hand whichtouched it would have at once resembled a glove. Prominently protrudingfrom the pile was the shaft of a wooden spade and the antiquated soleof a shoe. Never would one have supposed that a living creature hadtenanted the room, were it not that the presence of such a creature wasbetrayed by the spectacle of an old nightcap resting on the table.

  Whilst Chichikov was gazing at this extraordinary mess, a side dooropened and there entered the housekeeper who had met him near theoutbuildings. But now Chichikov perceived this person to be a man ratherthan a woman, since a female housekeeper would have had no beard toshave, whereas the chin of the newcomer, with the lower portion of hischeeks, strongly resembled the curry-comb which is used for groominghorses. Chichikov assumed a questioning air, and waited to hear what thehousekeeper might have to say. The housekeeper did the same. At length,surprised at the misunderstanding, Chichikov decided to ask the firstquestion.

  "Is the master at home?" he inquired.

  "Yes," replied the person addressed.

  "Then where is he?" continued Chichikov.

  "Are you blind, my good sir?" retorted the other. "_I_ am the master."

  Involuntarily our hero started and stared. During his travels it hadbefallen him to meet various types of men--some of them, it may be,types which you and I have never encountered; but even to Chichikov thisparticular species was new. In the old man's face there was nothing veryspecial--it was much like the wizened face of many another dotard, savethat the chin was so greatly projected that whenever he spoke he wasforced to wipe it with a handkerchief to avoid dribbling, and that hissmall eyes were not yet grown dull, but twinkled under their overhangingbrows like the eyes of mice when, with attentive ears and sensitivewhiskers, they snuff the air and peer forth from their holes tosee whether a cat or a boy may not be in the vicinity. No, the mostnoticeable feature about the man was his clothes. In no way could ithave been guessed of what his coat was made, for both its sleeves andits skirts were so ragged and filthy as to defy description, whileinstead of two posterior tails, there dangled four of those appendages,with, projecting from them, a torn newspaper. Also, around his neckthere was wrapped something which might have been a stocking, a garter,or a stomacher, but was certainly not a tie. In short, had Chichikovchanced to encounter him at a church door, he would have bestowed uponhim a copper or two (for, to do our hero justice, he had a sympatheticheart and never refrained from presenting a beggar with alms), but inthe present case there was standing before him, not a mendicant, buta landowner--and a landowner possessed of fully a thousand serfs, thesuperior of all his neighbours in wealth of flour and grain, and theowner of storehouses, and so forth, that were crammed with homespuncloth and linen, tanned and undressed sheepskins, dried fish, and everyconceivable species of produce. Nevertheless, such a phenomenon israre in Russia, where the tendency is rather to prodigality than toparsimony.

  For several minutes Plushkin stood mute, while Chichikov remained sodazed with the appearance of the host and everything else in the room,that he too, could not begin a conversation, but stood wondering howbest to find words in which to explain the object of his visit. For awhile he thought of expressing himself to the effect that, having heardso much of his host's benevolence and other rare qualities of spirit,he had considered it his duty to come and pay a tribute of respect; butpresently even HE came to the conclusion that this would be overdoingthe thing, and, after another glance round the room, decided thatthe phrase "benevolence and other rare qualities of spirit" might toadvantage give place to "economy and genius for method." Accordingly,the speech mentally composed, he said aloud that, having heard ofPlushkin's talents for thrifty and systematic management, he hadconsidered himself bound to make the acquaintance of his host, andto present him with his personal compliments (I need hardly say thatChichikov could easily have alleged a better reason, had any better onehappened, at the moment, to have come into his head).

  With toothless gums Plushkin murmured something in reply, but nothing isknown as to its precise terms beyond that it included a statementthat the devil was at liberty to fly away with Chichikov's sentiments.However, the laws of Russian hospitality do not permit even of a miserinfringing their rules; wherefore Plushkin added to the foregoing a morecivil invitation to be seated.

  "It is long since I last received a visitor," he went on. "Also, I feelbound to say that I can see little good in their coming. Once introducethe abominable custom of folk paying calls, and forthwith there wille
nsue such ruin to the management of estates that landowners will beforced to feed their horses on hay. Not for a long, long time have Ieaten a meal away from home--although my own kitchen is a poor one, andhas its chimney in such a state that, were it to become overheated, itwould instantly catch fire."

  "What a brute!" thought Chichikov. "I am lucky to have got through somuch pastry and stuffed shoulder of mutton at Sobakevitch's!"

  "Also," went on Plushkin, "I am ashamed to say that hardly a wisp offodder does the place contain. But how can I get fodder? My lands aresmall, and the peasantry lazy fellows who hate work and think of nothingbut the tavern. In the end, therefore, I shall be forced to go and spendmy old age in roaming about the world."

  "But I have been told that you possess over a thousand serfs?" saidChichikov.

  "Who told you that? No matter who it was, you would have been justifiedin giving him the lie. He must have been a jester who wanted to makea fool of you. A thousand souls, indeed! Why, just reckon the taxeson them, and see what there would be left! For these three years thataccursed fever has been killing off my serfs wholesale."

  "Wholesale, you say?" echoed Chichikov, greatly interested.

  "Yes, wholesale," replied the old man.

  "Then might I ask you the exact number?"

  "Fully eighty."

  "Surely not?"

  "But it is so."

  "Then might I also ask whether it is from the date of the last censusrevision that you are reckoning these souls?"

  "Yes, damn it! And since that date I have been bled for taxes upon ahundred and twenty souls in all."

  "Indeed! Upon a hundred and twenty souls in all!" And Chichikov'ssurprise and elation were such that, this said, he remained sittingopen-mouthed.

  "Yes, good sir," replied Plushkin. "I am too old to tell you lies, for Ihave passed my seventieth year."

  Somehow he seemed to have taken offence at Chichikov's almost joyousexclamation; wherefore the guest hastened to heave a profound sigh, andto observe that he sympathised to the full with his host's misfortunes.

  "But sympathy does not put anything into one's pocket," retortedPlushkin. "For instance, I have a kinsman who is constantly plaguing me.He is a captain in the army, damn him, and all day he does nothing butcall me 'dear uncle,' and kiss my hand, and express sympathy until I amforced to stop my ears. You see, he has squandered all his money uponhis brother-officers, as well as made a fool of himself with an actress;so now he spends his time in telling me that he has a sympatheticheart!"

  Chichikov hastened to explain that HIS sympathy had nothing in commonwith the captain's, since he dealt, not in empty words alone, but inactual deeds; in proof of which he was ready then and there (forthe purpose of cutting the matter short, and of dispensing withcircumlocution) to transfer to himself the obligation of paying thetaxes due upon such serfs as Plushkin's as had, in the unfortunatemanner just described, departed this world. The proposal seemed toastonish Plushkin, for he sat staring open-eyed. At length he inquired:

  "My dear sir, have you seen military service?"

  "No," replied the other warily, "but I have been a member of the CIVILService."

  "Oh! Of the CIVIL Service?" And Plushkin sat moving his lips as thoughhe were chewing something. "Well, what of your proposal?" he addedpresently. "Are you prepared to lose by it?"

  "Yes, certainly, if thereby I can please you."

  "My dear sir! My good benefactor!" In his delight Plushkin lost sight ofthe fact that his nose was caked with snuff of the consistency of thickcoffee, and that his coat had parted in front and was disclosing somevery unseemly underclothing. "What comfort you have brought to an oldman! Yes, as God is my witness!"

  For the moment he could say no more. Yet barely a minute had elapsedbefore this instantaneously aroused emotion had, as instantaneously,disappeared from his wooden features. Once more they assumed a carewornexpression, and he even wiped his face with his handkerchief, thenrolled it into a ball, and rubbed it to and fro against his upper lip.

  "If it will not annoy you again to state the proposal," he went on,"what you undertake to do is to pay the annual tax upon these souls, andto remit the money either to me or to the Treasury?"

  "Yes, that is how it shall be done. We will draw up a deed of purchaseas though the souls were still alive and you had sold them to myself."

  "Quite so--a deed of purchase," echoed Plushkin, once more relapsinginto thought and the chewing motion of the lips. "But a deed of sucha kind will entail certain expenses, and lawyers are so devoid ofconscience! In fact, so extortionate is their avarice that they willcharge one half a rouble, and then a sack of flour, and then a wholewaggon-load of meal. I wonder that no one has yet called attention tothe system."

  Upon that Chichikov intimated that, out of respect for his host, hehimself would bear the cost of the transfer of souls. This led Plushkinto conclude that his guest must be the kind of unconscionable fool who,while pretending to have been a member of the Civil Service, has inreality served in the army and run after actresses; wherefore the oldman no longer disguised his delight, but called down blessings alikeupon Chichikov's head and upon those of his children (he had never eveninquired whether Chichikov possessed a family). Next, he shuffled to thewindow, and, tapping one of its panes, shouted the name of "Proshka."Immediately some one ran quickly into the hall, and, after much stampingof feet, burst into the room. This was Proshka--a thirteen-year-oldyoungster who was shod with boots of such dimensions as almost to engulfhis legs as he walked. The reason why he had entered thus shod wasthat Plushkin only kept one pair of boots for the whole of his domesticstaff. This universal pair was stationed in the hall of the mansion, sothat any servant who was summoned to the house might don the said bootsafter wading barefooted through the mud of the courtyard, and enterthe parlour dry-shod--subsequently leaving the boots where he had foundthem, and departing in his former barefooted condition. Indeed, had anyone, on a slushy winter's morning, glanced from a window into the saidcourtyard, he would have seen Plushkin's servitors performing saltatoryfeats worthy of the most vigorous of stage-dancers.

  "Look at that boy's face!" said Plushkin to Chichikov as he pointed toProshka. "It is stupid enough, yet, lay anything aside, and in a tricehe will have stolen it. Well, my lad, what do you want?"

  He paused a moment or two, but Proshka made no reply.

  "Come, come!" went on the old man. "Set out the samovar, and then giveMavra the key of the store-room--here it is--and tell her to get outsome loaf sugar for tea. Here! Wait another moment, fool! Is the devilin your legs that they itch so to be off? Listen to what more I have totell you. Tell Mavra that the sugar on the outside of the loaf has gonebad, so that she must scrape it off with a knife, and NOT throw awaythe scrapings, but give them to the poultry. Also, see that you yourselfdon't go into the storeroom, or I will give you a birching that youwon't care for. Your appetite is good enough already, but a better onewon't hurt you. Don't even TRY to go into the storeroom, for I shall bewatching you from this window."

  "You see," the old man added to Chichikov, "one can never trust thesefellows." Presently, when Proshka and the boots had departed, he fellto gazing at his guest with an equally distrustful air, since certainfeatures in Chichikov's benevolence now struck him as a little open toquestion, and he had begin to think to himself: "After all, thedevil only knows who he is--whether a braggart, like most of thesespendthrifts, or a fellow who is lying merely in order to get some teaout of me." Finally, his circumspection, combined with a desire totest his guest, led him to remark that it might be well to completethe transaction IMMEDIATELY, since he had not overmuch confidence inhumanity, seeing that a man might be alive to-day and dead to-morrow.

  To this Chichikov assented readily enough--merely adding that he shouldlike first of all to be furnished with a list of the dead souls. Thisreassured Plushkin as to his guest's intention of doing business, sohe got out his keys, approached a cupboard, and, having pulled back thedoor, rummaged among the cups and glasses wit
h which it was filled. Atlength he said:

  "I cannot find it now, but I used to possess a splendid bottle ofliquor. Probably the servants have drunk it all, for they are suchthieves. Oh no: perhaps this is it!"

  Looking up, Chichikov saw that Plushkin had extracted a decanter coatedwith dust.

  "My late wife made the stuff," went on the old man, "but that rascal ofa housekeeper went and threw away a lot of it, and never even replacedthe stopper. Consequently bugs and other nasty creatures got into thedecanter, but I cleaned it out, and now beg to offer you a glassful."

  The idea of a drink from such a receptacle was too much for Chichikov,so he excused himself on the ground that he had just had luncheon.

  "You have just had luncheon?" re-echoed Plushkin. "Now, THAT shows howinvariably one can tell a man of good society, wheresoever one may be.A man of that kind never eats anything--he always says that he has hadenough. Very different that from the ways of a rogue, whom one can neversatisfy, however much one may give him. For instance, that captain ofmine is constantly begging me to let him have a meal--though he is aboutas much my nephew as I am his grandfather. As it happens, there is nevera bite of anything in the house, so he has to go away empty. But aboutthe list of those good-for-nothing souls--I happen to possess such alist, since I have drawn one up in readiness for the next revision."

  With that Plushkin donned his spectacles, and once more started torummage in the cupboard, and to smother his guest with dust as he untiedsuccessive packages of papers--so much so that his victim burst outsneezing. Finally he extracted a much-scribbled document in which thenames of the deceased peasants lay as close-packed as a cloud of midges,for there were a hundred and twenty of them in all. Chichikov grinnedwith joy at the sight of the multitude. Stuffing the list into hispocket, he remarked that, to complete the transaction, it would benecessary to return to the town.

  "To the town?" repeated Plushkin. "But why? Moreover, how could I leavethe house, seeing that every one of my servants is either a thief ora rogue? Day by day they pilfer things, until soon I shall have not asingle coat to hang on my back."

  "Then you possess acquaintances in the town?"

  "Acquaintances? No. Every acquaintance whom I ever possessed has eitherleft me or is dead. But stop a moment. I DO know the President of theCouncil. Even in my old age he has once or twice come to visit me, forhe and I used to be schoolfellows, and to go climbing walls together.Yes, him I do know. Shall I write him a letter?"

  "By all means."

  "Yes, him I know well, for we were friends together at school."

  Over Plushkin's wooden features there had gleamed a ray of warmth--aray which expressed, if not feeling, at all events feeling's palereflection. Just such a phenomenon may be witnessed when, for a briefmoment, a drowning man makes a last re-appearance on the surface of ariver, and there rises from the crowd lining the banks a cry of hopethat even yet the exhausted hands may clutch the rope which has beenthrown him--may clutch it before the surface of the unstable elementshall have resumed for ever its calm, dread vacuity. But the hope isshort-lived, and the hands disappear. Even so did Plushkin's face,after its momentary manifestation of feeling, become meaner and moreinsensible than ever.

  "There used to be a sheet of clean writing paper lying on the table," hewent on. "But where it is now I cannot think. That comes of my servantsbeing such rascals."

  With that he fell to looking also under the table, as well as tohurrying about with cries of "Mavra, Mavra!" At length the call wasanswered by a woman with a plateful of the sugar of which mention hasbeen made; whereupon there ensued the following conversation.

  "What have you done with my piece of writing paper, you pilferer?"

  "I swear that I have seen no paper except the bit with which you coveredthe glass."

  "Your very face tells me that you have made off with it."

  "Why should I make off with it? 'Twould be of no use to me, for I canneither read nor write."

  "You lie! You have taken it away for the sexton to scribble upon."

  "Well, if the sexton wanted paper he could get some for himself. Neitherhe nor I have set eyes upon your piece."

  "Ah! Wait a bit, for on the Judgment Day you will be roasted by devilson iron spits. Just see if you are not!"

  "But why should I be roasted when I have never even TOUCHED the paper?You might accuse me of any other fault than theft."

  "Nay, devils shall roast you, sure enough. They will say to you, 'Badwoman, we are doing this because you robbed your master,' and then stokeup the fire still hotter."

  "Nevertheless _I_ shall continue to say, 'You are roasting me fornothing, for I never stole anything at all.' Why, THERE it is, lying onthe table! You have been accusing me for no reason whatever!"

  And, sure enough, the sheet of paper was lying before Plushkin's veryeyes. For a moment or two he chewed silently. Then he went on:

  "Well, and what are you making such a noise about? If one says a singleword to you, you answer back with ten. Go and fetch me a candle to seala letter with. And mind you bring a TALLOW candle, for it will not costso much as the other sort. And bring me a match too."

  Mavra departed, and Plushkin, seating himself, and taking up a pen, satturning the sheet of paper over and over, as though in doubt whetherto tear from it yet another morsel. At length he came to the conclusionthat it was impossible to do so, and therefore, dipping the pen into themixture of mouldy fluid and dead flies which the ink bottle contained,started to indite the letter in characters as bold as the notes of amusic score, while momentarily checking the speed of his hand, lest itshould meander too much over the paper, and crawling from line to lineas though he regretted that there was so little vacant space left on thesheet.

  "And do you happen to know any one to whom a few runaway serfs would beof use?" he asked as subsequently he folded the letter.

  "What? You have some runaways as well?" exclaimed Chichikov, againgreatly interested.

  "Certainly I have. My son-in-law has laid the necessary informationagainst them, but says that their tracks have grown cold. However, he isonly a military man--that is to say, good at clinking a pair of spurs,but of no use for laying a plea before a court."

  "And how many runaways have you?"

  "About seventy."

  "Surely not?"

  "Alas, yes. Never does a year pass without a certain number of themmaking off. Yet so gluttonous and idle are my serfs that they are simplybursting with food, whereas I scarcely get enough to eat. I will takeany price for them that you may care to offer. Tell your friends aboutit, and, should they find even a score of the runaways, it will repaythem handsomely, seeing that a living serf on the census list is atpresent worth five hundred roubles."

  "Perhaps so, but I am not going to let any one but myself have a fingerin this," thought Chichikov to himself; after which he explained toPlushkin that a friend of the kind mentioned would be impossible todiscover, since the legal expenses of the enterprise would lead to thesaid friend having to cut the very tail from his coat before he wouldget clear of the lawyers.

  "Nevertheless," added Chichikov, "seeing that you are so hard pressedfor money, and that I am so interested in the matter, I feel moved toadvance you--well, to advance you such a trifle as would scarcely beworth mentioning."

  "But how much is it?" asked Plushkin eagerly, and with his handstrembling like quicksilver.

  "Twenty-five kopecks per soul."

  "What? In ready money?"

  "Yes--in money down."

  "Nevertheless, consider my poverty, dear friend, and make it FORTYkopecks per soul."

  "Venerable sir, would that I could pay you not merely forty kopecks,but five hundred roubles. I should be only too delighted if that werepossible, since I perceive that you, an aged and respected gentleman,are suffering for your own goodness of heart."

  "By God, that is true, that is true." Plushkin hung his head, and waggedit feebly from side to side. "Yes, all that I have done I have donepurely out of kindness."


  "See how instantaneously I have divined your nature! By now it will havebecome clear to you why it is impossible for me to pay you five hundredroubles per runaway soul: for by now you will have gathered the factthat I am not sufficiently rich. Nevertheless, I am ready to add anotherfive kopecks, and so to make it that each runaway serf shall cost me, inall, thirty kopecks."

  "As you please, dear sir. Yet stretch another point, and throw inanother two kopecks."

  "Pardon me, but I cannot. How many runaway serfs did you say that youpossess? Seventy?"

  "No; seventy-eight."

  "Seventy-eight souls at thirty kopecks each will amount to--to--" onlyfor a moment did our hero halt, since he was strong in his arithmetic,"--will amount to twenty-four roubles, ninety-six kopecks." [28]

  With that he requested Plushkin to make out the receipt, and then handedhim the money. Plushkin took it in both hands, bore it to a bureau withas much caution as though he were carrying a liquid which might at anymoment splash him in the face, and, arrived at the bureau, and glancinground once more, carefully packed the cash in one of his money bags,where, doubtless, it was destined to lie buried until, to the intensejoy of his daughters and his son-in-law (and, perhaps, of the captainwho claimed kinship with him), he should himself receive burial at thehands of Fathers Carp and Polycarp, the two priests attached to hisvillage. Lastly, the money concealed, Plushkin re-seated himself in thearmchair, and seemed at a loss for further material for conversation.

  "Are you thinking of starting?" at length he inquired, on seeingChichikov making a trifling movement, though the movement was onlyto extract from his pocket a handkerchief. Nevertheless the questionreminded Chichikov that there was no further excuse for lingering.

  "Yes, I must be going," he said as he took his hat.

  "Then what about the tea?"

  "Thank you, I will have some on my next visit."

  "What? Even though I have just ordered the samovar to be got ready?Well, well! I myself do not greatly care for tea, for I think it anexpensive beverage. Moreover, the price of sugar has risen terribly."

  "Proshka!" he then shouted. "The samovar will not be needed. Return thesugar to Mavra, and tell her to put it back again. But no. Bring thesugar here, and _I_ will put it back."

  "Good-bye, dear sir," finally he added to Chichikov. "May the Lord blessyou! Hand that letter to the President of the Council, and let himread it. Yes, he is an old friend of mine. We knew one another asschoolfellows."

  With that this strange phenomenon, this withered old man, escorted hisguest to the gates of the courtyard, and, after the guest had departed,ordered the gates to be closed, made the round of the outbuildings forthe purpose of ascertaining whether the numerous watchmen were at theirposts, peered into the kitchen (where, under the pretence of seeingwhether his servants were being properly fed, he made a light mealof cabbage soup and gruel), rated the said servants soundly for theirthievishness and general bad behaviour, and then returned to his room.Meditating in solitude, he fell to thinking how best he could contriveto recompense his guest for the latter's measureless benevolence. "Iwill present him," he thought to himself, "with a watch. It is a goodsilver article--not one of those cheap metal affairs; and though ithas suffered some damage, he can easily get that put right. A young manalways needs to give a watch to his betrothed."

  "No," he added after further thought. "I will leave him the watch in mywill, as a keepsake."

  Meanwhile our hero was bowling along in high spirit. Such an unexpectedacquisition both of dead souls and of runaway serfs had come asa windfall. Even before reaching Plushkin's village he had had apresentiment that he would do successful business there, but notbusiness of such pre-eminent profitableness as had actually resulted.As he proceeded he whistled, hummed with hand placed trumpetwise to hismouth, and ended by bursting into a burst of melody so striking thatSelifan, after listening for a while, nodded his head and exclaimed, "Myword, but the master CAN sing!"

  By the time they reached the town darkness had fallen, and changed thecharacter of the scene. The britchka bounded over the cobblestones, andat length turned into the hostelry's courtyard, where the travellerswere met by Petrushka. With one hand holding back the tails of his coat(which he never liked to see fly apart), the valet assisted hismaster to alight. The waiter ran out with candle in hand and napkin onshoulder. Whether or not Petrushka was glad to see the barin returnit is impossible to say, but at all events he exchanged a wink withSelifan, and his ordinarily morose exterior seemed momentarily tobrighten.

  "Then you have been travelling far, sir?" said the waiter, as he lit theway upstarts.

  "Yes," said Chichikov. "What has happened here in the meanwhile?"

  "Nothing, sir," replied the waiter, bowing, "except that last nightthere arrived a military lieutenant. He has got room number sixteen."

  "A lieutenant?"

  "Yes. He came from Riazan, driving three grey horses."

  On entering his room, Chichikov clapped his hand to his nose, and askedhis valet why he had never had the windows opened.

  "But I did have them opened," replied Petrushka. Nevertheless this wasa lie, as Chichikov well knew, though he was too tired to contest thepoint. After ordering and consuming a light supper of sucking pig, heundressed, plunged beneath the bedclothes, and sank into the profoundslumber which comes only to such fortunate folk as are troubled neitherwith mosquitoes nor fleas nor excessive activity of brain.