CHAPTER VII
When Chichikov awoke he stretched himself and realised that he had sleptwell. For a moment or two he lay on his back, and then suddenly clappedhis hands at the recollection that he was now owner of nearly fourhundred souls. At once he leapt out of bed without so much as glancingat his face in the mirror, though, as a rule, he had much solicitude forhis features, and especially for his chin, of which he would make themost when in company with friends, and more particularly should any onehappen to enter while he was engaged in the process of shaving. "Lookhow round my chin is!" was his usual formula. On the present occasion,however, he looked neither at chin nor at any other feature, but at oncedonned his flower-embroidered slippers of morroco leather (the kindof slippers in which, thanks to the Russian love for a dressing-gownedexistence, the town of Torzhok does such a huge trade), and, clad onlyin a meagre shirt, so far forgot his elderliness and dignity as to cuta couple of capers after the fashion of a Scottish highlander--alightingneatly, each time, on the flat of his heels. Only when he had done thatdid he proceed to business. Planting himself before his dispatch-box,he rubbed his hands with a satisfaction worthy of an incorruptible ruralmagistrate when adjourning for luncheon; after which he extracted fromthe receptacle a bundle of papers. These he had decided not to depositwith a lawyer, for the reason that he would hasten matters, as well assave expense, by himself framing and fair-copying the necessary deedsof indenture; and since he was thoroughly acquainted with the necessaryterminology, he proceeded to inscribe in large characters the date, andthen in smaller ones, his name and rank. By two o'clock the whole wasfinished, and as he looked at the sheets of names representing bygonepeasants who had ploughed, worked at handicrafts, cheated their masters,fetched, carried, and got drunk (though SOME of them may have behavedwell), there came over him a strange, unaccountable sensation. To hiseye each list of names seemed to possess a character of its own;and even individual peasants therein seemed to have taken on certainqualities peculiar to themselves. For instance, to the majority ofMadame Korobotchka's serfs there were appended nicknames and otheradditions; Plushkin's list was distinguished by a conciseness ofexposition which had led to certain of the items being representedmerely by Christian name, patronymic, and a couple of dots;and Sobakevitch's list was remarkable for its amplitude andcircumstantiality, in that not a single peasant had such of his peculiarcharacteristics omitted as that the deceased had been "excellent atjoinery," or "sober and ready to pay attention to his work." Also, inSobakevitch's list there was recorded who had been the father andthe mother of each of the deceased, and how those parents had behavedthemselves. Only against the name of a certain Thedotov was thereinscribed: "Father unknown, Mother the maidservant Kapitolina, Moralsand Honesty good." These details communicated to the document a certainair of freshness, they seemed to connote that the peasants in questionhad lived but yesterday. As Chichikov scanned the list he felt softenedin spirit, and said with a sigh:
"My friends, what a concourse of you is here! How did you all pass yourlives, my brethren? And how did you all come to depart hence?"
As he spoke his eyes halted at one name in particular--that of the samePeter Saveliev Neuvazhai Korito who had once been the property of thewindow Korobotchka. Once more he could not help exclaiming:
"What a series of titles! They occupy a whole line! Peter Saveliev, Iwonder whether you were an artisan or a plain muzhik. Also, I wonder howyou came to meet your end; whether in a tavern, or whether through goingto sleep in the middle of the road and being run over by a train ofwaggons. Again, I see the name, 'Probka Stepan, carpenter, very sober.'That must be the hero of whom the Guards would have been so glad to gethold. How well I can imagine him tramping the country with an axe in hisbelt and his boots on his shoulder, and living on a few groats'-worthof bread and dried fish per day, and taking home a couple of half-roublepieces in his purse, and sewing the notes into his breeches, or stuffingthem into his boots! In what manner came you by your end, Probka Stepan?Did you, for good wages, mount a scaffold around the cupola of thevillage church, and, climbing thence to the cross above, miss yourfooting on a beam, and fall headlong with none at hand but UncleMichai--the good uncle who, scratching the back of his neck, andmuttering, 'Ah, Vania, for once you have been too clever!' straightwaylashed himself to a rope, and took your place? 'Maksim Teliatnikov,shoemaker.' A shoemaker, indeed? 'As drunk as a shoemaker,' says theproverb. _I_ know what you were like, my friend. If you wish, I willtell you your whole history. You were apprenticed to a German, who fedyou and your fellows at a common table, thrashed you with a strap,kept you indoors whenever you had made a mistake, and spoke of you inuncomplimentary terms to his wife and friends. At length, when yourapprenticeship was over, you said to yourself, 'I am going to set upon my own account, and not just to scrape together a kopeck here and akopeck there, as the Germans do, but to grow rich quick.' Hence you tooka shop at a high rent, bespoke a few orders, and set to work to buy upsome rotten leather out of which you could make, on each pair of boots,a double profit. But those boots split within a fortnight, and broughtdown upon your head dire showers of maledictions; with the result thatgradually your shop grew empty of customers, and you fell to roamingthe streets and exclaiming, 'The world is a very poor place indeed!A Russian cannot make a living for German competition.' Well, well!'Elizabeta Vorobei!' But that is a WOMAN'S name! How comes SHE to be onthe list? That villain Sobakevitch must have sneaked her in without myknowing it."
"'Grigori Goiezhai-ne-Doiedesh,'" he went on. "What sort of a man wereYOU, I wonder? Were you a carrier who, having set up a team of threehorses and a tilt waggon, left your home, your native hovel, for ever,and departed to cart merchandise to market? Was it on the highway thatyou surrendered your soul to God, or did your friends first marry youto some fat, red-faced soldier's daughter; after which your harness andteam of rough, but sturdy, horses caught a highwayman's fancy, and you,lying on your pallet, thought things over until, willy-nilly, you feltthat you must get up and make for the tavern, thereafter blundering intoan icehole? Ah, our peasant of Russia! Never do you welcome death whenit comes!"
"And you, my friends?" continued Chichikov, turning to the sheet whereonwere inscribed the names of Plushkin's absconded serfs. "Although youare still alive, what is the good of you? You are practically dead.Whither, I wonder, have your fugitive feet carried you? Did you farehardly at Plushkin's, or was it that your natural inclinations led youto prefer roaming the wilds and plundering travellers? Are you, by thistime, in gaol, or have you taken service with other masters for thetillage of their lands? 'Eremei Kariakin, Nikita Volokita and AntonVolokita (son of the foregoing).' To judge from your surnames, you wouldseem to have been born gadabouts [29]. 'Popov, household serf.' Probablyyou are an educated man, good Popov, and go in for polite thieving, asdistinguished from the more vulgar cut-throat sort. In my mind's eye Iseem to see a Captain of Rural Police challenging you for being withouta passport; whereupon you stake your all upon a single throw. 'To whomdo you belong?' asks the Captain, probably adding to his question aforcible expletive. 'To such and such a landowner,' stoutly you reply.'And what are you doing here?' continues the Captain. 'I havejust received permission to go and earn my obrok,' is your fluentexplanation. 'Then where is your passport?' 'At Miestchanin [30]Pimenov's.' 'Pimenov's? Then are you Pimenov himself?' 'Yes, I amPimenov himself.' 'He has given you his passport?' 'No, he has not givenme his passport.' 'Come, come!' shouts the Captain with another forcibleexpletive. 'You are lying!' 'No, I am not,' is your dogged reply. 'It isonly that last night I could not return him his passport, because I camehome late; so I handed it to Antip Prochorov, the bell-ringer, for himto take care of.' 'Bell-ringer, indeed! Then HE gave you a passport?''No; I did not receive a passport from him either.' 'What?'--and herethe Captain shouts another expletive--'How dare you keep on lying? Whereis YOUR OWN passport?' 'I had one all right,' you reply cunningly, 'butmust have dropped it somewhere on the road as I came along.' 'And whatabout that soldier's coat?' asks th
e Captain with an impolite addition.'Whence did you get it? And what of the priest's cashbox and coppermoney?'' 'About them I know nothing,' you reply doggedly. 'Never at anytime have I committed a theft.' 'Then how is it that the coat was foundat your place?' 'I do not know. Probably some one else put it there.''You rascal, you rascal!' shouts the Captain, shaking his head, andclosing in upon you. 'Put the leg-irons upon him, and off with him toprison!' 'With pleasure,' you reply as, taking a snuff-box from yourpocket, you offer a pinch to each of the two gendarmes who are manaclingyou, while also inquiring how long they have been discharged from thearmy, and in what wars they may have served. And in prison you remainuntil your case comes on, when the justice orders you to be removed fromTsarev-Kokshaika to such and such another prison, and a second justiceorders you to be transferred thence to Vesiegonsk or somewhere else, andyou go flitting from gaol to gaol, and saying each time, as you eye yournew habitation, 'The last place was a good deal cleaner than this oneis, and one could play babki [31] there, and stretch one's legs, and seea little society.'"
"'Abakum Thirov,'" Chichikov went on after a pause. "What of YOU,brother? Where, and in what capacity, are YOU disporting yourself?Have you gone to the Volga country, and become bitten with the life offreedom, and joined the fishermen of the river?"
Here, breaking off, Chichikov relapsed into silent meditation. Of whatwas he thinking as he sat there? Was he thinking of the fortunes ofAbakum Thirov, or was he meditating as meditates every Russian when histhoughts once turn to the joys of an emancipated existence?
"Ah, well!" he sighed, looking at his watch. "It has now gone twelveo'clock. Why have I so forgotten myself? There is still much to be done,yet I go shutting myself up and letting my thoughts wander! What a foolI am!"
So saying, he exchanged his Scottish costume (of a shirt and nothingelse) for attire of a more European nature; after which he pulledtight the waistcoat over his ample stomach, sprinkled himself witheau-de-Cologne, tucked his papers under his arm, took his fur cap, andset out for the municipal offices, for the purpose of completing thetransfer of souls. The fact that he hurried along was not due to a fearof being late (seeing that the President of the Local Council was anintimate acquaintance of his, as well as a functionary who could shortenor prolong an interview at will, even as Homer's Zeus was able toshorten or to prolong a night or a day, whenever it became necessary toput an end to the fighting of his favourite heroes, or to enable themto join battle), but rather to a feeling that he would like to have theaffair concluded as quickly as possible, seeing that, throughout, it hadbeen an anxious and difficult business. Also, he could not get rid ofthe idea that his souls were unsubstantial things, and that therefore,under the circumstances, his shoulders had better be relieved of theirload with the least possible delay. Pulling on his cinnamon-coloured,bear-lined overcoat as he went, he had just stepped thoughtfully intothe street when he collided with a gentleman dressed in a similarcoat and an ear-lappeted fur cap. Upon that the gentleman uttered anexclamation. Behold, it was Manilov! At once the friends became foldedin a strenuous embrace, and remained so locked for fully five minutes.Indeed, the kisses exchanged were so vigorous that both suffered fromtoothache for the greater portion of the day. Also, Manilov's delightwas such that only his nose and lips remained visible--the eyescompletely disappeared. Afterwards he spent about a quarter of an hourin holding Chichikov's hand and chafing it vigorously. Lastly, he, inthe most pleasant and exquisite terms possible, intimated to his friendthat he had just been on his way to embrace Paul Ivanovitch; and uponthis followed a compliment of the kind which would more fittingly havebeen addressed to a lady who was being asked to accord a partner thefavour of a dance. Chichikov had opened his mouth to reply--thougheven HE felt at a loss how to acknowledge what had just been said--whenManilov cut him short by producing from under his coat a roll of papertied with red riband.
"What have you there?" asked Chichikov.
"The list of my souls."
"Ah!" And as Chichikov unrolled the document and ran his eye over ithe could not but marvel at the elegant neatness with which it had beeninscribed.
"It is a beautiful piece of writing," he said. "In fact, there will beno need to make a copy of it. Also, it has a border around its edge! Whoworked that exquisite border?"
"Do not ask me," said Manilov.
"Did YOU do it?"
"No; my wife."
"Dear, dear!" Chichikov cried. "To think that I should have put her toso much trouble!"
"NOTHING could be too much trouble where Paul Ivanovitch is concerned."
Chichikov bowed his acknowledgements. Next, on learning that he wason his way to the municipal offices for the purpose of completing thetransfer, Manilov expressed his readiness to accompany him; whereforethe pair linked arm in arm and proceeded together. Whenever theyencountered a slight rise in the ground--even the smallest unevennessor difference of level--Manilov supported Chichikov with such energy asalmost to lift him off his feet, while accompanying the service with asmiling implication that not if HE could help it should Paul Ivanovitchslip or fall. Nevertheless this conduct appeared to embarrass Chichikov,either because he could not find any fitting words of gratitude orbecause he considered the proceeding tiresome; and it was with asense of relief that he debouched upon the square where the municipaloffices--a large, three-storied building of a chalky whiteness whichprobably symbolised the purity of the souls engaged within--weresituated. No other building in the square could vie with them in size,seeing that the remaining edifices consisted only of a sentry-box, ashelter for two or three cabmen, and a long hoarding--the latter adornedwith the usual bills, posters, and scrawls in chalk and charcoal. Atintervals, from the windows of the second and third stories of themunicipal offices, the incorruptible heads of certain of the attendantpriests of Themis would peer quickly forth, and as quickly disappearagain--probably for the reason that a superior official had just enteredthe room. Meanwhile the two friends ascended the staircase--nay, almostflew up it, since, longing to get rid of Manilov's ever-supportingarm, Chichikov hastened his steps, and Manilov kept darting forward toanticipate any possible failure on the part of his companion's legs.Consequently the pair were breathless when they reached the firstcorridor. In passing it may be remarked that neither corridors nor roomsevinced any of that cleanliness and purity which marked the exterior ofthe building, for such attributes were not troubled about within, andanything that was dirty remained so, and donned no meritricious, purelyexternal, disguise. It was as though Themis received her visitors inneglige and a dressing-gown. The author would also give a description ofthe various offices through which our hero passed, were it not that he(the author) stands in awe of such legal haunts.
Approaching the first desk which he happened to encounter, Chichikovinquired of the two young officials who were seated at it whether theywould kindly tell him where business relating to serf-indenture wastransacted.
"Of what nature, precisely, IS your business?" countered one of theyouthful officials as he turned himself round.
"I desire to make an application."
"In connection with a purchase?"
"Yes. But, as I say, I should like first to know where I can find thedesk devoted to such business. Is it here or elsewhere?"
"You must state what it is you have bought, and for how much. THEN weshall be happy to give you the information."
Chichikov perceived that the officials' motive was merely one ofcuriosity, as often happens when young tchinovniks desire to cut a moreimportant and imposing figure than is rightfully theirs.
"Look here, young sirs," he said. "I know for a fact that all serfbusiness, no matter to what value, is transacted at one desk alone.Consequently I again request you to direct me to that desk. Of course,if you do not know your business I can easily ask some one else."
To this the tchinovniks made no reply beyond pointing towards a cornerof the room where an elderly man appeared to be engaged in sorting somepapers. Accordingly Chichikov and Manilov threaded
their way in hisdirection through the desks; whereupon the elderly man became violentlybusy.
"Would you mind telling me," said Chichikov, bowing, "whether this isthe desk for serf affairs?"
The elderly man raised his eyes, and said stiffly:
"This is NOT the desk for serf affairs."
"Where is it, then?"
"In the Serf Department."
"And where might the Serf Department be?"
"In charge of Ivan Antonovitch."
"And where is Ivan Antonovitch?"
The elderly man pointed to another corner of the room; whitherChichikov and Manilov next directed their steps. As they advanced, IvanAntonovitch cast an eye backwards and viewed them askance. Then, withrenewed ardour, he resumed his work of writing.
"Would you mind telling me," said Chichikov, bowing, "whether this isthe desk for serf affairs?"
It appeared as though Ivan Antonovitch had not heard, so completely didhe bury himself in his papers and return no reply. Instantly it becameplain that HE at least was of an age of discretion, and not one of yourjejune chatterboxes and harum-scarums; for, although his hair was stillthick and black, he had long ago passed his fortieth year. His wholeface tended towards the nose--it was what, in common parlance, is knownas a "pitcher-mug."
"Would you mind telling me," repeated Chichikov, "whether this is thedesk for serf affairs?"
"It is that," said Ivan Antonovitch, again lowering his jug-shaped jowl,and resuming his writing.
"Then I should like to transact the following business. From variouslandowners in this canton I have purchased a number of peasants fortransfer. Here is the purchase list, and it needs but to be registered."
"Have you also the vendors here?"
"Some of them, and from the rest I have obtained powers of attorney."
"And have you your statement of application?"
"Yes. I desire--indeed, it is necessary for me so to do--to hastenmatters a little. Could the affair, therefore, be carried throughto-day?"
"To-day? Oh, dear no!" said Ivan Antonovitch. "Before that can be doneyou must furnish me with further proofs that no impediments exist."
"Then, to expedite matters, let me say that Ivan Grigorievitch, thePresident of the Council, is a very intimate friend of mine."
"Possibly," said Ivan Antonovitch without enthusiasm. "But IvanGrigorievitch alone will not do--it is customary to have others aswell."
"Yes, but the absence of others will not altogether invalidate thetransaction. I too have been in the service, and know how things can bedone."
"You had better go and see Ivan Grigorievitch," said Ivan Antonovitchmore mildly. "Should he give you an order addressed to whom it mayconcern, we shall soon be able to settle the matter."
Upon that Chichikov pulled from his pocket a paper, and laid it beforeIvan Antonovitch. At once the latter covered it with a book. Chichikovagain attempted to show it to him, but, with a movement of his head,Ivan Antonovitch signified that that was unnecessary.
"A clerk," he added, "will now conduct you to Ivan Grigorievitch'sroom."
Upon that one of the toilers in the service of Themis--a zealot whohad offered her such heartfelt sacrifice that his coat had burst at theelbows and lacked a lining--escorted our friends (even as Virgil hadonce escorted Dante) to the apartment of the Presence. In this sanctumwere some massive armchairs, a table laden with two or three fat books,and a large looking-glass. Lastly, in (apparently) sunlike isolation,there was seated at the table the President. On arriving at the door ofthe apartment, our modern Virgil seemed to have become so overwhelmedwith awe that, without daring even to intrude a foot, he turned back,and, in so doing, once more exhibited a back as shiny as a mat, andhaving adhering to it, in one spot, a chicken's feather. As soon as thetwo friends had entered the hall of the Presence they perceived that thePresident was NOT alone, but, on the contrary, had seated by his sideSobakevitch, whose form had hitherto been concealed by the interveningmirror. The newcomers' entry evoked sundry exclamations and thepushing back of a pair of Government chairs as the voluminous-sleevedSobakevitch rose into view from behind the looking-glass. Chichikovthe President received with an embrace, and for a while the hall ofthe Presence resounded with osculatory salutations as mutually the pairinquired after one another's health. It seemed that both had latelyhad a touch of that pain under the waistband which comes of a sedentarylife. Also, it seemed that the President had just been conversing withSobakevitch on the subject of sales of souls, since he now proceededto congratulate Chichikov on the same--a proceeding which ratherembarrassed our hero, seeing that Manilov and Sobakevitch, two ofthe vendors, and persons with whom he had bargained in the strictestprivacy, were now confronting one another direct. However, Chichikovduly thanked the President, and then, turning to Sobakevitch, inquiredafter HIS health.
"Thank God, I have nothing to complain of," replied Sobakevitch: whichwas true enough, seeing that a piece of iron would have caught cold andtaken to sneezing sooner than would that uncouthly fashioned landowner.
"Ah, yes; you have always had good health, have you not?" put in thePresident. "Your late father was equally strong."
"Yes, he even went out bear hunting alone," replied Sobakevitch.
"I should think that you too could worst a bear if you were to try atussle with him," rejoined the President.
"Oh no," said Sobakevitch. "My father was a stronger man than I am."Then with a sigh the speaker added: "But nowadays there are no such menas he. What is even a life like mine worth?"
"Then you do not have a comfortable time of it?" exclaimed thePresident.
"No; far from it," rejoined Sobakevitch, shaking his head. "Judge foryourself, Ivan Grigorievitch. I am fifty years old, yet never in my lifehad been ill, except for an occasional carbuncle or boil. That is not agood sign. Sooner or later I shall have to pay for it." And he relapsedinto melancholy.
"Just listen to the fellow!" was Chichikov's and the President's jointinward comment. "What on earth has HE to complain of?"
"I have a letter for you, Ivan Grigorievitch," went on Chichikov aloudas he produced from his pocket Plushkin's epistle.
"From whom?" inquired the President. Having broken the seal, heexclaimed: "Why, it is from Plushkin! To think that HE is still alive!What a strange world it is! He used to be such a nice fellow, and now--"
"And now he is a cur," concluded Sobakevitch, "as well as a miser whostarves his serfs to death."
"Allow me a moment," said the President. Then he read the letterthrough. When he had finished he added: "Yes, I am quite ready to actas Plushkin's attorney. When do you wish the purchase deeds to beregistered, Monsieur Chichikov--now or later?"
"Now, if you please," replied Chichikov. "Indeed, I beg that, ifpossible, the affair may be concluded to-day, since to-morrow I wish toleave the town. I have brought with me both the forms of indenture andmy statement of application."
"Very well. Nevertheless we cannot let you depart so soon. Theindentures shall be completed to-day, but you must continue your sojournin our midst. I will issue the necessary orders at once."
So saying, he opened the door into the general office, where the clerkslooked like a swarm of bees around a honeycomb (if I may liken affairsof Government to such an article?).
"Is Ivan Antonovitch here?" asked the President.
"Yes," replied a voice from within.
"Then send him here."
Upon that the pitcher-faced Ivan Antonovitch made his appearance in thedoorway, and bowed.
"Take these indentures, Ivan Antonovitch," said the President, "and seethat they--"
"But first I would ask you to remember," put in Sobakevitch, "thatwitnesses ought to be in attendance--not less than two on behalf ofeither party. Let us, therefore, send for the Public Prosecutor, who haslittle to do, and has even that little done for him by his chief clerk,Zolotucha. The Inspector of the Medical Department is also a man ofleisure, and likely to be at home--if he has not gone out to a cardparty. Others also there a
re--all men who cumber the ground fornothing."
"Quite so, quite so," agreed the President, and at once dispatched aclerk to fetch the persons named.
"Also," requested Chichikov, "I should be glad if you would send for theaccredited representative of a certain lady landowner with whom I havedone business. He is the son of a Father Cyril, and a clerk in youroffices."
"Certainly we shall call him here," replied the President. "Everythingshall be done to meet your convenience, and I forbid you to present anyof our officials with a gratuity. That is a special request on my part.No friend of mine ever pays a copper."
With that he gave Ivan Antonovitch the necessary instructions; andthough they scarcely seemed to meet with that functionary's approval,upon the President the purchase deeds had evidently produced anexcellent impression, more especially since the moment when he hadperceived the sum total to amount to nearly a hundred thousand roubles.For a moment or two he gazed into Chichikov's eyes with an expression ofprofound satisfaction. Then he said:
"Well done, Paul Ivanovitch! You have indeed made a nice haul!"
"That is so," replied Chichikov.
"Excellent business! Yes, excellent business!"
"I, too, conceive that I could not well have done better. The truth isthat never until a man has driven home the piles of his life's structureupon a lasting bottom, instead of upon the wayward chimeras of youth,will his aims in life assume a definite end." And, that said, Chichikovwent on to deliver himself of a very telling indictment of Liberalismand our modern young men. Yet in his words there seemed to lurk acertain lack of conviction. Somehow he seemed secretly to be saying tohimself, "My good sir, you are talking the most absolute rubbish, andnothing but rubbish." Nor did he even throw a glance at Sobakevitch andManilov. It was as though he were uncertain what he might not encounterin their expression. Yet he need not have been afraid. Never once didSobakevitch's face move a muscle, and, as for Manilov, he was too muchunder the spell of Chichikov's eloquence to do aught beyond nod hisapproval at intervals, and strike the kind of attitude which is assumedby lovers of music when a lady singer has, in rivalry of an accompanyingviolin, produced a note whereof the shrillness would exceed even thecapacity of a bird's throstle.
"But why not tell Ivan Grigorievitch precisely what you have bought?"inquired Sobakevitch of Chichikov. "And why, Ivan Grigorievitch, do YOUnot ask Monsieur Chichikov precisely what his purchases have consistedof? What a splendid lot of serfs, to be sure! I myself have sold him mywheelwright, Michiev."
"What? You have sold him Michiev?" exclaimed the President. "I know theman well. He is a splendid craftsman, and, on one occasion, made me adrozhki [32]. Only, only--well, lately didn't you tell me that he isdead?"
"That Michiev is dead?" re-echoed Sobakevitch, coming perilously nearto laughing. "Oh dear no! That was his brother. Michiev himself is verymuch alive, and in even better health than he used to be. Any day hecould knock you up a britchka such as you could not procure even inMoscow. However, he is now bound to work for only one master."
"Indeed a splendid craftsman!" repeated the President. "My only wonderis that you can have brought yourself to part with him."
"Then think you that Michiev is the ONLY serf with whom I have parted?Nay, for I have parted also with Probka Stepan, my carpenter, withMilushkin, my bricklayer, and with Teliatnikov, my bootmaker. Yes, thewhole lot I have sold."
And to the President's inquiry why he had so acted, seeing that theserfs named were all skilled workers and indispensable to a household,Sobakevitch replied that a mere whim had led him to do so, and thus thesale had owed its origin to a piece of folly. Then he hung his head asthough already repenting of his rash act, and added:
"Although a man of grey hairs, I have not yet learned wisdom."
"But," inquired the President further, "how comes it about, PaulIvanovitch, that you have purchased peasants apart from land? Is it fortransferment elsewhere that you need them?"
"Yes."
"Very well, then. That is quite another matter. To what province of thecountry?"
"To the province of Kherson."
"Indeed! That region contains some splendid land," said the President;whereupon he proceeded to expatiate on the fertility of the Khersonpastures.
"And have you MUCH land there?" he continued.
"Yes; quite sufficient to accommodate the serfs whom I have purchased."
"And is there a river on the estate or a lake?"
"Both."
After this reply Chichikov involuntarily threw a glance at Sobakevitch;and though that landowner's face was as motionless as every other, theother seemed to detect in it: "You liar! Don't tell ME that you own botha river and a lake, as well as the land which you say you do."
Whilst the foregoing conversation had been in progress, variouswitnesses had been arriving on the scene. They consisted of theconstantly blinking Public Prosecutor, the Inspector of the MedicalDepartment, and others--all, to quote Sobakevitch, "men who cumberedthe ground for nothing." With some of them, however, Chichikov wasaltogether unacquainted, since certain substitutes and supernumerarieshad to be pressed into the service from among the ranks of thesubordinate staff. There also arrived, in answer to the summons, notonly the son of Father Cyril before mentioned, but also Father Cyrilhimself. Each such witness appended to his signature a full list of hisdignities and qualifications: one man in printed characters, another ina flowing hand, a third in topsy-turvy characters of a kind never beforeseen in the Russian alphabet, and so forth. Meanwhile our friend IvanAntonovitch comported himself with not a little address; and after theindentures had been signed, docketed, and registered, Chichikovfound himself called upon to pay only the merest trifle in the way ofGovernment percentage and fees for publishing the transaction in theOfficial Gazette. The reason of this was that the President had givenorders that only half the usual charges were to be exacted from thepresent purchaser--the remaining half being somehow debited to theaccount of another applicant for serf registration.
"And now," said Ivan Grigorievitch when all was completed, "we need onlyto wet the bargain."
"For that too I am ready," said Chichikov. "Do you but name the hour.If, in return for your most agreeable company, I were not to set a fewchampagne corks flying, I should be indeed in default."
"But we are not going to let you charge yourself with anythingwhatsoever. WE must provide the champagne, for you are our guest, andit is for us--it is our duty, it is our bounden obligation--to entertainyou. Look here, gentlemen. Let us adjourn to the house of the Chiefof Police. He is the magician who needs but to wink when passing afishmonger's or a wine merchant's. Not only shall we fare well at hisplace, but also we shall get a game of whist."
To this proposal no one had any objection to offer, for the mere mentionof the fish shop aroused the witnesses' appetite. Consequently, theceremony being over, there was a general reaching for hats and caps.As the party were passing through the general office, Ivan Antonovitchwhispered in Chichikov's ear, with a courteous inclination of hisjug-shaped physiognomy:
"You have given a hundred thousand roubles for the serfs, but have paidME only a trifle for my trouble."
"Yes," replied Chichikov with a similar whisper, "but what sort of serfsdo you suppose them to be? They are a poor, useless lot, and not wortheven half the purchase money."
This gave Ivan Antonovitch to understand that the visitor was a man ofstrong character--a man from whom nothing more was to be expected.
"Why have you gone and purchased souls from Plushkin?" whisperedSobakevitch in Chichikov's other ear.
"Why did YOU go and add the woman Vorobei to your list?" retortedChichikov.
"Vorobei? Who is Vorobei?"
"The woman 'Elizabet' Vorobei--'Elizabet,' not 'Elizabeta?'"
"I added no such name," replied Sobakevitch, and straightway joined theother guests.
At length the party arrived at the residence of the Chief of Police. Thelatter proved indeed a man of spells, for no sooner had he
learnt whatwas afoot than he summoned a brisk young constable, whispered in hisear, adding laconically, "You understand, do you not?" and brought itabout that, during the time that the guests were cutting for partners atwhist in an adjoining room, the dining-table became laden with sturgeon,caviare, salmon, herrings, cheese, smoked tongue, fresh roe, and apotted variety of the same--all procured from the local fish market, andreinforced with additions from the host's own kitchen. The fact was thatthe worthy Chief of Police filled the office of a sort of father andgeneral benefactor to the town, and that he moved among the citizens asthough they constituted part and parcel of his own family, and watchedover their shops and markets as though those establishments weremerely his own private larder. Indeed, it would be difficult to say--sothoroughly did he perform his duties in this respect--whether the postmost fitted him, or he the post. Matters were also so arranged thatthough his income more than doubled that of his predecessors, he hadnever lost the affection of his fellow townsmen. In particular did thetradesmen love him, since he was never above standing godfather to theirchildren or dining at their tables. True, he had differences of opinionwith them, and serious differences at that; but always these wereskilfully adjusted by his slapping the offended ones jovially on theshoulder, drinking a glass of tea with them, promising to call at theirhouses and play a game of chess, asking after their belongings, and,should he learn that a child of theirs was ill, prescribing the propermedicine. In short, he bore the reputation of being a very good fellow.
On perceiving the feast to be ready, the host proposed that his guestsshould finish their whist after luncheon; whereupon all proceeded to theroom whence for some time past an agreeable odour had been tickling thenostrils of those present, and towards the door of which Sobakevitch inparticular had been glancing since the moment when he had caught sightof a huge sturgeon reposing on the sideboard. After a glassful of warm,olive-coloured vodka apiece--vodka of the tint to be seen only in thespecies of Siberian stone whereof seals are cut--the company appliedthemselves to knife-and-fork work, and, in so doing, evinced theirseveral characteristics and tastes. For instance, Sobakevitch,disdaining lesser trifles, tackled the large sturgeon, and, during thetime that his fellow guests were eating minor comestibles, and drinkingand talking, contrived to consume more than a quarter of the whole fish;so that, on the host remembering the creature, and, with fork in hand,leading the way in its direction and saying, "What, gentlemen, think youof this striking product of nature?" there ensued the discovery that ofthe said product of nature there remained little beyond the tail, whileSobakevitch, with an air as though at least HE had not eaten it, wasengaged in plunging his fork into a much more diminutive piece of fishwhich happened to be resting on an adjacent platter. After his divorcefrom the sturgeon, Sobakevitch ate and drank no more, but sat frowningand blinking in an armchair.
Apparently the host was not a man who believed in sparing the wine, forthe toasts drunk were innumerable. The first toast (as the reader mayguess) was quaffed to the health of the new landowner of Kherson; thesecond to the prosperity of his peasants and their safe transferment;and the third to the beauty of his future wife--a compliment whichbrought to our hero's lips a flickering smile. Lastly, he received fromthe company a pressing, as well as an unanimous, invitation to extendhis stay in town for at least another fortnight, and, in the meanwhile,to allow a wife to be found for him.
"Quite so," agreed the President. "Fight us tooth and nail though youmay, we intend to have you married. You have happened upon us by chance,and you shall have no reason to repent of it. We are in earnest on thissubject."
"But why should I fight you tooth and nail?" said Chichikov, smiling."Marriage would not come amiss to me, were I but provided with abetrothed."
"Then a betrothed you shall have. Why not? We will do as you wish."
"Very well," assented Chichikov.
"Bravo, bravo!" the company shouted. "Long live Paul Ivanovitch! Hurrah!Hurrah!" And with that every one approached to clink glasses with him,and he readily accepted the compliment, and accepted it many times insuccession. Indeed, as the hours passed on, the hilarity of the companyincreased yet further, and more than once the President (a man of greaturbanity when thoroughly in his cups) embraced the chief guest of theday with the heartfelt words, "My dearest fellow! My own most preciousof friends!" Nay, he even started to crack his fingers, to dance aroundChichikov's chair, and to sing snatches of a popular song. To thechampagne succeeded Hungarian wine, which had the effect of stillfurther heartening and enlivening the company. By this time everyone had forgotten about whist, and given himself up to shouting anddisputing. Every conceivable subject was discussed, including politicsand military affairs; and in this connection guests voiced jejuneopinions for the expression of which they would, at any other time, havesoundly spanked their offspring. Chichikov, like the rest, had neverbefore felt so gay, and, imagining himself really and truly to be alandowner of Kherson, spoke of various improvements in agriculture, ofthe three-field system of tillage [33], and of the beatific felicity ofa union between two kindred souls. Also, he started to recite poetry toSobakevitch, who blinked as he listened, for he greatly desired to go tosleep. At length the guest of the evening realised that matters had gonefar enough, so begged to be given a lift home, and was accommodated withthe Public Prosecutor's drozhki. Luckily the driver of the vehicle wasa practised man at his work, for, while driving with one hand, hesucceeded in leaning backwards and, with the other, holding Chichikovsecurely in his place. Arrived at the inn, our hero continued babblingawhile about a flaxen-haired damsel with rosy lips and a dimple in herright cheek, about villages of his in Kherson, and about the amount ofhis capital. Nay, he even issued seignorial instructions that Selifanshould go and muster the peasants about to be transferred, and make acomplete and detailed inventory of them. For a while Selifan listenedin silence; then he left the room, and instructed Petrushka to help thebarin to undress. As it happened, Chichikov's boots had no soonerbeen removed than he managed to perform the rest of his toilet withoutassistance, to roll on to the bed (which creaked terribly as he did so),and to sink into a sleep in every way worthy of a landowner of Kherson.Meanwhile Petrushka had taken his master's coat and trousers ofbilberry-coloured check into the corridor; where, spreading them over aclothes' horse, he started to flick and to brush them, and to fill thewhole corridor with dust. Just as he was about to replace them in hismaster's room he happened to glance over the railing of the gallery, andsaw Selifan returning from the stable. Glances were exchanged, and inan instant the pair had arrived at an instinctive understanding--anunderstanding to the effect that the barin was sound asleep, and thattherefore one might consider one's own pleasure a little. AccordinglyPetrushka proceeded to restore the coat and trousers to their appointedplaces, and then descended the stairs; whereafter he and Selifan leftthe house together. Not a word passed between them as to the objectof their expedition. On the contrary, they talked solely of extraneoussubjects. Yet their walk did not take them far; it took them only tothe other side of the street, and thence into an establishment whichimmediately confronted the inn. Entering a mean, dirty courtyard coveredwith glass, they passed thence into a cellar where a number of customerswere seated around small wooden tables. What thereafter was done bySelifan and Petrushka God alone knows. At all events, within an hour'stime they issued, arm in arm, and in profound silence, yet remainingmarkedly assiduous to one another, and ever ready to help one anotheraround an awkward corner. Still linked together--never once releasingtheir mutual hold--they spent the next quarter of an hour in attemptingto negotiate the stairs of the inn; but at length even that ascent hadbeen mastered, and they proceeded further on their way. Haltingbefore his mean little pallet, Petrushka stood awhile in thought. Hisdifficulty was how best to assume a recumbent position. Eventually helay down on his face, with his legs trailing over the floor; after whichSelifan also stretched himself upon the pallet, with his head restingupon Petrushka's stomach, and his mind wholly oblivious of the fact
thathe ought not to have been sleeping there at all, but in the servant'squarters, or in the stable beside his horses. Scarcely a moment hadpassed before the pair were plunged in slumber and emitting the mostraucous snores; to which their master (next door) responded with snoresof a whistling and nasal order. Indeed, before long every one in theinn had followed their soothing example, and the hostelry lay plungedin complete restfulness. Only in the window of the room of thenewly-arrived lieutenant from Riazan did a light remain burning.Evidently he was a devotee of boots, for he had purchased four pairs,and was now trying on a fifth. Several times he approached the bed witha view to taking off the boots and retiring to rest; but each time hefailed, for the reason that the boots were so alluring in their makethat he had no choice but to lift up first one foot, and then the other,for the purpose of scanning their elegant welts.
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