Dead Souls
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 Mizhuev, 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 Nozdrev’s whiskers was
less bushy in appearance than the other one. “Had I had another twenty
roubles in my pocket,” went on Nozdrev, “I should have won back all that
I have 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
flaxen-haired man. “Yet, even though I lent you fifty roubles, you lost
them all.”
“But I should not have lost them THIS time. Don’t try to make me out
a 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 flaxen-haired 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 a 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! But what a pity YOU were not there! Three
versts 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 Potsieluev is a SPLENDID fellow!
You should just see his moustache! Why, he calls good claret ‘trash’!
‘Bring me some of the usual trash,’ is his way of ordering it. And
Lieutenant Kuvshinnikov, 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 kvass [18]. Try to imagine not merely Clicquot, but
a sort of blend of Clicquot and Matradura--Clicquot 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 Pnomarev’s place, some prince or another 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.”
“Come, come! You CAN’T have got through seventeen,” remarked the
flaxen-haired man.
“But I did, I give my word of honour,” retorted Nozdrev.
“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 as an experiment?”
“No.”
“It is as 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 Kuvshinnikov. 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
skinflints--fellows who shiver in their shoes before they will spend a
single kopeck. HE will play faro, 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. Mizhuev, 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 roubles in
addition. What a dog is that Kuvshinnikov! He and I attended nearly
every ball in the place. In particular, there was a woman--decolletee,
and such a swell! I merely thought to myself, ‘The devil take her!’ but
Kuvshinnikov is such a wag 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
caviare with me. ’Tis all I HAVE brought back! In fact it is 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 Sobakevitch.”
Instantly Nozdrev burst into a laugh compassable only by a healthy man
in whose head every tooth still remains as white as sugar. By this I
mean the laugh of quivering cheeks, the laugh which causes a neighbour
who is sleeping behind double doors three rooms away to leap from his
bed and exclaim with distended eyes, “Hullo! Something HAS upset him!”
“What is there to laugh at?” asked Chichikov, a trifle nettled; but
Nozdrev 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
fulfilment of a promise that I am on my way to Sobakevitch’s.”
“Then you will scarcely be glad to be alive when you’ve got there, for
he is the veriest miser in the countryside. Oh, _I_ know you. However,
if you think to find there either faro or a bottle of ‘Bonbon’ you are
mistaken. Look here, my good friend. Let Sobakevitch go to the devil,
and come to MY place, where at least I shall have a piece of sturgeon
to offer you for dinner. Ponomarev 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 skinflints in the town.’ But he only stroked his beard
and smiled. Every day I used to breakfast with Kuvshinnikov in his
restaurant. Well, what I was nearly forgetting is this: that, though I
am aware that you can’t forgo your engagement, I am not going to give
you up--no, not for ten thousand roubles 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 the
britchka for something else):
“Hi, Porphyri! 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 roan filly which, as you may remember, I
swopped from Khvostirev.” As a matter of fact, Chichikov had never in
his life seen either Khvostirev or the roan filly.
“Barin, 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 Nozdrev.
“And one for me as well,” added the flaxen-haired man.
“At the theatre,” went on Nozdrev, “there was an actress who sang like a
canary. Kuvshinnikov, 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 Porphyri--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 Nozdrev, “and then fasten it up.”
Porphyri deposited the animal upon the floor; whereupon it proceeded to
act after the manner of dogs.
“THERE’S a puppy for you!” cried Nozdrev, catching hold 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 Porphyri after an inspection of the animal’s belly. “You have quite
forgotten to brush him.”
“I DID brush him,” protested Porphyri.
“Then where did these fleas come from?”
“I cannot think. Perhaps they have leapt into his coat out of the
britchka.”
“You liar! As a matter of fact, you have forgotten to brush him.
Nevertheless, look at these ears, Chichikov. 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 humour the fellow Chichikov 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, Chichikov felt the puppy’s nose,
saying: “Some day he will have an excellent scent.”
“Yes, will he not? ’Tis the right sort of muzzle for that. I must say
that I have long been wanting such a puppy. Porphyri, take him away
again.”
Porphyri lifted up the puppy, and bore it downstairs.
“Look here, Chichikov,” resumed Nozdrev. “You MUST come to my place. It
lies only five versts away, and we can go there like the wind, and you
can visit Sobakevitch afterwards.”
“Shall I, or shall I not, go to Nozdrev’s?” reflected Chichikov. “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 Nozdrev. “Splendid, splendid! Let me
embrace you!” And he fell upon Chichikov’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 Monsieur Chichikov must