Dead Souls
something to say to you”--though, in the main, their owner was a man of
grave and taciturn habit), of the Postmaster (an insignificant-looking
individual, yet a would-be wit and a philosopher), and of the President
of the Local Council (a man of much amiability and good sense). These
three personages greeted Chichikov as an old acquaintance, and to their
salutations he responded with a sidelong, yet a sufficiently civil, bow.
Also, he became acquainted with an extremely unctuous and approachable
landowner named Manilov, and with a landowner of more uncouth exterior
named Sobakevitch--the latter of whom began the acquaintance by treading
heavily upon Chichikov’s toes, and then begging his pardon. Next,
Chichikov received an offer of a “cut in” at whist, and accepted
the same with his usual courteous inclination of the head. Seating
themselves at a green table, the party did not rise therefrom till
supper time; and during that period all conversation between the players
became hushed, as is the custom when men have given themselves up to
a really serious pursuit. Even the Postmaster--a talkative man by
nature--had no sooner taken the cards into his hands than he assumed
an expression of profound thought, pursed his lips, and retained this
attitude unchanged throughout the game. Only when playing a court card
was it his custom to strike the table with his fist, and to exclaim (if
the card happened to be a queen), “Now, old popadia [7]!” and (if
the card happened to be a king), “Now, peasant of Tambov!” To which
ejaculations invariably the President of the Local Council retorted,
“Ah, I have him by the ears, I have him by the ears!” And from the
neighbourhood of the table other strong ejaculations relative to the
play would arise, interposed with one or another of those nicknames
which participants in a game are apt to apply to members of the various
suits. I need hardly add that, the game over, the players fell to
quarrelling, and that in the dispute our friend joined, though so
artfully as to let every one see that, in spite of the fact that he was
wrangling, he was doing so only in the most amicable fashion possible.
Never did he say outright, “You played the wrong card at such and such
a point.” No, he always employed some such phrase as, “You permitted
yourself to make a slip, and thus afforded me the honour of covering
your deuce.” Indeed, the better to keep in accord with his antagonists,
he kept offering them his silver-enamelled snuff-box (at the bottom
of which lay a couple of violets, placed there for the sake of their
scent). In particular did the newcomer pay attention to landowners
Manilov and Sobakevitch; so much so that his haste to arrive on good
terms with them led to his leaving the President and the Postmaster
rather in the shade. At the same time, certain questions which he put
to those two landowners evinced not only curiosity, but also a certain
amount of sound intelligence; for he began by asking how many peasant
souls each of them possessed, and how their affairs happened at present
to be situated, and then proceeded to enlighten himself also as their
standing and their families. Indeed, it was not long before he had
succeeded in fairly enchanting his new friends. In particular did
Manilov--a man still in his prime, and possessed of a pair of eyes
which, sweet as sugar, blinked whenever he laughed--find himself unable
to make enough of his enchanter. Clasping Chichikov long and fervently
by the hand, he besought him to do him, Manilov, the honour of visiting
his country house (which he declared to lie at a distance of not more
than fifteen versts from the boundaries of the town); and in return
Chichikov averred (with an exceedingly affable bow and a most sincere
handshake) that he was prepared not only to fulfil his friend’s behest,
but also to look upon the fulfilling of it as a sacred duty. In the same
way Sobakevitch said to him laconically: “And do you pay ME a visit,”
and then proceeded to shuffle a pair of boots of such dimensions that
to find a pair to correspond with them would have been indeed
difficult--more especially at the present day, when the race of epic
heroes is beginning to die out in Russia.
Next day Chichikov dined and spent the evening at the house of the Chief
of Police--a residence where, three hours after dinner, every one sat
down to whist, and remained so seated until two o’clock in the morning.
On this occasion Chichikov made the acquaintance of, among others, a
landowner named Nozdrev--a dissipated little fellow of thirty who had no
sooner exchanged three or four words with his new acquaintance than he
began to address him in the second person singular. Yet although he did
the same to the Chief of Police and the Public Prosecutor, the company
had no sooner seated themselves at the card-table than both the one
and the other of these functionaries started to keep a careful eye upon
Nozdrev’s tricks, and to watch practically every card which he played.
The following evening Chichikov spent with the President of the Local
Council, who received his guests--even though the latter included two
ladies--in a greasy dressing-gown. Upon that followed an evening at the
Vice-Governor’s, a large dinner party at the house of the Commissioner
of Taxes, a smaller dinner-party at the house of the Public Prosecutor
(a very wealthy man), and a subsequent reception given by the Mayor. In
short, not an hour of the day did Chichikov find himself forced to
spend at home, and his return to the inn became necessary only for the
purposes of sleeping. Somehow or other he had landed on his feet, and
everywhere he figured as an experienced man of the world. No matter what
the conversation chanced to be about, he always contrived to maintain
his part in the same. Did the discourse turn upon horse-breeding, upon
horse-breeding he happened to be peculiarly well-qualified to speak. Did
the company fall to discussing well-bred dogs, at once he had remarks of
the most pertinent kind possible to offer. Did the company touch upon
a prosecution which had recently been carried out by the Excise
Department, instantly he showed that he too was not wholly unacquainted
with legal affairs. Did an opinion chance to be expressed concerning
billiards, on that subject too he was at least able to avoid committing
a blunder. Did a reference occur to virtue, concerning virtue he
hastened to deliver himself in a way which brought tears to every eye.
Did the subject in hand happen to be the distilling of brandy--well,
that was a matter concerning which he had the soundest of knowledge. Did
any one happen to mention Customs officials and inspectors, from that
moment he expatiated as though he too had been both a minor functionary
and a major. Yet a remarkable fact was the circumstance that he always
contrived to temper his omniscience with a certain readiness to give
way, a certain ability so to keep a rein upon himself that never did his
utterances become too loud or too soft, or transcend what was perfectly
befitting. In a word, he was always a gentleman of excellent manners,
and every official in the place felt pleased when he saw him enter the
door. Thus the Governor gave it as his opinion that Chichikov was a man
of excellent intentions; the Public Prosecutor, that he was a good man
of business; the Chief of Gendarmery, that he was a man of education;
the President of the Local Council, that he was a man of breeding and
refinement; and the wife of the Chief of Gendarmery, that his politeness
of behaviour was equalled only by his affability of bearing. Nay, even
Sobakevitch--who as a rule never spoke well of ANY ONE--said to his
lanky wife when, on returning late from the town, he undressed and
betook himself to bed by her side: “My dear, this evening, after dining
with the Chief of Police, I went on to the Governor’s, and met there,
among others, a certain Paul Ivanovitch Chichikov, who is a Collegiate
Councillor and a very pleasant fellow.” To this his spouse replied “Hm!”
and then dealt him a hearty kick in the ribs.
Such were the flattering opinions earned by the newcomer to the town;
and these opinions he retained until the time when a certain speciality
of his, a certain scheme of his (the reader will learn presently what it
was), plunged the majority of the townsfolk into a sea of perplexity.
CHAPTER II
For more than two weeks the visitor lived amid a round of evening
parties and dinners; wherefore he spent (as the saying goes) a very
pleasant time. Finally he decided to extend his visits beyond the urban
boundaries by going and calling upon landowners Manilov and Sobakevitch,
seeing that he had promised on his honour to do so. Yet what really
incited him to this may have been a more essential cause, a matter of
greater gravity, a purpose which stood nearer to his heart, than the
motive which I have just given; and of that purpose the reader will
learn if only he will have the patience to read this prefatory narrative
(which, lengthy though it be, may yet develop and expand in proportion
as we approach the denouement with which the present work is destined to
be crowned).
One evening, therefore, Selifan the coachman received orders to have
the horses harnessed in good time next morning; while Petrushka
received orders to remain behind, for the purpose of looking after the
portmanteau and the room. In passing, the reader may care to become
more fully acquainted with the two serving-men of whom I have spoken.
Naturally, they were not persons of much note, but merely what folk call
characters of secondary, or even of tertiary, importance. Yet, despite
the fact that the springs and the thread of this romance will not DEPEND
upon them, but only touch upon them, and occasionally include them,
the author has a passion for circumstantiality, and, like the average
Russian, such a desire for accuracy as even a German could not rival.
To what the reader already knows concerning the personages in hand it is
therefore necessary to add that Petrushka usually wore a cast-off brown
jacket of a size too large for him, as also that he had (according to
the custom of individuals of his calling) a pair of thick lips and
a very prominent nose. In temperament he was taciturn rather than
loquacious, and he cherished a yearning for self-education. That is to
say, he loved to read books, even though their contents came alike to
him whether they were books of heroic adventure or mere grammars or
liturgical compendia. As I say, he perused every book with an equal
amount of attention, and, had he been offered a work on chemistry,
would have accepted that also. Not the words which he read, but the mere
solace derived from the act of reading, was what especially pleased his
mind; even though at any moment there might launch itself from the page
some devil-sent word whereof he could make neither head nor tail. For
the most part, his task of reading was performed in a recumbent position
in the anteroom; which circumstance ended by causing his mattress to
become as ragged and as thin as a wafer. In addition to his love of
poring over books, he could boast of two habits which constituted two
other essential features of his character--namely, a habit of
retiring to rest in his clothes (that is to say, in the brown jacket
above-mentioned) and a habit of everywhere bearing with him his own
peculiar atmosphere, his own peculiar smell--a smell which filled
any lodging with such subtlety that he needed but to make up his bed
anywhere, even in a room hitherto untenanted, and to drag thither his
greatcoat and other impedimenta, for that room at once to assume an air
of having been lived in during the past ten years. Nevertheless, though
a fastidious, and even an irritable, man, Chichikov would merely frown