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Nikolai Gogol - Dead Souls - Library "100 Best Books". Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol - dead souls Everyone involuntarily looked out the window

- Well, listen, let's play checkers, you win - everything is yours. After all, I have a lot of those that need to be deleted from the audit. Hey, Porfiry, bring the chess player here.
- In vain work, I will not play.
— Why, it's not to the bank; there can be no happiness or falsehood here: after all, everything comes from art; I even warn you that I don’t know how to play at all, unless you give me something in advance.
“Here I am,” Chichikov thought to himself, “I’ll play checkers with him! I played checkers pretty well, but it’s hard for him to get up here on things. ”
- If you please, I'll play checkers.
- Souls go in a hundred rubles!
- Why? enough if they go at fifty.
— No, what is kush fifty? Well, in this amount, I'll include some puppy for you. middle class or a gold signet for a watch.
- Well, please! Chichikov said.
- How much will you give me in advance? Nozdrev said.
- Why is that? Of course, nothing.
“At least let it be my two moves.
- I don't want to, I'm bad at playing myself.

“I haven’t picked up checkers for a long time!” said Chichikov, also moving a saber.
- We know you, how badly you play! - said Nozdryov, speaking with his saber.
“I haven’t picked up checkers for a long time!” said Chichikov, moving his saber.
- We know you, how badly you play! said Nozdryov, moving a saber, and at the same time moved another saber with the cuff of his sleeve.
“I haven’t taken it in my hands for a long time! .. Eh, eh!” this, brother, what? put her back! Chichikov said.
- Whom?
“Yes, a checker,” said Chichikov, and at the same time he saw in front of his very nose another, which, as it seemed, was making its way into the kings; where it came from, only God knew. "No," said Chichikov, getting up from the table, "there is no way to play with you!" They don’t walk like that, all of a sudden three checkers!
Why three? This is by mistake. One moved inadvertently, I'll move it, if you please.
- Where did the other one come from?
- What is the other one?
“But this one that sneaks into the ladies?”
“Here you go, as if you don’t remember!”
- No, brother, I counted all the moves and remember everything; you've just added it. Where is her place!
- How, where is the place? said Nozdryov, blushing. - Yes, you, brother, as I see it, are a writer!
- No, brother, it seems that you are a writer, but only unsuccessfully.
Who do you think I am? Nozdrev said. - Am I going to cheat?
“I don’t consider you to be anyone, but from now on I’ll never play.”
“No, you can’t refuse,” Nozdryov said, getting excited, “the game has begun!”
- I have the right to refuse, because you do not play as decently as an honest person.
- No, you're lying, you can't say that!
- No, brother, you yourself are lying!
“I didn’t cheat, but you can’t refuse, you must finish the game!”
"You won't force me to do that," Chichikov said coolly, and, going up to the board, mixed his checkers.
Nozdryov flushed and went up to Chichikov so close that he took two steps back.
"I'll make you play!" It's nothing that you mixed checkers, I remember all the moves. We will put them back the way they were.
- No, brother, it's over, I won't play with you.
So you don't want to play?
You can see for yourself that there is no way to play with you.
- No, tell me straight, do you want to play? said Nozdryov, stepping even closer.
- I do not want! said Chichikov, and, however, brought both hands closer to his face, just in case, for the matter was getting really hot.
This precaution was quite in place, because Nozdryov waved his hand ... and it could very well have happened that one of our hero's pleasant and full cheeks would have been covered with indelible dishonor; but happily parrying the blow, he seized Nozdryov by both of his fervent hands and held him tightly.
- Porfiry, Pavlushka! Nozdryov shouted furiously, trying to break free.
Hearing these words, Chichikov, in order not to make the yard people witness the seductive scene and at the same time feeling that it was useless to hold Nozdryov, let go of his hands. At that very moment Porfiry entered, and with him Pavlushka, a stout fellow with whom it was absolutely unprofitable to deal with.
“So you don’t want to finish the games?” Nozdrev said. - Answer me directly!
“There is no way to finish the game,” Chichikov said and looked out the window. He saw his britzka, which stood completely ready, and Selifan seemed to be waiting for a wave to roll up under the porch, but there was no way to get out of the room: two hefty serf fools were standing in the doorway.
“So you don’t want to finish the games?” repeated Nozdryov, his face burning as if on fire.
— If you played like an honest man. But now I can't.
- BUT! so you can't, you scoundrel! when you saw that it wasn’t yours, you couldn’t! Beat him! he shouted frantically, turning to Porfiry and Pavlushka, and he himself grabbed a cherry chubuk in his hand. Chichikov became pale as a sheet. He wanted to say something, but felt that his lips were moving without a sound.

N.V. Gogol. Dead Souls

He spoke to himself. He slept very badly at night. Some kind of small, agile insects bit him unbearably painfully, so that he scraped the wounded place with his whole handful, saying: “Ah, the devil take you along with Nozdryov!” He woke up early in the morning. His first act, having put on his dressing-gown and boots, was to go across the yard to the stables and order Selifan to lay down the britzka at once. Returning through the yard, he met Nozdryov, who was also in a dressing gown, with a pipe in his teeth.

Nozdryov greeted him in a friendly way and asked how he slept.

So-so, - answered Chichikov very dryly.

And I, brother, - said Nozdryov, - such an abomination climbed all night, that it is vile to talk, and after yesterday, it was as if the squadron had spent the night in my mouth. Imagine: I dreamed that I was flogged, she-she! and guess who? You'll never guess: Staff Captain Kisses, together with Kuvshinnikov.

“Yes,” Chichikov thought to himself, “it would be nice if you were torn off in reality.”

By God! yes it hurts! I woke up: damn it, something is really itching - that's right, flea witches. Well, you go now get dressed, I'll come to you now. You just need to scold the scoundrel clerk.

Chichikov went into the room to get dressed and wash. When after that he went out into the dining-room, there was already a tea set with a bottle of rum on the table. There were traces of yesterday's lunch and dinner in the room; it seems that the floor brush was not touched at all. Bread crumbs lay on the floor, and tobacco ash was even visible on the tablecloth. The owner himself, who did not hesitate to enter soon, had nothing under his dressing gown, except for an open chest, on which some kind of beard grew. Holding a chibouk in his hand and sipping from a cup, he was very good for a painter who does not like the fear of gentlemen sleek and curled, like barber signs, or cut with a comb.

Well, what do you think? said Nozdryov, after a little silence. - Don't want to play for souls?

I already told you, brother, that I don't play; buy - if you please, I will buy.

I don't want to sell, it won't be friendly. I'm not going to take hymen off God knows what. In a bow is another matter. Let's drop the waist!

I already said no.

Don't you want to change?

I do not want.

Well, listen, let's play checkers, you win - everything is yours. After all, I have a lot of those that need to be deleted from the audit. Hey, Porfiry, bring the chess player here.

Wasted work, I won't play.

Why, it's not to the bank; there can be no happiness or falsehood here: after all, everything comes from art; I even warn you that I don’t know how to play at all, unless you give me something in advance.

“Here I am,” Chichikov thought to himself, “I’ll play checkers with him! I played checkers pretty well, but it’s hard for him to get up here on things. ”

All right, so be it, I'll play checkers.

Souls go in a hundred rubles!

Why? enough if they go at fifty.

No, what is kush fifty? Well, in this amount, I’d better include for you some puppy of an average hand or a gold signet for a watch.

Well, please! Chichikov said.

How much will you give me in advance? - said Nozdrev.

Why is this? Of course, nothing.

At least let there be my two moves.

I don't want to, I don't play well myself.

I haven't picked up checkers for a long time! said Chichikov, also moving a saber.

We know you, how badly you play! - said Nozdryov, speaking with his saber.

I haven't picked up checkers for a long time! said Chichikov, moving his saber.

We know you, how badly you play! - said Nozdryov, moving a saber, and at the same time moved another saber with the cuff of his sleeve.

I haven't picked it up for a long time!.. Eh, eh! this, brother, what? put her back! Chichikov said.

Yes, a checker, - said Chichikov, and at the same time he saw in front of his very nose another, which, as it seemed, was making its way into the kings; where it came from, only God knew. - No, - said Chichikov, getting up from the table, - there is no way to play with you! They don’t walk like that, all of a sudden three checkers!

Why three? This is by mistake. One moved inadvertently, I'll move it, if you please.

Where did the other one come from?

What's the other one?

But this one that sneaks into the ladies?

Here you go, as if you don't remember!

No, brother, I counted all the moves and remember everything; you've just added it. Where is her place!

How, where is the place? said Nozdryov, blushing. - Yes, you, brother, as I see it, are a writer!

No, brother, it seems that you are a writer, but only unsuccessfully.

Who do you think I am? Nozdrev said. - Am I going to cheat?

I don’t consider you for anyone, but I’ll never play from now on.

No, you can't refuse, - said Nozdryov, getting excited, - the game has begun!

I have the right to refuse, because you do not play as decently as an honest person.

No, you're lying, you can't say that!

No, brother, you yourself are lying!

I did not cheat, but you cannot refuse, you must finish the game!

You won't force me to do that," Chichikov said coolly and, going up to the board, mixed his checkers.

Nozdryov flushed and went up to Chichikov so close that he took two steps back.

I'll make you play! It's nothing that you mixed checkers, I remember all the moves. We will put them back the way they were.

No, brother, it's over, I won't play with you.

So you don't want to play?

You see for yourself that there is no way to play with you.

No, tell me straight, don't you want to play? said Nozdryov, stepping even closer.

I do not want! said Chichikov, and, however, raised both hands, just in case, closer to his face, for the matter was getting really hot.

This precaution was quite in place, because Nozdryov waved his hand ... and it could very well have happened that one of our hero's pleasant and full cheeks would have been covered with indelible dishonor; but happily parrying the blow, he seized Nozdryov by both of his fervent hands and held him tightly.

Porfiry, Pavlushka! Nozdryov shouted furiously, trying to break free.

Hearing these words, Chichikov, in order not to make the yard people witness the seductive scene and at the same time feeling that it was useless to hold Nozdryov, let go of his hands. At that very moment Porfiry entered, and with him Pavlushka, a stout fellow with whom it was absolutely unprofitable to deal with.

So you don't want to end the games? Nozdrev said. - Answer me directly!

There is no way to finish the game, - said Chichikov and looked out the window. He saw his britzka, which stood completely ready, and Selifan seemed to be waiting for a wave to roll up under the porch, but there was no way to get out of the room: two hefty serf fools were standing in the doorway.

So you don't want to finish the games? repeated Nozdryov, his face burning as if on fire.

If you played like an honest man. But now I can't.

BUT! so you can't, you scoundrel! when you saw that it wasn’t yours, you couldn’t! Beat him! he shouted frantically, turning to Porfiry and Pavlushka, and he himself grabbed a cherry chubuk in his hand. Chichikov became pale as a sheet. He wanted to say something, but felt that his lips were moving without a sound.

Beat him! shouted Nozdryov, rushing forward with a cherry chibouk, covered in heat and sweat, as if he were approaching an impregnable fortress. - Beat him! - he shouted in the same voice as during a great attack he shouts to his platoon: “Guys, go ahead!” some desperate lieutenant, whose eccentric courage has already gained such fame that a special order is given to hold his hands during hot deeds. But the lieutenant already felt abusive enthusiasm, everything went round in his head; Suvorov rushes before him, he climbs to a great cause. "Guys, go ahead!" - he shouts, rushing, not thinking that he is harming the already well-thought-out plan of the general attack, that millions of gun barrels have been exposed in the embrasures of impregnable fortress walls that go beyond the clouds, that his powerless platoon will fly up like fluff into the air and that the fatal bullet is already whistling , preparing to slam his noisy throat. But if Nozdryov expressed himself as a desperate, lost lieutenant who approached the fortress, then the fortress he was going to did not at all look like an impregnable one. On the contrary, the fortress felt such fear that its soul hid in its very heels. Already the chair with which he had taken it into his head to defend himself had been torn from his hands by the serfs, already, closing his eyes, neither dead nor alive, he was preparing to taste his master's Circassian chubuk, and God knows what might happen to him; but the fates were pleased to save the sides, shoulders and all the well-bred parts of our hero. In an unexpected way, suddenly, as if from clouds, the sounds of a bell rattled, the sound of the wheels of a cart flying up to the porch was heard clearly, and even in the room itself the heavy snoring and heavy shortness of breath of the hot horses of the stopped troika echoed. Everyone involuntarily glanced out the window: someone with a mustache, in a semi-military frock coat, was climbing out of the cart. Having inquired about the entrance, he entered at the very moment when Chichikov had not yet had time to recover from his fear and was in the most miserable position in which a mortal had ever been.

May I know who Mr. Nozdryov is here? - said the stranger, looking in some bewilderment at Nozdryov, who stood with a chibouk in his hand, and at Chichikov, who was barely beginning to recover from his disadvantageous position.

May I first inquire to whom I have the honor of speaking? - said Nozdryov, coming closer to him.

Correction Captain.

What do you want?

I have come to announce to you the notice communicated to me that you are under trial until the end of the decision in your case.

What nonsense, what business? - said Nozdrev.

You were implicated in history, on the occasion of inflicting personal insult on the landowner Maksimov with rods in a drunken state.

You're lying! I never even saw the landowner Maksimov!

Your Majesty! let me tell you that I am an officer. You can say that to your servant, not to me!

Here Chichikov, not waiting for Nozdryov to answer this, slipped out onto the porch by his hat and behind the police captain, got into the britzka, and ordered Selifan to drive the horses at full speed.

Chapter Five

Our hero collapsed, however, in order. Although the britzka rushed to the full extent of the lost one, and the village of Nozdryov had long since disappeared from sight, covered by fields, slopes and hillocks, he still looked back with fear, as if expecting a chase to come at any moment. His breathing was difficult, and when he tried to put his hand to his heart, he felt that it was beating like a quail in a cage. “Ek what a bath he asked! look what you are!” Here Nozdryov was promised many difficult and strong desires; there were even bad words. What to do? Russian people, and even in the hearts. And besides, it was quite a no-brainer. “Whatever you say,” he said to himself, “if the police captain hadn’t arrived, I might not have been able to even look at the light of day! He would have disappeared like a blister on water, without any trace, without leaving descendants, without delivering to future children either a fortune or an honest name! Our hero took great care of his descendants.

"What a nasty bastard! Selifan thought to himself. - I have not yet seen such a gentleman. That is, he would spit for it! You better not let a man eat, but you have to feed a horse, because the horse loves oats. This is his food: what, by example, is kosht for us, then for him oats, he is his food.

The horses, too, seemed to think unfavorably of Nozdryov: not only the bay and Assessor, but the dappled one himself was out of sorts. Although he always got a piece of oats tighter, and Selifan poured him into the trough in no other way than saying before: “Oh, you scoundrel!” - but, nevertheless, it was still oats, and not simple hay, he chewed it with pleasure and often thrust his long muzzle into the troughs of his comrades to taste what kind of food they had, especially when Selifan was not in the stable, but now one hay ... not good; everyone was unhappy.

For such a commotion, however, the peasants from the village, which, fortunately, was not far away, had time to gather. Since such a spectacle is pure grace for a peasant, just like newspapers or a club for a German, soon an abyss of them accumulated around the carriage, and only old women and little guys remained in the village. The lines were untied; a few pokes in the muzzle of the gray-haired horse made him back away; in a word, they were separated and divorced. But whether the annoyance felt by the visiting horses for separating them from their friends, or just stupidity, only, no matter how much their coachman whipped, they did not move and stood rooted to the spot. The participation of men has increased to an incredible degree. Everyone vied with advice: “Go, Andryushka, lead the harness on the right side, and let Uncle Mitya sit astride the indigenous one! Sit down, Uncle Mityai! Lean and long, Uncle Mityai with a red beard mounted his root horse and became like a village bell tower, or, better, like a hook used to get water from wells. The coachman hit the horses, but that was not the case, Uncle Mityai did nothing. "Stop, stop! the men shouted. “Sit down, Uncle Mityai, on the harness, and let Uncle Minyay sit on the root!” Uncle Minyay, a broad-shouldered muzhik with a beard as black as coal and a belly resembling that gigantic samovar in which sbiten is brewed for the entire vegetative market, willingly sat down on a native, who almost bent down to the ground under him. “Now it will work! the men shouted. - Turn it on, turn it on! whip that one, that nightingale, with a whip, that he gets excited like a koramora! But, seeing that things were not going well and no incandescence helped, Uncle Mityai and Uncle Minyay both sat on the root, and put Andryushka on the harness. Finally, the coachman, having lost patience, drove both Uncle Mityai and Uncle Minya, and did well, because such steam came from the horses, as if they had taken the station without taking a breath. He gave them a minute to rest, after which they went on their own. Throughout this trick, Chichikov looked very attentively at the young stranger. He tried several times to talk to her, but somehow he didn't have to. And meanwhile the ladies drove off, the pretty head with thin features and a thin waist disappeared, like something like a vision, and again there was left the road, the carriage, the trio of horses familiar to the reader, Selifan, Chichikov, the smoothness and emptiness of the surrounding fields. Everywhere, wherever in life, whether among its callous, rough-poor and untidy-moulding low-lying ranks, or among the monotonous-cold and boring-tidy classes of the higher classes, everywhere at least once on the way a person will meet a phenomenon that is not like all that what he had seen until then, which at least once aroused in him a feeling unlike those that he was destined to feel all his life. Everywhere, no matter what the sorrows from which our life is woven, brilliant joy will rush merrily, as sometimes a brilliant carriage with golden harness, picture horses and sparkling glass of glass will suddenly suddenly rush past some stalled poor village that has seen nothing but rural carts, and for a long time the peasants stand, yawning, with their mouths open, without putting on their hats, although the marvelous carriage has long since gone and disappeared from sight. So the blonde also suddenly appeared in a completely unexpected way in our story and disappeared in the same way. If at that time some twenty-year-old youth instead of Chichikov got caught at that time, whether he was a hussar, whether he was a student, or just who had just begun his career, - and God! whatever wakes up, stirs, speaks in him! For a long time he would have stood insensibly in one place, staring senselessly into the distance, forgetting the road, and all the reprimands ahead, and scolding for delay, forgetting himself, and the service, and the world, and everything that is in the world.

But our hero was already middle-aged and of a prudently chilled character. He, too, pondered and thought, but more positively, his thoughts were not so unaccountable and even partly very thorough. "Glorious grandmother! he said, opening his snuff-box and sniffing the snuff. - But after all, what, most importantly, is good in it? The good thing is that she has only now, apparently, been released from some boarding school or institute, that, as they say, there is still nothing womanish about her, that is, precisely that which they have the most unpleasant. She is now like a child, everything in her is simple, she will say what she pleases, laugh where she wants to laugh. Everything can be done from it, it can be a miracle, or it can turn out to be rubbish, and rubbish will come out! Let the mothers and aunts take care of her now. In one year it will be filled with all sorts of women so much that the father himself will not recognize it. Where will both puffiness and stiffness come from, will begin to toss and turn according to uttered instructions, will begin to rack their brains and figure out with whom, and how, and how much to say, how to look at whom, every minute will be afraid not to say more than necessary, will get confused finally on her own, and will end up lying all her life, and it will turn out just the devil knows what! Here he was silent for some time and then added: “But it would be interesting to know whose it is? what, like her father? Is it a wealthy landowner of respectable character, or just a well-meaning person with capital acquired in the service? After all, if, let's say, this girl was given two hundred thousand dowry, a very, very tasty morsel could come out of her. This could be, so to speak, the happiness of a decent person. Two hundred thousand dollars began to be drawn so attractively in his head that he began to inwardly become annoyed with himself, why, in the course of the fuss about the carriages, he did not find out from the postilion or the coachman who the passers-by were. Soon, however, the appearance of Sobakevich's village scattered his thoughts and forced them to turn to their permanent subject.

The village seemed to him quite large; two forests, birch and pine, like two wings, one darker, the other lighter, were on her right and left; in the middle one could see a wooden house with a mezzanine, a red roof and dark or, better, wild walls - a house like those we build for military settlements and German colonists. It was noticeable that during the construction of its architect, he constantly fought with the taste of the owner. The architect was a pedant and wanted symmetry, the owner wanted convenience, and, apparently, as a result of this, he boarded up all the corresponding windows on one side and turned in their place one small one, probably needed for a dark closet. The pediment also did not fit in the middle of the house, no matter how hard the architect struggled, because the owner ordered one column to be thrown out from the side, and therefore there were not four columns, as it was appointed, but only three. The yard was surrounded by a strong and unreasonably thick wooden lattice. The landowner seemed to be fussing a lot about strength. For the stables, sheds and kitchens, full-weight and thick logs were used, determined to stand for centuries. The village huts of the peasants were also built marvelously: there were no brick walls, carved patterns and other tricks, but everything was fitted tightly and properly. Even the well was lined with such strong oak, which is used only for mills and ships. In a word, everything he looked at was stubbornly, without shaking, in some kind of strong and clumsy order. Approaching the porch, he noticed two faces looking out of the window almost at the same time: a female, in a crown, narrow, long, like a cucumber, and a male, round, wide, like Moldavian pumpkins, called gourds, from which balalaikas are made in Russia, two-stringed light balalaikas, the beauty and fun of a quick-witted twenty-year-old guy, flashing and dandy, and winking and whistling at the white-breasted and white-necked girls who had gathered to listen to his quiet-stringed jingling. Looking out, both faces hid at the same moment. A footman in a gray jacket with a blue stand-up collar came out onto the porch and led Chichikov into the hallway, where the master himself had already gone out. Seeing the guest, he said curtly: "Please" - and led him to the inner dwellings.

When Chichikov glanced askance at Sobakevich, this time he seemed to him very much like a medium-sized bear. To complete the resemblance, his tailcoat was completely bear-colored, the sleeves were long, the pantaloons were long, he stepped with his feet and at random and stepped incessantly on other people's legs. The complexion was red-hot, hot, which happens on a copper penny. It is known that there are many such persons in the world, over the finishing of which nature did not think long, did not use any small tools, such as files, gimlets and other things, but simply chopped from her shoulder: she grabbed with an ax once - her nose came out, she had enough in another - her lips came out, she poked her eyes with a large drill and, without scraping, let them into the light, saying: “He lives!” Sobakevich had the same strong and wonderfully stitched image: he held him more down than up, did not turn his neck at all, and because of such a non-rotation he rarely looked at the one with whom he spoke, but always either at the corner of the stove or at the door. . Chichikov glanced sideways at him once more as they passed the dining-room: a bear! perfect bear! Such a strange rapprochement is needed: he was even called Mikhail Semenovich. Knowing his habit of stepping on his feet, he very carefully moved his own and gave him the way forward. The owner, it seemed, himself felt this sin behind him, and at the same time asked: “Have I disturbed you?” But Chichikov thanked him, saying that there had not yet been any disturbance.

He entered the living room, Sobakevich pointed to the armchairs, saying again: “Please!” Sitting down, Chichikov glanced at the walls and at the pictures hanging on them. In the pictures, everyone was great, all the Greek generals, engraved in full growth: Mavrokordato in red trousers and uniform, with glasses on his nose, Miauli, Kanami. All these heroes were with such thick thighs and unheard-of mustaches that a shiver passed through the body. Between the strong Greeks, no one knows how and why, Bagration fit, skinny, thin, with small banners and cannons below and in the narrowest frames. Then again followed the Greek heroine Bobelina, to whom one leg seemed larger than the entire body of those dandies who fill today's living rooms. The owner, being a healthy and strong man himself, seemed to want strong and healthy people to decorate his room too. Near Bobelina, at the very window, hung a cage, from which looked out a dark-colored thrush with white speckles, also very similar to Sobakevich. The guest and the host had not had time to be silent for two minutes when the door to the living room opened and the hostess entered, a very tall lady, in a cap with ribbons dyed with homemade paint. She entered sedately, holding her head straight as a palm tree.

This is my Feodulia Ivanovna! Sobakevich said.

Chichikov went up to Feodulia Ivanovna's hand, which she almost pushed into his lips, and he had the opportunity to notice that his hands had been washed with cucumber pickle.

Feoduliya Ivanovna asked me to sit down, saying, too, "Please!" - and making a movement of the head, like actresses representing queens. Then she sat down on the sofa, covered herself with her merino shawl, and no longer moved her eye or eyebrow.

Chichikov raised his eyes again and again saw Canary with thick thighs and endless mustaches, Bobelina and the thrush in the cage.

For almost five whole minutes everyone was silent; only the sound of the thrush's nose against the wood of the wooden cage was heard, at the bottom of which it was fishing grains of bread. Chichikov looked around the room once more, and everything in it was solid, clumsy to the highest degree, and bore some strange resemblance to the owner of the house himself; in the corner of the living room stood a pot-bellied walnut office on absurd four legs, a perfect bear. The table, the armchairs, the chairs—everything was of the most heaviest and most restless quality—in a word, every object, every chair seemed to say: “And I, too, Sobakevich!” or: “And I also look a lot like Sobakevich!”

We remembered you at the chairman of the chamber, at Ivan Grigorievich's, - Chichikov said at last, seeing that no one was in the mood to start a conversation, - last Thursday. We had a very pleasant time there.

Yes, I wasn't at the chairman's office at the time," answered Sobakevich.

And a wonderful person!

Who it? - said Sobakevich, looking at the corner of the stove.

Chairman.

Well, maybe that's how it seemed to you: he's just a Freemason, but such a fool as the world hasn't produced.

Chichikov was a little taken aback by this somewhat harsh definition, but then, having recovered himself, he continued:

Of course, every person is not without weaknesses, but what an excellent person the governor is!

Is the governor an excellent man?

Yes, isn't it?

The first robber in the world!

How, the governor is a robber? - said Chichikov and could not understand at all how the governor could fall into the robbers. “I confess I never would have thought of that,” he continued. - But let me note, however, that his actions are completely different, on the contrary, there is rather a lot of gentleness in him. - Here he brought as evidence even purses, embroidered with his own hands, and praised the gentle expression of his face.

And the face of a robber! Sobakevich said. - Give him only a knife and let him out on the main road - he will kill him, he will kill him for a penny! He and even the vice-governor are Gog and Magog!

"No, he's not on good terms with them," Chichikov thought to himself. “But I’ll talk to him about the police chief: he seems to be his friend.”

However, as for me,” he said, “I confess that I like the chief of police more than anyone. Some kind of character direct, open; there is something simple-hearted in the face.

Scammer! - Sobakevich said very coolly, - he will sell, deceive, and also dine with you! I know them all: they are all swindlers, the whole city is like that: a swindler sits on a swindler and drives a swindler. All Christ sellers. There is only one decent person there: the prosecutor; and that one, to tell the truth, is a pig.

After such commendable, although a few brief biographies, Chichikov saw that there was nothing to mention about other officials and remembered that Sobakevich did not like to speak well of anyone.

Well, darling, let's go to dinner, - his wife said to Sobakevich.

I beg! Sobakevich said.

Then, approaching the table where there was an appetizer, the guest and the host drank a proper glass of vodka each, ate, as all vast Russia snacks in towns and villages, that is, with all sorts of pickles and other exciting graces, and they all flowed into the dining room; ahead of them, like a smooth goose, the hostess rushed. A small table was set for four utensils. She came to fourth place very soon, it is difficult to say in the affirmative who she is, a lady or a girl, a relative, a housekeeper or just living in the house: something without a cap, about thirty years old, in a colorful scarf. There are faces that exist in the world not as an object, but as extraneous specks or specks on an object. They sit in the same place, hold their heads in the same way, they are almost ready to be mistaken for furniture and you think that a word has not yet come out of such mouths; and somewhere in the maid's room or in the pantry it will be just: wow!

Shchi, my soul, is very good today! - said Sobakevich, taking a sip of cabbage soup and rolling off a huge piece of nanny from the dish, a famous dish that is served with cabbage soup and consists of a lamb stomach stuffed with buckwheat porridge, brain and legs. “You won’t eat like a nurse,” he continued, turning to Chichikov, “you won’t eat in the city, the devil knows what they’ll serve you there!”

The governor's table, however, is not bad, said Chichikov.

Do you know what it's all made of? you won't eat when you know.

I don't know how it's made, I can't judge about that, but the pork cutlets and boiled fish were excellent.

It seemed so to you. After all, I know what they are buying in the market. The cook over there, who learned from the Frenchman, will buy a cat, skin it, and serve it on the table instead of a hare.

Ugh! what a nuisance you are talking about,” said Sobakevich’s wife.

Well, my dear, that's how they do it, it's not my fault, that's how they all do it. Everything that is unnecessary that Akulka throws with us, if I may say so, into the garbage tub, they put it into soup! yes to the soup! there it!

You at the table will always tell such things! - Sobakevich's wife objected again.

No, you're lying, you can't say that

No, brother, you yourself are lying!

I did not cheat, but you cannot refuse, you must finish the game!

You won't force me to do that," Chichikov said coolly and,
went up to the board, mixed checkers.

Nozdryov flushed and approached Chichikov so close that he stepped back.
two steps back.

I'll make you play! It's nothing that you mixed checkers, I remember everything
moves. We will put them back the way they were.

No, brother, it's over, I won't play with you.

So you don't want to play?

You see for yourself that there is no way to play with you.

No, tell me straight, don't you want to play? Nozdrev said,
moving even closer.

I do not want! - said Chichikov and, however, raised both hands, just in case
the case is closer to the face, for the matter was getting really hot.

This precaution was quite appropriate, because Nozdryov
waved his hand ... and it might well have been that one of the pleasant and
full cheeks of our hero would be covered with indelible dishonor; but happily
parrying the blow, he grabbed Nozdryov by both of his fervent hands and held him
hard.

Porfiry, Pavlushka! shouted Nozdryov in a rage,
break out.

Hearing these words, Chichikov, so as not to make the courtyard people witnesses
seductive scene and at the same time feeling that holding Nozdryov was
useless, let go of his hands. At that very moment Porfiry entered, and with him
Pavlushka, a hefty guy with whom it was completely unprofitable to deal with.

So you don't want to end the games? Nozdrev said. - Answer me
straight ahead!

There is no way to finish the game, - said Chichikov and looked into
window. He saw his britzka, which was completely ready, and Selifan
seemed to be expecting a wave to roll up under the porch, but no
there was no way to get out: two hefty serfs stood in the door
fool.

So you don't want to finish the games? repeated Nozdryov with a face
burning like fire.

If you played like an honest man. But now I can't.

BUT! so you can't, you scoundrel! when I saw that it wasn't yours, so
can not! Beat him! he shouted frantically, turning to Porfiry and
Pavlushka, and he grabbed a cherry chubuk in his hand. Chichikov became as pale as
canvas. He wanted to say something, but he felt that his lips were moving.
soundless.

Beat him! shouted Nozdryov, rushing forward with a cherry chubuk,
all in a heat, in sweat, as if he were approaching an impregnable fortress. - Beat
his! - he shouted in the same voice as during a great attack he shouts
to his platoon: "Guys, go ahead!" some desperate lieutenant whom
eccentric courage has already acquired such fame that a special
an order to hold his hands during hot deeds. But the lieutenant
he felt an abusive enthusiasm, everything went round in his head; in front of him
Suvorov rushes about, he climbs to a great cause. "Guys, go ahead!" he shouts
rushing, not thinking that it harms the already thought-out plan of a general attack,
that millions of gun muzzles were exposed in the embrasures of impregnable, leaving
beyond the clouds of fortress walls, which will fly up like fluff into its powerless air
platoon and that the fatal bullet is already whistling, preparing to slam his noisy
throat But if Nozdryov expressed himself as one approaching the fortress
desperate, lost lieutenant, then the fortress he was going to, in no way
didn't look unapproachable. On the contrary, the fortress felt such fear,
that her soul hid in the very heels. Already the chair he thought was
to defend himself, was torn out of his hands by serfs, already, closing his eyes,
neither alive nor dead, he was preparing to taste the Circassian chubuk of his master, and
god knows what happened to him; but the fates were pleased to save the sides,
shoulders and all the well-bred parts of our hero. in an unexpected way
suddenly tinkled, as if from the clouds, the rattling sounds of a bell, there was a
the sound of the wheels of a cart flying up to the porch was clear, and even in the very
room, heavy snoring and severe shortness of breath of heated horses stopped
triplets. Everyone involuntarily looked out the window: someone, with a mustache, in a paramilitary
coat, got out of the cart. Having inquired in the hallway, he entered the same
minute when Chichikov had not yet had time to come to his senses from his fear and was in
the most miserable position in which a mortal has ever been.

May I know who Mr. Nozdryov is here? - said the stranger
looking in some bewilderment at Nozdryov, who was standing with a chubuk in
hand, and on Chichikov, who was barely beginning to recover from his unfavorable
provisions.

May I first inquire to whom I have the honor of speaking? - said
Nozdryov, coming closer to him.

Correction Captain.

What do you want?

I have come to announce to you the notice communicated to me that you are
in court until the end of the decision in your case.

No, you're lying, you can't say that!

No, brother, you yourself are lying!

I did not cheat, but you cannot refuse, you must finish the game!

You won't force me to do that," Chichikov said coolly and, going up to the board, mixed his checkers.

Nozdryov flushed and went up to Chichikov so close that he took two steps back.

I'll make you play! It's nothing that you mixed checkers, I remember all the moves. We will put them back the way they were.

No, brother, it's over, I won't play with you.

So you don't want to play?

You see for yourself that there is no way to play with you.

No, tell me straight, don't you want to play? said Nozdryov, stepping even closer.

I do not want! said Chichikov, and, however, raised both hands, just in case, closer to his face, for the matter was getting really hot.

Porfiry, Pavlushka! Nozdryov shouted furiously, trying to break free.

So you don't want to end the games? Nozdrev said. - Answer me directly!

So you don't want to finish the games? repeated Nozdryov, his face burning as if on fire.

If you played like an honest man. But now I can't.

May I first inquire to whom I have the honor of speaking? - said Nozdryov, coming closer to him.

Correction Captain.

What do you want?

I have come to announce to you the notice communicated to me that you are under trial until the end of the decision in your case.

What nonsense, what business? - said Nozdrev.

You were implicated in history, on the occasion of inflicting personal insult on the landowner Maksimov with rods in a drunken state.

You're lying! I never even saw the landowner Maksimov!

Your Majesty! let me tell you that I am an officer. You can say that to your servant, not to me!

Chapter Five

Page 27 of 129: Back [ 27 ]

Arriving at the tavern, Chichikov ordered to stop for two reasons. On the one hand, to give the horses a rest, and on the other hand, to have a bite to eat and refresh yourself. The author must confess that he is very envious of the appetite and stomach of such people. For him, all the gentlemen of a big hand who live in St. Petersburg and Moscow, who spend their time thinking about what to eat tomorrow and what kind of dinner to compose for the day after tomorrow, and who take up this dinner only after putting a pill in their mouth, mean absolutely nothing; swallowing oysters, sea spiders and other miracles, and then going to Carlsbad or the Caucasus. No, these gentlemen never aroused envy in him. But gentlemen of the middle class, that at one station they would demand ham, at another a pig, at a third a slice of sturgeon or some kind of baked sausage with onions, and then, as if nothing had happened, sit down at the table at any time you want, and sterlet's ear with burbots and sizzles with milk and grumbles between their teeth, eating a pie or a kulebyaka with a catfish plow, so that it alienates the appetite - these gentlemen, for sure, enjoy the enviable gift of heaven! More than one gentleman of a great hand would immediately donate half the souls of the peasants and half the estates, mortgaged and unmortgaged, with all the improvements on a foreign and Russian footing, in order to have such a stomach as a gentleman of an average hand has; but the misfortune is that for no amount of money, less than an estate, with or without improvements, one can acquire such a stomach as is found in a gentleman of an average hand.

The darkened wooden tavern received Chichikov under its narrow hospitable canopy on carved wooden posts, resembling old church candlesticks. The tavern was something like a Russian hut, somewhat larger. Carved, patterned cornices of fresh wood around the windows and under the roof brightly and vividly dazzled its dark walls; jugs of flowers were painted on the shutters.

Climbing up the narrow wooden staircase to the wide entrance, he met a door that opened with a creak and a fat old woman in colorful chintz who said: “Come here!” In the room all the old friends came across, which everyone comes across in small wooden taverns, of which there are many built along the roads, namely: a frost-covered samovar, smoothly scraped pine walls, a triangular cupboard with teapots and cups in the corner, gilded porcelain testicles in front of images, hanging on blue and red ribbons, a recently calved cat, a mirror showing four eyes instead of two, and some kind of cake instead of a face; finally, fragrant herbs and carnations studded in bunches near the images, dried up to such an extent that anyone who wanted to sniff them only sneezed and nothing more.

Is there a piglet? - with such a question Chichikov turned to the standing woman.

With horseradish and sour cream?

With horseradish and sour cream.

Give it here!

The old woman went to dig and brought in a plate, a napkin so starched that it puffed up like dry bark, then a knife with a yellowed bone block, thin as a penknife, a two-pronged fork, and a salt shaker, which could not be placed directly on the table.

Our hero, as usual, now entered into a conversation with her and asked if she herself kept a tavern, or was the owner, and how much income does the tavern give, and whether their sons live with them, and that the eldest son is a bachelor or a married person, and which one he took wife, whether with a large dowry or not, and whether the father-in-law was pleased, and was not angry that he received few gifts at the wedding - in a word, did not miss anything. It goes without saying that he was curious to find out what kind of landowners they had in the circle, and found out that there were all sorts of landowners: Blokhin, Pochitaev, Mylnoy, Cheprakov - Colonel, Sobakevich. "BUT! Do you know Sobakevich? he asked, and at once heard that the old woman knew not only Sobakevich, but also Manilov, and that Manilov would be more magnanimous than Sobakevich: he orders the chicken to be boiled at once, and asks for veal too; if there is mutton's liver, then he will ask for mutton's liver, and will just try everything, but Sobakevich will ask one thing, but he will eat it all, even demand a surcharge for the same price.

While he was talking in this way, eating a piglet, of which there was already the last piece left, the sound of the wheels of an approaching carriage was heard. Glancing out the window, he saw a light britzka pulled up in front of the tavern, drawn by three good horses. Two men got out of the chaise. One blond, tall; the other is a little lower, dark-haired. The fair-haired one was in a dark blue Hungarian coat, the dark-haired one was simply in a striped jacket. From a distance another carriage dragged along, empty, drawn by some long-haired quadruple with tattered yokes and a rope harness. The fair-haired one immediately went up the stairs, while the black-haired one still remained and felt something in the britzka, talking right there with the servant and at the same time waving to the carriage coming after them. His voice sounded somewhat familiar to Chichikov. While he was examining him, the blond had already found the door and opened it. He was a tall man with a thin face, or what is called wasted, with a red mustache. From his tanned face one could conclude that he knew what smoke was, if not gunpowder, then at least tobacco smoke. He politely bowed to Chichikov, to which the latter replied in kind. In the course of a few minutes, they would probably have been talking and getting to know each other well, because the beginning had already been made, and both of them, almost at the same time, expressed pleasure that the dust on the road had been completely beaten down by yesterday's rain and now it was cool and cool to drive. it was pleasant how his dark-haired comrade entered, throwing his cap off his head on the table, valiantly ruffling his thick black hair with his hand. He was of medium height, a very well-built fellow with full ruddy cheeks, teeth as white as snow, and jet-black sideburns. He was fresh as blood and milk; health seemed to spurt from his face.

Ba, ba, ba! he suddenly exclaimed, spreading both arms at the sight of Chichikov. - What fates?

Chichikov recognized Nozdryov, the same one with whom he dined together at the prosecutor's, and who in a few minutes got on such a short footing with him that he already began to say "you", although, for his part, he did not give any reason for this.

Where did you go? - said Nozdryov and, without waiting for an answer, continued: - And I, brother, from the fair. Congratulate: blown into fluff! Do you believe that you have never been so blown in your life. After all, I came to the philistine! Look out the window on purpose! - Here he himself bent Chichikov's head, so that he almost hit it on the frame. - You see, what rubbish! They dragged him by force, damned, I already climbed into his britzka. - Saying this, Nozdryov pointed a finger at his comrade. - Have you met yet? My son-in-law Mizhuev! We've been talking about you all morning. “Well, look, I say, if we don’t meet Chichikov.” Well, brother, if you knew how I was blown! Would you believe that not only did he thump four trotters, he let everything down. After all, I have neither a chain nor a watch ... - Chichikov looked and saw for sure that he had neither a chain nor a watch. It even seemed to him that one of his sideburns was smaller and not as thick as the other. “But if there were only twenty rubles in your pocket,” Nozdryov continued, “precisely no more than twenty, I would win back everything, that is, besides what I would win back, that’s how an honest person would put thirty thousand in my wallet right now.

However, you said so even then, - answered the blond, - and when I gave you fifty rubles, I immediately squandered them.

And I wouldn't squander! by God, I would not have squandered! If I hadn't done something stupid myself, I wouldn't have squandered. If I didn’t bend the duck after the password on the damned seven, I could break the whole bank.

However, I didn’t break it, ”said the blond.

I didn’t pick it because I bent the duck at the wrong time. Do you think your major plays well?

Good or not good, but he beat you.

Eka importance! - said Nozdryov, - that way I will beat him. No, if he tries to play doublet, then I'll see, then I'll see what kind of player he is! But, brother Chichikov, how we drank in the first days! Indeed, the fair was excellent. The merchants themselves say that there has never been such a congress. I have everything that was brought from the village, sold at the best price. Oh, brother, what a spree! Now, even when you remember ... damn it! I mean, what a pity you weren't. Imagine that three versts from the city there was a regiment of dragoons. Do you believe that the officers, no matter how many there were, forty people of some officers were in the city; how we began to drink, brother... Captain-captain Kiss... so glorious! mustache, brother, such! He calls Bordeaux simply a burdashka. “Bring it, brother, he says, burdashki!” Lieutenant Kuvshinnikov... Ah, brother, what a lovely man! now, one might say, in all form a reveler. We were all with him. What kind of wine did Ponomarev give us! You need to know that he is a swindler and you can’t take anything in his shop: all sorts of rubbish interferes with the wine: sandalwood, burnt cork and even elderberry, scoundrel, rubs; but on the other hand, if he pulls out some kind of bottle from a distant room, which he calls special, - well, simply, brother, you are in the empyrean. We had such champagne - what is the governor's before him? just kvass. Imagine, not a clique, but some kind of clique-matradura, that means a double clique. And he also took out one bottle of French called: bonbon. Smell? - outlet and whatever you want. We've had so much fun!.. Some prince came after us, sent to the shop for champagne, there wasn't a single bottle in the whole city, all the officers drank. Would you believe that I alone drank seventeen bottles of champagne in the course of dinner!

Well, you won’t drink seventeen bottles, - the blond remarked.

As an honest man, I say that I drank, - answered Nozdryov.

You can tell yourself what you want, but I tell you that you won’t drink even ten.

Well, you want to bet that I'll drink!

Why bet?

Well, put your gun that you bought in the city.

I do not want.

Well, give it a try!

And I don't want to try.

Yes, if you were without a gun, it would be like without a hat. Eh, brother Chichikov, that is, how I regretted that you were not there. I know that you would not part with Lieutenant Kuvshinnikov. How well you would get along with him! This is not like the prosecutor and all the provincial misers in our city, who are shaking for every penny. This one, brother, is in galbik, and in a jar, and in whatever you want. Eh, Chichikov, what would it cost you to come? You are right for this, you cattle breeder! Kiss me, soul, death love you! Mizhuev, look, fate brought together: well, what is he to me or me to him? He came from God knows where, I also live here ... And how many carriages, brother, and all this en gros. He played fortune: he won two cans of lipstick, a china cup and a guitar; then again he set it once and turned it over, channel, more than six rubles. And what, if you knew, red tape Kuvshinnikov! We were with him at almost all the balls. One was so dressed up, ruffles on her, and ruffles, and the devil knows what was not there ... I only think to myself: “Damn it!” And Kuvshinnikov, that is, such a beast, sat down beside her and French lets her such compliments ... Would you believe it, he didn’t miss simple women. That's what he calls: take advantage of the strawberries. Wonderful fish and balyks were brought in. I did bring one with me; it's good that I guessed to buy when there was still money. Where are you going now?

And I go to the little man to one, - said Chichikov.

Well, what a little man, drop it! let's go to me!

No, you can't, there's a problem.

Well, that's the point! already figured it out! Oh, you, Opodeldok Ivanovich!

Right, right, and right.

I'm betting, you're lying! So tell me, who are you going to?

Well, to Sobakevich.

Here Nozdryov burst out laughing with that resonant laughter that only a fresh, healthy person bursts into, whose teeth to the last show white as sugar, their cheeks tremble and jump, and the neighbor behind two doors, in the third room, rises from sleep, wide-eyed and saying: "Ek dismantled him!"

What's funny here? said Chichikov, somewhat dissatisfied with such laughter.

But Nozdryov continued to laugh at the top of his lungs, saying:

Oh, have mercy, right, I'll crack with laughter!

There is nothing funny: I gave him my word, - said Chichikov.

Why, you won’t be happy with life when you come to him, it’s just a Zhidomor! After all, I know your character. You will be cruelly taken aback if you think to find a jar and a good bottle of some kind of bonbon there. Listen, brother: well, to hell with Sobakevich, let's go to my place! what a balyk I will drink! Ponomarev, the beast, bowed like that, saying: "Only for you, the whole fair, he says, search, you will not find such a thing." The rogue, however, is terrible. I said it to his face: “You, I say, are the first swindlers with our farmer!” Laughs, the beast, stroking his beard. Kuvshinnikov and I had breakfast every day in his shop. Oh, brother, I forgot to tell you: I know that you won’t leave now, but I won’t give it back for ten thousand, I tell you in advance. Hey Porfiry! - he shouted, going up to the window, at his man, who held a knife in one hand, and in the other a crust of bread with a piece of balyk, which he had the good fortune to cut off in passing, taking something out of the britzka. “Hey, Porfiry,” shouted Nozdryov, “bring a puppy!” What a puppy! he continued, turning to Chichikov. - Stolen, the owner did not give for himself. I promised him a brown mare, which, remember, I traded with Khvostyrev ... - Chichikov, however, never saw a brown mare or Khvostyrev in his life.

Barin! do you want to eat anything? - said at this time, approaching him, the old woman.

Nothing. Oh, brother, what a spree! However, give me a glass of vodka: what kind do you have?

Anise, - answered the old woman.

Well, let's have anise, - said Nozdryov.

Give me a glass too! - said the blond.

In the theater, one actress, rascal, sang like a canary! Kuvshinnikov, who was sitting next to me, - “Here, he says, brother, I would like to use it about strawberries!” Some booths, I think, were fifty. Fenardi turned the mill for four hours. - Here he took a glass from the hands of the old woman, who bowed low to him for that. - Oh, give it here! he shouted, seeing Porfiry come in with the puppy. Porfiry was dressed, like the master, in some kind of arkhaluka, quilted with cotton, but somewhat greasy.

Come on, put it here on the floor!

Porfiry laid the puppy on the floor, which, stretched out on all four paws, sniffed the ground.

Here is a puppy! said Nozdryov, taking him by the back and lifting him up with his hand. The puppy let out a rather plaintive howl.

However, you didn’t do what I told you,” said Nozdryov, turning to Porfiry and carefully examining the puppy’s belly, “and didn’t think to comb it out?

No, I combed it out.

Why fleas?

I can not know. It may turn out that somehow they got out of the britzka.

You're lying, you're lying, and you didn't imagine scratching; I think, the fool, still let his own. Here, look, Chichikov, look at those ears, feel it with your hand.

Why, I already see: a good breed! Chichikov answered.

No, take it on purpose, feel your ears!

To please him, Chichikov felt his ears, saying:

Yes, a good dog.

Do you feel how cold your nose is? take it with your hand.

Not wanting to offend him, Chichikov took hold of his nose, saying:

Good flair.

No, brother, don't scold me with a fetuk, - answered the son-in-law, - I owe her my life. Such, really, kind, dear, she renders such caresses ... she disassembles to tears; he asks what he saw at the fair, you need to tell everything, such, really, dear.

Well, go ahead, lie to her nonsense! Here is your card.

No, brother, you shouldn't speak of her like that at all; By this you, one might say, offend me myself, she is so sweet.

Well, then get out to her quickly!

Yes, brother, I'll go, I'm sorry I can't stay. I would be happy with my soul, but I can’t.

The son-in-law repeated his apologies for a long time, not noticing that he himself had been sitting in the britzka for a long time, had long gone out of the gate and had long been empty fields in front of him. It must be assumed that the wife did not hear many details about the fair.

Such rubbish! - said Nozdryov, standing in front of the window and looking at the departing carriage. - Look how he dragged himself! the tie-down horse is not bad, I have long wanted to pick it up. Yes, you can't get along with him. Fetyuk, simply fetyuk!

Then they entered the room. Porfiry gave the candles, and Chichikov noticed in the hands of the owner a pack of cards that had come from nowhere.

And what, brother, - said Nozdryov, pressing the sides of the pack with his fingers and bending it a little, so that the piece of paper cracked and bounced off. - Well, to pass the time, I keep three hundred rubles in a jar!

But Chichikov pretended not to have heard what he was talking about, and said, as if suddenly remembering:

BUT! so as not to forget: I have a request to you.

Give me your word first that you will fulfill it.

What's the request?

Well, give me your word!

Please.

Honestly?

Honestly.

Here's a request: do you have, tea, a lot of dead peasants who have not yet been deleted from the audit?

Well, yes, but what?

Transfer them to me, to my name.

And what do you need?

Well, yes, I need.

Yes, for what?

Well, yes, it’s necessary ... it’s my business, in a word, it’s necessary.

Well, you're right, he's up to something. Confess what?

Yes, what did you do? nothing can be made out of such a trifle.

Why do you need them?

Oh, how curious! he would like to touch all sorts of rubbish with his hand, and even smell it!

Why don't you want to say?

But what do you know about profit? Well, it's just a fantasy.

So here it is: until you say so, I won't do it!

Well, you see, that's really dishonest of you: you gave your word, and back down the yard.

Well, as you want for yourself, but I won’t do it until you tell me why.

"What would you say to him?" Chichikov thought, and after a moment's reflection he declared that he needed dead souls to gain weight in society, that he did not have large estates, so until that time at least some little souls.

You lie, you lie! - said Nozdryov, not letting him finish. - You lie, brother!

Chichikov himself noticed that he did not come up with it very cleverly and the pretext was rather weak.

Well, then I’ll tell you more directly, ”he said, recovering himself,“ just please don’t let anyone know. I thought about getting married; but you need to know that the father and mother of the bride are pre-ambitious people. Such a commission, really: I’m not glad that I got in touch, they certainly want the groom to have no less than three hundred souls, and since I have almost a hundred and fifty peasants missing ...

Well, you're lying! you're lying! shouted Nozdryov again.

Well, here it is, - said Chichikov, - he didn’t lie so much, - and he showed the smallest part with his thumb on his little finger.

I bet you're lying!

However, this is embarrassing! What am I really! why do I always lie?

Well, yes, I know you: you are a big swindler, let me tell you this as a friend! If I were your boss, I would hang you from the first tree.

Chichikov was offended by this remark. Already any expression, in any way rude or insulting decency, was unpleasant to him. He did not even like to allow familiar treatment with him in any case, unless the person was of too high a rank. And so now he is completely offended.

By God, I would have hanged you,” repeated Nozdryov, “I am telling you this frankly, not to offend you, but simply in a friendly way.

There are limits to everything,” Chichikov said with a sense of dignity. - If you want to flaunt such speeches, then go to the barracks. - And then he added: - If you don't want to donate, then sell it.

Sell! Why, I know you, because you are a scoundrel, because you won’t give dearly for them?

Hey, you're good too! look you! that they are diamonds, or what?

Well, it is. I already knew you.

Have mercy, brother, what kind of Jewish impulse do you have! You should just give them to me.

Well, listen, to prove to you that I'm not some kind of scammer, I won't take anything for them. Buy a stallion from me, I'll give you one to boot.

Have mercy, what do I need a stallion for? said Chichikov, really amazed at such a proposal.

How to what? Why, I paid ten thousand for it, and I'll give it to you for four.

What do I need a stallion for? I don't own a factory.

Yes, listen, you do not understand: after all, I will only take three thousand from you now, and you can pay me the rest of the thousand later.

Yes, I do not need a stallion, God bless him!

Well, buy dogs. I'll sell you such a pair, it's just cold on the skin! busty, with a mustache, the hair stands up like bristles. The sideburn of the ribs is incomprehensible to the mind, the paw is all in a lump, it will not touch the ground.

Why do I need dogs? I am not a hunter.

Yes, I wish you had dogs. Listen, if you really don't want dogs, then buy a hurdy-gurdy from me, a wonderful hurdy-gurdy; I myself, as an honest man, cost one and a half thousand: I'll give it to you for nine hundred rubles.

Why do I need a barrel organ? After all, I'm not a German, so that, trudging along the roads with her, begging for money.

Why, this is not such a barrel organ as the Germans wear. This is an organ; look on purpose: all mahogany. Here I'll show you more! - Here Nozdryov, grabbing Chichikov by the hand, began to drag him into another room, and no matter how he put his feet on the floor and assured that he already knew what kind of barrel organ, he should have heard again how Malbrug went on a campaign. “When you don’t want money, listen to this: I’ll give you a hurdy-gurdy and all the dead souls I have, and you give me your britzka and three hundred rubles in addition.

Well, here's another, but what am I going to go in?

I'll give you another chaise. Let's go to the shed, I'll show it to you! You just repaint it, and there will be a miracle of the chaise.

“Oh, how his restless demon seized him!” thought Chichikov to himself, and resolved to get rid of all sorts of chaises, hurdy-gurdies, and all possible dogs at all costs, in spite of the incomprehensible barrel shape of the ribs and the lumpiness of the paws.

Why, the britzka, the hurdy-gurdy and the dead souls, all together!

I don't want to," Chichikov said once more.

Why don't you want to?

Because I just don’t want to, and that’s enough.

What you, right, such! with you, as I see it, it is impossible, as usual between good friends and comrades, such, really!.. Now it is clear that a two-faced person!

What am I, a fool, or what? Judge for yourself: why buy a thing that is absolutely unnecessary for me?

Well, please don't talk. Now I know you very well. Such, right, rakalia! Well, listen, do you want to throw a bunch? I'll put all the dead on the map, the hurdy-gurdy too.

Well, deciding to go to the bank means being exposed to the unknown, ”Chichikov said, and meanwhile he glanced askance at the cards in his hands. Both waists seemed to him very much like artificial ones, and the brim itself looked very suspicious.

Why the unknown? - said Nozdrev. - No uncertainty! if only happiness is on your side, you can win the damn abyss. There she is! What happiness! - he said, starting to throw to excite enthusiasm. - What happiness! What happiness! out: so it beats! here's that damned nine, on which I squandered everything! I felt that I would sell, but already, closing my eyes, I think to myself: “Damn you, sell it, damn it!”

When Nozdryov said this, Porfiry brought a bottle. But Chichikov resolutely refused to play or drink.

Why don't you want to play? - said Nozdrev.

Well, because it is not located. Yes, I confess to say, I'm not at all a fan of playing.

Why not a hunter?

Chichikov shrugged his shoulders and added:

Because it's not a hunter.

Damn you!

What to do? so God created.

Fetyuk is simple! I used to think that you were at least somewhat decent, but you didn't understand any conversion. There is no way to speak with you as with a close person ... no straightforwardness, no sincerity! perfect Sobakevich, such a scoundrel!

Why are you scolding me? Is it my fault for not playing? Sell me the souls of some, if you are such a person that you tremble because of this nonsense.

You'll get the hell of a bald man! I wanted to, I wanted to give it away for nothing, but now you won’t get it! At least three kingdoms come on, I won’t give it back! Such a shchilk, nasty stove-maker! From now on, I don't want to have anything to do with you. Porfiry, go tell the groom not to give oats to his horses, let them eat only hay.

Chichikov did not expect the last conclusion.

It would be better if you just didn’t show me in front of my eyes! - said Nozdrev.

Despite this quarrel, however, the guest and the host dined together, although this time there were no wines with intricate names on the table. There was only one bottle sticking out with some kind of Cypriot, which was what is called sourness, in every respect. After supper, Nozdryov said to Chichikov, taking him to a side room where a bed had been prepared for him:

Here's your bed! I don't want to wish you good night!

Chichikov remained after Nozdryov's departure in the most unpleasant frame of mind. He was inwardly annoyed with himself, scolding himself for stopping by and wasting his time in vain. But he scolded himself even more for talking about the matter with him, acted carelessly, like a child, like a fool: for the matter is not at all of the kind to be entrusted to Nozdryov ... Nozdryov is a rubbish man, Nozdryov can lie, add, dissolve God knows what, some more gossip will come out - not good, not good. "I'm just a fool," he said to himself. He slept very badly at night. Some kind of small, agile insects bit him unbearably painfully, so that he scraped the wounded place with his whole handful, saying: “Ah, the devil take you along with Nozdryov!” He woke up early in the morning. His first act, having put on his dressing-gown and boots, was to go across the yard to the stables and order Selifan to lay down the britzka at once. Returning through the yard, he met Nozdryov, who was also in a dressing gown, with a pipe in his teeth.

Nozdryov greeted him in a friendly way and asked how he slept.

So-so, - answered Chichikov very dryly.

“Yes,” Chichikov thought to himself, “it would be nice if you were torn off in reality.”

By God! yes it hurts! I woke up: damn it, something is really itching - that's right, flea witches. Well, you go now get dressed, I'll come to you now. You just need to scold the scoundrel clerk.

Well, what do you think? said Nozdryov, after a little silence. - Don't want to play for souls?

I already told you, brother, that I don't play; buy - if you please, I will buy.

I don't want to sell, it won't be friendly. I'm not going to take hymen off God knows what. In a jar is another matter. Let's take a look at the waist!

I already said no.

Don't you want to change?

I do not want.

Well, listen, let's play checkers, you win - everything is yours. After all, I have a lot of those that need to be deleted from the audit. Hey, Porfiry, bring the chess player here.

Wasted work, I won't play.

“Here I am,” Chichikov thought to himself, “I’ll play checkers with him! I played checkers pretty well, but it’s hard for him to get up here on things. ”

All right, so be it, I'll play checkers.

Souls go in a hundred rubles!

Why? enough if they go at fifty.

No, what is kush fifty? Well, in this amount, I’d better include for you some puppy of an average hand or a gold signet for a watch.

Well, please! Chichikov said.

How much will you give me in advance? - said Nozdrev.

Why is this? Of course, nothing.

At least let there be my two moves.

I don't want to, I don't play well myself.

I haven't picked up checkers for a long time! said Chichikov, also moving a saber.

We know you, how badly you play! - said Nozdryov, speaking with his saber.

I haven't picked up checkers for a long time! said Chichikov, moving his saber.

We know you, how badly you play! - said Nozdryov, moving a saber, and at the same time moved another saber with the cuff of his sleeve.

I haven't picked it up for a long time!.. Eh, eh! this, brother, what? put her back! Chichikov said.

Yes, a checker, ”said Chichikov, and at the same time he saw, almost in front of his very nose, another one, which, as it seemed, was making its way into the kings; where it came from, that only God knew. - No, - said Chichikov, getting up from the table, - there is no way to play with you! They don’t walk like that, all of a sudden three checkers!

Why three? This is by mistake. One moved inadvertently, I'll move it, if you please.

Where did the other one come from?

What's the other one?

But this one that sneaks into the ladies?

Here you go, as if you don't remember!

No, brother, I counted all the moves and remember everything; you've just added it. Where is her place!

How, where is the place? said Nozdryov, blushing. - Yes, you, brother, as I see it, are a writer!

No, brother, it seems that you are a writer, but only unsuccessfully.

Who do you think I am? Nozdrev said. - Am I going to cheat?

I don’t consider you for anyone, but I’ll never play from now on.

No, you can't refuse, - said Nozdryov, getting excited, - the game has begun!

I have the right to refuse, because you do not play as decently as an honest person.

No, you're lying, you can't say that!

No, brother, you yourself are lying!

I did not cheat, but you cannot refuse, you must finish the game!

You won't force me to do that," Chichikov said coolly and, going up to the board, mixed his checkers.

Nozdryov flushed and went up to Chichikov so close that he took two steps back.

I'll make you play! It's nothing that you mixed checkers, I remember all the moves. We will put them back the way they were.

No, brother, it's over, I won't play with you.

So you don't want to play?

You see for yourself that there is no way to play with you.

No, tell me straight, don't you want to play? said Nozdryov, stepping even closer.

I do not want! said Chichikov, and, however, raised both hands, just in case, closer to his face, for the matter was getting really hot.

Porfiry, Pavlushka! Nozdryov shouted furiously, trying to break free.

Hearing these words, Chichikov, in order not to make the yard people witness the seductive scene, and at the same time feeling that it was useless to hold Nozdryov, let go of his hands. At that very moment Porfiry entered, and with him Pavlushka, a stout fellow with whom it was absolutely unprofitable to deal with.

So you don't want to end the games? Nozdrev said. - Answer me directly!

So you don't want to finish the games? repeated Nozdryov, his face burning as if on fire.

If only you played like an honest man. But now I can't.

Beat him! shouted Nozdryov, rushing forward with a cherry chibouk, covered in heat and sweat, as if he were approaching an impregnable fortress. - Beat him! - he shouted in the same voice as during a great attack he shouts to his platoon: “Guys, go ahead!” - some desperate lieutenant, whose eccentric courage has already gained such fame that he gives a special order to hold his hands during hot deeds. But the lieutenant already felt abusive enthusiasm, everything went round in his head; Suvorov rushes before him, he climbs to a great cause. "Guys, go ahead!" - he shouts, rushing, not thinking that he is harming the already well-thought-out plan of the general attack, that millions of gun barrels have been exposed in the embrasures of impregnable fortress walls that go beyond a cloud, that his powerless platoon will fly up like fluff into the air and that the fatal bullet is already whistling, preparing to slam his noisy throat. But if Nozdryov expressed himself as a desperate, lost lieutenant who approached the fortress, then the fortress he was going to did not at all look like an impregnable one. On the contrary, the fortress felt such fear that its soul hid in its very heels. Already the chair with which he had taken it into his head to defend himself had been torn from his hands by the serfs, already, closing his eyes, neither dead nor alive, he was preparing to taste his master's Circassian chubuk, and God knows what might happen to him; but the fates were pleased to save the sides, shoulders and all the well-bred parts of our hero. In an unexpected way, suddenly, as if from clouds, the sounds of a bell rattled, the sound of the wheels of a cart flying up to the porch was heard clearly, and even in the room itself the heavy snoring and heavy shortness of breath of the hot horses of the stopped troika echoed. Everyone involuntarily glanced out the window: someone with a mustache, in a semi-military frock coat, was climbing out of the cart. Having inquired about the entrance, he entered at the very moment when Chichikov had not yet had time to recover from his fear and was in the most miserable position in which a mortal had ever been.

May I first inquire to whom I have the honor of speaking? - said Nozdryov, coming closer to him.

What do you want?

I have come to announce to you the notice communicated to me that you are under trial until the end of the decision in your case.

What nonsense, what business? - said Nozdrev.

You were implicated in the story, on the occasion of inflicting personal insult on the landowner Maksimov with rods in a drunken state.

You're lying! I never even saw the landowner Maksimov!

Your Majesty! let me tell you that I am an officer. You can say that to your servant, not to me!

Our hero collapsed, however, in order. Although the britzka was racing at full speed, and the village of Nozdryov had long since vanished from view, hidden behind fields, slopes, and hillocks, he still looked back fearfully, as if expecting a chase to come at any moment. His breathing was difficult, and when he tried to put his hand to his heart, he felt that it was beating like a quail in a cage. “Ek what a bath he asked! look what you are!” Here Nozdryov was promised many difficult and strong desires; there were even bad words. What to do? Russian people, and even in the hearts. And besides, it was quite a no-brainer. “Whatever you say,” he said to himself, “if the police captain hadn’t arrived, I might not have been able to even look at the light of God! He would have disappeared like a blister on water, without any trace, without leaving descendants, without delivering to future children either a fortune or an honest name! Our hero took great care of his descendants.

"What a nasty bastard! Selifan thought to himself. - I have not yet seen such a gentleman. That is, he would spit for it! You better not let a man eat, but you must feed a horse, because the horse loves oats. This is his food: what, for example, is our kosht, then for him oats, he is his food.

The horses, too, seemed to think unfavorably of Nozdryov: not only the bay and Assessor, but the dappled one himself was out of sorts. Although he always got worse oats in part, and Selifan poured him into the trough in no other way than by saying before: “Oh, you scoundrel!” - but, nevertheless, it was still oats, and not simple hay, he chewed it with pleasure and often stuck his long muzzle in the trough to his comrades to taste what food they had, especially when Selifan was not in the stable, but now only hay... not good; everyone was unhappy.

But soon all the dissatisfied were interrupted in the midst of their outpourings in a sudden and completely unexpected way. Everyone, not excluding the coachman himself, came to their senses and came to their senses only when a carriage with six horses galloped over them, and almost over their heads there was a cry from the ladies sitting in the carriage, the abuse and threats of a strange coachman: “Oh, you are such a swindler; because I shouted to you in a voice: turn right, crow! Are you drunk? Selifan felt his mistake, but since a Russian person does not like to confess to another that he is guilty, he immediately said, drawing himself up: “Why are you jumping like that? put your eyes in a tavern, or what? Following this, he began to push the cart back in order to free himself from someone else's team in this way, but it was not there, everything was mixed up. Chubary sniffed with curiosity at his new friends, who found themselves on both sides of him. Meanwhile, the ladies sitting in the carriage looked at all this with an expression of fear in their faces. One was an old woman, the other young, sixteen years old, with golden hair, very deftly and nicely smoothed on a small head. The pretty oval of her face was round like a fresh egg, and, like it, turned white with some kind of transparent whiteness, when fresh, just laid down, it is held against the light in the swarthy hands of the housekeeper testing it and passes through itself the rays of the shining sun; her thin ears also showed through, glowing with the warm light that penetrated them. At the same time, fright in her open, stopped lips, tears in her eyes - all this was so sweet in her that our hero looked at her for several minutes, not paying any attention to the commotion between the horses and the coachmen. “Sit back, or something, Nizhny Novgorod crow!” shouted another coachman. Selifan pulled the reins back, the strange driver did the same, the horses backed up a little and then again collided, stepping over the lines. Under this circumstance, the chubar horse liked the new acquaintance so much that he did not want to get out of the rut into which he had fallen by unforeseen destinies, and, putting his muzzle on the neck of his new friend, it seemed he was whispering something in his ear, probably nonsense terrible, because the newcomer constantly shook his ears.
However, the peasants from the village, which, fortunately, was not far away, had time to gather for such a turmoil. Since such a spectacle is a real blessing for a peasant, just like newspapers or a club for a German, soon an abyss of them accumulated around the carriage, and only old women and little guys remained in the village. The lines were untied; a few pokes in the muzzle of the dappled horse made him back away; in a word, they were separated and divorced. But whether the annoyance felt by the visiting horses for separating them from their friends, or simply nonsense, only, no matter how much their coachman whipped, they did not move and stood rooted to the spot. The participation of men has increased to an incredible degree. Everyone vied with the advice: “Go, Andryushka, take the harness that is on the right side, and let Uncle Mitya sit astride the indigenous one! Sit down, Uncle Mityai! The lean and long uncle Mityai with a red beard mounted his root horse and became like a village bell tower, or, better, like a hook used to get water from wells. The coachman hit the horses, but that was not the case, Uncle Mityai did nothing. "Stop, stop! the men shouted. “Sit down, Uncle Mityai, on the harness, and let Uncle Minyay sit on the root!” Uncle Minyay, a broad-shouldered muzhik with a beard as black as coal and a belly resembling that gigantic samovar in which sbiten is brewed for the entire vegetative market, willingly sat down on a native, who almost crouched under him to the ground. “Now it will work! the men shouted. - Heat it up, heat it up! whip with a whip that one, that nightingale, that he squirms like a koramora! But, seeing that things were not going well and no incandescence helped, Uncle Mityai and Uncle Minyay both sat on the root, and put Andryushka on the harness. Finally, the coachman, having lost his patience, drove both Uncle Mityai and Uncle Minya, and did well, because such steam came from the horses, as if they had grabbed the station without taking a breath. He gave them a minute to rest, after which they went on their own. Throughout this trick, Chichikov looked very attentively at the young stranger. He tried several times to talk to her, but somehow he didn't have to. And meanwhile the ladies drove off, the pretty head with thin features and a thin waist disappeared, like something like a vision, and again there was left the road, the carriage, the trio of horses familiar to the reader, Selifan, Chichikov, the smoothness and emptiness of the surrounding fields. Everywhere, wherever in life, whether among its callous, rough-poor and untidy-staining low-lying ranks, or among the monotonously cold and boringly tidy classes of the upper classes, everywhere at least once on the way a person will meet a phenomenon that is not like all that what he had seen up to that time, which at least once awakened in him a feeling unlike those that he was destined to feel all his life. Everywhere, no matter what the sorrows from which our life is woven, brilliant joy will rush merrily, as sometimes a brilliant carriage with golden harness, picture horses and sparkling glass of glass will suddenly suddenly rush past some stalled poor village that has seen nothing but rural carts, and for a long time the peasants stand, yawning, with their mouths open, without putting on their hats, although the marvelous carriage has long gone and disappeared from sight. So the blonde also suddenly appeared in a completely unexpected way in our story and disappeared in the same way. If at that time some twenty-year-old youth instead of Chichikov got caught at that time, whether he was a hussar, whether he was a student, or just who had just begun his career, - and God! whatever wakes up, stirs, speaks in him! For a long time he would have stood insensibly in one place, staring senselessly into the distance, forgetting the road, and all the reprimands ahead, and scolding for delay, forgetting himself, and the service, and the world, and everything that is in the world.

But our hero was already middle-aged and of a prudently chilled character. He, too, pondered and thought, but his thoughts were positive, not so unaccountable and even partly very thorough. "Glorious grandmother! he said, opening his snuff-box and sniffing the snuff. “But what, most importantly, is good about her?” The good thing is that she has only now, apparently, been released from some boarding school or institute, that, as they say, there is still nothing womanish about her, that is, precisely that which they have the most unpleasant. She is now like a child, everything in her is simple, she will say what she pleases, laugh where she wants to laugh. Everything can be done from it, it can be a miracle, or it can turn out to be rubbish, and rubbish will come out! Now let only mothers and aunts take care of it now. In one year it will be filled with all sorts of women so much that the father himself will not recognize it. Where will both puffiness and stiffness come from, will begin to toss and turn according to uttered instructions, will begin to rack their brains and figure out with whom, and how, and how much to say, how to look at whom, every minute will be afraid not to say more than necessary, will get confused finally on her own, and will end up lying all her life, and it will turn out just the devil knows what! Here he was silent for some time and then added: “But it would be interesting to know whose it is? what, like her father? Is it a wealthy landowner of respectable character, or just a well-meaning person with capital acquired in the service? After all, if, let's say, this girl was given two hundred thousand dowry, a very, very tasty morsel could come out of her. This could be, so to speak, the happiness of a decent person. Two hundred thousand rubles began to be drawn so attractively in his head that he began to be internally annoyed with himself, why, in the course of the fuss about the carriages, he did not find out from the postilion or coachman who the passers-by were. Soon, however, the appearance of Sobakevich's village scattered his thoughts and forced them to turn to their permanent subject.

The village seemed to him quite large; two forests, birch and pine, like two wings, one darker, the other lighter, were on her right and left; in the middle one could see a wooden house with a mezzanine, a red roof and dark gray or, better, wild walls - a house like those we build for military settlements and German colonists. It was noticeable that during the construction of its architect, he constantly fought with the taste of the owner. The architect was a pedant and wanted symmetry, the owner wanted convenience, and, apparently, as a result of this, he boarded up all the corresponding windows on one side and turned in their place one small one, probably needed for a dark closet. The pediment also did not fit in the middle of the house, no matter how hard the architect struggled, because the owner ordered one column to be thrown out from the side, and therefore there were not four columns, as it was appointed, but only three. The yard was surrounded by a strong and unreasonably thick wooden lattice. The landowner seemed to be fussing a lot about strength. For the stables, sheds and kitchens, full-weight and thick logs were used, determined to stand for centuries. The village huts of the peasants were also built marvelously: there were no brick walls, carved patterns and other tricks, but everything was fitted tightly and properly. Even the well was lined with such strong oak, which is used only for mills and ships. In a word, everything he looked at was stubbornly, without shaking, in some kind of strong and clumsy order. Approaching the porch, he noticed two faces looking out of the window almost at the same time: a female, in a cap, narrow, long, like a cucumber, and a male, round, wide, like Moldavian pumpkins, called gourds, from which balalaikas are made in Russia, two-stringed light balalaikas, the beauty and fun of a quick-witted twenty-year-old guy, flashing and dandy, and winking and whistling at the white-breasted and white-necked girls who had gathered to listen to his soft-stringed jingling. Looking out, both faces hid at the same moment. A footman in a gray jacket with a blue stand-up collar came out onto the porch and led Chichikov into the hallway, where the master himself had already gone out. Seeing the guest, he said curtly: “Please!” - and led him to the inner dwellings.

When Chichikov glanced askance at Sobakevich, this time he seemed to him very much like a medium-sized bear. To complete the resemblance, his tailcoat was completely bear-colored, the sleeves were long, the pantaloons were long, he stepped with his feet and at random and stepped incessantly on other people's legs. The complexion was red-hot, hot, which happens on a copper penny. It is known that there are many such persons in the world, over the finishing of which nature did not think long, did not use any small tools, such as files, a gimlet and other things, but simply chopped from the whole shoulder: she grabbed with an ax once - her nose came out, she had enough in another - her lips came out, she poked her eyes with a large drill and, without scraping, let them into the light, saying: “He lives!” Sobakevich had the same strong and wonderfully stitched image: he held him more down than up, did not turn his neck at all, and because of such a non-rotation he rarely looked at the one with whom he spoke, but always either at the corner of the stove or at the door. . Chichikov glanced sideways at him once more as they passed the dining-room: a bear! perfect bear! Such a strange rapprochement is needed: he was even called Mikhail Semenovich. Knowing his habit of stepping on his feet, he very carefully moved his own and gave him the way forward. The owner, it seemed, himself felt this sin behind him, and at the same time asked: “Have I disturbed you?” But Chichikov thanked him, saying that there had not yet been any disturbance.

Entering the drawing room, Sobakevich pointed to the armchairs, saying again: "Please!" Sitting down, Chichikov glanced at the walls and at the pictures hanging on them. All the pictures were good fellows, all the Greek generals, engraved in full growth: Mavrokordato in red trousers and uniform, with glasses on his nose, Miauli, Kanari. All these heroes were with such thick thighs and unheard-of mustaches that a shiver passed through the body. Between the strong Greeks, no one knows how and why, Bagration fit, skinny, thin, with small banners and cannons below and in the narrowest frames. Then again followed the Greek heroine Bobelina, to whom one leg seemed larger than the entire body of those dandies who fill today's living rooms. The owner, being a healthy and strong man himself, seemed to want strong and healthy people to decorate his room too. Near Bobelina, at the very window, hung a cage, from which looked out a dark-colored thrush with white speckles, also very similar to Sobakevich. The guest and the host had not had time to be silent for two minutes when the door to the living room opened and the hostess entered, a very tall lady, in a cap with ribbons dyed with homemade paint. She entered sedately, holding her head straight as a palm tree.

- This is my Feoduliya Ivanovna! Sobakevich said.

Chichikov went up to Feodulia Ivanovna's hand, which she almost pushed into his lips, and he had the opportunity to notice that his hands had been washed with cucumber pickle.

Chichikov raised his eyes again and again saw Canary with thick thighs and endless mustaches, Bobelina and the thrush in the cage.

For almost five whole minutes everyone was silent; only the sound of the thrush's nose against the wood of the wooden cage was heard, at the bottom of which it was fishing grains of bread. Chichikov looked around the room once more, and everything in it was solid, clumsy to the highest degree, and bore some strange resemblance to the owner of the house himself; in the corner of the living room stood a pot-bellied walnut office on absurd four legs, a perfect bear. The table, the armchairs, the chairs—everything was of the most heaviest and restless quality—in a word, every object, every chair seemed to say: “And I, too, Sobakevich!” or: “And I also look a lot like Sobakevich!”

“We were talking about you at the chairman of the chamber, Ivan Grigoryevich,” Chichikov said at last, seeing that no one was in the mood to start a conversation, “last Thursday. We had a very pleasant time there.

“Yes, I wasn’t at the chairman’s office then,” answered Sobakevich.

- What a wonderful person!

- Who it? said Sobakevich, looking at the corner of the stove.

- Chairman.

“Well, maybe it seemed that way to you: he was just a freemason, but such a fool as the world did not produce.

Chichikov was a little taken aback by this somewhat harsh definition, but then, having recovered himself, he continued:

- Of course, every person is not without weaknesses, but what an excellent person the governor is!

Is the governor an excellent man?

– Yes, isn't it?

- The first robber in the world!

- How, the governor is a robber? - said Chichikov and could not understand at all how the governor could fall into the robbers. “I confess I never would have thought of that,” he went on. - But let me note, however, that his actions are not at all like that, on the contrary, there is rather even a lot of gentleness in him. - Here he brought as evidence even purses, embroidered with his own hands, and praised the gentle expression of his face.

- And the face of a robber! Sobakevich said. - Give him only a knife and let him out on the main road - he will kill him, he will kill him for a penny! He and even the vice-governor are Gog and Magog!

"No, he's not on good terms with them," Chichikov thought to himself. “But I’ll talk to him about the police chief: he seems to be his friend.”

“However, as for me,” he said, “I confess that I like the chief of police more than anyone. Some kind of character direct, open; there is something simple-hearted in the face.

- Scammer! - Sobakevich said very coolly, - he will sell, deceive, and also dine with you! I know them all: they are all swindlers, the whole city is like that: a swindler sits on a swindler and drives a swindler. All Christ sellers. There is only one decent person: the prosecutor; and that one, to tell the truth, is a pig.

After such commendable, although a few brief biographies, Chichikov saw that there was nothing to mention and remember about other officials, that Sobakevich did not like to speak well of anyone.

"Well, darling, let's go to dinner," his wife said to Sobakevich.

- I beg! Sobakevich said.

Then, going up to the table where there was an appetizer, the guest and the host drank a proper glass of vodka each, ate, as all vast Russia snacks in cities and villages, that is, with all sorts of pickles and other exciting graces, and they all flowed into the dining room; ahead of them, like a smooth goose, the hostess rushed. A small table was set for four utensils. She came to fourth place very soon, it is difficult to say in the affirmative who she is, a lady or a girl, a relative, a housekeeper or just living in the house: something without a cap, about thirty years old, in a colorful scarf. There are faces that exist in the world not as an object, but as extraneous specks or specks on an object. They sit in the same place, hold their heads in the same way, they are almost ready to be mistaken for furniture and you think that a word has not yet come out of such mouths; and somewhere in the maid's room or in the pantry it will be just: wow!

The lamb side was followed by cheesecakes, each of which was much larger than a plate, then a turkey the size of a calf, stuffed with all sorts of good things: eggs, rice, livers and who knows what, which all fell into a lump in the stomach. With this the dinner ended; but when they got up from the table, Chichikov felt a whole pood more heaviness in himself. We went into the living room, where there was already jam on a saucer - neither a pear, nor a plum, nor any other berry, which, however, neither the guest nor the host touched. The hostess came out to put it on other saucers as well. Taking advantage of her absence, Chichikov turned to Sobakevich, who, lying in an armchair, only grunted after such a hearty dinner and made some indistinct sounds with his mouth, crossing himself and covering it every minute with his hand. Chichikov addressed him with the following words:

“I would like to talk to you about a business.

“Here’s another jam,” said the hostess, returning with a saucer, “radish boiled in honey!”

- And here we are after it! Sobakevich said. - You go now to your room, Pavel Ivanovich and I will take off our tailcoats, we will have a little rest!

The hostess had already expressed her readiness to send for down jackets and pillows, but the host said: “Nothing, we will rest in armchairs,” and the hostess left.

Sobakevich bent his head slightly, preparing to hear what the business was about.

Chichikov began somehow very remotely, touched on the whole Russian state in general and spoke with great praise about its space, said that even the most ancient Roman monarchy was not so great, and foreigners are justly surprised ... Sobakevich listened to everything, bowing his head. And that, according to the existing provisions of this state, in whose glory there is no equal, revision souls, having finished their careers, are, however, until the submission of a new revision fairy tale, on an equal footing with the living, so as not to burden the government offices with a lot of petty and useless information and not to increase the complexity of the already very complex state mechanism ... Sobakevich listened to everything, bowing his head - and that, however, with all the fairness of this measure, it is somewhat painful for many owners, obliging them to pay taxes as if for a living object and that he, feeling personal respect for him, would even be ready to partly take on this really heavy duty. As for the main subject, Chichikov expressed himself very carefully: he did not call souls dead in any way, but only non-existent ones.

Sobakevich listened to everything as before, bending his head, and at least something resembling an expression appeared on his face. It seemed that this body did not have a soul at all, or it did have one, but not at all where it should, but, like an immortal koshchey, somewhere behind the mountains and covered with such a thick shell that everything that did not toss and turn at the bottom her, produced decidedly no shock on the surface.

"So?" said Chichikov, expecting, not without some excitement, an answer.

Do you need dead souls? Sobakevich asked very simply, without the slightest surprise, as if they were talking about bread.

"Yes," answered Chichikov, and again softened his expression by adding, "non-existent."

- There will be, why not be ... - said Sobakevich.

- And if there are, then you, no doubt ... will be pleased to get rid of them?

“Excuse me, I’m ready to sell,” said Sobakevich, already raising his head somewhat and realizing that the buyer must surely have some advantage here.

"Damn it," Chichikov thought to himself, "this one sells before I give a hint!" and spoke aloud:

– And, for example, what about the price? .. although, however, this is such an object ... which is even strange about the price ...

- Yes, so as not to ask you too much, a hundred rubles apiece! Sobakevich said.

- According to the stu! Chichikov exclaimed, opening his mouth and looking straight into his eyes, not knowing whether he had misheard himself, or whether Sobakevich's heavy nature, turning in a wrong way, blurted out another word instead of one.

- Well, is it expensive for you? said Sobakevich, and then added: “And what, however, would be your price?”

- My price! It is true that we somehow made a mistake or do not understand each other, we forgot what the subject is. I believe for my part, hand on heart: eight hryvnia per soul, this is the reddest price!

- Ek where enough - eight hryvnias!

“Well, in my judgment, as I think, no more.

- After all, I'm not selling bast shoes.

“However, you must agree yourself: after all, these are not people either.

- So you think you will find such a fool who would sell you a revision soul for two kopecks?

- But excuse me: why do you call them revisionists, because the souls have long since died, there is only one sound intangible to the senses. However, in order not to enter into further conversations on this part, one and a half rubles, if you please, ladies, but I can’t do it any more.

- Shame on you and say such a sum! you bargain, say the real price!

“I can’t, Mikhail Semyonovich, believe my conscience, I can’t: what is already impossible to do is impossible to do,” Chichikov said, but he added another half a ruble.

Chichikov again wanted to point out that there was no Cork in the world either; but Sobakevich, apparently, was carried away: such streams of speeches poured out that one had only to listen:

- Milushkin, bricklayer! could put the stove in any house. Maxim Telyatnikov, shoemaker: whatever pricks with an awl, then boots, that boots, then thanks, and at least in a drunken mouth. And Yeremey Sorokoplekhin! yes, this peasant alone will stand for everyone, he traded in Moscow, he brought one quitrent for five hundred rubles. After all, what a people! This is not something that some Plushkin will sell you.

“But excuse me,” Chichikov said at last, amazed at such a plentiful flood of speeches, which seemed to have no end, “why are you counting all their qualities, because there is no sense in them now, after all, these are all dead people. Support a fence with a dead body, says the proverb.

“Yes, of course, they’re dead,” said Sobakevich, as if coming to his senses and remembering that they were in fact already dead, and then he added: “However, even then to say: which of these people who are now considered living? What are these people? flies, not people.

- Yes, they still exist, and this is a dream.

- No, not a dream! I’ll tell you what Mikheev was like, you won’t find such people: the car is such that you won’t enter this room; no, this is not a dream! And in his shoulders he had such strength as a horse does not have; I would like to know where else you would find such a dream!

He had already said the last words, turning to the portraits of Bagration and Kolokotroni hanging on the wall, as usually happens with those who are talking, when one of them suddenly, for some unknown reason, turns not to the person to whom the words refer, but to some third person who accidentally came , even a complete stranger, from whom he knows that he will not hear any answer, no opinion, no confirmation, but on whom, however, his gaze will be so fixed, as if calling him to intermediaries; and the stranger, somewhat confused at first, does not know whether to answer the case of which he had not heard anything, or to stand like that, observing proper decency, and then go away.

"No, I can't give more than two rubles," said Chichikov.

- If you please, so that they don’t pretend to me that I’m asking dearly and don’t want to do you any favors, if you please - seventy-five rubles per head, only in banknotes, the right is only for acquaintance!

“Why, really,” Chichikov thought to himself, “does he take me for a fool, or something?” and then added aloud:

- It’s strange to me, really: it seems that some kind of theatrical performance or a comedy is going on between us, otherwise I can’t explain it to myself ... You seem to be a rather smart person, you have knowledge of education. After all, the subject is just fufu. What is he worth? who needs?

- Yes, you are buying, so you need it.

Here Chichikov bit his lip and could not find anything to answer. He began to talk about some family and family circumstances, but Sobakevich answered simply:

“I don’t need to know what kind of relationship you have; I don't interfere in family affairs, that's your business. You needed souls, and I sell you, and you will regret that you did not buy.

"Two rubles," said Chichikov.

- Ek, right, forty Jacob said one thing about everyone, as the proverb says; as they set up for two, you don’t want to move out of them. You give the real price!

"Well, damn him," Chichikov thought to himself, "I'll add fifty dollars for him, the dog, for nuts!"

- If you please, I'll add a half.

- Well, if you please, I will also tell you my last word: fifty roubles! right, loss to yourself, you can’t buy such a good people anywhere cheaper!

"What a fist!" Chichikov said to himself, and then continued aloud with some annoyance:

- Yes, really ... as if it were a serious matter; Yes, I'll take it anywhere else. Also, everyone will gladly sell them to me, just to get rid of them as soon as possible. A fool would keep them with him and pay taxes for them!

“But you know that this kind of purchase, I say this between us, out of friendship, is not always permissible, and if I or anyone else tells it, such a person will not have any power of attorney regarding contracts or entering into any profitable obligations.

"Look, where is aiming, scoundrel!" Chichikov thought, and immediately said with the most cool air:

- As you wish for yourself, I do not buy for any need, as you think, but in this way, according to the inclination of my own thoughts. If you don't want two and a half - goodbye!

"You can't knock him down, you stubborn one!" thought Sobakevich.

- Well, God bless you, let's thirty and take them for yourself!

- No, I see you do not want to sell, goodbye!

- Let me, let me! - said Sobakevich, not letting go of his hand and stepping on his foot, for our hero forgot to take care, in punishment for which he had to hiss and jump on one foot.

- Sorry! I seem to have disturbed you. Please sit here! I beg! - Here he seated him in an armchair with some even dexterity, like such a bear, which has already been in the hands, can both roll over and do different things to the questions: “Show me, Misha, how women soar” or: “How, Misha , small guys steal peas?

“Really, I’m wasting my time, I need to hurry.

“Sit down for a minute, I’ll tell you one word that is pleasant for you,” then Sobakevich sat down closer and said quietly in his ear, as if it were a secret. - Do you want a corner?

- That is, twenty-five rubles? No, no, no, I won’t even give you a quarter of a corner, I won’t add a penny.

Sobakevich was silent. Chichikov also fell silent. There was silence for two minutes. Bagration with an aquiline nose looked from the wall extremely attentively at this purchase.

What will be your final price? Sobakevich finally said.

- Two and a half.

- Really, your human soul is like a steamed turnip. Give me at least three rubles!

- I can not.

- Well, there is nothing to do with you, if you please! Loss, yes, such a dog’s temper: I can’t help but give pleasure to my neighbor. After all, I am tea, and I need to make a bill of sale so that everything is in order.

- Of course.

- Well, that's the same, it will be necessary to go to the city.

That is how the thing happened. Both decided to be in the city tomorrow and deal with the merchant's fortress. Chichikov asked for a list of peasants. Sobakevich readily agreed, and at once, going up to the bureau, with his own hand began to write out everyone, not only by name, but even with the designation of commendable qualities.

And Chichikov, having nothing to do, busied himself, being behind, examining his entire spacious salary. As he looked at his back, wide, like that of Vyatka squat horses, and at his legs, which looked like cast-iron pedestals that are placed on the sidewalks, he could not help exclaiming inwardly: “Ek, God has rewarded you! for sure, as they say, it’s not right, but it’s tightly sewn! .. You were born like a bear, or did provincial life, grain crops, fuss with peasants, make you bearish, and through them you became what they call a man-fist? But no: I think you would still be the same, even if you were even brought up in the fashion, you would be put into action and you would live in St. Petersburg, and not in the backwoods. The whole difference is that now you will eat half a side of a lamb with porridge, having a bite of a cheesecake on a plate, and then you would eat some cutlets with truffles. Yes, now you have peasants under your control: you are on good terms with them and, of course, you will not offend them, because they are yours, it will be worse for you; and then you would have officials whom you would strongly click, realizing that they are not your own serfs, or you would rob the treasury! No, whoever is a fist cannot straighten into a palm! And unbend one or two fingers to the fist, it will come out even worse. If he tries a little the tops of some science, he will let them know later, having taken a more visible place, to all those who really have learned some kind of science. Moreover, perhaps, he will say later: “Let me show myself!” Yes, such a wise decision will come up with, that many will have salty ... Oh, if only all the fists! .. "

“A note is ready,” Sobakevich said, turning around.

– Ready? Please bring her here! - He ran his eyes over it and marveled at the accuracy and accuracy: not only was the craft, rank, years and family condition spelled out in detail, but even in the margins there were special marks about behavior, sobriety - in a word, it was a pleasure to look at.

- Now, please, a deposit! Sobakevich said.

- Why do you need a task? You will receive all the money in the city at once.

“That’s how it is, you know,” objected Sobakevich.

- I don’t know how to give you, I didn’t take money with me. Yes, there are ten rubles.

- Well, ten! Give me at least fifty!

Chichikov began to excuse himself that he was not; but Sobakevich said in the affirmative that he had money, that he took out another piece of paper, saying:

- Perhaps, here's another fifteen for you, twenty-five in total. Please only receipt.

- Yes, what do you need a receipt for.

- Everyone, you know, it's better to have a receipt. Not even the hour, anything can happen.

- Okay, give me some money!

- What's the money for? I have them in my hand! as soon as you write a receipt, you will take them at the same moment.

- Excuse me, how can I write a receipt? you have to see the money first.

Chichikov let go of the papers to Sobakevich, who, approaching the table and covering them with the fingers of his left hand, wrote on a piece of paper with the other that he had received the deposit of twenty-five rubles in state banknotes for the souls sold. After writing the note, he reviewed the banknotes once again.

- The paper is old! - he said, examining one of them in the world, - a little torn, well, yes, between friends there is nothing to look at.

"Fist, fist! thought Chichikov to himself, “and a beast to boot!”

- Don't you want a female?

– No, thank you.

I would take it cheap. For dating for a ruble apiece.

“No, I don’t need a female field.

“Well, when you don’t need it, there’s nothing to say. There is no law on tastes: who loves the priest, and who loves, says the proverb.

“I also wanted to ask you to keep this deal between us,” Chichikov said, saying goodbye.

- Yes, of course. There is nothing to interfere with the third; what happens between short friends out of sincerity must remain in their mutual friendship. Farewell! Thanks for visiting; I ask you not to forget in advance: if you get a free hour, come to have lunch, spend time. Maybe it will happen again to serve each other with something.

“Yes, no matter how! Chichikov thought to himself as he got into the britzka. “Two and a half tore off for a dead soul, damn fist!”

He was dissatisfied with the behavior of Sobakevich. Still, be that as it may, he was a familiar person, and they met both at the governor's and the police chief's, but he acted as if he was a complete stranger, he took money for rubbish! When the britzka drove out of the yard, he looked back and saw that Sobakevich was still standing on the porch and seemed to be looking closely, wanting to know where the guest would go.

- Scoundrel, still standing! - he said through his teeth and ordered Selifan, turning towards the peasant huts, drive off in such a way that it was impossible to see the carriage from the side of the master's yard. He wanted to visit Plyushkin, where, according to Sobakevich, people were dying like flies, but he didn't want Sobakevich to know about it. When the cart was already at the end of the village, he called the first peasant to him, who, having picked up a very thick log somewhere on the road, dragged it on his shoulder, like an indefatigable ant, to his hut.

- Hey beard! but how to get from here to Plyushkin, so as not to pass by the master's house?

The man seemed to be at a loss for this question.

- Well, you don't know?

- No, sir, I don't know.

- Oh you! And the gray hair still twitched! you don't know the curmudgeon Plyushkin, what feeds people badly?

- A, patched, patched! - shouted the man.

He also added a noun to the word "patched", very successful, but uncommon in secular conversation, and therefore we will skip it. However, one can guess that it was expressed very aptly, because Chichikov, although the peasant had long since disappeared from sight and had gone ahead a long time, nevertheless, he was still grinning, sitting in the britzka. The Russian people express themselves strongly! and if he rewards someone with a word, then it will go to his generation and offspring, he will drag him with him to the service, and to retirement, and to Petersburg, and to the ends of the world. And no matter how cunning you later ennoble your nickname, even if you force writing people to derive it for hire from an ancient princely family, nothing will help: the nickname will croak for itself at the top of its crow’s throat and will clearly say where the bird flew from. Pronounced aptly, just like writing, is not cut down with an ax. And where is everything that came out of the depths of Russia, where there are neither German, nor Chukhonian, nor any other tribes, but everything itself is a nugget, a lively and lively Russian mind that does not go into the pocket for a word, does not hatch it , like a hen chickens, but immediately slaps like a passport on an eternal sock, and there is nothing to add later, what kind of nose or lips you have - you are outlined in one line from head to toe!

Just as a myriad of churches, monasteries with domes, domes, and crosses are scattered over holy, pious Russia, so a myriad of tribes, generations, peoples crowd, dazzle and rush about on the face of the earth. And every nation that bears within itself a pledge of strength, full of the creative abilities of the soul, its bright features and other gifts of God, each in a peculiar way distinguished itself by its own word, which, expressing any object, reflects the expression of its own part of its own character. The word of the Briton will echo with the knowledge of the heart and the wise knowledge of life; The short-lived word of a Frenchman will flash and scatter like a light dandy; the German will intricately invent his own, not accessible to everyone, cleverly thin word; but there is no word that would be so bold, so smartly burst out from under the very heart, so seething and quivering like a well-spoken Russian word.

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