Hereupon the two men had again a slight and polite difference as to who should enter before the other, but at last Tchichikoff entered the dining-room backwards.
On their entrance in the dining-hall, they found Madame Maniloff waiting with her two little sons. These children were of that tender age when parents are induced to seat them already among adults, though they still are accommodated with high stools. Near them stood their teacher who bowed courteously and with a smile.
The lady of the house took her seat before the soup-tureen; her guest was placed between herself and husband; the servant tied a napkin under the chin of the little boys, and the dinner ceremonial commenced.
"What pretty little boys!" said Tchichikoff, after a while, and looking intently at them. "What is their age?"
"The elder is in his eighth year, and the younger celebrated his sixth birth-day yesterday," answered Madame Maniloff, smiling.
"Themistoclus!" said Maniloff, whilst turning towards his elder boy, who was just engaged in liberating his chin from the napkin which the servant bad tied too tightly round his neck. Tchichikoff lifted up his head and frowned slightly when he heard this classic name, of which heaven knows why Maniloff had made the final syllable us; however he recovered immediately from his surprise, and his features reassumed their wonted expression.
"Themistoclus, my boy!" repeated Maniloff, "tell me which is the finest town in France?" Here the teacher directed all the power of his attention upon his pupil thus questioned by his father; and it seemed as if he intended to pierce him with his glance; but he gradually calmed down, and soon after nodded approvingly with his head, when he heard Themistocles give the answer:
"Paris."
"And which is the finest town in Russia?" demanded again Maniloff.
The master fixed his eyes again upon his pupil and frowned.
"St. Petersburg," replied Themistocles, quickly.
"And what town besides?"
"Moscow," again replied the boy with sparkling eyes, for he seemed to be sure of his lesson.
"Now for the last question," said his father, evidently pleased with his child's progresses. "Who are the natural enemies of Russia and of Christendom?"
"The Turks; and we ought to take Constantinople from them," replied Themistocles, with the air of a conqueror, and looking for approval towards his master.
"Oh, the clever darling!" exclaimed Tchichikoff, when he had heard all these replies. "Really," he continued, whilst turning with an air of agreeable surprise towards the happy parents, "I am of opinion that this little boy displays signs of great proficiency."
"Oh, you don't know him half," replied Maniloff; "he possesses a great deal of perspicuity. As for the younger son, Alcides," (here Tchichikoff, was startled again as before), "he is not so sharp a boy as his elder brother; Themistoclus is livelier, and his eyes will sparkle at anything. If even an insect, he will immediately run after it, and pay it the greatest attention. I intend to have him educated for the diplomatic career. Themistoclus," he continued, turning again towards the boy, "would you like to be an ambassador?"
"Oh yes, papa!" answered the child, with his mouth full of cake, and balancing his head like a Chinese mandarin.
At that very moment, the servant, who stood behind the future ambassador, wiped that young gentleman's nose, and it was well he did so, or else some mishap would have been the consequence. The conversation at table now turned upon the pleasures of domestic life, and was now and then enlivened by the observations of Madame Maniloff on the theatre and the actors of their town.
The teacher listened and looked very attentively upon the conversing parties, and whenever he saw the company laughing at some observations, he would at once open his mouth and join them in a most hearty approbation. No doubt he was a man with a deep sense of gratitude, and strove to display in this manner his acknowledgment for the treatment he met at the hands of his employer. Once, however, he could not prevent assuming an expression of reproof and knocking gently upon the table, while frowning at his pupils, who sat opposite to him. This was done at an opportune moment, because Themistocles had just bitten the ear of his brother Alcides, who instantly closed his eyes, and opened his mouth, and was on the point of beginning a most lamentable tune; but seeing the frowning forehead of his master, and fearing he might lose his dinner, he brought back his mouth to its former position, and began to gnaw lustily, with tears in his eyes at a large bone of roast mutton, which made both his cheeks shiny with grease.
The lady of the house frequently encouraged her guest in the following manner:
"You scarcely eat anything; you have taken so very little indeed."
To these observations Tchichikoff would invariably reply:
"I am very much obliged to you, Madame; I have had plenty—besides, pleasant intercourse surpasses the finest dish."
They at last rose from table. Maniloff seemed exceedingly pleased, and laying his hand gently on the back of his guest, he was on the point of leading him gently into the drawing-room, when the latter suddenly informed him, and with an air of confidential importance, that he had a wish to converse with him on the subject of some important business.
"In that event, allow me to show you into my private room," said Maniloff, and led him into a small adjoining chamber, the windows of which afforded a view of a gloomy fir-tree forest looming in the distance. "This is my own little corner," added Maniloff.
"A very pretty and comfortable room," said Tchichikoff, whilst casting a glance around. The room had really its pleasing features; the walls were painted of a light blue colour of a greyish tint; it contained four chairs, one arm-chair, a table; upon the latter lay the book with the marked page, of which we had already had occasion to speak, a few writing materials, and a quantity of tobacco. That fragrant weed was laying about in various forms and places, in packages, in pouches and boxes, and lastly even upon the table. Upon both windows numerous little heaps of tobacco ashes from his pipe were ranged, not without taste, in symmetrical order. It was obvious that this arrangement sometimes assisted the master of the house in passing his time pleasantly.
"Pray be seated in this arm-chair," said Maniloff; "here you will be more comfortable."
"I beg you will allow me to prefer this chair."
"Permit me to insist upon your' seating yourself in this arm-chair;" said Maniloff with a smile. "This old arm-chair has been assigned by me for my friends; and, therefore, whether you like it or not you must sit down in it."
Tchichikoff seated himself in the arm-chair.
"Will you take a pipe or a cigar?"
"I thank you, but I do not smoke," replied Tchichikoff civilly, as if with an air of regret.
"And pray, why don't you?" inquired Maniloff, also civilly, and with an air of regret.
"I did not contract the habit, I am afraid, because I was told that smoking originates consumption."
"I beg to observe that this is a prejudice. I am of opinion that to smoke a pipe is by far more healthy than taking snuff. In my regiment we had a lieutenant who was an excellent and well-bred officer, his pipe never quitted him, not even at table—and with your leave—not even at any other place. At present he is more than forty years old, and thank Heaven, as well and healthy as he could wish to be."
Tchichikoff observed that such instances were of frequent occurrence, and that there were many phenomena in human nature, quite incomprehensible to the most cultivated mind.
"But allow me now to put you a question." He then proceeded in a tone of voice in which there was a peculiar and nearly a strange expression, and after having spoken the last words, he, for some reason or other looked around him. Maniloff also looked round, but for what reason he did so, it is impossible to tell.
"How long, may I ask, if you please," continued Tchichikoff, "is it since you last handed in to government the census of the population on your estate?"
"Oh, if I recollect rightly, it is some time since;" replied Maniloff, "but to tell the truth, I do not exactly remember when."
"And can you perhaps recollect if many of your serfs have died since?"
"I must confess I don't know!" said Maniloff with a little embarrassment; "but I could question my steward about it. Hilloah! Ivan! or some one else, call my steward, he ought to be here to-day."
Soon after, the manager of Maniloff's estate made his appearance. He was a man under forty years of age, with a closely shaved head, fashionably dressed, and evidently enjoying and spending a pleasant existence; because his fat and rosy cheeks seemed to attest that he was well familiar with the comforts of a soft mattress and downy pillows. It was easy to see at a glance that he had accomplished his aim in life, as is usual among men of his calling: early in youth he was but an adopted orphan, charitably brought up in the family of his present master, and instructed in a little reading and writing; later he managed to marry the house-keeper—a favourite of her ladyship's—contrived to become housekeeper himself, until ultimately he got himself promoted to the rank of steward. And when he had become the general manager of the estate, he did like other stewards do: he frequented and connected himself only with the richer families in the village, exacted more tribute from the poorer, rose at nine o'clock in the morning, heated his samovar and took his tea comfortably.
"I say, my good fellow," Maniloff addressed himself to his humble steward; "how many of my peasants have died since you sent the last census to government?"
"Your glory wishes to know how many? Since then many have indeed died," replied the steward, whilst putting his hand before his mouth in lieu of a shield, to screen a slight hiccup, which he was unable to repress.
"Yes, I must confess, I thought as much myself," added Maniloff; "just so, a great many have died since." Hereupon he turned towards Tchichikoff, and repeated again; "exactly so, a great many have died."
"But, about how many in number?" demanded again Tchichikoff.
"Yes, to be sure, how many in number? repeated Maniloff.
"Yes, your glory; but how could I fix upon the number? It is impossible to say how many, no one has counted them," said the steward again, and with increasing embarrassment.
"Just so," said Maniloff, whilst turning towards his guest; "I anticipated as much; there was a great mortality during these latter years; and I think it is difficult to say with any precision how many have died."
"You had better number the dead, my good man;" Tchichikoff addressed himself to the steward, "and make out a correct list of all, together with their family and Christian names."
"Yes, to be sure," added Maniloff adopting the same positive tone of voice as his guest: "and give their names carefully."
"It shall be done, your glory!" replied the steward, and left the room.
"But for what purpose do you want these particulars?" inquired Maniloff, after the steward had left them.
This question seemed to embarrass his guest considerably; his face flushed, his countenance betrayed uneasiness and was altogether striking in its momentary change, and difficult to be described in words. At last Maniloff was obliged to listen to one of the strangest and most extraordinary proposals to which human ears were ever yet fated to listen. "You wish to know for what purpose? The reasons are the following: I should like to purchase some serfs—" said Tchichikoff, whilst recovering gradually; but scarcely had he uttered the last word, when he had a sudden attack of his cough, and did not, of course, conclude the phrase.
"But allow me to ask you," continued Maniloff, "on what condition do you wish to purchase peasants, is it together with the land they live upon, or do you want them for colonisation elsewhere, that is to say, without the land they live upon?"
"No, that is not exactly what I mean," replied Tchichikoff, after a moment's hesitation, "what I wish to purchase, are dead serfs."
"What? pardon me—I am rather deaf in one ear, but it seemed to me as if I had heard the strangest words that could possibly be spoken."
"Strange, perhaps," added Tchichikoff, more coolly than might have been expected after his first agitation; "yes, my dear sir, I have a wish to make the acquisition of the dead—who, however, must stand booked as existing or living in the columns of the last governmental census."
When Maniloff was convinced that he had rightly heard and understood what his friend had just spoken, he could not prevent his Turkish pipe dropping upon the floor and opening his mouth and eyes as widely as they would allow themselves to be opened; he remained passively thus for a few seconds. Both friends, who, but shortly before, had been familiarly discoursing on the pleasures of friendly life and intercourse, were now sitting opposite one another immoveably, gazing into each others eyes as if mesmerized, or like those portraits which in olden times were hung on either side of the looking-glass.
At last Maniloff mustered animation again, picked up his pipe, and, while doing this, he looked up seriously into the face of his companion, striving to catch, if possible, a smile upon his lips, as if to convince himself that all was but a jest; however, he could discover nothing to confirm him in this hope; on the contrary, Tchichikoff's face looked, if possible, more serious and composed than usual; at last he thought it likely his guest might have become the victim of a fit of insanity, and as this idea occurred to him he looked with the utmost terror fixedly at him.
But no, Tchichikoff's eyes were perfectly calm and bright, there was no wildness nor uneasiness in his glance, such as there would be in the gaze of a madman; all his mental faculties seemed to enjoy perfect health. Maniloff was at a loss what to imagine next, in order to account for the strange words and intention he had heard; but he could hit upon nothing to relieve him of his anxiety, except, letting the tobacco smoke, which the sudden surprise had made him swallow, unconsciously escape in thin wreaths.
"And thus then should I like to know if you would agree to part with such of your serfs as are actually dead; that is to say, not actually living, but nevertheless existing in a point of law; I am ready to make such arrangements about them as would be most agreeable to you."
But Maniloff was still so much overwhelmed and confused, that he could do nothing else but stare into the face of the speaker.
"You seem to feel embarrassed?" observed Tchichikoff, slowly.
"I?—no, not exactly," Maniloff at last murmured; "but I cannot comprehend—excuse me—I did not of course enjoy such a brilliant education, such a one—if I might express myself so—as is visible in every one of your movements; I have no talent for choice expressions—it might be also, that here—in this instance and in the manner in which you have just now chosen to express yourself—that there is something hidden—the meaning of which, I must confess, I could not catch, and I must presume that you have chosen to express yourself in this manner for the sake of a more select construction of your phrase—"
"Oh no, my dear Sir, no," interrupted Tchichikoff, "not at all, my proposal is like the phrase, pure and simple; I positively mean that what I said, namely: I wish to possess such serfs as are positively dead."
Maniloff was now actually lost in amazement; yet he felt that it became incumbent on him to do or say something; but what was he to do, what was he to say?—Heaven alone could inspire him. He finished at last by allowing another cloud of tobacco smoke to escape, but not as previously, out of his mouth, for this time the smoke evaporated from his nostrils.
"And now, if you have no objection, we might at once come to an understanding and proceed to draw up the contract of sale," said Tchichikoff.
"What? a contract of sale, for the dead?"
"Oh, no, my dear Sir, no," replied Tchichikoff, with slight impatience. "We shall write down, and presume them to be living, for such they actually are represented to be in the last census of the whole population of the Empire, and consequently, also in a point of law as well I am accustomed never to make the slightest deviation from our laws—either civil or military—though I have suffered much for this principle when I was in actual service myself, and allow me to assure you, my duty has always been a sacred obligation to me; the law—I never deviate from it."
These last observations very much pleased Maniloff, and reassured him considerably; but notwithstanding this assurance, it was impossible for him to enter into the spirit of the business proposed to him, and instead of an answer, he began to smoke so fast, that the room was soon filled with a dense fog, and the head of his pipe became so heated, that it began to crackle like a hoarse bassoon. It seemed as if he wished to inhale from his pipe an opinion upon the unprecedented project of his guest; but to no purpose, his pipe continued its crackling noise as before.
"You have, perhaps, your doubts on the subject?" said Tchichikoff.
"Oh! I can assure you, not the least," rejoined Maniloff. "Do not think for a moment that I could have the slightest reason to form any critical opinion as regards yourself. But allow me to ask you, will this speculation, or, in order to explain myself more distinctly—this negotiation—yes, will this negotiation not be in contravention to the civil laws and the future views and welfare of the Russian Empire?"
After having spoken thus, Maniloff made a few peculiar movements with his head, and looked steadfastly into Tchichikoff's face, showing in all the lineaments of his features, and in his compressed lips, such an undefinable expression, as perhaps never was beheld on a human face before; and if such an expression could find its equal, it could, perhaps, only be seen on the faces of those clever statesmen of all nations, who at the present day are discussing the political differences between Russia and Turkey.
Tchichikoff, however, answered simply, that such a speculation, or negotiation, would in no ways be in contravention with the civil or military laws of the country, and the future welfare of Russia; and a moment later he added, that on the contrary, the government would even derive an advantage, because it would receive the payment of the lawful capitation tax.
"Well, then, you think that—?"
"I am of opinion that all will be right and and well," said Tchichikoff again.
"Ah, if it is all right, then it is altogether a different thing; then I can have no objection whatever," said Maniloff, and recovered even so far as to assume his usual smile.
"Now we shall only have to fix upon a price—"
"How—a price?" said Maniloff with a new air of surprise, and stopped short for a while. "Is it possible that you could think that I would take money for such serfs, who, in some respects have already ceased to exist, and consequently, have become valueless to me? No, since you have a strange fancy for them, or, if I might use the expression, a phantastical wish for them, I am quite agreeable to deliver them up to you gratuitously, and am even ready to pay the expense of the contract of sale, in order to be agreeable to you."
We should deem it the greatest act of negligence on our part, if we were to omit mentioning in the narrative of these events, that the words thus spoken by Maniloff had the effect of diffusing an extraordinary amount of gratification over the countenance of his guest. However circumspect, self-possessed and prudent Tchichikoff habitually was, yet in this instance he had every difficulty in mastering a feeling which nearly made him jump from his seat like a goat, and such an attempt could certainly only be caused by an excess of joy. He turned so suddenly in his arm-chair that the woollen covering of the pillow was torn in consequence; even Maniloff could not help looking at him with some fresh bewilderment. Impelled by gratitude, he gave so many thanks, that the donor of the gift could not help blushing deeply, made a negative movement with his head, and then only found words to say, that, what he gave was a mere trifle.
"Not at all a trifle," replied Tchichikoff, warmly pressing the donor's hand.
Here a deep sigh was also allowed to escape from his broad chest, and it seemed as if this sigh was full of the warm effusions of his feeling heart; not without some feeling and expression in his language Tchichikoff, continued in the following words:
"If you knew, my dear Sir, what a favour you have granted me by this apparently trifling obligation.... to me, a man without name or fame.... Yes, truly, how much have I not suffered? like a bark amidst the boisterous waves of the agitated ocean.... What tribulations, what persecutions have I not experienced, and how many and bitter were the sorrows that I have tasted! but why? would you perhaps ask me? Because I always watched over truth, because I kept my conscience pure, my honour intact; because I stretched forth my hand to assist the mourning widow, and shielded the deserted orphan!"
Hereupon Tchichikoff could not help arresting the progress of a falling tear with his pocket-handkerchief.
Maniloff, too, was nearly moved to tears on hearing this eloquent language. Both friends pressed each other's hands long and warmly, and they looked long and silently into each other's eyes, in which a few more tears might have been seen glittering. Maniloff seemed not disposed to part with the hand of our hero, and continued to press it so warmly, that the other did not know how to liberate it. At last he succeeded in extricating it gently, and said that it would now be a good thing to conclude the contract of sale at once, and that it would be desirable that Maniloff should come for that purpose to town at his earliest convenience. He then rose, took his hat, and began to bow a farewell.
"What? are you going to leave us already?" said Maniloff, who had scarcely recovered from his emotion before he was frightened again.
At that moment, Madame Maniloff entered her husband's study.
"Lisinka," Maniloff exclaimed, with a rather pitiable expression in voice and countenance, "Pavel Ivanovitch wishes to leave us!"
"Because, perhaps, we do not entertain our guest well enough," remarked Madame Maniloff.
"My lady, here," said Tchichikoff, "here, in this spot," saying these words, he laid his hand upon his heart, and continued: "Yes, here shall for ever remain the recollection of the pleasant moments I have passed in your company; and believe me, there would be no greater felicity for me in this world, than to live—if not in the same house with you, at least in your immediate neighbourhood."
"Ah! my dear Pavel Ivanovitch," said Maniloff, whom this idea on the part of his friend seemed rather to please, "that would really be excellent, delicious, if we could live together under the same roof, or under the shadow of the same poplar, and philosophise on some subject, or launch ourselves into—"
"Oh, that would be like living in Paradise!" exclaimed Tchichikoff with a sigh. "Farewell, my lady!" continued he, whilst pressing his lips upon the hand of Madame Maniloff; "farewell, most esteemable friend! Pray do not forget our little business!"
"Oh, be sure of it!" replied Maniloff. "I do not bid you farewell for more than two days at the most."
All three entered again the reception-room.
"Farewell, my pretty little darlings!" exclaimed Tchichikoff, when he beheld Alcides and Themistocles once more, who were engaged playing with a wooden dragoon, who thanks to them, had already lost his hands and nose.
"Farewell, my little pets, you must excuse me this time for not having brought you something, because, I must confess, I was not aware of your existence; but, the next time I come, you may depend upon it, I shall surprise you with something nice to play with. To you I will bring a sword; would you like to have a sword? eh—"
"Oh, yes," replied Themistocles.
"And you shall have a drum; I know you would like to have a drum—eh?" he continued, bending down to Alcides.
"Drum—bum—bum," answered Alcides, as if he had it already.
"Very well then, I will bring you a drum, it shall be such a nice drum, that you will be able to play any tune upon it, and then you may turrrr-rurrr-rurrr and tratata upon it as long as you like. Farewell my little darlings! farewell!"
Hereupon he kissed the little boy upon the head, and turned with a smile towards Maniloff and his wife, with a smile like that usually assumed by persons who wish to convey to loving parents the innocent wishes of their children.
"Pray, dear Pavel Ivanovitch," said Maniloff, when all had already passed through the entrance, "pray, stay with us, look at the dark clouds around."
"These are but a trifle, they do not alarm an old traveller like myself," replied Tchichikoff.
"But do you know the road to Sobakevitch's estate?"
"Indeed, no, I was about asking you that question."
"Allow me then, I will immediately explain it to your coachman." Hereupon Maniloff very civilly explained to Selifan where he would have to drive his master to. The coachman finally understood, that he would have to pass two turnings and take the third, then took off his hat and exclaimed; "Thanks to your glory and long health!"
Tchichikoff drove off, and was saluted with wavings of pocket-handkerchiefs by his amiable hosts until they were out of sight.
Maniloff continued to stand and linger upon the stone steps before his house for some considerable time, and followed with his eyes the now fast disappearing britchka, and when he had already completely lost sight of it, he still continued to gaze into the distance and smoke his pipe. At last he entered the house and went into his own room, where he seated himself upon a chair opposite to the seat occupied previously by his guest; he began to give way to reflections, and was heartily rejoiced that he had had an opportunity of having been agreeable to his new acquaintance.
After having thus meditated for some time, his thoughts began to wander upon some other subject, until at last he lost himself, heaven knows in what reflections. He also thought of the blessings of friendly intimacy; he began to imagine, how pleasant it would be to live together with a faithful friend on the banks of some silvery stream; he then began to construct a stone bridge across his imaginary river, and concluded by building a splendid castle in the Spanish style, so high and beautiful, that he could behold Moscow the Holy from its turrets; nor did he forget either to imagine a magnificent Venetian balcony, where he beheld himself and his bosom friend, comfortably taking tea in the evening, and smoking real Turkey whilst having a pleasant argument. He continued to imagine, that he and Tchichikoff received an invitation to an evening party from some high functionary, and that they drove up to his house in a splendid carriage and four, that they were received in the best company; and finally, that one of the imperial ministers (of the foreign cabinet,) being informed of the exemplary friendship existing between the two friends, informed his Majesty the Emperor of its existence, and that they were promoted to the rank of generals in consequence. Thus he continued to dream on, until at last he lost himself again in his châteaux d'Espagne.
But suddenly he recovered his consciousness, thanks to the extraordinary application of his friend Tchichikoff, which he could not forget on any account; though it was of no use for him to think and study the nature and purpose of this strange whim of his friend, for he could not, either explain to himself the object, nor find the solution of this extraordinary negotiation as he still termed it, in his own mind. Thus he continued to sit in the same chair and smoke his pipe until he was called to supper, and went to bed at a late hour.
Tchichikoff was reclining comfortably, and in an excellent temper of mind in his britchka, which was now rolling rapidly along the high road. In the preceding chapters a little something has already transpired with reference to what his principal object consisted in, what his taste and inclination were, and for that reason it cannot be surprising that he, soon after his departure from Maniloff's house, plunged body and soul into a reverie upon what had passed between himself and his new friend.
Supposition, circumspection, anticipation seemed in turn to occupy his mind; and his speculations must have been of a pleasant nature, for his face betrayed it; and he seemed, as it were, to smile inwardly. Thus engrossed with his own thoughts, he did not pay the slightest attention to his coachman Selifan, who in his turn and in consequence of the excellent reception which he had met with among Maniloff's servants, was engaged in giving a lecture peculiar to himself, to the tiger-spotted outside horse, the reins of which he held fast in his right hand.
This tiger-spotted horse, as he used to call it, was, in his opinion a very sly and vicious animal indeed, for it only pretended to pull as hard as its two helpmates, whilst the brown insider or leader, who was of a more straightforward disposition, was doing his work most heartily. The natural fondness of Russian coachmen for their horses, goes frequently so far that they will speak to them as if to rational beings, and such a discourse, if it may be called so, took place between Selifan and his three horses that were attached before the britchka.
"Oh, you artful scamp; but wait a moment, I'll dodge you!" said Selifan, rising slightly upon his seat and giving a smack with his whip to the idler. "I'll teach you what your duty is, you German pantaloon. The brown one is a respectable horse, for he is doing his work like a horse, and I shall give him with pleasure an extra measure, because he is an honourable horse, and so is the leader too. Na, nuh! you are shaking your head, are you? You are a fool; listen, I'll tell you, when you are spoken to! for I shall not teach you anything that is wrong, you Master Careless! Look up! where you are going!"
Here he gave him another hearty correction with his whip and added: "Oh, you robber of a horse!" After this he indulged all three with a shout as the jamtchicks are accustomed to do. "Halloah yo, my darlings!" and laid the whip gently across their shoulders, but not with a feeling of anger, but by way of encouragement, as if satisfied with all three. Having thus shown them a little of his approbation, he again addressed his observations to the tiger-spotted idler.
"No, my fine fellow, you must be steady if you wish the world to acknowledge your merits. Look you here and listen; at the gentleman's house where we have been, there are some worthy people, and such persons I like to speak to and have some intercourse with; because everyone likes to be on friendly terms with good people. I had tea with them and ate and drank many a good thing there, because it gives me pleasure to do so among worthy people. A virtuous man meets with due respect everywhere. Look for an example at our master, he is esteemed by everybody; because, now, will you listen? because he served his country and the Emperor well, and is now a Councillor of State in consequence."
Thus reasoning, Selifan lost himself at last in the most abstract arguments. And if Tchichikoff had been listening he might have heard the most curious and interesting observations concerning himself personally; but his thoughts were so much occupied with his own projects, that a sudden, and loud clap of thunder alone could awake him to the scene around him, and cause him to look up again at the exterior world; the sky was covered with heavy dark clouds in all directions, and the dusty high road became sprinkled with heavy rain-drops. Soon after the thunder-peals were more frequent, they grew louder and nearer, and at last the rain came down as if out of a bucket.
At first the rain came sideways, and fell heavily on the left flank of the britchka, then it changed suddenly and washed its other side, until at last it began to fall horizontally upon the leathern roof of the carriage and continued to drum upon it with renewed power, and the drops at last reached even the face of our traveller. This induced him to draw down the leathern blind with its round glass holes, through which he began to examine the scenes around him and give the order to Selifan to drive quicker. Selifan also, had been unpleasantly interrupted in the midst of his reflections, and without losing an instant he produced from under his seat a something in the shape of a miserable-looking grey cloth cloak into the tattered sleeves of which he slipped his arms as speedily as the numerous holes would allow him to do, and then snatching up again the reins, he used once more his whip; and his troika sped on again with fresh vigour, as if the rain as well as Selifan's mode of encouraging them had had the most invigorating effects upon the horses.
As for Selifan, he could not for the life of him remember whether he had passed the second or the third turning. Imagining a great deal and recollecting a little of the road he had just passed, he guessed that he had already left many a turning on either side of the road behind him. Thus then like many Russians, never at a loss for imagination what to do next in a decisive moment, and without venturing into long speculations, he took the first turning to his right and shouting again: "halloah yo, my darlings!" he drove his horses into a full gallop, never caring for a moment, whither this road may lead him next.
The rain seemed to have set in with the appearance to last for sometime. The dust of the high-road was now converted into a thick paste of mud, and with every moment it became more difficult for the horses to pull through it. Tchichikoff already began to feel uneasy at not seeing anything yet of Sobakevitch's estate, for, according to his calculations, they ought to have been there long ago. He tried again to look through the glass holes of his leather curtains; but to no purpose, it seemed as if an Egyptian darkness surrounded them.
"Selifan!" he at last shouted and popped his head out through the curtain.
"What does your glory wish?" replied Selifan.
"Look about you, don't you see the village yet?"
"No, your glory, I cannot see it anywhere." After having spoken thus, Selifan belaboured his horses once more and began a song—no, rather a tune, like the "Lieder ohne Worte" of Mendelsohn Bartholdy—without an end. In this tune were comprised all the sounds of approbation and reproach addressed to all the horses by their drivers, throughout the vast expanse of the Russian Empire, from one extremity to the other; suitable under all circumstances just as it comes to the mind and upon the tongue, naturally, without choice or preparation.
Meanwhile, Tchichikoff began to feel that his britchka was balancing about on all sides, and dealt him many an unpleasant shaking and severe knocks; these unpleasant sensations brought him to the conclusion that they must have deviated from the high-road, and were now driving over some uneven field. Selifan seemed also to be under the same impression, however, he did not say a word about it.
"You blunderbuss, upon what road are you driving me now?" Tchichikoff inquired angrily.
"What am I to do, your glory! it is so very dark, indeed, I cannot even see my whip!" Saying this, he drove the britchka so carelessly that it was nearly upset from the sudden shock, and Tchichikoff was obliged to cling with both hands to his seat. Then, and not till then, it was that he conjectured his coachman Selifan was not sober.
"Stop, stop, you will upset me!" he cried out to him.
"Oh, no, your glory! how could I? how could I upset your honour?" said Selifan. "It is a bad thing to be upset, I know it well myself; how could I therefore upset you, I certainly shall not upset you." Hereupon he began cautiously to turn the britchka round and round again, until he had at last succeeded in turning it all upon one side. Tchichikoff fell out of his carriage and lay there with his hands and feet deeply imbedded in the mud. Selifan had, however, succeeded in stopping his troika, though the horses would have done so, no doubt, from their own accord, for they seemed very much exhausted.
Such an unexpected mishap had completely bewildered him; he crept down from his seat and posted himself before the britchka, with both his hands firmly fixed on his sides, whilst his master was still trying to raise himself up again upon his legs; thus glancing for a moment upon his master and the carriage before him he added with an air of incredible surprise: "And I have upset him!"
"You are as drunk as a trooper!" exclaimed Tchichikoff.
"Oh, no, your glory! how could I be drunk? I know it is a bad thing to be drunk, I have been talking to some friends, that is true; but then, it is a good thing to speak to worthy men, in that there can be no harm. I must confess we had a bit and a sup, but then there can be no harm in having something to eat and drink with worthy people."
"But what did I tell you the last time you got drunk—eh? Have you forgotten it?" inquired Tchichikoff.
"Oh, no, your glory! how could I have forgotten what you told me I know my duty well. I know, it is bad to get drunk. I have only been speaking to some worthy friends, because I—"
"Only wait until you get a good thrashing again," interrupted Tchichikoff; "and then you will know what it is to speak to worthy people."
"Just as it may please your glory!" replied Selifan, with an air of resignation, "if I am to have a thrashing, I must, have it; I shall not escape it. And why should I not be punished if it is my fault, you as my master have a right to do so. It is also necessary that mouzhiks should be punished, now and then, to keep them in subordination and good order. If it is my own fault, then it is but just that I should be punished; and why should I not receive a thrashing?"
To such logical reasoning, his lawful master could not possibly imagine what he was to reply. But at that very moment also, it seemed as if Providence itself had taken his pitiable position into commiseration. In the distance the loud barking of dogs was audible. Tchichikoff, overjoyed, gave immediate instructions to his coachman that he should drive on at full speed. A Russian driver has often an excellent sense of presentiment instead of the sense of sight; for that reason it often happens that he will close his eyes, drive on full gallop, and yet arrive somewhere. Selifan, without hearing or seeing anything, had nevertheless succeeded in guiding his horses upon a road which led them straight into the village; and they stopped only then, when the horses and britchka came violently in contact with the gates of a house, and when it was already impossible to drive on any further.
All that Tchichikoff could perceive through the dark flood of rain was the roof of a house; he immediately ordered Selifan to go and find out the gates, which, no doubt, would have taken him a considerable time, if in Russia we had not excellent country dogs, instead of drowsy porters, who, in this instance, announced the arrival of our strangers so loudly, that Selifan himself was obliged to stop up both his ears. A light began to dawn in one of the windows and threw a foggy glimmer straight in the direction of our travellers, who were able to find the gates at last.
Selifan began to knock, and soon after a small gate was opened through which the head of a figure wrapped in a sheep-skin made its appearance, and master and servant were obliged to listen to a woman's creaking voice, uttering the question of: "Who is there? and why are you making all this noise?"
"We are travellers, my good woman, allow us to pass the night here," Tchichikoff pronounced in a faint voice.
"What hurried travellers you seem to be, for look here at the time of night!" the old woman again said, "besides, this is not an inn, a noble lady resides here."
"What are we to do, good mother—you perceive we have lost our way; and surely you cannot expect us to sleep on the steps."
"Yes, the night is dark, and the rain is pouring down in torrents," added Selifan.
"Be silent, you fool," said Tchichikoff.
"But who are you?" demanded the old woman.
"I am, a nobleman, good woman."
The word, nobleman, seemed to startle the old woman, and make her reflect. "Wait a little, I'll go and tell her ladyship," the old female muttered, and in a few minutes later she made her appearance, again, with a lantern in her hands. The gates were thrown open. A light even began to glitter in another window.
The britchka entered the court-yard, and stopped before a small house, which it was impossible to examine more particularly on account of the utter darkness around it. Only one portion of it was dimly illumined by the light proceeding from the window, a puddle formed by the heavy rain and flowing rapidly along before the house, was also visible in the same light. The rain pattered noisily upon the wooden roof, and streamed in loud jets into a large water-tub. Meanwhile, the house dogs joined into a loud discordant howling; the one threw his head back and set up such a long and plaintive howl, as if he were, Heaven knows generously paid for it; another replied to the first in a particular hoarse voice, as if he had already done his best in the concert; whilst a third joined them with a shrill ringing tone, not unlike a post-horse bell; it seemed to be the tenor voice of a juvenile dog; and all their canine voices were drowned at intervals by a deep base bark, undoubtedly a paternal barker, provided with an inexhaustible doggish nature, because he rattled away his tune in such a determined manner, that it would forcibly remind one of a counter-bass voice in a concert, when in the full tide of tone, the tenor raising himself on tip-toes, impelled by a strong desire to sing forth his highest note, and all in fact raise themselves, and their voice as high as possible. At such decisive moments, whilst they throw their heads back, the tenor alone will be sometimes original, and hide his unshaved chin in his white neck-cloth, sit down, or bend forward nearly to the ground, and yet send forth from his hiding place, his note, as loud and audible as to shake the very windows of the concert-room.
From the simple barking of these canine musicians, it was easy to surmise that the village must have been something extraordinary, too; but our wet and frozen hero thought for that moment of nothing else but a warm bed. The britchka had had scarcely time to stop before the entrance of the house, when he already hastened to alight, and jumped cleverly upon the landing, gave himself a considerable shaking, and nearly fell the to ground.
Another woman, rather younger, but very much like the first in appearance, now made her exit from the house upon the landing-steps before it. She led the stranger into the house, and then into a room. Tchichikoff cast two hasty glances around him whilst entering; the apartment was decorated with old and old-fashioned striped paper-hangings. Between the windows there were some pictures representing various species of birds; small rococo-fashioned looking-glasses, with dark frames, in the shape of curled leaves were suspended in a great variety around on the walls; behind each of them, or rather in the frames, were placed, either letters, an old pack of cards, or a stocking; an old clock with Roman figures, intermixed with flowers, also hung on the wall and was ticking loudly. It was impossible to notice more with two glances only.
Besides Tchichikoff felt as if some one had besmeared his eyes with honey, for he had the greatest difficulty in keeping them open. A few minutes later, and the lady of the house made her appearance. She was an elderly person, and entered with a species of nightcap and a flannel hurriedly thrown round her neck. She was one of those noble ladies who reside on their estates, because she was not rich enough in her opinion to live in town—one of those old women who continually complain of bad harvests and severe losses in their household, and who have the habit of keeping their heads bent on one side, whilst they meanwhile know how to heap money into narrow bags, and hide them in all the drawers and upon all the shelves available. In one of these little bags, they will keep nothing else but the shiny silver roubles, in another only the half-roubles, in a third again a few golden imperials, and so on till they have a whole collection of all the coins of the Empire.
At first sight, it would seem that these drawers contain nothing else but articles of wardrobe, such as night-caps, stockings, linen, night-gowns, reals of cotton, old silken cloaks cut up for the purpose of being transformed into a gown, as soon as the one in use is worn out or burnt somewhere at the elbow, whilst the old lady was superintending the baking and cooking of holiday pastries. But they are too careful; the old gown does not run with them the risk of being burnt or worn out at the elbows, or anywhere else so soon; and the careful old lady generally leaves the cut up silken cloak for some smiling niece or widow-sister, together with her little bags containing the collection of all these precious coins as well as her night-caps, sacks and cottons.
Tchichikoff apologised, and begged to be excused for arriving so late at night.
"Never mind, never mind," said the old lady; "in what wretched weather Heaven has brought you here! After such fatigues it would certainly be desirable to eat and drink something warm, but it is so very late that it will be quite impossible to prepare anything."
The last words of the matron were interrupted by such a strange, hissing noise that her guest could not help feeling frightened; this peculiar alarming sound resembled the hissing of serpents, which seemed to have made a sudden appearance in the room; but on looking upwards, Tchichikoff felt tranquilized, for he discovered that the antique dock hanging on the wall was on the point of making an attempt to strike. After this strange hissing, immediately a rattling, and at last, after mustering all its mechanical strength, the clock succeeded in striking two; but with such a sound, that it seemed as if some one was striking with a stick against a broken saucepan. After this effort of the time-piece, the pendulum again continued its usual monotonous tick-tack as before mentioned.
Tchichikoff bowed courteously and thanked the old lady for what she said, and begged to assure her that he wanted nothing so much as a bed, and was only anxious to know in what part of the country he was, and how distant the estate of his friend Sobakevitch might be from her estate. Upon this inquiry, the old lady replied, that she had never heard of such a name, and that she was of opinion that such a person was not to be found anywhere around in her neighbourhood.
"The name of the landowner Maniloff is perhaps better known to you?" Tchichikoff remarked.
"And who is Maniloff?"
"An owner of some extensive estates, my good Madam."
"No, I have not heard of such a name either—he does not live here about."
"And pray, what country gentlemen have you in your neighbourhood?"
"We have Bobroff, Svinin, Kanapatieff, Harpakin, Trepakin, Pleschakoff, Senunoff—" "And pray, Madam," Tchichikoff interrupted her quickly, anxious to avoid the recitation of a catalogue of names, "are they rich and wealthy?"
"No, my dear Sir, there are but few rich or wealthy among them. Some of them have about twenty to thirty, others again from forty to fifty serfs; but of those who possess about four hundred peasants there are very few."
Tchichikoff perceived at once that he had arrived into a quite out-of-the-way neighbourhood.
"How far am I from town my good lady?"
"About sixty wersts. How sorry I am, to be sure, that I have nothing eatable to lay before you; would you perhaps like to take a cup of tea?"
"I am very much obliged to you indeed, but at the present moment I wish for nothing else but a bed."
"You are right, after such an unpleasant journey, nothing could be more desirable, I therefore invite you, my good Sir, to make yourself as comfortable as possible upon this sofa. Fetinia, bring a feather mattress, a pillow, and some blankets. In what awful weather providence has been pleased to send you to me! What a thunder-storm! I have kept my candle burning all night long before the image of my patron-saint. But, my good Sir, you are covered with mud like a wild hoar all over your back and left side! Where have you been pray, to appear in such a disorderly state?"
"Thank heaven that I am only besmeared and that my sides are whole."
"Oh ye, my good saints, what horrors! But do you not want something to rub your back with?"
"I thank you, my good lady, I thank you very much indeed; but pray do not incommode yourself any further on my account, I shall only ask you to tell your maid to dry and clean my coat to-morrow."
"Do you hear, Fetinia?" said the old lady, turning to the younger woman, who entered the room that moment with a candle in her hand, and who had already previously brought in the things her mistress had ordered. She was now in the act of heating up with both hands an enormous feather-bed, which, in consequence of being thus handled, sent forth a cloud of down, which instantly filled the room. "You must take that gentleman's clothes to-morrow morning, and dry them well before the fire, as you did with those of your late master, and then rub the mud out carefully, and clean them properly."
"Very well, my lady!" answered Fetinia, whilst spreading the blankets over the mattress, and pulling the pillow on the bed.
"Now, Sir, your bed is ready," said the old matron, after having cast a careful glance over it. "Farewell, my good Sir, I wish you a pleasant night and rest. But is there, perhaps, anything you would wish for yet? You might perhaps be accustomed, my good gentleman, or like to have your feet scratched by somebody. My late husband would never go to deep unless this was done to him."
But her guest was so rude as to decline having his feet tickled. The old lady retired, and Tchichikoff began to undress himself immediately, handing over to Fetinia all that he stripped himself of, and it consisted of every article of clothing; Fetinia, after having wished him a good night's rest in her turn, took the wet paraphernalia of our hero and retired also, closing the door after her.
When Tchichikoff was thus left alone, he looked, not without a great deal of satisfaction, upon his couch, which nearly reached to the ceiling; Fetinia seemed to be a clever hand at beating up a feather mattress. He approached his bed and got upon a chair close to it, from this he precipitated himself into it, and felt descending to the floor; the sudden pressure of his body upon the mattress had the effect of sending forth again a new volley of down, which filled every corner of the small room.
After having blown out his candle, Tchichikoff rolled himself up in his blankets like a newborn child is wrapped up in its linen, and fell immediately fast asleep. He awoke the next morning at a very late hour; the sun was shining through his window straight into his face, and the flies, which the previous night had slept quietly in their corners on the walls and ceiling, now began to turn all their attention upon our hero; one of them took its seat upon his lips, another upon his ear, and a third Seemed to study how it could manage to gain footing upon his eye, but those which had had the imprudence to come too close to his nose, became the victims of their own folly, for he inhaled them whilst taking breath, unconsciously, in his somnolent state, and this operation upon the flies made him sneeze; this circumstance was also the cause of his suddenly awaking.
On casting a glance around the room, he now observed, that all the paintings did not represent birds as he thought on the previous evening; among them was a portrait of Prince Paskievitch, and another oil-painting representing an old man, in a military frock-coat with red sleeves; a costume as worn during the reign of the late eccentric Emperor, Paul the First. The dock began again its unpleasant serpentine clatter and struck ten broken kettle strokes; a woman's face peeped through the half-opened door, but withdrew immediately, for it seemed that Tchichikoff had thrown off his blankets during the night, in the hope of sleeping better no doubt. It seemed to him as if the head that had been just peeping into the room was familiar to him. He began to collect his thoughts; on asking himself the question, who it might have been, at last he recollected that it must have been the old lady and proprietress of the house. He put on his shirt, his clothes were already dried and cleaned, and were lying close to his bed. When he was dressed, he stepped before the looking-glass and sneezed again so loudly, that a turkey-cock, which was just then passing under his window, which was very low, on the ground-floor, began to roll his voice like a drummer, as is customary among these original birds, no doubt wishing Tchichikoff a good morning in his own fashion, upon which the poor animal was called a fool by our hero.
This salutation, however, brought Tchichikoff close to the window, and he began to examine the scene before him. The window opened to all appearance upon nothing else but a poultry-yard; at least, what he beheld before his sight was a narrow court, filled with a numerous variety of domestic birds. Turkey-cocks and fowls seemed numberless; in the midst of them a common house-cock was walking proudly up and down with measured steps, shaking his comb fiercely and leaning his head on one side, as if he was listening to something, a pig and her offspring also made themselves conspicuous; they were all digging with their snouts in a heap of cinders, meanwhile, the mother caught hold of a young chicken and ate it up quite accidentally whilst grunting with a degree of satisfaction at the tender morsel; then she continued to dig on again as before, and as if nothing at all unusual had happened.
This narrow court or poultry-yard, was separated by a wooden wall, beyond which extended some large fields, where cabbage, onions, potatoes, carrots, and many other household vegetables were growing in great abundance. In the midst of this orchard and in a great confusion, grew scattered here and there some apple, cherry, plum, and other fruit trees and shrubs, all covered over with nets, to protect them from the depredations of sparrows and other birds. There was a swarm of the former flying about from one spot to another. To keep these daring enemies of the orchard more effectually from plundering the fruit trees and vegetables, there were several guys in different places with outstretched arms; upon the head of one of them and in order to make him the more frightful-looking, a nightcap of the old lady had been placed.
Beyond the orchard, were several corn-fields, flanked by the huts of her ladyship's peasants, which, although built irregularly, and not in straight lines or streets, seemed, nevertheless, to confirm Tchichikoff's opinion that the old lady was rather comfortably circumstanced, because they were kept in good repair. The usual straw roofs appeared all to have been recovered with fresh materials; the gates and doors had their hinges in good repair, and such of the stables and stalls which were open to his inspection, showed some new and well-made carts and sledges. In some of them he could count two and even three of each description.
"Well, I am sure, who would have thought that the village is not so unimportant as one would believe it at first sight," murmured Tchichikoff to himself, and thereupon he made up his mind to have a conversation with the old lady, and try to make a better acquaintance with her upon his all-engrossing subject.
Our hero now, in his turn, peeped through an aperture of the door through which the old lady had popped her head a quarter of an hour before, and perceiving her sitting before a small tea table, he entered the room in a cheerful and flattering manner.
"Good morning, my dear Sir; how have you passed the night?" said the old lady whilst slightly rising from her seat. She was better dressed than on the previous night; she wore a black silk dress, and no longer had the nightcap on her head, but still there was something twisted round her neck.
"Very well, very well indeed," answered Tchichikoff, seating himself in an arm-chair. "And how did you sleep, my dear Madam?"
"Not at all, my good Sir."
"And pray, what was the reason?"
"Indeed, I passed a sleepless night. My back and spine cause me great pain, and my foot all above the ancle, the higher up the leg, the more I suffer."
"It will pass over, I am sure it will, my dear good lady. Do not take so much notice."
"I pray to God, it would pass over. I continually use some bears' grease, as well as friction, with turpentine. But allow me to ask you, what would you like to take with your tea? I have some very good cherry-brandy in this small decanter."
"That will be very nice, my good lady, for I am very fond of cherry-brandy."
My intelligent reader will already have observed, that Tchichikoff, though polite, spoke nevertheless, with a rather civil familiarity, when compared to his manners at Maniloff's house, in fact he stood on no ceremony with the old lady, and made himself comfortable. Here I might also be allowed to make the observation, that we other Russians, though we might not, and cannot in many things rival our more western friends, yet in what term the good manners and behaviour, we have outdone by far the most civilized nations. It is quite impossible to enumerate all the numerous shades and finesses of our good manners. An Englishman or a Frenchman can impossibly form an idea or understand all the peculiarities and differences in our Russian conduct. Englishmen or Frenchmen will speak with pretty nearly the same tone of voice and courtesy to a millionaire as they would employ to a greengrocer, though within themselves they would or might give a decided preference to the former.
But with us it is not so. We can boast of many clever persons who would speak quite differently to a landed proprietor possessing two hundred serfs than to one who owns three hundred peasants; and with him who owns three hundred they would again not talk in the same tone of voice as with the owner of five hundred; and with the proprietor who owns five hundred again not so as with the owner of eight hundred; in a word, you may increase by degrees the ownership to a million, and you may yet depend upon still meeting with shades of differences in their tone of voice as well as manners.
Let us suppose for a moment that we enter one of the numerous imperial offices established for the administration of law and justice in any of the more important towns of the Empire, and that such an imperial office is presided over by a person called the Manager of the Chancellerie. I would beg my courteous reader to muster courage and look at that person at the moment when he is sitting in his place surrounded by all his inferiors; you will be assailed by something more than respect or fear, nay, I venture to say that you will be incapable of pronouncing a syllable; for what pride or dignity does not his face express? You could not do better than take up a brush and paint a Prometheus—a real Prometheus! His glance is like that of an eagle! his walk is easy and regular. And that very same proud eagle, as soon as he leaves that same seat of his greatness to approach the cabinet of his superior, becomes as alert as a long-legged snipe, and hurries with his documents under his arm as if he was pursued by a hawk.
In society, and especially at evening parties, though Prometheus is not of an exalted rank, yet he remains the same proud and conceited man; but as soon as he happens to meet with some one higher in dignity, such a metamorphosis takes place with our Prometheus, that even Ovid would have had the greatest difficulty in describing him properly. He has become a fly—no, even less than a fly—he has reduced himself to a grain of sand!
But this is not my friend Ivan Petrovitch, you would say in looking at him. Ivan Petrovitch is taller, and this is a little, sickly-looking person; the other speaks in a loud bass voice, and is never wont to smile, but this person warbles like a bird, and laughs continually. And yet, if you go near and examine him closer, you will find it is your friend Ivan Petrovitch. Aha! oho! will be your exclamation. However it is time for us to return again to our dramatis persona.
Tchichikoff, as we have already perceived, had come to the resolution of standing on no ceremony with the old lady, and, therefore, took up a cup of tea, poured some of the cherry-brandy into it, and began the following conversation with his hostess:
"You have a fine estate and village, my good lady. Pray, how many serfs do you possess?"
"Well, my dear Sir, I have about eighty souls living in yonder village," the matron answered; "but oh, misery! the times are bad, and besides, I had a bad harvest last year; may the Lord have mercy upon us!"
"However, to judge from appearances, your peasants look healthy, and their huts are in good repair. But allow me to inquire your name? Pardon me, I am so very absent—I arrived so very late at night—"
"My name is Korobotchka, I am the widow of the late Secretary of the Manor."
"I am very much obliged to you for the information. And pray, what are your Christian names?"
"Anastasia Petrovna, if you please."
"Anastasia Petrovna? a very fine name that of Anastasia Petrovna. I have an aunt, a sister of my mother's, whose name is also Anastasia Petrovna."
"And pray, what is your name?" inquired the widow of the late Secretary. "You are, no doubt, as far as I can guess, one of our district judges?"
"No, my good lady," replied Tchichikoff, smiling. "You have not guessed rightly, for I am not a judge, but I travel for my own little affairs."
"Ah! then you must be a public contractor. How very much I regret now that I sold my honey so cheap to those merchants; I am sure, my good Sir, you would have bought the honey of me."
"Pardon me, but I think I should not have bought your honey."
"What else? Perhaps some flax? But alas! I have very little at the present moment, perhaps not more than half a pud."
"No, my good lady, but I might buy perhaps some other kind of goods; tell me, if you please, have many of your peasants died lately?"
"Oh, my dear Sir, I lost eighteen men!" said the matron, with a deep sigh. "And it was a severe loss to me, for those who died were such healthy and hard-working peasants. It is true, since they died others again have been born; but what good are they as yet? they are all too young. I had but recently a visit from the judge, who came to claim the imperial capitation tax. Those eighteen are dead, and yet I have to pay the tax upon them all the same till the next census is taken. Last week a fire destroyed my smith, and that is again a severe loss, he was such an ingenious artisan, for he could even do locksmith's work."
"So you have suffered from a fire? this is sad indeed, my good lady."
"May God preserve me from such a calamity! for a real fire would be worse still; the smith burned himself to death, my good Sir. Somehow, a fire took place within his own body; he had been drinking too much, for a blue flame seemed to consume him, he smouldered, and became as black as a coal; but you can have no idea what an ingenious workman he was; and now I shall not be able to drive out at all, for I have no one to shoe my horses."
"All calamities are the decrees of Providence, my dear lady," said Tchichikoff, with a sigh; "the wisdom of God is beyond our understanding. You had better let me have them, my excellent Anastasia Petrovna?"
"Whom, my dear Sir?"
"Well, all those that are dead."
"But how am I to let you have them?"
"My good lady, that is quite simple. Or, if you like it better, sell them to me. I am even willing to pay you some money for them." "But how is this? I really cannot understand you. Could you really intend to dig them up again out of their graves?"
Tchichikoff now perceived that the matron had gone too far, and that it became necessary to explain to her in what his proposal and business were to consist. In a few words, he made her understand, that the transfer, or sale, would only exist upon paper, and that her dead serfs would be noted down in that document as existing, or, more properly speaking, living.
"But pray, what do you want them for?" said the old lady, in opening her eyes as wide as surprise would allow it.
"That is my business," replied Tchichikoff, drily.
"But they are positively dead, my good Sir!"
"And who says that they are living? Your loss consists in their being dead; you have still to pay the capitation tax for them as regularly as before, is it not so? Very well, then; I am ready to deliver you from all further trouble and payment on their account. Do you comprehend me now? I offer, not only to take them off your hands, but I am even willing to pay you the amount of fifteen roubles. Now, I hope the matter will be dear to you?"
"Really, I don't know," the old lady said, hesitatingly. "Because, I never in my life sold any dead serfs before."
"What next, pray! This would be rather a wonder if you had sold any to anybody before. Or do you imagine, perhaps, that there is really any advantage to be derived from dead serfs?"
"No, that I do not believe. Of what use would they be? certainly of none whatever. The only thing that embarrasses me is, that they are really dead."
"Well, I am sure, this old woman seems to be of an obstinate disposition," thought Tchichikoff. "Listen, my excellent lady. Pray, reflect upon it seriously; you are ruining yourself. You have to pay a tax for them as if they, were positively living."
"Oh, pray, my good Sir, do not mention it, even!" interrupted the widow. "Only last week I took more than one hundred and fifty roubles to the office of the Receiver-General And I had to bribe the judge besides."
"There, then, don't you see it, my dear, good lady. Now, I beg you will take into consideration and imagine that you will have no more occasion to bribe either of the tax-gatherers, because I shall undertake to pay for them; I, not you; I take all and every responsibility upon myself. I am even disposed to defray the expense of the necessary contract of sale; do you understand that?"
The old lady began to make her reflections. The proposed transaction seemed to her to be a profitable one, with the exception, however, that this was quite a novel and unheard-of business; and for that reason she began to feel considerable apprehension lest this strange purchaser might take some undue advantage of her. He arrived at her house without a formal introduction, and Heaven only knew whence he came; besides, he had made his appearance at so very late an hour of the night.
"Well, my good lady, does the offer suit you?" demanded Tchichikoff.
"Truly, my good Sir, but it has never happened to me to sell deceased people. I have been in the habit of selling some of my living serfs, and I remember now that I sold two pretty little girls, about three years ago, to our pope, and he has been exceedingly pleased with them ever since, for they have become very clever maids; they can weave napkins and towels now most beautifully."
"There is no question about the living between us, God bless them. I want your dead." "Really, I am rather fearful at my first trial in such a business, lest I might suffer some severe loss in the transaction. Pardon my candour, but you might wish to impose upon me, my good Sir, and they—yes, they might be worth something more."
"Listen, good mother—how strange you are to be sure! can you think them to be worth anything? Just oblige me by reflecting for a moment; they are nothing else but dust. Do you understand me? they are simply dust! Take for example the most trifling or the most worthless thing, suppose even a dirty rag, and yet you will find that rag worth something; that article will at least be bought at some paper-mills, whilst what I want of you cannot be made use of in any way; now then, pray tell me, of what use could they be to you?"
"My good Sir, you are right enough, they are of no value to me whatever, and the only reason that makes me hesitate, is that they are already dead."
"Oh, the blockhead of an old woman!" said Tchichikoff to himself, whilst beginning to lose, by degrees, his wonted patience and forbearance, "the devil may come to an understanding with her! I feel the perspiration already running down my back, thanks to the old she-dragon!" Whereupon he produced his pocket-handkerchief and began to dry his forehead, which was really covered with heavy drops of perspiration. However, Tchichikoff was wrong in getting into a passion, for many another respectable and imperial person is as dull in the comprehension of business matters as Lady Korobotchka appeared to be, and may prove themselves and their heads as empty as a band-box; whenever they take to an opinion, they will stick to it with an obstinacy from which no argument, no proofs will ever dissuade them; though they may be as bright as noon-day, they continue to recoil from it, like an india-rubber ball will rebound when thrown against the wall.
After having wiped away the heavy dew-drops from his forehead, Tchichikoff determined to try if he could not bring her upon the right path by another way.
"My good lady," he said, "either you do not wish to understand me, or you speak thus for the sake of speaking. I offer you money—fifteen roubles in bank notes. Do you now understand me? This is a sum which you will not pick up in the open street. Oblige me, and tell me candidly, at what price did you sell your honey to those merchants?"
"At twelve roubles the pud."
"I fancy, my good lady, you are burthening your conscience with a light sin; you could not have sold it at twelve roubles the pud."