Dead Souls

was not long before Chichikov’s purchases had become the talk of the
town; and various were the opinions expressed as to whether or not it
was expedient to procure peasants for transferment. Indeed such was the
interest taken by certain citizens in the matter that they advised the
purchaser to provide himself and his convoy with an escort, in order
to ensure their safe arrival at the appointed destination; but though
Chichikov thanked the donors of this advice for the same, and declared
that he should be very glad, in case of need, to avail himself of it, he
declared also that there was no real need for an escort, seeing that the
peasants whom he had purchased were exceptionally peace-loving folk,
and that, being themselves consenting parties to the transferment, they
would undoubtedly prove in every way tractable.

One particularly good result of this advertisement of his scheme was
that he came to rank as neither more nor less than a millionaire.
Consequently, much as the inhabitants had liked our hero in the first
instance (as seen in Chapter I.), they now liked him more than ever.
As a matter of fact, they were citizens of an exceptionally quiet,
good-natured, easy-going disposition; and some of them were even
well-educated. For instance, the President of the Local Council could
recite the whole of Zhukovski’s LUDMILLA by heart, and give such an
impressive rendering of the passage “The pine forest was asleep and the
valley at rest” (as well as of the exclamation “Phew!”) that one felt,
as he did so, that the pine forest and the valley really WERE as he
described them. The effect was also further heightened by the manner in
which, at such moments, he assumed the most portentous frown. For his
part, the Postmaster went in more for philosophy, and diligently perused
such works as Young’s Night Thoughts, and Eckharthausen’s A Key to
the Mysteries of Nature; of which latter work he would make copious
extracts, though no one had the slightest notion what they referred
to. For the rest, he was a witty, florid little individual, and much
addicted to a practice of what he called “embellishing” whatsoever he
had to say--a feat which he performed with the aid of such by-the-way
phrases as “my dear sir,” “my good So-and-So,” “you know,” “you
understand,” “you may imagine,” “relatively speaking,” “for instance,”
and “et cetera”; of which phrases he would add sackfuls to his
speech. He could also “embellish” his words by the simple expedient of
half-closing, half-winking one eye; which trick communicated to some of
his satirical utterances quite a mordant effect. Nor were his colleagues
a wit inferior to him in enlightenment. For instance, one of them made
a regular practice of reading Karamzin, another of conning the Moscow
Gazette, and a third of never looking at a book at all. Likewise,
although they were the sort of men to whom, in their more intimate
movements, their wives would very naturally address such nicknames
as “Toby Jug,” “Marmot,” “Fatty,” “Pot Belly,” “Smutty,” “Kiki,” and
“Buzz-Buzz,” they were men also of good heart, and very ready to extend
their hospitality and their friendship when once a guest had eaten
of their bread and salt, or spent an evening in their company.
Particularly, therefore, did Chichikov earn these good folk’s approval
with his taking methods and qualities--so much so that the expression
of that approval bid fair to make it difficult for him to quit the town,
seeing that, wherever he went, the one phrase dinned into his ears was
“Stay another week with us, Paul Ivanovitch.” In short, he ceased to
be a free agent. But incomparably more striking was the impression
(a matter for unbounded surprise!) which he produced upon the ladies.
Properly to explain this phenomenon I should need to say a great deal
about the ladies themselves, and to describe in the most vivid of
colours their social intercourse and spiritual qualities. Yet this would
be a difficult thing for me to do, since, on the one hand, I should be
hampered by my boundless respect for the womenfolk of all Civil
Service officials, and, on the other hand--well, simply by the innate
arduousness of the task. The ladies of N. were--But no, I cannot do
it; my heart has already failed me. Come, come! The ladies of N. were
distinguished for--But it is of no use; somehow my pen seems to refuse
to move over the paper--it seems to be weighted as with a plummet
of lead. Very well. That being so, I will merely say a word or
two concerning the most prominent tints on the feminine palette of
N.--merely a word or two concerning the outward appearance of
its ladies, and a word or two concerning their more superficial
characteristics. The ladies of N. were pre-eminently what is known as
“presentable.” Indeed, in that respect they might have served as a
model to the ladies of many another town. That is to say, in whatever
pertained to “tone,” etiquette, the intricacies of decorum, and strict
observance of the prevailing mode, they surpassed even the ladies of
Moscow and St. Petersburg, seeing that they dressed with taste, drove
about in carriages in the latest fashions, and never went out without
the escort of a footman in gold-laced livery. Again, they looked upon
a visiting card--even upon a make-shift affair consisting of an ace of
diamonds or a two of clubs--as a sacred thing; so sacred that on one
occasion two closely related ladies who had also been closely attached
friends were known to fall out with one another over the mere fact of an
omission to return a social call! Yes, in spite of the best efforts
of husbands and kinsfolk to reconcile the antagonists, it became clear
that, though all else in the world might conceivably be possible, never
could the hatchet be buried between ladies who had quarrelled over
a neglected visit. Likewise strenuous scenes used to take place over
questions of precedence--scenes of a kind which had the effect of
inspiring husbands to great and knightly ideas on the subject of
protecting the fair. True, never did a duel actually take place, since
all the husbands were officials belonging to the Civil Service; but at
least a given combatant would strive to heap contumely upon his rival,
and, as we all know, that is a resource which may prove even more
effectual than a duel. As regards morality, the ladies of N. were
nothing if not censorious, and would at once be fired with virtuous
indignation when they heard of a case of vice or seduction. Nay, even to
mere frailty they would award the lash without mercy. On the other hand,
should any instance of what they called “third personism” occur among
THEIR OWN circle, it was always kept dark--not a hint of what was going
on being allowed to transpire, and even the wronged husband holding
himself ready, should he meet with, or hear of, the “third person,” to
quote, in a mild and rational manner, the proverb, “Whom concerns it
that a friend should consort with friend?” In addition, I may say that,
like most of the female world of St. Petersburg, the ladies of N. were
pre-eminently careful and refined in their choice of words and phrases.
Never did a lady say, “I blew my nose,” or “I perspired,” or “I spat.”
No, it had to be, “I relieved my nose through the expedient of wiping it
with my handkerchief,” and so forth. Again, to say, “This glass, or
this plate, smells badly,” was forbidden. No, not even a hint to such an
effect was to be dropped. Rather, the proper phrase, in such a case, was
“This glass, or this plate, is not behaving very well,”--or some such
formula.

In fact, to refine the Russian tongue the more thoroughly, something
like half the words in it were cut out: which circumstance necessitated
very frequent recourse to the tongue of France, since the same words, if
spoken in French, were another matter altogether, and one could use even
blunter ones than the ones originally objected to.

So much for the ladies of N., provided that one confines one’s
observations to the surface; yet hardly need it be said that, should one
penetrate deeper than that, a great deal more would come to light. At
the same time, it is never a very safe proceeding to peer deeply into
the hearts of ladies; wherefore, restricting ourselves to the foregoing
superficialities, let us proceed further on our way.

Hitherto the ladies had paid Chichikov no particular attention, though
giving him full credit for his gentlemanly and urbane demeanour; but
from the moment that there arose rumours of his being a millionaire
other qualities of his began to be canvassed. Nevertheless, not ALL the
ladies were governed by interested motives, since it is due to the term
“millionaire” rather than to the character of the person who bears it,
that the mere sound of the word exercises upon rascals, upon decent
folk, and upon folk who are neither the one nor the other, an undeniable
influence. A millionaire suffers from the disadvantage of everywhere
having to behold meanness, including the sort of meanness which, though
not actually based upon calculations of self-interest, yet runs after
the wealthy man with smiles, and doffs his hat, and begs for invitations
to houses where the millionaire is known to be going to dine. That
a similar inclination to meanness seized upon the ladies of N. goes
without saying; with the result that many a drawing-room heard it
whispered that, if Chichikov was not exactly a beauty, at least he was
sufficiently good-looking to serve for a husband, though he could have
borne to have been a little more rotund and stout. To that there would
be added scornful references to lean husbands, and hints that they
resembled tooth-brushes rather than men--with many other feminine
additions. Also, such crowds of feminine shoppers began to repair to the
Bazaar as almost to constitute a crush, and something like a procession
of carriages ensued, so long grew the rank of vehicles. For their part,
the tradesmen had the joy of seeing highly priced dress materials which
they had bought at fairs, and then been unable to dispose of, now
suddenly become tradeable, and go off with a rush. For instance, on one
occasion a lady appeared at Mass in a bustle which filled the church to
an extent which led the verger on duty to bid the commoner folk withdraw
to the porch, lest the lady’s toilet should be soiled in the crush.
Even Chichikov could not help privately remarking the attention which he
aroused. On one occasion, when he returned to the inn, he found on
his table a note addressed to himself. Whence it had come, and who had
delivered it, he failed to discover, for the waiter declared that the
person who had brought it had omitted to leave the name of the writer.
Beginning abruptly with the words “I MUST write to you,” the letter went
on to say that between a certain pair of souls there existed a bond of
sympathy; and this verity the epistle further confirmed with rows of
full stops to the extent of nearly half a page. Next there followed a
few reflections of a correctitude so remarkable that I have no choice
but to quote them. “What, I would ask, is this life of ours?” inquired
the writer. “’Tis nought but a vale of woe. And what, I would ask, is
the world? ’Tis nought but a mob of unthinking humanity.” Thereafter,
incidentally remarking that she had just dropped a tear to the memory of
her dear mother, who had departed this life twenty-five years ago, the
(presumably) lady writer invited Chichikov to come forth into the wilds,
and to leave for ever the city where, penned in noisome haunts, folk
could not even draw their breath. In conclusion, the writer gave way to
unconcealed despair, and wound up with the following verses:

“Two turtle doves to thee, one day,
My dust will show, congealed in death;
And, cooing wearily, they’ll say:
‘In grief and loneliness she drew her closing breath.’”

True, the last line did not scan, but that was a trifle, since the
quatrain at least conformed to the mode then prevalent. Neither
signature nor date were appended to the document, but only a postscript
expressing a conjecture that Chichikov’s own heart would tell him who
the writer was, and stating, in addition, that the said writer would be
present at the Governor’s ball on the following night.

This greatly interested Chichikov. Indeed, there was so much that was
alluring and provocative of curiosity in the anonymous missive that he
read it through a second time, and then a third, and finally said to
himself: “I SHOULD like to know who sent it!” In short, he took the
thing seriously, and spent over an hour in considering the same. At
length, muttering a comment upon the epistle’s efflorescent style, he
refolded the document, and committed it to his dispatch-box in company
with a play-bill and an invitation to a wedding--the latter of which had
for the last seven years reposed in the self-same receptacle and in
the self-same position. Shortly afterwards there arrived a card of
invitation to the Governor’s ball already referred to. In passing, it
may be said that such festivities are not infrequent phenomena in county
towns, for the reason that where Governors exist there must take place
balls if from the local gentry there is to be evoked that respectful
affection which is every Governor’s due.

Thenceforth all extraneous thoughts and considerations were laid aside
in favour of preparing for the coming function. Indeed, this conjunction
of exciting and provocative motives led to Chichikov devoting to his
toilet an amount of time never witnessed since the creation of the
world. Merely in the contemplation of his features in the mirror, as he
tried to communicate to them a succession of varying expressions, was an
hour spent. First of all he strove to make his features assume an air
of dignity and importance, and then an air of humble, but faintly
satirical, respect, and then an air of respect guiltless of any alloy
whatsoever. Next, he practised performing a series of bows to his
reflection, accompanied with certain murmurs intended to bear a
resemblance to a French phrase (though Chichikov knew not a single word
of the Gallic tongue). Lastly came the performing of a series of what I
might call “agreeable surprises,” in the shape of twitchings of the brow
and lips and certain motions of the tongue. In short, he did all that a
man is apt to do when he is not only alone, but also certain that he is
handsome and that no one is regarding him through a chink. Finally he
tapped himself lightly on the chin, and said, “Ah, good old face!” In
the same way, when he started to dress himself for the ceremony, the
level of his high spirits remained unimpaired throughout the process.
That is to say, while adjusting his braces and tying his tie, he
shuffled his feet in what was not exactly a dance, but might be called
the entr’acte of a dance: which performance had the not very serious
result of setting a wardrobe a-rattle, and causing a brush to slide from
the table to the floor.

Later, his entry into the ballroom produced an extraordinary effect.
Every one present came forward to meet him, some with cards in their
hands, and one man even breaking off a conversation at the most
interesting point--namely, the point that “the Inferior Land Court must
be made responsible for everything.” Yes, in spite of the responsibility
of the Inferior Land Court, the speaker cast all thoughts of it to
the winds as he hurried to greet our hero. From every side resounded
acclamations of welcome, and Chichikov felt himself engulfed in a sea of
embraces. Thus, scarcely had he extricated himself from the arms of
the President of the Local Council when he found himself just as firmly
clasped in the arms of the Chief of Police, who, in turn, surrendered
him to the Inspector of the Medical Department, who, in turn, handed
him over to the Commissioner of Taxes, who, again, committed him to the
charge of the Town Architect. Even the Governor, who hitherto had been
standing among his womenfolk with a box of sweets in one hand and
a lap-dog in the other, now threw down both sweets and lap-dog (the
lap-dog giving vent to a yelp as he did so) and added his greeting to
those of the rest of the company. Indeed, not a face was there to be
seen on which ecstatic delight--or, at all events, the reflection of
other people’s ecstatic delight--was not painted. The same expression
may be discerned on the faces of subordinate officials when, the newly
arrived Director having made his inspection, the said officials are
beginning to get over their first sense of awe on perceiving that he
has found much to commend, and that he can even go so far as to jest
and utter a few words of smiling approval. Thereupon every tchinovnik
responds with a smile of double strength, and those who (it may be) have
not heard a single word of the Director’s speech smile out of sympathy
with the rest, and even the gendarme who is posted at the distant
door--a man, perhaps, who has never before compassed a smile, but is
more accustomed to dealing out blows to the populace--summons up a kind
of grin, even though the grin resembles the grimace of a man who is
about to sneeze after inadvertently taking an over-large pinch of
snuff. To all and sundry Chichikov responded with a bow, and felt
extraordinarily at his ease as he did so. To right and left did he
incline his head in the sidelong, yet unconstrained, manner that was
his wont and never failed to charm the beholder. As for the ladies,
they clustered around him in a shining bevy that was redolent of every
species of perfume--of roses, of spring violets, and of mignonette; so
much so that instinctively Chichikov raised his nose to snuff the air.
Likewise the ladies’ dresses displayed an endless profusion of taste and
variety; and though the majority of their wearers evinced a tendency to
embonpoint, those wearers knew how to call upon art for the concealment
of the fact. Confronting them, Chichikov thought to himself: “Which of
these beauties is the writer of the letter?” Then again he snuffed the
air. When the ladies had, to a certain extent, returned to their seats,
he resumed his attempts to discern (from glances and expressions) which
of them could possibly be the unknown authoress. Yet, though those
glances and expressions were too subtle, too insufficiently open, the
difficulty in no way diminished his high spirits. Easily and gracefully
did he exchange agreeable bandinage with one lady, and then approach
another one with the short, mincing steps usually affected by young-old
dandies who are fluttering around the fair. As he turned, not without
dexterity, to right and left, he kept one leg slightly dragging
behind the other, like a short tail or comma. This trick the ladies
particularly admired. In short, they not only discovered in him a host
of recommendations and attractions, but also began to see in his face
a sort of grand, Mars-like, military expression--a thing which, as we
know, never fails to please the feminine eye. Certain of the ladies even
took to bickering over him, and, on perceiving that he spent most of
his time standing near the door, some of their number hastened to occupy
chairs nearer to his post of vantage. In fact, when a certain dame
chanced to have the good fortune to anticipate a hated rival in the
race there very nearly ensued a most lamentable scene--which, to many
of those who had been desirous of doing exactly the same thing, seemed a
peculiarly horrible instance of brazen-faced audacity.

So deeply did Chichikov become plunged in conversation with his fair
pursuers--or rather, so deeply did those fair pursuers enmesh him in the
toils of small talk (which they accomplished through the expedient of
asking him endless subtle riddles which brought the sweat to his brow in
his attempts to guess them)--that he forgot the claims of courtesy which
required him first of all to greet his hostess. In fact, he remembered
those claims only on hearing the Governor’s wife herself addressing him.
She had been standing before him for several minutes, and now greeted
him with suave expressement and the words, “So HERE you are, Paul
Ivanovitch!” But what she said next I am not in a position to report,
for she spoke in the ultra-refined tone and vein wherein ladies and
gentlemen customarily express themselves in high-class novels which have
been written by experts more qualified than I am to describe salons, and
able to boast of some acquaintance with good society. In effect, what
the Governor’s wife said was that she hoped--she greatly hoped--that
Monsieur Chichikov’s heart still contained a corner--even the smallest
possible corner--for those whom he had so cruelly forgotten. Upon that
Chichikov turned to her, and was on the point of returning a reply at
least no worse than that which would have been returned, under similar
circumstances, by the hero of a fashionable novelette, when he stopped
short, as though thunderstruck.

Before him there was standing not only Madame, but also a young girl
whom she was holding by the hand. The golden hair, the fine-drawn,
delicate contours, the face with its bewitching oval--a face which might
have served as a model for the countenance of the Madonna, since it was
of a type rarely to be met with in Russia, where nearly everything, from
plains to human feet, is, rather, on the gigantic scale; these features,
I say, were those of the identical maiden whom Chichikov had encountered
on the road when he had been fleeing from Nozdrev’s. His emotion was
such that he could not formulate a single intelligible syllable; he
could merely murmur the devil only knows what, though certainly
nothing of the kind which would have risen to the lips of the hero of a
fashionable novel.

“I think that you have not met my daughter before?” said Madame. “She is
just fresh from school.”

He replied that he HAD had the happiness of meeting Mademoiselle before,
and under rather unexpected circumstances; but on his trying to say
something further his tongue completely failed him. The Governor’s wife
added a word or two, and then carried off her daughter to speak to some
of the other guests.

Chichikov stood rooted to the spot, like a man who, after issuing
into the street for a pleasant walk, has suddenly come to a halt on
remembering that something has been left behind him. In a moment, as
he struggles to recall what that something is, the mien of careless
expectancy disappears from his face, and he no longer sees a single
person or a single object in his vicinity. In the same way did Chichikov
suddenly become oblivious to the scene around him. Yet all the while the
melodious tongues of ladies were plying him with multitudinous hints
and questions--hints and questions inspired with a desire to captivate.
“Might we poor cumberers of the ground make so bold as to ask you what
you are thinking of?” “Pray tell us where lie the happy regions in which
your thoughts are wandering?” “Might we be informed of the name of her
who has plunged you into this sweet abandonment of meditation?”--such
were the phrases thrown at him. But to everything he turned a dead ear,
and the phrases in question might as well have been stones dropped into
a pool. Indeed, his rudeness soon reached the pitch of his walking
away altogether, in order that he might go and reconnoitre wither the
Governor’s wife and daughter had retreated. But the ladies were not
going to let him off so easily. Every one of them had made up her mind
to use upon him her every weapon, and to exhibit whatsoever might chance
to constitute her best point. Yet the ladies’ wiles proved useless, for
Chichikov paid not the smallest attention to them, even when the dancing
had begun, but kept raising himself on tiptoe to peer over people’s
heads and ascertain in which direction the bewitching maiden with the
golden hair had gone. Also, when seated, he continued to peep between
his neighbours’ backs and shoulders, until at last he discovered her
sitting beside her mother, who was wearing a sort of Oriental turban and
feather. Upon that one would have thought that his purpose was to carry
the position by storm; for, whether moved by the influence of spring,
or whether moved by a push from behind, he pressed forward with such
desperate resolution that his elbow caused the Commissioner of Taxes
to stagger on his feet, and would have caused him to lose his balance
altogether but for the supporting row of guests in the rear. Likewise
the Postmaster was made to give ground; whereupon he turned and eyed
Chichikov with mingled astonishment and subtle irony. But Chichikov
never even noticed him; he saw in the distance only the golden-haired
beauty. At that moment she was drawing on a long glove and, doubtless,
pining to be flying over the dancing-floor, where, with clicking heels,
four couples had now begun to thread the mazes of the mazurka. In
particular was a military staff-captain working body and soul and
arms and legs to compass such a series of steps as were never before
performed, even in a dream. However, Chichikov slipped past the mazurka
dancers, and, almost treading on their heels, made his way towards the
spot where Madame and her daughter were seated. Yet he approached them
with great diffidence and none of his late mincing and prancing. Nay,
he even faltered as he walked; his every movement had about it an air of
awkwardness.

It is difficult to say whether or not the feeling which had awakened
in our hero’s breast was the feeling of love; for it is problematical
whether or not men who are neither stout nor thin are capable of any
such sentiment. Nevertheless, something strange, something which he
could not altogether explain, had come upon him. It seemed as though
the ball, with its talk and its clatter, had suddenly become a thing
remote--that the orchestra had withdrawn behind a hill, and the scene
grown misty, like the carelessly painted-in background of a picture. And
from that misty void there could be seen glimmering only the delicate
outlines of the bewitching maiden. Somehow her exquisite shape reminded
him of an ivory toy, in such fair, white, transparent relief did it
stand out against the dull blur of the surrounding throng.

Herein we see a phenomenon not infrequently observed--the phenomenon of
the Chichikovs of this world becoming temporarily poets. At all events,
for a moment or two our Chichikov felt that he was a young man again, if
not exactly a military officer. On perceiving an empty chair beside the
mother and daughter, he hastened to occupy it, and though conversation
at first hung fire, things gradually improved, and he acquired more
confidence.

At this point I must reluctantly deviate to say that men of weight and
high office are always a trifle ponderous when conversing with ladies.
Young lieutenants--or, at all events, officers not above the rank of
captain--are far more successful at the game. How they contrive to be so
God only knows. Let them but make the most inane of remarks, and at once
the maiden by their side will be rocking with laughter; whereas, should
a State Councillor enter into conversation with a damsel, and remark
that the Russian Empire is one of vast extent, or utter a compliment
which he has elaborated not without a certain measure of intelligence
(however strongly the said compliment may smack of a book), of a surety
the thing will fall flat. Even a witticism from him will be laughed at
far more by him himself than it will by the lady who may happen to be
listening to his remarks.

These comments I have interposed for the purpose of explaining to the
reader why, as our hero conversed, the maiden began to yawn. Blind to
this, however, he continued to relate to her sundry adventures which had
befallen him in different parts of the world. Meanwhile (as need hardly
be said) the rest of the ladies had taken umbrage at his behaviour. One
of them purposely stalked past him to intimate to him the fact, as well
as to jostle the Governor’s daughter, and let the flying end of a scarf
flick her face; while from a lady seated behind the pair came both a
whiff of violets and a very venomous and sarcastic remark. Nevertheless,
either he did not hear the remark or he PRETENDED not to hear it. This
was unwise of him, since it never does to disregard ladies’ opinions.
Later--but too late--he was destined to learn this to his cost.

In short, dissatisfaction began to display itself on every feminine
face. No matter how high Chichikov might stand in society, and no matter
how much he might be a millionaire and include in his expression of
countenance an indefinable element of grandness and martial ardour,
there are certain things which no lady will pardon, whosoever be the
person concerned. We know that at Governor’s balls it is customary for
the onlookers to compose verses at the expense of the dancers; and in
this case the verses were directed to Chichikov’s address. Briefly, the
prevailing dissatisfaction grew until a tacit edict of proscription had
been issued against both him and the poor young maiden.

But an even more unpleasant surprise was in store for our hero; for
whilst the young lady was still yawning as Chichikov recounted to her
certain of his past adventures and also touched lightly upon the subject
of Greek philosophy, there appeared from an adjoining room the figure of
Nozdrev. Whether he had come from the buffet, or whether he had issued
from a little green retreat where a game more strenuous than whist had
been in progress, or whether he had left the latter resort unaided, or
whether he had been expelled therefrom, is unknown; but at all events
when he entered the ballroom, he was in an elevated condition, and
leading by the arm the Public Prosecutor, whom he seemed to have been
dragging about for a long while past, seeing that the poor man was
glancing from side to side as though seeking a means of putting an end
to this personally conducted tour. Certainly he must have found the
situation almost unbearable, in view of the fact that, after deriving
inspiration from two glasses of tea not wholly undiluted with rum,
Nozdrev was engaged in lying unmercifully. On sighting him in the
distance, Chichikov at once decided to sacrifice himself. That is to
say, he decided to vacate his present enviable position and make off
with all possible speed, since he could see that an encounter with the
newcomer would do him no good. Unfortunately at that moment the Governor
buttonholed him with a request that he would come and act as arbiter
between him (the Governor) and two ladies--the subject of dispute
being the question as to whether or not woman’s love is lasting.
Simultaneously Nozdrev descried our hero and bore down upon him.

“Ah, my fine landowner of Kherson!” he cried with a smile which set his
fresh, spring-rose-pink cheeks a-quiver. “Have you been doing much
trade in departed souls lately?” With that he turned to the Governor. “I
suppose your Excellency knows that this man traffics in dead peasants?”
he bawled. “Look here, Chichikov. I tell you in the most friendly
way possible that every one here likes you--yes, including even the
Governor. Nevertheless, had I my way, I would hang you! Yes, by God I
would!”

Chichikov’s discomfiture was complete.

“And, would you believe it, your Excellency,” went on Nozdrev, “but this
fellow actually said to me, ‘Sell me your dead souls!’ Why, I laughed
till I nearly became as dead as the souls. And, behold, no sooner do
I arrive here than I am told that he has bought three million roubles’
worth of peasants for transferment! For transferment, indeed! And he
wanted to bargain with me for my DEAD ones! Look here, Chichikov. You
are a swine! Yes, by God, you are an utter swine! Is not that so, your
Excellency? Is not that so, friend Prokurator [34]?”

But both his Excellency, the Public Prosecutor, and Chichikov were too
taken aback to reply. The half-tipsy Nozdrev, without noticing them,
continued his harangue as before.

“Ah, my fine sir!” he cried. “THIS time I don’t mean to let you go. No,
not until I have learnt what all this purchasing of dead peasants means.
Look here. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Yes, I say that--I
who am one of your best friends.” Here he turned to the Governor
again. “Your Excellency,” he continued, “you would never believe what
inseperables this man and I have been. Indeed, if you had stood there
and said to me, ‘Nozdrev, tell me on your honour which of the two you
love best--your father or Chichikov?’ I should have replied, ‘Chichikov,
by God!’” With that he tackled our hero again, “Come, come, my friend!”
he urged. “Let me imprint upon your cheeks a baiser or two. You will
excuse me if I kiss him, will you not, your Excellency? No, do not
resist me, Chichikov, but allow me to imprint at least one baiser upon
your lily-white cheek.” And in his efforts to force upon Chichikov what
he termed his “baisers” he came near to measuring his length upon the
floor.

Every one now edged away, and turned a deaf ear to his further
babblings; but his words on the subject of the purchase of dead souls
had none the less been uttered at the top of his voice, and been
accompanied with such uproarious laughter that the curiosity even of
those who had happened to be sitting or standing in the remoter corners
of the room had been aroused. So strange and novel seemed the idea that
the company stood with faces expressive of nothing but a dumb, dull
wonder. Only some of the ladies (as Chichikov did not fail to remark)
exchanged meaning, ill-natured winks and a series of sarcastic smiles:
which circumstance still further increased his confusion. That Nozdrev
was a notorious liar every one, of course, knew, and that he should have
given vent to an idiotic outburst of this sort had surprised no one; but
a dead soul--well, what was one to make of Nozdrev’s reference to such a
commodity?

Naturally this unseemly contretemps had greatly upset our hero; for,
however foolish be a madman’s words, they may yet prove sufficient to
sow doubt in the minds of saner individuals. He felt much as does a
man who, shod with well-polished boots, has just stepped into a dirty,
stinking puddle. He tried to put away from him the occurrence, and to
expand, and to enjoy himself once more. Nay, he even took a hand
at whist. But all was of no avail--matters kept going as awry as a
badly-bent hoop. Twice he blundered in his play, and the President of
the Council was at a loss to understand how his friend, Paul Ivanovitch,
lately so good and so circumspect a player, could perpetrate such a
mauvais pas as to throw away a particular king of spades which the
President has been “trusting” as (to quote his own expression) “he would
have trusted God.” At supper, too, matters felt uncomfortable, even
though the society at Chichikov’s table was exceedingly agreeable and
Nozdrev had been removed, owing to the fact that the ladies had found
his conduct too scandalous to be borne, now that the delinquent had
taken to seating himself on the floor and plucking at the skirts of
passing lady dancers. As I say, therefore, Chichikov found the situation
not a little awkward, and eventually put an end to it by leaving the
supper room before the meal was over, and long before the hour when
usually he returned to the inn.

In his little room, with its door of communication blocked with a
wardrobe, his frame of mind remained as uncomfortable as the chair in
which he was seated. His heart ached with a dull, unpleasant sensation,
with a sort of oppressive emptiness.

“The devil take those who first invented balls!” was his reflection.
“Who derives any real pleasure from them? In this province there exist
want and scarcity everywhere: yet folk go in for balls! How absurd,
too, were those overdressed women! One of them must have had a thousand
roubles on her back, and all acquired at the expense of the overtaxed
peasant, or, worse still, at that of the conscience of her neighbour.
Yes, we all know why bribes are accepted, and why men become crooked
in soul. It is all done to provide wives--yes, may the pit swallow them
up!--with fal-lals. And for what purpose? That some woman may not have
to reproach her husband with the fact that, say, the Postmaster’s wife
is wearing a better dress than she is--a dress which has cost a thousand
roubles! ‘Balls and gaiety, balls and gaiety’ is the constant cry. Yet
what folly balls are! They do not consort with the Russian spirit and
genius, and the devil only knows why we have them. A grown, middle-aged
man--a man dressed in black, and looking as stiff as a poker--suddenly
takes the floor and begins shuffling his feet about, while another man,
even though conversing with a companion on important business, will, the
while, keep capering to right and left like a billy-goat! Mimicry, sheer
mimicry! The fact that the Frenchman is at forty precisely what he was
at fifteen leads us to imagine that we too, forsooth, ought to be the
same. No; a ball leaves one feeling that one has done a wrong thing--so
much so that one does not care even to think of it. It also leaves one’s
head perfectly empty, even as does the exertion of talking to a man of
the world. A man of that kind chatters away, and touches lightly upon
every conceivable subject, and talks in smooth, fluent phrases which he
has culled from books without grazing their substance; whereas go and
have a chat with a tradesman who knows at least ONE thing thoroughly,
and through the medium of experience, and see whether his conversation
will not be worth more than the prattle of a thousand chatterboxes. For
what good does one get out of balls? Suppose that a competent writer
were to describe such a scene exactly as it stands? Why, even in a
book it would seem senseless, even as it certainly is in life. Are,
therefore, such functions right or wrong? One would answer that the
devil alone knows, and then spit and close the book.”

Such were the unfavourable comments which Chichikov passed upon balls
in general. With it all, however, there went a second source of
dissatisfaction. That is to say, his principal grudge was not so much
against balls as against the fact that at this particular one he had
been exposed, he had been made to disclose the circumstance that he had
been playing a strange, an ambiguous part. Of course, when he reviewed
the contretemps in the light of pure reason, he could not but see that
it mattered nothing, and that a few rude words were of no account now
that the chief point had been attained; yet man is an odd creature, and
Chichikov actually felt pained by the cold-shouldering administered to
him by persons for whom he had not an atom of respect, and whose vanity
and love of display he had only that moment been censuring. Still more,
on viewing the matter clearly, he felt vexed to think that he himself
had been so largely the cause of the catastrophe.

Yet he was not angry with HIMSELF--of that you may be sure, seeing that
all of us have a slight weakness for sparing our own faults, and
always do our best to find some fellow-creature upon whom to vent our
displeasure--whether that fellow-creature be a servant, a subordinate
official, or a wife. In the same way Chichikov sought a scapegoat upon
whose shoulders he could lay the blame for all that had annoyed him. He
found one in Nozdrev, and you may be sure that the scapegoat in question
received a good drubbing from every side, even as an experienced captain
or chief of police will give a knavish starosta or postboy a rating not
only in the terms become classical, but also in such terms as the said
captain or chief of police may invent for himself. In short, Nozdrev’s
whole lineage was passed in review; and many of its members in the
ascending line fared badly in the process.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the town there was in progress an event
which was destined to augment still further the unpleasantness of our
hero’s position. That is to say, through the outlying streets and
alleys of the town there was clattering a vehicle to which it would be
difficult precisely to assign a name, seeing that, though it was of a
species peculiar to itself, it most nearly resembled a large, rickety
water melon on wheels. Eventually this monstrosity drew up at the gates
of a house where the archpriest of one of the churches resided, and from
its doors there leapt a damsel clad in a jerkin and wearing a scarf over
her head. For a while she thumped the gates so vigorously as to set
all the dogs barking; then the gates stiffly opened, and admitted this
unwieldy phenomenon of the road. Lastly, the barinia herself alighted,
and stood revealed as Madame Korobotchka, widow of a Collegiate
Secretary! The reason of her sudden arrival was that she had felt so
uneasy about the possible outcome of Chichikov’s whim, that during the
three nights following his departure she had been unable to sleep a
wink; whereafter, in spite of the fact that her horses were not shod,
she had set off for the town, in order to learn at first hand how the
dead souls were faring, and whether (which might God forfend!) she
had not sold them at something like a third of their true value. The
consequences of her venture the reader will learn from a conversation
between two ladies. We will reserve it for the ensuing chapter.