Dead Souls — Part II, Chapter I - Section 2

Again, amongst other things, Tientietnikov conceived the idea of establishing a school for his people; but the scheme resulted in a farce which left him in sackcloth and ashes.

In the same way he found that, when it came to a question of dispensing justice and of adjusting disputes, the host of juridical subtleties with which the professors had provided him proved absolutely useless.

That is to say, the one party lied, and the other party lied, and only the devil could have decided between them.

Consequently he himself perceived that a knowledge of mankind would have availed him more than all the legal refinements and philosophical maxims in the world could do.

He lacked something; and though he could not divine what it was, the situation brought about was the common one of the barin failing to understand the peasant, and the peasant failing to understand the barin, and both becoming disaffected.

In the end, these difficulties so chilled Tientietnikov’s enthusiasm that he took to supervising the labours of the field with greatly diminished attention.

That is to say, no matter whether the scythes were softly swishing through the grass, or ricks were being built, or rafts were being loaded, he would allow his eyes to wander from his men, and to fall to gazing at, say, a red-billed, red-legged heron which, after strutting along the bank of a stream, would have caught a fish in its beak, and be holding it awhile, as though in doubt whether to swallow it.

Next he would glance towards the spot where a similar bird, but one not yet in possession of a fish, was engaged in watching the doings of its mate.

Lastly, with eyebrows knitted, and face turned to scan the zenith, he would drink in the smell of the fields, and fall to listening to the winged population of the air as from earth and sky alike the manifold music of winged creatures combined in a single harmonious chorus.

In the rye the quail would be calling, and, in the grass, the corncrake, and over them would be wheeling flocks of twittering linnets.

Also, the jacksnipe would be uttering its croak, and the lark executing its roulades where it had become lost in the sunshine, and cranes sending forth their trumpet-like challenge as they deployed towards the zenith in triangle-shaped flocks.

In fact, the neighbourhood would seem to have become converted into one great concert of melody.

O Creator, how fair is Thy world where, in remote, rural seclusion, it lies apart from cities and from highways!

But soon even this began to pall upon Tientietnikov, and he ceased altogether to visit his fields, or to do aught but shut himself up in his rooms, where he refused to receive even the bailiff when that functionary called with his reports.

Again, although, until now, he had to a certain extent associated with a retired colonel of hussars--a man saturated with tobacco smoke--and also with a student of pronounced, but immature, opinions who culled the bulk of his wisdom from contemporary newspapers and pamphlets, he found, as time went on, that these companions proved as tedious as the rest, and came to think their conversation superficial, and their European method of comporting themselves--that is to say, the method of conversing with much slapping of knees and a great deal of bowing and gesticulation--too direct and unadorned.

So these and every one else he decided to “drop,” and carried this resolution into effect with a certain amount of rudeness.

On the next occasion that Varvar Nikolaievitch Vishnepokromov called to indulge in a free-and-easy symposium on politics, philosophy, literature, morals, and the state of financial affairs in England (he was, in all matters which admit of superficial discussion, the pleasantest fellow alive, seeing that he was a typical representative both of the retired fire-eater and of the school of thought which is now becoming the rage)--when, I say, this next happened, Tientietnikov merely sent out to say that he was not at home, and then carefully showed himself at the window.

Host and guest exchanged glances, and, while the one muttered through his teeth “The cur!

” the other relieved his feelings with a remark or two on swine.

Thus the acquaintance came to an abrupt end, and from that time forth no visitor called at the mansion.

Tientietnikov in no way regretted this, for he could now devote himself wholly to the projection of a great work on Russia.

Of the scale on which this composition was conceived the reader is already aware.

The reader also knows how strange, how unsystematic, was the system employed in it.

Yet to say that Tientietnikov never awoke from his lethargy would not be altogether true.

On the contrary, when the post brought him newspapers and reviews, and he saw in their printed pages, perhaps, the well-known name of some former comrade who had succeeded in the great field of Public Service, or had conferred upon science and the world’s work some notable contribution, he would succumb to secret and suppressed grief, and involuntarily there would burst from his soul an expression of aching, voiceless regret that he himself had done so little.

And at these times his existence would seem to him odious and repellent; at these times there would uprise before him the memory of his school days, and the figure of Alexander Petrovitch, as vivid as in life.

And, slowly welling, the tears would course over Tientietnikov’s cheeks.

What meant these repinings?

Was there not disclosed in them the secret of his galling spiritual pain--the fact that he had failed to order his life aright, to confirm the lofty aims with which he had started his course; the fact that, always poorly equipped with experience, he had failed to attain the better and the higher state, and there to strengthen himself for the overcoming of hindrances and obstacles; the fact that, dissolving like overheated metal, his bounteous store of superior instincts had failed to take the final tempering; the fact that the tutor of his boyhood, a man in a thousand, had prematurely died, and left to Tientietnikov no one who could restore to him the moral strength shattered by vacillation and the will power weakened by want of virility--no one, in short, who could cry hearteningly to his soul “Forward!

”--the word for which the Russian of every degree, of every class, of every occupation, of every school of thought, is for ever hungering.

Indeed, WHERE is the man who can cry aloud for any of us, in the Russian tongue dear to our soul, the all-compelling command “Forward!

”?

Who is there who, knowing the strength and the nature and the inmost depths of the Russian genius, can by a single magic incantation divert our ideals to the higher life?

Were there such a man, with what tears, with what affection, would not the grateful sons of Russia repay him!

Yet age succeeds to age, and our callow youth still lies wrapped in shameful sloth, or strives and struggles to no purpose.

God has not yet given us the man able to sound the call.

One circumstance which almost aroused Tientietnikov, which almost brought about a revolution in his character, was the fact that he came very near to falling in love.

Yet even this resulted in nothing.

Ten versts away there lived the general whom we have heard expressing himself in highly uncomplimentary terms concerning Tientietnikov.

He maintained a General-like establishment, dispensed hospitality (that is to say, was glad when his neighbours came to pay him their respects, though he himself never went out), spoke always in a hoarse voice, read a certain number of books, and had a daughter--a curious, unfamiliar type, but full of life as life itself.

This maiden’s name was Ulinka, and she had been strangely brought up, for, losing her mother in early childhood, she had subsequently received instruction at the hands of an English governess who knew not a single word of Russian.

Moreover her father, though excessively fond of her, treated her always as a toy;

with the result that, as she grew to years of discretion, she became wholly wayward and spoilt.

Indeed, had any one seen the sudden rage which would gather on her beautiful young forehead when she was engaged in a heated dispute with her father, he would have thought her one of the most capricious beings in the world.

Yet that rage gathered only when she had heard of injustice or harsh treatment, and never because she desired to argue on her own behalf, or to attempt to justify her own conduct.

Also, that anger would disappear as soon as ever she saw any one whom she had formerly disliked fall upon evil times, and, at his first request for alms would, without consideration or subsequent regret, hand him her purse and its whole contents.

Yes, her every act was strenuous, and when she spoke her whole personality seemed to be following hot-foot upon her thought--both her expression of face and her diction and the movements of her hands.

Nay, the very folds of her frock had a similar appearance of striving; until one would have thought that all her self were flying in pursuit of her words.

Nor did she know reticence: before any one she would disclose her mind, and no force could compel her to maintain silence when she desired to speak.

Also, her enchanting, peculiar gait--a gait which belonged to her alone--was so absolutely free and unfettered that every one involuntarily gave her way.

Lastly, in her presence churls seemed to become confused and fall to silence, and even the roughest and most outspoken would lose their heads, and have not a word to say; whereas the shy man would find himself able to converse as never in his life before, and would feel, from the first, as though he had seen her and known her at some previous period--during the days of some unremembered childhood, when he was at home, and spending a merry evening among a crowd of romping children.

And for long afterwards he would feel as though his man’s intellect and estate were a burden.

This was what now befell Tientietnikov; and as it did so a new feeling entered into his soul, and his dreamy life lightened for a moment.

At first the General used to receive him with hospitable civility, but permanent concord between them proved impossible; their conversation always merged into dissension and soreness, seeing that, while the General could not bear to be contradicted or worsted in an argument, Tientietnikov was a man of extreme sensitiveness.

True, for the daughter’s sake, the father was for a while deferred to, and thus peace was maintained; but this lasted only until the time when there arrived, on a visit to the General, two kinswomen of his--the Countess Bordirev and the Princess Uziakin, retired Court dames, but ladies who still kept up a certain connection with Court circles, and therefore were much fawned upon by their host.

No sooner had they appeared on the scene than (so it seemed to Tientietnikov) the General’s attitude towards the young man became colder--either he ceased to notice him at all or he spoke to him familiarly, and as to a person having no standing in society.

This offended Tientietnikov deeply, and though, when at length he spoke out on the subject, he retained sufficient presence of mind to compress his lips, and to preserve a gentle and courteous tone, his face flushed and his inner man was boiling.

“General,” he said, “I thank you for your condescension.

By addressing me in the second person singular, you have admitted me to the circle of your most intimate friends.

Indeed, were it not that a difference of years forbids any familiarity on my part, I should answer you in similar fashion.

” The General sat aghast.

At length, rallying his tongue and his faculties, he replied that, though he had spoken with a lack of ceremony, he had used the term “thou” merely as an elderly man naturally employs it towards a junior (he made no reference to difference of rank).

Nevertheless, the acquaintance broke off here, and with it any possibility of love-making.

The light which had shed a momentary gleam before Tientietnikov’s eyes had become extinguished for ever, and upon it there followed a darkness denser than before.

Henceforth everything conduced to evolve the regime which the reader has noted--that regime of sloth and inaction which converted Tientietnikov’s residence into a place of dirt and neglect.

For days at a time would a broom and a heap of dust be left lying in the middle of a room, and trousers tossing about the salon, and pairs of worn-out braces adorning the what-not near the sofa.

In short, so mean and untidy did Tientietnikov’s mode of life become, that not only his servants, but even his very poultry ceased to treat him with respect.

Taking up a pen, he would spend hours in idly sketching houses, huts, waggons, troikas, and flourishes on a piece of paper; while at other times, when he had sunk into a reverie, the pen would, all unknowingly, sketch a small head which had delicate features, a pair of quick, penetrating eyes, and a raised coiffure.

Then suddenly the dreamer would perceive, to his surprise, that the pen had executed the portrait of a maiden whose picture no artist could adequately have painted; and therewith his despondency would become greater than ever, and, believing that happiness did not exist on earth, he would relapse into increased ennui, increased neglect of his responsibilities.

But one morning he noticed, on moving to the window after breakfast, that not a word was proceeding either from the butler or the housekeeper, but that, on the contrary, the courtyard seemed to smack of a certain bustle and excitement.

This was because through the entrance gates (which the kitchen maid and the scullion had run to open) there were appearing the noses of three horses--one to the right, one in the middle, and one to the left, after the fashion of triumphal groups of statuary.

Above them, on the box seat, were seated a coachman and a valet, while behind, again, there could be discerned a gentleman in a scarf and a fur cap.

Only when the equipage had entered the courtyard did it stand revealed as a light spring britchka.

And as it came to a halt, there leapt on to the verandah of the mansion an individual of respectable exterior, and possessed of the art of moving with the neatness and alertness of a military man.

Upon this Tientietnikov’s heart stood still.

He was unused to receiving visitors, and for the moment conceived the new arrival to be a Government official, sent to question him concerning an abortive society to which he had formerly belonged.

(Here the author may interpolate the fact that, in Tientietnikov’s early days, the young man had become mixed up in a very absurd affair.

That is to say, a couple of philosophers belonging to a regiment of hussars had, together with an aesthete who had not yet completed his student’s course and a gambler who had squandered his all, formed a secret society of philanthropic aims under the presidency of a certain old rascal of a freemason and the ruined gambler aforesaid.

The scope of the society’s work was to be extensive: it was to bring lasting happiness to humanity at large, from the banks of the Thames to the shores of Kamtchatka.

But for this much money was needed: wherefore from the noble-minded members of the society generous contributions were demanded, and then forwarded to a destination known only to the supreme authorities of the concern.

As for Tientietnikov’s adhesion, it was brought about by the two friends already alluded to as “embittered”--good-hearted souls whom the wear and tear of their efforts on behalf of science, civilisation, and the future emancipation of mankind had ended by converting into confirmed drunkards.

Perhaps it need hardly be said that Tientietnikov soon discovered how things stood, and withdrew from the association; but, meanwhile, the latter had had the misfortune so to have engaged in dealings not wholly creditable to gentlemen of noble origin as likewise to have become entangled in dealings with the police.

Consequently, it is not to be wondered at that, though Tientietnikov had long severed his connection with the society and its policy, he still remained uneasy in his mind as to what might even yet be the result.

) However, his fears vanished the instant that the guest saluted him with marked politeness and explained, with many deferential poises of the head, and in terms at once civil and concise, that for some time past he (the newcomer) had been touring the Russian Empire on business and in the pursuit of knowledge, that the Empire abounded in objects of interest--not to mention a plenitude of manufactures and a great diversity of soil, and that, in spite of the fact that he was greatly struck with the amenities of his host’s domain, he would certainly not have presumed to intrude at such an inconvenient hour but for the circumstance that the inclement spring weather, added to the state of the roads, had necessitated sundry repairs to his carriage at the hands of wheelwrights and blacksmiths.

Finally he declared that, even if this last had NOT happened, he would still have felt unable to deny himself the pleasure of offering to his host that meed of homage which was the latter’s due.

This speech--a speech of fascinating bonhomie--delivered, the guest executed a sort of shuffle with a half-boot of patent leather studded with buttons of mother-of-pearl, and followed that up by (in spite of his pronounced rotundity of figure) stepping backwards with all the elan of an india-rubber ball.

From this the somewhat reassured Tientietnikov concluded that his visitor must be a literary, knowledge-seeking professor who was engaged in roaming the country in search of botanical specimens and fossils;

wherefore he hastened to express both his readiness to further the visitor’s objects (whatever they might be) and his personal willingness to provide him with the requisite wheelwrights and blacksmiths.

Meanwhile he begged his guest to consider himself at home, and, after seating him in an armchair, made preparations to listen to the newcomer’s discourse on natural history.

But the newcomer applied himself, rather, to phenomena of the internal world, saying that his life might be likened to a barque tossed on the crests of perfidious billows, that in his time he had been fated to play many parts, and that on more than one occasion his life had stood in danger at the hands of foes.

At the same time, these tidings were communicated in a manner calculated to show that the speaker was also a man of PRACTICAL capabilities.

In conclusion, the visitor took out a cambric pocket-handkerchief, and sneezed into it with a vehemence wholly new to Tientietnikov’s experience.

In fact, the sneeze rather resembled the note which, at times, the trombone of an orchestra appears to utter not so much from its proper place on the platform as from the immediate neighbourhood of the listener’s ear.

And as the echoes of the drowsy mansion resounded to the report of the explosion there followed upon the same a wave of perfume, skilfully wafted abroad with a flourish of the eau-de-Cologne-scented handkerchief.

By this time the reader will have guessed that the visitor was none other than our old and respected friend Paul Ivanovitch Chichikov.

Naturally, time had not spared him his share of anxieties and alarms;

wherefore his exterior had come to look a trifle more elderly, his frockcoat had taken on a suggestion of shabbiness, and britchka, coachman, valet, horses, and harness alike had about them a sort of second-hand, worse-for-wear effect.

Evidently the Chichikovian finances were not in the most flourishing of conditions.

Nevertheless, the old expression of face, the old air of breeding and refinement, remained unimpaired, and our hero had even improved in the art of walking and turning with grace, and of dexterously crossing one leg over the other when taking a seat.

Also, his mildness of diction, his discreet moderation of word and phrase, survived in, if anything, increased measure, and he bore himself with a skill which caused his tactfulness to surpass itself in sureness of aplomb.

And all these accomplishments had their effect further heightened by a snowy immaculateness of collar and dickey, and an absence of dust from his frockcoat, as complete as though he had just arrived to attend a nameday festival.

Lastly, his cheeks and chin were of such neat clean-shavenness that no one but a blind man could have failed to admire their rounded contours.

From that moment onwards great changes took place in Tientietnikov’s establishment, and certain of its rooms assumed an unwonted air of cleanliness and order.

The rooms in question were those assigned to Chichikov, while one other apartment--a little front chamber opening into the hall--became permeated with Petrushka’s own peculiar smell.

But this lasted only for a little while, for presently Petrushka was transferred to the servants’ quarters, a course which ought to have been adopted in the first instance.

During the initial days of Chichikov’s sojourn, Tientietnikov feared rather to lose his independence, inasmuch as he thought that his guest might hamper his movements, and bring about alterations in the established routine of the place.

But these fears proved groundless, for Paul Ivanovitch displayed an extraordinary aptitude for accommodating himself to his new position.

To begin with, he encouraged his host in his philosophical inertia by saying that the latter would help Tientietnikov to become a centenarian.

Next, in the matter of a life of isolation, he hit things off exactly by remarking that such a life bred in a man a capacity for high thinking.

Lastly, as he inspected the library and dilated on books in general, he contrived an opportunity to observe that literature safeguarded a man from a tendency to waste his time.

In short, the few words of which he delivered himself were brief, but invariably to the point.

And this discretion of speech was outdone by his discretion of conduct.

That is to say, whether entering or leaving the room, he never wearied his host with a question if Tientietnikov had the air of being disinclined to talk; and with equal satisfaction the guest could either play chess or hold his tongue.

Consequently Tientietnikov said to himself: “For the first time in my life I have met with a man with whom it is possible to live.

In general, not many of the type exist in Russia, and, though clever, good-humoured, well-educated men abound, one would be hard put to it to find an individual of equable temperament with whom one could share a roof for centuries without a quarrel arising.

Anyway, Chichikov is the first of his sort that I have met.

” For his part, Chichikov was only too delighted to reside with a person so quiet and agreeable as his host.

Of a wandering life he was temporarily weary, and to rest, even for a month, in such a beautiful spot, and in sight of green fields and the slow flowering of spring, was likely to benefit him also from the hygienic point of view.

And, indeed, a more delightful retreat in which to recuperate could not possibly have been found.

The spring, long retarded by previous cold, had now begun in all its comeliness, and life was rampant.

Already, over the first emerald of the grass, the dandelion was showing yellow, and the red-pink anemone was hanging its tender head; while the surface of every pond was a swarm of dancing gnats and midges, and the water-spider was being joined in their pursuit by birds which gathered from every quarter to the vantage-ground of the dry reeds.

Every species of creature also seemed to be assembling in concourse, and taking stock of one another.

Suddenly the earth became populous, the forest had opened its eyes, and the meadows were lifting up their voice in song.

In the same way had choral dances begun to be weaved in the village, and everywhere that the eye turned there was merriment.

What brightness in the green of nature, what freshness in the air, what singing of birds in the gardens of the mansion, what general joy and rapture and exaltation!

Particularly in the village might the shouting and singing have been in honour of a wedding!

Chichikov walked hither, thither, and everywhere--a pursuit for which there was ample choice and facility.

At one time he would direct his steps along the edge of the flat tableland, and contemplate the depths below, where still there lay sheets of water left by the floods of winter, and where the island-like patches of forest showed leafless boughs; while at another time he would plunge into the thicket and ravine country, where nests of birds weighted branches almost to the ground, and the sky was darkened with the criss-cross flight of cawing rooks.

Again, the drier portions of the meadows could be crossed to the river wharves, whence the first barges were just beginning to set forth with pea-meal and barley and wheat, while at the same time one’s ear would be caught with the sound of some mill resuming its functions as once more the water turned the wheel.

Chichikov would also walk afield to watch the early tillage operations of the season, and observe how the blackness of a new furrow would make its way across the expanse of green, and how the sower, rhythmically striking his hand against the pannier slung across his breast, would scatter his fistfuls of seed with equal distribution, apportioning not a grain too much to one side or to the other.

In fact, Chichikov went everywhere.

He chatted and talked, now with the bailiff, now with a peasant, now with a miller, and inquired into the manner and nature of everything, and sought information as to how an estate was managed, and at what price corn was selling, and what species of grain was best for spring and autumn grinding, and what was the name of each peasant, and who were his kinsfolk, and where he had bought his cow, and what he fed his pigs on.

Chichikov also made inquiry concerning the number of peasants who had lately died: but of these there appeared to be few.

And suddenly his quick eye discerned that Tientietnikov’s estate was not being worked as it might have been--that much neglect and listlessness and pilfering and drunkenness was abroad; and on perceiving this, he thought to himself: “What a fool is that Tientietnikov!

To think of letting a property like this decay when he might be drawing from it an income of fifty thousand roubles a year!

” Also, more than once, while taking these walks, our hero pondered the idea of himself becoming a landowner--not now, of course, but later, when his chief aim should have been achieved, and he had got into his hands the necessary means for living the quiet life of the proprietor of an estate.

Yes, and at these times there would include itself in his castle-building the figure of a young, fresh, fair-faced maiden of the mercantile or other rich grade of society, a woman who could both play and sing.

He also dreamed of little descendants who should perpetuate the name of Chichikov; perhaps a frolicsome little boy and a fair young daughter, or possibly, two boys and quite two or three daughters; so that all should know that he had really lived and had his being, that he had not merely roamed the world like a spectre or a shadow; so that for him and his the country should never be put to shame.

And from that he would go on to fancy that a title appended to his rank would not be a bad thing--the title of State Councillor, for instance, which was deserving of all honour and respect.

Ah, it is a common thing for a man who is taking a solitary walk so to detach himself from the irksome realities of the present that he is able to stir and to excite and to provoke his imagination to the conception of things he knows can never really come to pass!

Chichikov’s servants also found the mansion to their taste, and, like their master, speedily made themselves at home in it.

In particular did Petrushka make friends with Grigory the butler, although at first the pair showed a tendency to outbrag one another--Petrushka beginning by throwing dust in Grigory’s eyes on the score of his (Petrushka’s) travels, and Grigory taking him down a peg or two by referring to St. Petersburg (a city which Petrushka had never visited), and Petrushka seeking to recover lost ground by dilating on towns which he HAD visited, and Grigory capping this by naming some town which is not to be found on any map in existence, and then estimating the journey thither as at least thirty thousand versts--a statement which would so completely flabbergast the henchman of Chichikov’s suite that he would be left staring open-mouthed, amid the general laughter of the domestic staff.

However, as I say, the pair ended by swearing eternal friendship with one another, and making a practice of resorting to the village tavern in company.

For Selifan, however, the place had a charm of a different kind.

That is to say, each evening there would take place in the village a singing of songs and a weaving of country dances; and so shapely and buxom were the maidens--maidens of a type hard to find in our present-day villages on large estates--that he would stand for hours wondering which of them was the best.

White-necked and white-bosomed, all had great roving eyes, the gait of peacocks, and hair reaching to the waist.

And as, with his hands clasping theirs, he glided hither and thither in the dance, or retired backwards towards a wall with a row of other young fellows, and then, with them, returned to meet the damsels--all singing in chorus (and laughing as they sang it), “Boyars, show me my bridegroom!

” and dusk was falling gently, and from the other side of the river there kept coming far, faint, plaintive echoes of the melody--well, then our Selifan hardly knew whether he were standing upon his head or his heels.

Later, when sleeping and when waking, both at noon and at twilight, he would seem still to be holding a pair of white hands, and moving in the dance.

Chichikov’s horses also found nothing of which to disapprove.

Yes, both the bay, the Assessor, and the skewbald accounted residence at Tientietnikov’s a most comfortable affair, and voted the oats excellent, and the arrangement of the stables beyond all cavil.

True, on this occasion each horse had a stall to himself; yet, by looking over the intervening partition, it was possible always to see one’s fellows, and, should a neighbour take it into his head to utter a neigh, to answer it at once.

As for the errand which had hitherto led Chichikov to travel about Russia, he had now decided to move very cautiously and secretly in the matter.

In fact, on noticing that Tientietnikov went in absorbedly for reading and for talking philosophy, the visitor said to himself, “No--I had better begin at the other end,” and proceeded first to feel his way among the servants of the establishment.

From them he learnt several things, and, in particular, that the barin had been wont to go and call upon a certain General in the neighbourhood, and that the General possessed a daughter, and that she and Tientietnikov had had an affair of some sort, but that the pair had subsequently parted, and gone their several ways.

For that matter, Chichikov himself had noticed that Tientietnikov was in the habit of drawing heads of which each representation exactly resembled the rest.

Once, as he sat tapping his silver snuff-box after luncheon, Chichikov remarked: “One thing you lack, and only one, Andrei Ivanovitch.

” “What is that?

” asked his host.

“A female friend or two,” replied Chichikov.

Tientietnikov made no rejoinder, and the conversation came temporarily to an end.

But Chichikov was not to be discouraged; wherefore, while waiting for supper and talking on different subjects, he seized an opportunity to interject: “Do you know, it would do you no harm to marry.

” As before, Tientietnikov did not reply, and the renewed mention of the subject seemed to have annoyed him.

For the third time--it was after supper--Chichikov returned to the charge by remarking: “To-day, as I was walking round your property, I could not help thinking that marriage would do you a great deal of good.

Otherwise you will develop into a hypochondriac.

” Whether Chichikov’s words now voiced sufficiently the note of persuasion, or whether Tientietnikov happened, at the moment, to be unusually disposed to frankness, at all events the young landowner sighed, and then responded as he expelled a puff of tobacco smoke: “To attain anything, Paul Ivanovitch, one needs to have been born under a lucky star.

” And he related to his guest the whole history of his acquaintanceship and subsequent rupture with the General.

As Chichikov listened to the recital, and gradually realised that the affair had arisen merely out of a chance word on the General’s part, he was astounded beyond measure, and gazed at Tientietnikov without knowing what to make of him.

“Andrei Ivanovitch,” he said at length, “what was there to take offence at?

” “Nothing, as regards the actual words spoken,” replied the other.

“The offence lay, rather, in the insult conveyed in the General’s tone.

” Tientietnikov was a kindly and peaceable man, yet his eyes flashed as he said this, and his voice vibrated with wounded feeling.

“Yet, even then, need you have taken it so much amiss?

” “What?

Could I have gone on visiting him as before?

” “Certainly.

No great harm had been done?

” “I disagree with you.

Had he been an old man in a humble station of life, instead of a proud and swaggering officer, I should not have minded so much.

But, as it was, I could not, and would not, brook his words.

” “A curious fellow, this Tientietnikov!

” thought Chichikov to himself.

“A curious fellow, this Chichikov!

” was Tientietnikov’s inward reflection.

“I tell you what,” resumed Chichikov.

“To-morrow I myself will go and see the General.

” “To what purpose?

” asked Tientietnikov, with astonishment and distrust in his eyes.

“To offer him an assurance of my personal respect.

” “A strange fellow, this Chichikov!

” reflected Tientietnikov.

“A strange fellow, this Tientietnikov!

” thought Chichikov, and then added aloud: “Yes, I will go and see him at ten o’clock to-morrow; but since my britchka is not yet altogether in travelling order, would you be so good as to lend me your koliaska for the purpose?

”