Dead Souls (12 page)

"Ha, ha, ha!" he cried with a gesture of astonishment at the sight of
Chichikov. "What chance brings YOU here?"

Upon that Chichikov recognised Nozdrev—the man whom he had met at
dinner at the Public Prosecutor's, and who, within a minute or two of
the introduction, had become so intimate with his fellow guest as to
address him in the second person singular, in spite of the fact that
Chichikov had given him no opportunity for doing so.

"Where have you been to-day?" Nozdrev inquired, and, without waiting
for an answer, went on: "For myself, I am just from the fair, and
completely cleaned out. Actually, I have had to do the journey back
with stage horses! Look out of the window, and see them for yourself."
And he turned Chichikov's head so sharply in the desired direction
that he came very near to bumping it against the window frame. "Did
you ever see such a bag of tricks? The cursed things have only just
managed to get here. In fact, on the way I had to transfer myself to
this fellow's britchka." He indicated his companion with a finger. "By
the way, don't you know one another? He is Mizhuev, my brother-in-law.
He and I were talking of you only this morning. 'Just you see,' said I
to him, 'if we do not fall in with Chichikov before we have done.'
Heavens, how completely cleaned out I am! Not only have I lost four
good horses, but also my watch and chain." Chichikov perceived that in
very truth his interlocutor was minus the articles named, as well as
that one of Nozdrev's whiskers was less bushy in appearance than the
other one. "Had I had another twenty roubles in my pocket," went on
Nozdrev, "I should have won back all that I have lost, as well as have
pouched a further thirty thousand. Yes, I give you my word of honour
on that."

"But you were saying the same thing when last I met you," put in the
flaxen-haired man. "Yet, even though I lent you fifty roubles, you
lost them all."

"But I should not have lost them THIS time. Don't try to make me out
a fool. I should NOT have lost them, I tell you. Had I only played
the right card, I should have broken the bank."

"But you did NOT break the bank," remarked the flaxen-haired man.

"No. That was because I did not play my cards right. But what about
your precious major's play? Is THAT good?"

"Good or not, at least he beat you."

"Splendid of him! Nevertheless I will get my own back. Let him play me
at doubles, and we shall soon see what sort of a player he is! Friend
Chichikov, at first we had a glorious time, for the fair was a
tremendous success. Indeed, the tradesmen said that never yet had
there been such a gathering. I myself managed to sell everything from
my estate at a good price. In fact, we had a magnificent time. I can't
help thinking of it, devil take me! But what a pity YOU were not
there! Three versts from the town there is quartered a regiment of
dragoons, and you would scarcely believe what a lot of officers it
has. Forty at least there are, and they do a fine lot of knocking
about the town and drinking. In particular, Staff-Captain Potsieluev
is a SPLENDID fellow! You should just see his moustache! Why, he
calls good claret 'trash'! 'Bring me some of the usual trash,' is his
way of ordering it. And Lieutenant Kuvshinnikov, too! He is as
delightful as the other man. In fact, I may say that every one of the
lot is a rake. I spent my whole time with them, and you can imagine
that Ponomarev, the wine merchant, did a fine trade indeed! All the
same, he is a rascal, you know, and ought not to be dealt with, for he
puts all sorts of rubbish into his liquor—Indian wood and burnt cork
and elderberry juice, the villain! Nevertheless, get him to produce a
bottle from what he calls his 'special cellar,' and you will fancy
yourself in the seventh heaven of delight. And what quantities of
champagne we drank! Compared with it, provincial stuff is kvass
^[18]
.
Try to imagine not merely Clicquot, but a sort of blend of Clicquot
and Matradura—Clicquot of double strength. Also Ponomarev produced a
bottle of French stuff which he calls 'Bonbon.' Had it a bouquet, ask
you? Why, it had the bouquet of a rose garden, of anything else you
like. What times we had, to be sure! Just after we had left Pnomarev's
place, some prince or another arrived in the town, and sent out for
some champagne; but not a bottle was there left, for the officers had
drunk every one! Why, I myself got through seventeen bottles at a sitting."

"Come, come! You CAN'T have got through seventeen," remarked the
flaxen-haired man.

"But I did, I give my word of honour," retorted Nozdrev.

"Imagine what you like, but you didn't drink even TEN bottles at a sitting."

"Will you bet that I did not?"

"No; for what would be the use of betting about it?"

"Then at least wager the gun which you have bought."

"No, I am not going to do anything of the kind."

"Just as an experiment?"

"No."

"It is as well for you that you don't, since, otherwise, you would
have found yourself minus both gun and cap. However, friend Chichikov,
it is a pity you were not there. Had you been there, I feel sure you
would have found yourself unable to part with Lieutenant Kuvshinnikov.
You and he would have hit it off splendidly. You know, he is quite a
different sort from the Public Prosecutor and our other provincial
skinflints—fellows who shiver in their shoes before they will spend a
single kopeck. HE will play faro, or anything else, and at any time.
Why did you not come with us, instead of wasting your time on cattle
breeding or something of the sort? But never mind. Embrace me. I like
you immensely. Mizhuev, see how curiously things have turned out.
Chichikov has nothing to do with me, or I with him, yet here is he
come from God knows where, and landed in the very spot where I happen
to be living! I may tell you that, no matter how many carriages I
possessed, I should gamble the lot away. Recently I went in for a turn
at billiards, and lost two jars of pomade, a china teapot, and a
guitar. Then I staked some more things, and, like a fool, lost them
all, and six roubles in addition. What a dog is that Kuvshinnikov! He
and I attended nearly every ball in the place. In particular, there
was a woman—decolletee, and such a swell! I merely thought to myself,
'The devil take her!' but Kuvshinnikov is such a wag that he sat down
beside her, and began paying her strings of compliments in French.
However, I did not neglect the damsels altogether—although HE calls
that sort of thing 'going in for strawberries.' By the way, I have a
splendid piece of fish and some caviare with me. 'Tis all I HAVE
brought back! In fact it is a lucky chance that I happened to buy the
stuff before my money was gone. Where are you for?"

"I am about to call on a friend."

"On what friend? Let him go to the devil, and come to my place
instead."

"I cannot, I cannot. I have business to do."

"Oh, business again! I thought so!"

"But I HAVE business to do—and pressing business at that."

"I wager that you're lying. If not, tell me whom you're going to call upon."

"Upon Sobakevitch."

Instantly Nozdrev burst into a laugh compassable only by a healthy man
in whose head every tooth still remains as white as sugar. By this I
mean the laugh of quivering cheeks, the laugh which causes a neighbour
who is sleeping behind double doors three rooms away to leap from his
bed and exclaim with distended eyes, "Hullo! Something HAS upset him!"

"What is there to laugh at?" asked Chichikov, a trifle nettled; but
Nozdrev laughed more unrestrainedly than ever, ejaculating: "Oh, spare
us all! The thing is so amusing that I shall die of it!"

"I say that there is nothing to laugh at," repeated Chichikov. "It is
in fulfilment of a promise that I am on my way to Sobakevitch's."

"Then you will scarcely be glad to be alive when you've got there, for
he is the veriest miser in the countryside. Oh,
I
know you. However,
if you think to find there either faro or a bottle of 'Bonbon' you are
mistaken. Look here, my good friend. Let Sobakevitch go to the
devil, and come to MY place, where at least I shall have a piece of
sturgeon to offer you for dinner. Ponomarev said to me on parting:
'This piece is just the thing for you. Even if you were to search the
whole market, you would never find a better one.' But of course he is
a terrible rogue. I said to him outright: 'You and the Collector of
Taxes are the two greatest skinflints in the town.' But he only
stroked his beard and smiled. Every day I used to breakfast with
Kuvshinnikov in his restaurant. Well, what I was nearly forgetting is
this: that, though I am aware that you can't forgo your engagement, I
am not going to give you up—no, not for ten thousand roubles of
money. I tell you that in advance."

Here he broke off to run to the window and shout to his servant (who
was holding a knife in one hand and a crust of bread and a piece of
sturgeon in the other—he had contrived to filch the latter while
fumbling in the britchka for something else):

"Hi, Porphyri! Bring here that puppy, you rascal! What a puppy it is!
Unfortunately that thief of a landlord has given it nothing to eat,
even though I have promised him the roan filly which, as you may
remember, I swopped from Khvostirev." As a matter of act, Chichikov
had never in his life seen either Khvostirev or the roan filly.

"Barin, do you wish for anything to eat?" inquired the landlady as she
entered.

"No, nothing at all. Ah, friend Chichikov, what times we had! Yes,
give me a glass of vodka, old woman. What sort to you keep?"

"Aniseed."

"Then bring me a glass of it," repeated Nozdrev.

"And one for me as well," added the flaxen-haired man.

"At the theatre," went on Nozdrev, "there was an actress who sang like
a canary. Kuvshinnikov, who happened to be sitting with me, said: 'My
boy, you had better go and gather that strawberry.' As for the booths
at the fair, they numbered, I should say, fifty." At this point he
broke off to take the glass of vodka from the landlady, who bowed low
in acknowledgement of his doing so. At the same moment Porphyri—a
fellow dressed like his master (that is to say, in a greasy, wadded
overcoat)—entered with the puppy.

"Put the brute down here," commanded Nozdrev, "and then fasten it up."

Porphyri deposited the animal upon the floor; whereupon it proceeded
to act after the manner of dogs.

"THERE'S a puppy for you!" cried Nozdrev, catching hold of it by the
back, and lifting it up. The puppy uttered a piteous yelp.

"I can see that you haven't done what I told you to do," he continued
to Porphyri after an inspection of the animal's belly. "You have quite
forgotten to brush him."

"I DID brush him," protested Porphyri.

"Then where did these fleas come from?"

"I cannot think. Perhaps they have leapt into his coat out of the
britchka."

"You liar! As a matter of fact, you have forgotten to brush him.
Nevertheless, look at these ears, Chichikov. Just feel them."

"Why should I? Without doing that, I can see that he is well-bred."

"Nevertheless, catch hold of his ears and feel them."

To humour the fellow Chichikov did as he had requested, remarking:
"Yes, he seems likely to turn out well."

"And feel the coldness of his nose! Just take it in your hand."

Not wishing to offend his interlocutor, Chichikov felt the puppy's
nose, saying: "Some day he will have an excellent scent."

"Yes, will he not? 'Tis the right sort of muzzle for that. I must say
that I have long been wanting such a puppy. Porphyri, take him away
again."

Porphyri lifted up the puppy, and bore it downstairs.

"Look here, Chichikov," resumed Nozdrev. "You MUST come to my place.
It lies only five versts away, and we can go there like the wind, and
you can visit Sobakevitch afterwards."

"Shall I, or shall I not, go to Nozdrev's?" reflected Chichikov. "Is
he likely to prove any more useful than the rest? Well, at least he is
as promising, even though he has lost so much at play. But he has a
head on his shoulders, and therefore I must go carefully if I am to
tackle him concerning my scheme."

With that he added aloud: "Very well, I WILL come with you, but do
not let us be long, for my time is very precious."

"That's right, that's right!" cried Nozdrev. "Splendid, splendid! Let
me embrace you!" And he fell upon Chichikov's neck. "All three of us
will go."

"No, no," put in the flaxen-haired man. "You must excuse me, for I
must be off home."

"Rubbish, rubbish! I am NOT going to excuse you."

"But my wife will be furious with me. You and Monsieur Chichikov must
change into the other britchka."

"Come, come! The thing is not to be thought of."

The flaxen-haired man was one of those people in whose character, at
first sight, there seems to lurk a certain grain of stubbornness—so
much so that, almost before one has begun to speak, they are ready to
dispute one's words, and to disagree with anything that may be opposed
to their peculiar form of opinion. For instance, they will decline to
have folly called wisdom, or any tune danced to but their own. Always,
however, will there become manifest in their character a soft spot,
and in the end they will accept what hitherto they have denied, and
call what is foolish sensible, and even dance—yes, better than any
one else will do—to a tune set by some one else. In short, they
generally begin well, but always end badly.

"Rubbish!" said Nozdrev in answer to a further objection on his
brother-in-law's part. And, sure enough, no sooner had Nozdrev clapped
his cap upon his head than the flaxen-haired man started to follow him
and his companion.

"But the gentleman has not paid for the vodka?" put in the old woman.

"All right, all right, good mother. Look here, brother-in-law. Pay
her, will you, for I have not a kopeck left."