Dead Souls (43 page)

"It has been rather too much of a good thing," remarked Chichikov as
the vehicle issued from the courtyard.

"Yes, and it vexes me to see the fellow never tire of it," replied
Platon.

"Ah," thought Chichikov to himself, "if
I
had an income of seventy
thousand roubles, as you have, I'd very soon give tiredness one in the
eye! Take Murazov, the tax-farmer—he, again, must be worth ten
millions. What a fortune!"

"Do you mind where we drive?" asked Platon. "I should like first to go
and take leave of my sister and my brother-in-law."

"With pleasure," said Chichikov.

"My brother-in-law is the leading landowner hereabouts. At the present
moment he is drawing an income of two hundred thousand roubles from a
property which, eight years ago, was producing a bare twenty
thousand."

"Truly a man worthy of the utmost respect! I shall be most interested
to make his acquaintance. To think of it! And what may his family name
be?"

"Kostanzhoglo."

"And his Christian name and patronymic?"

"Constantine Thedorovitch."

"Constantine Thedorovitch Kostanzhoglo. Yes, it will be a most
interesting event to make his acquaintance. To know such a man must be
a whole education."

Here Platon set himself to give Selifan some directions as to the way,
a necessary proceeding in view of the fact that Selifan could hardly
maintain his seat on the box. Twice Petrushka, too, had fallen
headlong, and this necessitated being tied to his perch with a piece
of rope. "What a clown!" had been Chichikov's only comment.

"This is where my brother-in-law's land begins," said Platon.

"They give one a change of view."

And, indeed, from this point the countryside became planted with
timber; the rows of trees running as straight as pistol-shots, and
having beyond them, and on higher ground, a second expanse of forest,
newly planted like the first; while beyond it, again, loomed a third
plantation of older trees. Next there succeeded a flat piece of the
same nature.

"All this timber," said Platon, "has grown up within eight or ten
years at the most; whereas on another man's land it would have taken
twenty to attain the same growth."

"And how has your brother-in-law effected this?"

"You must ask him yourself. He is so excellent a husbandman that
nothing ever fails with him. You see, he knows the soil, and also
knows what ought to be planted beside what, and what kinds of timber
are the best neighbourhood for grain. Again, everything on his estate
is made to perform at least three or four different functions. For
instance, he makes his timber not only serve as timber, but also serve
as a provider of moisture and shade to a given stretch of land, and
then as a fertiliser with its fallen leaves. Consequently, when
everywhere else there is drought, he still has water, and when
everywhere else there has been a failure of the harvest, on his lands
it will have proved a success. But it is a pity that I know so little
about it all as to be unable to explain to you his many expedients.
Folk call him a wizard, for he produces so much. Nevertheless,
personally I find what he does uninteresting."

"Truly an astonishing fellow!" reflected Chichikov with a glance at
his companion. "It is sad indeed to see a man so superficial as to be
unable to explain matters of this kind."

At length the manor appeared in sight—an establishment looking almost
like a town, so numerous were the huts where they stood arranged in
three tiers, crowned with three churches, and surrounded with huge
ricks and barns. "Yes," thought Chichikov to himself, "one can see
what a jewel of a landowner lives here." The huts in question were
stoutly built and the intervening alleys well laid-out; while,
wherever a waggon was visible, it looked serviceable and more or less
new. Also, the local peasants bore an intelligent look on their faces,
the cattle were of the best possible breed, and even the peasants'
pigs belonged to the porcine aristocracy. Clearly there dwelt here
peasants who, to quote the song, were accustomed to "pick up silver by
the shovelful." Nor were Englishified gardens and parterres and other
conceits in evidence, but, on the contrary, there ran an open view
from the manor house to the farm buildings and the workmen's cots, so
that, after the old Russian fashion, the barin should be able to keep
an eye upon all that was going on around him. For the same purpose,
the mansion was topped with a tall lantern and a superstructure—a
device designed, not for ornament, nor for a vantage-spot for the
contemplation of the view, but for supervision of the labourers
engaged in distant fields. Lastly, the brisk, active servants who
received the visitors on the verandah were very different menials from
the drunken Petrushka, even though they did not wear swallow-tailed
coats, but only Cossack tchekmenu
^[47]
of blue homespun cloth.

The lady of the house also issued on to the verandah. With her face of
the freshness of "blood and milk" and the brightness of God's
daylight, she as nearly resembled Platon as one pea resembles another,
save that, whereas he was languid, she was cheerful and full of talk.

"Good day, brother!" she cried. "How glad I am to see you! Constantine
is not at home, but will be back presently."

"Where is he?"

"Doing business in the village with a party of factors," replied the
lady as she conducted her guests to the drawing-room.

With no little curiosity did Chichikov gaze at the interior of the
mansion inhabited by the man who received an annual income of two
hundred thousand roubles; for he thought to discern therefrom the
nature of its proprietor, even as from a shell one may deduce the
species of oyster or snail which has been its tenant, and has left
therein its impression. But no such conclusions were to be drawn. The
rooms were simple, and even bare. Not a fresco nor a picture nor a
bronze nor a flower nor a china what-not nor a book was there to be
seen. In short, everything appeared to show that the proprietor of
this abode spent the greater part of his time, not between four walls,
but in the field, and that he thought out his plans, not in sybaritic
fashion by the fireside, nor in an easy chair beside the stove, but on
the spot where work was actually in progress—that, in a word, where
those plans were conceived, there they were put into execution. Nor in
these rooms could Chichikov detect the least trace of a feminine hand,
beyond the fact that certain tables and chairs bore drying-boards
whereon were arranged some sprinklings of flower petals.

"What is all this rubbish for?" asked Platon.

"It is not rubbish," replied the lady of the house. "On the contrary,
it is the best possible remedy for fever. Last year we cured every one
of our sick peasants with it. Some of the petals I am going to make
into an ointment, and some into an infusion. You may laugh as much as
you like at my potting and preserving, yet you yourself will be glad
of things of the kind when you set out on your travels."

Platon moved to the piano, and began to pick out a note or two.

"Good Lord, what an ancient instrument!" he exclaimed. "Are you not
ashamed of it, sister?"

"Well, the truth is that I get no time to practice my music. You see,"
she added to Chichikov, "I have an eight-year-old daughter to educate;
and to hand her over to a foreign governess in order that I may have
leisure for my own piano-playing—well, that is a thing which I could
never bring myself to do."

"You have become a wearisome sort of person," commented Platon, and
walked away to the window. "Ah, here comes Constantine," presently he
added.

Chichikov also glanced out of the window, and saw approaching the
verandah a brisk, swarthy-complexioned man of about forty, a man clad
in a rough cloth jacket and a velveteen cap. Evidently he was one of
those who care little for the niceties of dress. With him, bareheaded,
there came a couple of men of a somewhat lower station in life, and
all three were engaged in an animated discussion. One of the barin's
two companions was a plain peasant, and the other (clad in a blue
Siberian smock) a travelling factor. The fact that the party halted
awhile by the entrance steps made it possible to overhear a portion of
their conversation from within.

"This is what you peasants had better do," the barin was saying.
"Purchase your release from your present master. I will lend you the
necessary money, and afterwards you can work for me."

"No, Constantine Thedorovitch," replied the peasant. "Why should we do
that? Remove us just as we are. You will know how to arrange it, for a
cleverer gentleman than you is nowhere to be found. The misfortune of
us muzhiks is that we cannot protect ourselves properly. The
tavern-keepers sell us such liquor that, before a man knows where he
is, a glassful of it has eaten a hole through his stomach, and made
him feel as though he could drink a pail of water. Yes, it knocks a
man over before he can look around. Everywhere temptation lies in wait
for the peasant, and he needs to be cunning if he is to get through
the world at all. In fact, things seem to be contrived for nothing but
to make us peasants lose our wits, even to the tobacco which they sell
us. What are folk like ourselves to do, Constantine Thedorovitch? I
tell you it is terribly difficult for a muzhik to look after himself."

"Listen to me. This is how things are done here. When I take on a
serf, I fit him out with a cow and a horse. On the other hand, I
demand of him thereafter more than is demanded of a peasant anywhere
else. That is to say, first and foremost I make him work. Whether a
peasant be working for himself or for me, never do I let him waste
time. I myself toil like a bullock, and I force my peasants to do the
same, for experience has taught me that that is the only way to get
through life. All the mischief in the world comes through lack of
employment. Now, do you go and consider the matter, and talk it over
with your mir
^[48]
."

"We have done that already, Constantine Thedorovitch, and our elders'
opinion is: 'There is no need for further talk. Every peasant
belonging to Constantine Thedorovitch is well off, and hasn't to work
for nothing. The priests of his village, too, are men of good heart,
whereas ours have been taken away, and there is no one to bury us.'"

"Nevertheless, do you go and talk the matter over again."

"We will, barin."

Here the factor who had been walking on the barin's other side put in
a word.

"Constantine Thedorovitch," he said, "I beg of you to do as I have
requested."

"I have told you before," replied the barin, "that I do not care to
play the huckster. I am not one of those landowners whom fellows of
your sort visit on the very day that the interest on a mortgage is
due. Ah, I know your fraternity thoroughly, and know that you keep
lists of all who have mortgages to repay. But what is there so clever
about that? Any man, if you pinch him sufficiently, will surrender you
a mortgage at half-price,—any man, that is to say, except myself, who
care nothing for your money. Were a loan of mine to remain out three
years, I should never demand a kopeck of interest on it."

"Quite so, Constantine Thedorovitch," replied the factor. "But I am
asking this of you more for the purpose of establishing us on a
business footing than because I desire to win your favour. Prey,
therefore, accept this earnest money of three thousand roubles." And
the man drew from his breast pocket a dirty roll of bank-notes, which,
carelessly receiving, Kostanzhoglo thrust, uncounted, into the back
pocket of his overcoat.

"Hm!" thought Chichikov. "For all he cares, the notes might have been
a handkerchief."

When Kostanzhoglo appeared at closer quarters—that is to say, in the
doorway of the drawing-room—he struck Chichikov more than ever with
the swarthiness of his complexion, the dishevelment of his black,
slightly grizzled locks, the alertness of his eye, and the impression
of fiery southern origin which his whole personality diffused. For he
was not wholly a Russian, nor could he himself say precisely who his
forefathers had been. Yet, inasmuch as he accounted genealogical
research no part of the science of estate-management, but a mere
superfluity, he looked upon himself as, to all intents and purposes, a
native of Russia, and the more so since the Russian language was the
only tongue he knew.

Platon presented Chichikov, and the pair exchanged greetings.

"To get rid of my depression, Constantine," continued Platon, "I am
thinking of accompanying our guest on a tour through a few of the
provinces."

"An excellent idea," said Kostanzhoglo. "But precisely whither?" he
added, turning hospitably to Chichikov.

"To tell you the truth," replied that personage with an affable
inclination of the head as he smoothed the arm of his chair with his
hand, "I am travelling less on my own affairs than on the affairs of
others. That is to say, General Betristchev, an intimate friend, and,
I might add, a generous benefactor, of mine, has charged me with
commissions to some of his relatives. Nevertheless, though relatives
are relatives, I may say that I am travelling on my own account as
well, in that, in addition to possible benefit to my health, I desire
to see the world and the whirligig of humanity, which constitute, so
to speak, a living book, a second course of education."

"Yes, there is no harm in looking at other corners of the world
besides one's own."

"You speak truly. There IS no harm in such a proceeding. Thereby one
may see things which one has not before encountered, one may meet men
with whom one has not before come in contact. And with some men of
that kind a conversation is as precious a benefit as has been
conferred upon me by the present occasion. I come to you, most worthy
Constantine Thedorovitch, for instruction, and again for instruction,
and beg of you to assuage my thirst with an exposition of the truth as
it is. I hunger for the favour of your words as for manna."