Dead Souls (6 page)

But let me confess that I always shrink from saying too much about
ladies. Moreover, it is time that we returned to our heroes, who,
during the past few minutes, have been standing in front of the
drawing-room door, and engaged in urging one another to enter first.

"Pray be so good as not to inconvenience yourself on my account," said
Chichikov. "
I
will follow YOU."

"No, Paul Ivanovitch—no! You are my guest." And Manilov pointed
towards the doorway.

"Make no difficulty about it, I pray," urged Chichikov. "I beg of you
to make no difficulty about it, but to pass into the room."

"Pardon me, I will not. Never could I allow so distinguished and so
welcome a guest as yourself to take second place."

"Why call me 'distinguished,' my dear sir? I beg of you to proceed."

"Nay; be YOU pleased to do so."

"And why?"

"For the reason which I have stated." And Manilov smiled his very
pleasantest smile.

Finally the pair entered simultaneously and sideways; with the result
that they jostled one another not a little in the process.

"Allow me to present to you my wife," continued Manilov. "My
dear—Paul Ivanovitch."

Upon that Chichikov caught sight of a lady whom hitherto he had
overlooked, but who, with Manilov, was now bowing to him in the
doorway. Not wholly of unpleasing exterior, she was dressed in a
well-fitting, high-necked morning dress of pale-coloured silk; and as
the visitor entered the room her small white hands threw something
upon the table and clutched her embroidered skirt before rising from
the sofa where she had been seated. Not without a sense of pleasure
did Chichikov take her hand as, lisping a little, she declared that
she and her husband were equally gratified by his coming, and that, of
late, not a day had passed without her husband recalling him to mind.

"Yes," affirmed Manilov; "and every day SHE has said to ME: 'Why
does not your friend put in an appearance?' 'Wait a little dearest,' I
have always replied. "Twill not be long now before he comes.' And you
HAVE come, you HAVE honoured us with a visit, you HAVE bestowed
upon us a treat—a treat destined to convert this day into a gala day,
a true birthday of the heart."

The intimation that matters had reached the point of the occasion
being destined to constitute a "true birthday of the heart" caused
Chichikov to become a little confused; wherefore he made modest reply
that, as a matter of fact, he was neither of distinguished origin nor
distinguished rank.

"Ah, you ARE so," interrupted Manilov with his fixed and engaging
smile. "You are all that, and more."

"How like you our town?" queried Madame. "Have you spent an agreeable
time in it?"

"Very," replied Chichikov. "The town is an exceedingly nice one, and I
have greatly enjoyed its hospitable society."

"And what do you think of our Governor?"

"Yes; IS he not a most engaging and dignified personage?" added Manilov.

"He is all that," assented Chichikov. "Indeed, he is a man worthy of
the greatest respect. And how thoroughly he performs his duty
according to his lights! Would that we had more like him!"

"And the tactfulness with which he greets every one!" added Manilov,
smiling, and half-closing his eyes, like a cat which is being tickled
behind the ears.

"Quite so," assented Chichikov. "He is a man of the most eminent
civility and approachableness. And what an artist! Never should I have
thought he could have worked the marvellous household samplers which
he has done! Some specimens of his needlework which he showed me could
not well have been surpassed by any lady in the land!"

"And the Vice-Governor, too—he is a nice man, is he not?" inquired
Manilov with renewed blinkings of the eyes.

"Who? The Vice-Governor? Yes, a most worthy fellow!" replied
Chichikov.

"And what of the Chief of Police? Is it not a fact that he too is in
the highest degree agreeable?"

"Very agreeable indeed. And what a clever, well-read individual! With
him and the Public Prosecutor and the President of the Local Council I
played whist until the cocks uttered their last morning crow. He is a
most excellent fellow."

"And what of his wife?" queried Madame Manilov. "Is she not a most
gracious personality?"

"One of the best among my limited acquaintance," agreed Chichikov.

Nor were the President of the Local Council and the Postmaster
overlooked; until the company had run through the whole list of urban
officials. And in every case those officials appeared to be persons of
the highest possible merit.

"Do you devote your time entirely to your estate?" asked Chichikov, in
his turn.

"Well, most of it," replied Manilov; "though also we pay occasional
visits to the town, in order that we may mingle with a little
well-bred society. One grows a trifle rusty if one lives for ever in
retirement."

"Quite so," agreed Chichikov.

"Yes, quite so," capped Manilov. "At the same time, it would be a
different matter if the neighbourhood were a GOOD one—if, for
example, one had a friend with whom one could discuss manners and
polite deportment, or engage in some branch of science, and so
stimulate one's wits. For that sort of thing gives one's intellect an
airing. It, it—" At a loss for further words, he ended by remarking
that his feelings were apt to carry him away; after which he continued
with a gesture: "What I mean is that, were that sort of thing
possible, I, for one, could find the country and an isolated life
possessed of great attractions. But, as matters stand, such a thing is
NOT possible. All that I can manage to do is, occasionally, to read
a little of A Son of the Fatherland."

With these sentiments Chichikov expressed entire agreement: adding
that nothing could be more delightful than to lead a solitary life in
which there should be comprised only the sweet contemplation of nature
and the intermittent perusal of a book.

"Nay, but even THAT were worth nothing had not one a friend with
whom to share one's life," remarked Manilov.

"True, true," agreed Chichikov. "Without a friend, what are all the
treasures in the world? 'Possess not money,' a wise man has said, 'but
rather good friends to whom to turn in case of need.'"

"Yes, Paul Ivanovitch," said Manilov with a glance not merely sweet,
but positively luscious—a glance akin to the mixture which even
clever physicians have to render palatable before they can induce a
hesitant patient to take it. "Consequently you may imagine what
happiness—what PERFECT happiness, so to speak—the present occasion
has brought me, seeing that I am permitted to converse with you and to
enjoy your conversation."

"But WHAT of my conversation?" replied Chichikov. "I am an
insignificant individual, and, beyond that, nothing."

"Oh, Paul Ivanovitch!" cried the other. "Permit me to be frank, and to
say that I would give half my property to possess even a PORTION of
the talents which you possess."

"On the contrary, I should consider it the highest honour in the world if—"

The lengths to which this mutual outpouring of soul would have
proceeded had not a servant entered to announce luncheon must remain a
mystery.

"I humbly invite you to join us at table," said Manilov. "Also, you
will pardon us for the fact that we cannot provide a banquet such as
is to be obtained in our metropolitan cities? We partake of simple
fare, according to Russian custom—we confine ourselves to shtchi
^[10]
,
but we do so with a single heart. Come, I humbly beg of you."

After another contest for the honour of yielding precedence, Chichikov
succeeded in making his way (in zigzag fashion) to the dining-room,
where they found awaiting them a couple of youngsters. These were
Manilov's sons, and boys of the age which admits of their presence at
table, but necessitates the continued use of high chairs. Beside them
was their tutor, who bowed politely and smiled; after which the
hostess took her seat before her soup plate, and the guest of honour
found himself esconsed between her and the master of the house, while
the servant tied up the boys' necks in bibs.

"What charming children!" said Chichikov as he gazed at the pair. "And
how old are they?"

"The eldest is eight," replied Manilov, "and the younger one attained
the age of six yesterday."

"Themistocleus," went on the father, turning to his first-born, who
was engaged in striving to free his chin from the bib with which the
footman had encircled it. On hearing this distinctly Greek name (to
which, for some unknown reason, Manilov always appended the
termination "eus"), Chichikov raised his eyebrows a little, but
hastened, the next moment, to restore his face to a more befitting
expression.

"Themistocleus," repeated the father, "tell me which is the finest
city in France."

Upon this the tutor concentrated his attention upon Themistocleus, and
appeared to be trying hard to catch his eye. Only when Themistocleus
had muttered "Paris" did the preceptor grow calmer, and nod his head.

"And which is the finest city in Russia?" continued Manilov.

Again the tutor's attitude became wholly one of concentration.

"St. Petersburg," replied Themistocleus.

"And what other city?"

"Moscow," responded the boy.

"Clever little dear!" burst out Chichikov, turning with an air of
surprise to the father. "Indeed, I feel bound to say that the child
evinces the greatest possible potentialities."

"You do not know him fully," replied the delighted Manilov. "The
amount of sharpness which he possesses is extraordinary. Our younger
one, Alkid, is not so quick; whereas his brother—well, no matter what
he may happen upon (whether upon a cowbug or upon a water-beetle or
upon anything else), his little eyes begin jumping out of his head,
and he runs to catch the thing, and to inspect it. For HIM I am
reserving a diplomatic post. Themistocleus," added the father, again
turning to his son, "do you wish to become an ambassador?"

"Yes, I do," replied Themistocleus, chewing a piece of bread and
wagging his head from side to side.

At this moment the lacquey who had been standing behind the future
ambassador wiped the latter's nose; and well it was that he did so,
since otherwise an inelegant and superfluous drop would have been
added to the soup. After that the conversation turned upon the joys of
a quiet life—though occasionally it was interrupted by remarks from
the hostess on the subject of acting and actors. Meanwhile the tutor
kept his eyes fixed upon the speakers' faces; and whenever he noticed
that they were on the point of laughing he at once opened his mouth,
and laughed with enthusiasm. Probably he was a man of grateful heart
who wished to repay his employers for the good treatment which he had
received. Once, however, his features assumed a look of grimness as,
fixing his eyes upon his vis-a-vis, the boys, he tapped sternly upon
the table. This happened at a juncture when Themistocleus had bitten
Alkid on the ear, and the said Alkid, with frowning eyes and open
mouth, was preparing himself to sob in piteous fashion; until,
recognising that for such a proceeding he might possibly be deprived
of his plate, he hastened to restore his mouth to its original
expression, and fell tearfully to gnawing a mutton bone—the grease
from which had soon covered his cheeks.

Every now and again the hostess would turn to Chichikov with the
words, "You are eating nothing—you have indeed taken little;" but
invariably her guest replied: "Thank you, I have had more than enough.
A pleasant conversation is worth all the dishes in the world."

At length the company rose from table. Manilov was in high spirits,
and, laying his hand upon his guest's shoulder, was on the point of
conducting him to the drawing-room, when suddenly Chichikov intimated
to him, with a meaning look, that he wished to speak to him on a very
important matter.

"That being so," said Manilov, "allow me to invite you into my study."
And he led the way to a small room which faced the blue of the forest.
"This is my sanctum," he added.

"What a pleasant apartment!" remarked Chichikov as he eyed it
carefully. And, indeed, the room did not lack a certain
attractiveness. The walls were painted a sort of blueish-grey colour,
and the furniture consisted of four chairs, a settee, and a table—the
latter of which bore a few sheets of writing-paper and the book of
which I have before had occasion to speak. But the most prominent
feature of the room was tobacco, which appeared in many different
guises—in packets, in a tobacco jar, and in a loose heap strewn about
the table. Likewise, both window sills were studded with little heaps
of ash, arranged, not without artifice, in rows of more or less
tidiness. Clearly smoking afforded the master of the house a frequent
means of passing the time.

"Permit me to offer you a seat on this settee," said Manilov. "Here
you will be quieter than you would be in the drawing-room."

"But I should prefer to sit upon this chair."

"I cannot allow that," objected the smiling Manilov. "The settee is
specially reserved for my guests. Whether you choose or no, upon it
you MUST sit."

Accordingly Chichikov obeyed.

"And also let me hand you a pipe."

"No, I never smoke," answered Chichikov civilly, and with an assumed
air of regret.

"And why?" inquired Manilov—equally civilly, but with a regret that
was wholly genuine.

"Because I fear that I have never quite formed the habit, owing to my
having heard that a pipe exercises a desiccating effect upon the
system."

"Then allow me to tell you that that is mere prejudice. Nay, I would
even go so far as to say that to smoke a pipe is a healthier practice
than to take snuff. Among its members our regiment numbered a
lieutenant—a most excellent, well-educated fellow—who was simply
INCAPABLE of removing his pipe from his mouth, whether at table or
(pardon me) in other places. He is now forty, yet no man could enjoy
better health than he has always done."