“In return,” said Chichikov, “would you mind doing me the following favour? I desire to mediate in the matter of your difference with the Brothers Platonov. I believe that you wish to acquire some additional land? Is not that so?”
Here there occurs a hiatus in the original.
Everything in life fulfils its function, and Chichikov’s tour in search of a fortune was carried out so successfully that not a little money passed into his pockets. The system employed was a good one: he did not steal, he merely used. And every one of us at times does the same: one man with regard to Government timber, and another with regard to a sum belonging to his employer, while a third defrauds his children for the sake of an actress, and a fourth robs his peasantry for the sake of smart furniture or a carriage. What can one do when one is surrounded on every side with roguery, and everywhere there are insanely expensive restaurants, masked balls, and dances to the music of gipsy bands? To abstain when every one else is indulging in these things, and fashion commands, is difficult indeed!
Chichikov was for setting forth again, but the roads had now got into a bad state, and, in addition, there was in preparation a second fair — one for the dvoriane only. The former fair had been held for the sale of horses, cattle, cheese, and other peasant produce, and the buyers had been merely cattle-jobbers and kulaks; but this time the function was to be one for the sale of manorial produce which had been bought up by wholesale dealers at Nizhni Novgorod, and then transferred hither. To the fair, of course, came those ravishers of the Russian purse who, in the shape of Frenchmen with pomades and Frenchwomen with hats, make away with money earned by blood and hard work, and, like the locusts of Egypt (to use Kostanzhoglo’s term) not only devour their prey, but also dig holes in the ground and leave behind their eggs.
Although, unfortunately, the occurrence of a bad harvest retained many landowners at their country houses, the local tchinovniks (whom the failure of the harvest did NOT touch) proceeded to let themselves go — as also, to their undoing, did their wives. The reading of books of the type diffused, in these modern days, for the inoculation of humanity with a craving for new and superior amenities of life had caused every one to conceive a passion for experimenting with the latest luxury; and to meet this want the French wine merchant opened a new establishment in the shape of a restaurant as had never before been heard of in the province — a restaurant where supper could be procured on credit as regarded one-half, and for an unprecedentedly low sum as regarded the other. This exactly suited both heads of boards and clerks who were living in hope of being able some day to resume their bribes-taking from suitors. There also developed a tendency to compete in the matter of horses and liveried flunkeys; with the result that despite the damp and snowy weather exceedingly elegant turnouts took to parading backwards and forwards. Whence these equipages had come God only knows, but at least they would not have disgraced St. Petersburg. From within them merchants and attorneys doffed their caps to ladies, and inquired after their health, and likewise it became a rare sight to see a bearded man in a rough fur cap, since every one now went about clean-shaven and with dirty teeth, after the European fashion.
“Sir, I beg of you to inspect my goods,” said a tradesman as Chichikov was passing his establishment. “Within my doors you will find a large variety of clothing.”
“Have you a cloth of bilberry-coloured check?” inquired the person addressed.
“I have cloths of the finest kind,” replied the tradesman, raising his cap with one hand, and pointing to his shop with the other. Chichikov entered, and in a trice the proprietor had dived beneath the counter, and appeared on the other side of it, with his back to his wares and his face towards the customer. Leaning forward on the tips of his fingers, and indicating his merchandise with just the suspicion of a nod, he requested the gentleman to specify exactly the species of cloth which he required.
“A cloth with an olive-coloured or a bottle-tinted spot in its pattern — anything in the nature of bilberry,” explained Chichikov.
“That being so, sir, I may say that I am about to show you clothes of a quality which even our illustrious capitals could not surpass. Hi, boy! Reach down that roll up there — number 34. No, NOT that one, fool! Such fellows as you are always too good for your job. There — hand it to me. This is indeed a nice pattern!”
Unfolding the garment, the tradesman thrust it close to Chichikov’s nose in order that he might not only handle, but also smell it.
“Excellent, but not what I want,” pronounced Chichikov. “Formerly I was in the Custom’s Department, and therefore wear none but cloth of the latest make. What I want is of a ruddier pattern than this — not exactly a bottle-tinted pattern, but something approaching bilberry.”
“I understand, sir. Of course you require only the very newest thing. A cloth of that kind I DO possess, sir, and though excessive in price, it is of a quality to match.”
Carrying the roll of stuff to the light — even stepping into the street for the purpose — the shopman unfolded his prize with the words, “A truly beautiful shade! A cloth of smoked grey, shot with flame colour!”
The material met with the customer’s approval, a price was agreed upon, and with incredible celerity the vendor made up the purchase into a brown-paper parcel, and stowed it away in Chichikov’s koliaska.
At this moment a voice asked to be shown a black frockcoat.
“The devil take me if it isn’t Khlobuev!” muttered our hero, turning his back upon the newcomer. Unfortunately the other had seen him.
“Come, come, Paul Ivanovitch!” he expostulated. “Surely you do not intend to overlook me? I have been searching for you everywhere, for I have something important to say to you.”
“My dear sir, my very dear sir,” said Chichikov as he pressed Khlobuev’s hand, “I can assure you that, had I the necessary leisure, I should at all times be charmed to converse with you.” And mentally he added: “Would that the Evil One would fly away with you!”
Almost at the same time Murazov, the great landowner, entered the shop. As he did so our hero hastened to exclaim: “Why, it is Athanasi Vassilievitch! How ARE you, my very dear sir?”
“Well enough,” replied Murazov, removing his cap (Khlobuev and the shopman had already done the same). “How, may I ask, are YOU?”
“But poorly,” replied Chichikov, “for of late I have been troubled with indigestion, and my sleep is bad. I do not get sufficient exercise.”
However, instead of probing deeper into the subject of Chichikov’s ailments, Murazov turned to Khlobuev.
“I saw you enter the shop,” he said, “and therefore followed you, for I have something important for your ear. Could you spare me a minute or two?”
“Certainly, certainly,” said Khlobuev, and the pair left the shop together.
“I wonder what is afoot between them,” said Chichikov to himself.
“A wise and noble gentleman, Athanasi Vassilievitch!” remarked the tradesman. Chichikov made no reply save a gesture.
“Paul Ivanovitch, I have been looking for you everywhere,” Lienitsin’s voice said from behind him, while again the tradesman hastened to remove his cap. “Pray come home with me, for I have something to say to you.”
Chichikov scanned the speaker’s face, but could make nothing of it. Paying the tradesman for the cloth, he left the shop.
Meanwhile Murazov had conveyed Khlobuev to his rooms.
“Tell me,” he said to his guest, “exactly how your affairs stand. I take it that, after all, your aunt left you something?”
“It would be difficult to say whether or not my affairs are improved,” replied Khlobuev. “True, fifty souls and thirty thousand roubles came to me from Madame Khanasarova, but I had to pay them away to satisfy my debts. Consequently I am