"To tell you the truth, I do not know your name.""That you should be unacquainted with the name of one who has never distinguished himself in the manner of which you yourself can boast is scarcely to be wondered at." And Chichikov executed one of his sidelong, deferential bows.
"Well, I should be delighted to know it."
"It is Paul Ivanovitch Chichikov, your Excellency." With that went the easy bow of a military man and the agile backward movement of an india-rubber ball.
"Ulinka, this is Paul Ivanovitch," said the General, turning to his daughter. "He has just told me some interesting news--namely, that our neighbour Tientietnikov is not altogether the fool we had at first thought him. On the contrary, he is engaged upon a very important work--upon a history of the Russian Generals of 1812.""But who ever supposed him to be a fool?" asked the girl quickly.
"What happened was that you took Vishnepokromov's word--the word of a man who is himself both a fool and a good-for-nothing.""Well, well," said the father after further good-natured dispute on the subject of Vishnepokromov. "Do you now run away, for I wish to dress for luncheon. And you, sir," he added to Chichikov, "will you not join us at table?"Chichikov bowed so low and so long that, by the time that his eyes had ceased to see nothing but his own boots, the General's daughter had disappeared, and in her place was standing a bewhiskered butler, armed with a silver soap-dish and a hand-basin.
"Do you mind if I wash in your presence?" asked the host.
"By no means," replied Chichikov. "Pray do whatsoever you please in that respect."Upon that the General fell to scrubbing himself--incidentally, to sending soapsuds flying in every direction. Meanwhile he seemed so favourably disposed that Chichikov decided to sound him then and there, more especially since the butler had left the room.
"May I put to you a problem?" he asked.
"Certainly," replied the General. "What is it?""It is this, your Excellency. I have a decrepit old uncle who owns three hundred souls and two thousand roubles-worth of other property.
Also, except for myself, he possesses not a single heir. Now, although his infirm state of health will not permit of his managing his property in person, he will not allow me either to manage it. And the reason for his conduct--his very strange conduct--he states as follows: 'I do not know my nephew, and very likely he is a spendthrift. If he wishes to show me that he is good for anything, let him go and acquire as many souls as _I_ have acquired; and when he has done that I will transfer to him my three hundred souls as well.""The man must be an absolute fool," commented the General.
"Possibly. And were that all, things would not be as bad as they are.
But, unfortunately, my uncle has gone and taken up with his housekeeper, and has had children by her. Consequently, everything will now pass to THEM.""The old man must have taken leave of his senses," remarked the General. "Yet how _I_ can help you I fail to see.""Well, I have thought of a plan. If you will hand me over all the dead souls on your estate--hand them over to me exactly as though they were still alive, and were purchasable property--I will offer them to the old man, and then he will leave me his fortune."At this point the General burst into a roar of laughter such as few can ever have heard. Half-dressed, he subsided into a chair, threw back his head, and guffawed until he came near to choking. In fact, the house shook with his merriment, so much so that the butler and his daughter came running into the room in alarm.
It was long before he could produce a single articulate word; and even when he did so (to reassure his daughter and the butler) he kept momentarily relapsing into spluttering chuckles which made the house ring and ring again.
Chichikov was greatly taken aback.
"Oh, that uncle!" bellowed the General in paroxysms of mirth. "Oh, that blessed uncle! WHAT a fool he'll look! Ha, ha, ha! Dead souls offered him instead of live ones! Oh, my goodness!""I suppose I've put my foot in it again," ruefully reflected Chichikov. "But, good Lord, what a man the fellow is to laugh! Heaven send that he doesn't burst of it!""Ha, ha, ha!" broke out the General afresh. "WHAT a donkey the old man must be! To think of his saying to you: 'You go and fit yourself out with three hundred souls, and I'll cap them with my own lot'! My word! What a jackass!""A jackass, your Excellency?"
"Yes, indeed! And to think of the jest of putting him off with dead souls! Ha, ha, ha! WHAT wouldn't I give to see you handing him the title deeds? Who is he? What is he like? Is he very old?""He is eighty, your Excellency."
"But still brisk and able to move about, eh? Surely he must be pretty strong to go on living with his housekeeper like that?""Yes. But what does such strength mean? Sand runs away, your Excellency.""The old fool! But is he really such a fool?""Yes, your Excellency."
"And does he go out at all? Does he see company? Can he still hold himself upright?""Yes, but with great difficulty."
"And has he any teeth left?"
"No more than two at the most."
"The old jackass! Don't be angry with me, but I must say that, though your uncle, he is also a jackass.""Quite so, your Excellency. And though it grieves ME to have to confess that he is my uncle, what am I to do with him?"Yet this was not altogether the truth. What would have been a far harder thing for Chichikov to have confessed was the fact that he possessed no uncles at all.
"I beg of you, your Excellency," he went on, "to hand me over those, those--""Those dead souls, eh? Why, in return for the jest I will give you some land as well. Yes, you can take the whole graveyard if you like.
Ha, ha, ha! The old man! Ha, ha, ha! WHAT a fool he'll look! Ha, ha, ha!"And once more the General's guffaws went ringing through the house.
