Indeed, he went to his writing-desk then and there, and started to indite a list which gave not only the peasants' names, but also their late qualifications.
Meanwhile Chichikov, having nothing else to do, stood looking at the spacious form of his host; and as he gazed at his back as broad as that of a cart horse, and at the legs as massive as the iron standards which adorn a street, he could not help inwardly ejaculating:
"Truly God has endowed you with much! Though not adjusted with nicety, at least you are strongly built. I wonder whether you were born a bear or whether you have come to it through your rustic life, with its tilling of crops and its trading with peasants? Yet no; I believe that, even if you had received a fashionable education, and had mixed with society, and had lived in St. Petersburg, you would still have been just the kulak[5] that you are. The only difference is that circumstances, as they stand, permit of your polishing off a stuffed shoulder of mutton at a meal; whereas in St. Petersburg you would have been unable to do so. Also, as circumstances stand, you have under you a number of peasants, whom you treat well for the reason that they are your property; whereas, otherwise, you would have had under you tchinovniks[6]: whom you would have bullied because they were NOTyour property. Also, you would have robbed the Treasury, since a kulak always remains a money-grubber."[5] Village factor or usurer.
[6] Subordinate government officials.
"The list is ready," said Sobakevitch, turning round.
"Indeed? Then please let me look at it." Chichikov ran his eye over the document, and could not but marvel at its neatness and accuracy.
Not only were there set forth in it the trade, the age, and the pedigree of every serf, but on the margin of the sheet were jotted remarks concerning each serf's conduct and sobriety. Truly it was a pleasure to look at it.
"And do you mind handing me the earnest money?" said Sobakevitch?
"Yes, I do. Why need that be done? You can receive the money in a lump sum as soon as we visit the town.""But it is always the custom, you know," asserted Sobakevitch.
"Then I cannot follow it, for I have no money with me. However, here are ten roubles.""Ten roubles, indeed? You might as well hand me fifty while you are about it."Once more Chichikov started to deny that he had any money upon him, but Sobakevitch insisted so strongly that this was not so that at length the guest pulled out another fifteen roubles, and added them to the ten already produced.
"Kindly give me a receipt for the money," he added.
"A receipt? Why should I give you a receipt?""Because it is better to do so, in order to guard against mistakes.""Very well; but first hand me over the money.""The money? I have it here. Do you write out the receipt, and then the money shall be yours.""Pardon me, but how am I to write out the receipt before I have seen the cash?"Chichikov placed the notes in Sobakevitch's hand; whereupon the host moved nearer to the table, and added to the list of serfs a note that he had received for the peasants, therewith sold, the sum of twenty-five roubles, as earnest money. This done, he counted the notes once more.
"This is a very OLD note," he remarked, holding one up to the light.
"Also, it is a trifle torn. However, in a friendly transaction one must not be too particular.""What a kulak!" thought Chichikov to himself. "And what a brute beast!""Then you do not want any WOMEN souls?" queried Sobakevitch.
"I thank you, no."
"I could let you have some cheap--say, as between friends, at a rouble a head?""No, I should have no use for them."
"Then, that being so, there is no more to be said. There is no accounting for tastes. 'One man loves the priest, and another the priest's wife,' says the proverb."Chichikov rose to take his leave. "Once more I would request of you,"he said, "that the bargain be left as it is.""Of course, of course. What is done between friends holds good because of their mutual friendship. Good-bye, and thank you for your visit. In advance I would beg that, whenever you should have an hour or two to spare, you will come and lunch with us again. Perhaps we might be able to do one another further service?""Not if I know it!" reflected Chichikov as he mounted his britchka.
"Not I, seeing that I have had two and a half roubles per soul squeezed out of me by a brute of a kulak!"Altogether he felt dissatisfied with Sobakevitch's behaviour. In spite of the man being a friend of the Governor and the Chief of Police, he had acted like an outsider in taking money for what was worthless rubbish. As the britchka left the courtyard Chichikov glanced back and saw Sobakevitch still standing on the verandah--apparently for the purpose of watching to see which way the guest's carriage would turn.
"The old villain, to be still standing there!" muttered Chichikov through his teeth; after which he ordered Selifan to proceed so that the vehicle's progress should be invisible from the mansion--the truth being that he had a mind next to visit Plushkin (whose serfs, to quote Sobakevitch, had a habit of dying like flies), but not to let his late host learn of his intention. Accordingly, on reaching the further end of the village, he hailed the first peasant whom he saw--a man who was in the act of hoisting a ponderous beam on to his shoulder before setting off with it, ant-like, to his hut.
"Hi!" shouted Chichikov. "How can I reach landowner Plushkin's place without first going past the mansion here?"The peasant seemed nonplussed by the question.
"Don't you know?" queried Chichikov.
"No, barin," replied the peasant.
"What? You don't know skinflint Plushkin who feeds his people so badly?""Of course I do!" exclaimed the fellow, and added thereto an uncomplimentary expression of a species not ordinarily employed in polite society. We may guess that it was a pretty apt expression, since long after the man had become lost to view Chichikov was still laughing in his britchka. And, indeed, the language of the Russian populace is always forcible in its phraseology.
