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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.
To those who have spent their youth in dissipation such havens say what the ant said to the dragonfly namely, 'Go you away, and return to your dancing. Yes, even in a monastery do folk toil and toil they do not sit playing whist." Murazov looked at Khlobuev, and added: "Semen Semenovitch, you are deceiving both yourself and me."
"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.
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.
Seizing the old man's hand, he kissed it and pressed it to his bosom. Then, bursting into tears, he added: "God Himself will reward you for having come to visit an unfortunate wretch!" Murazov looked at him sorrowfully, and said no more than "Ah, Paul Ivanovitch, Paul Ivanovitch! What has happened?" "What has happened?" cried Chichikov. "I have been ruined by an accursed woman.
Also, tell him that it is only owing to your efforts that he has received a pardon at my hands." Murazov bowed, and proceeded from the Prince's presence to that of Chichikov. He found the prisoner cheerfully enjoying a hearty dinner which, under hot covers, had been brought him from an exceedingly excellent kitchen.
"Who may he be?" asked Chichikov in astonishment. "Murazov, our local Commissioner of Taxes." "Ah! I have heard of him before," remarked Chichikov. "He is a man who, were he not the director of an estate, might well be a director of the Empire. And were the Empire under my direction, I should at once appoint him my Minister of Finance."
"I feel that the scheme is a splendid one, and would gladly bear my part in it were it not likely to exceed my strength." "What is there that does NOT exceed your strength?" said Murazov. "Nothing is wholly proportionate to it everything surpasses it. Help from above is necessary: otherwise we are all powerless. Strength comes of prayer, and of prayer alone.
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?" "How, may I ask, are YOU?" "But poorly," replied Chichikov, "for of late I have been troubled with indigestion, and my sleep is bad.
"Your Highness," said Murazov, "the Governor of the town is one of the heirs under the will: wherefore he has a certain right to intervene. Also, the fact that extraneous persons have meddled in the matter is only what is to be expected from human nature. A rich woman dies, and no exact, regular disposition of her property is made.
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