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That may be, they may stand aside, respectfully or no, but in my poor opinion the great writer ended his book in this way either in an access of childish and naïve optimism, or simply in fear of the censorship of the day. For if the troika were drawn by his heroes, Sobakevitch, Nozdryov, Tchitchikov, it could reach no rational goal, whoever might be driving it.

In the same way Sobakevitch said to him laconically: "And do you pay ME a visit," and then proceeded to shuffle a pair of boots of such dimensions that to find a pair to correspond with them would have been indeed difficult more especially at the present day, when the race of epic heroes is beginning to die out in Russia.

"Yes, but do you know what all the stuff is MADE OF?" retorted Sobakevitch. "If you DID know you would never touch it." "Of course I am not in a position to say how it is prepared, but at least the pork cutlets and the boiled fish seemed excellent." "Ah, it might have been thought so; yet I know the way in which such things are bought in the market-place.

"Why have you gone and purchased souls from Plushkin?" whispered Sobakevitch in Chichikov's other ear. "Why did YOU go and add the woman Vorobei to your list?" retorted Chichikov. "Vorobei? Who is Vorobei?" "The woman 'Elizabet' Vorobei 'Elizabet, not 'Elizabeta?" "I added no such name," replied Sobakevitch, and straightway joined the other guests.

Sobakevitch was just such a ragged, curiously put together figure though the above model would seem to have been followed more in his upper portion than in his lower. One result was that he seldom turned his head to look at the person with whom he was speaking, but, rather, directed his eyes towards, say, the stove corner or the doorway.

Should you not buy them, I think you will repent it." "Two roubles is my price," repeated Chichikov. "Come, come! As you have named that sum, I can understand your not liking to go back upon it; but quote me a bona fide figure." "The devil fly away with him!" mused Chichikov. "However, I will add another half-rouble." And he did so. "Indeed?" said Sobakevitch.

This functionary conducted Chichikov into the hall, where he was met by the master of the house himself, who requested his guest to enter, and then led him into the inner part of the mansion. A covert glance at Sobakevitch showed our hero that his host exactly resembled a moderate-sized bear.

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.

Nay, even Sobakevitch who as a rule never spoke well of ANY ONE said to his lanky wife when, on returning late from the town, he undressed and betook himself to bed by her side: "My dear, this evening, after dining with the Chief of Police, I went on to the Governor's, and met there, among others, a certain Paul Ivanovitch Chichikov, who is a Collegiate Councillor and a very pleasant fellow."

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?"