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Updated: May 16, 2025
Cheprakov, who bought it from the engineer after haggling him into a twenty-per-cent reduction in the price. Moissey walks about in a bowler hat; he often drives into town in a trap and stops outside the bank. People say he has already bought an estate on a mortgage, and is always inquiring at the bank about Dubechnia, which he also intends to buy.
When telegrams came through for him, he himself tapped out the answers, while we stood there stiff and silent. "What a mess!" he said, looking angrily through the accounts. "I shall transfer the office to the station in a fortnight and I don't know what I shall do with you then." "I've done my best, sir," said Cheprakov. "Quite so. I can see what your best is. You can only draw your wages."
The starving painters nearly came to blows with him, called him a swindler, a bloodsucker, a Judas, and he, poor man, sighed and in despair raised his hands to the heavens and was continually going to Mrs. Cheprakov to borrow money.
"Firstly because some of my men are working on the line, and secondly to pay interest to Mrs. Cheprakov. I borrowed fifty roubles from her last summer, and now I pay her one rouble a month." The decorator stopped and took hold of my coat. "Misail Alereich, my friend," he went on, "I take it that if a common man or a gentleman takes interest, he is a wrong-doer. The truth is not in him."
I had dinner with Mrs. Cheprakov. Meat was served very rarely; most of the dishes were made of milk, and on Wednesdays and Fridays we had Lenten fare, and the food was served in pink plates, which were called Lenten. Mrs. Cheprakov was always blinking the habit grew on her, and I felt awkward and embarrassed in her presence.
It seemed to me that we were all the same to her myself, Moissey, Cheprakov; all swept together into the drunken, wild scream of "murder" myself, our marriage, our work, and the muddy roads of autumn; and when she breathed or stirred to make herself more comfortable I could read in her eyes: "Oh, if the morning would come quicker!" In the morning she went away.
He fell down, then got up, and I struck him again. "He tried to kill me," he muttered. "I caught him creeping to his mother's drawer.... I tried to shut him up in the wing for safety." Cheprakov was drunk and did not recognise me. He stood gasping for breath as though trying to get enough wind to shriek again. I left them and went back to the house. My wife was lying on the bed, fully dressed.
I said to console myself, and from that time at school I was always known as "Little Profit," and even now, schoolboys and the townspeople sometimes use the name to tease me, though no one but myself remembers how it came about. Cheprakov never was strong. He was narrow-chested, round-shouldered, long-legged.
In short, Chichikov touched on every conceivable point. Their names, he ascertained, were Blochin, Potchitaev, Minoi, Cheprakov, and Sobakevitch.
For some reason or other he called all simple people Panteley, while he despised men like Cheprakov and myself, and called us drunkards, beasts, canaille. As a rule he was hard on petty officials, and paid and dismissed them ruthlessly without any explanation. At last the carriage came for him.
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