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Updated: June 29, 2025
The newcomer was a man of lofty stature, with a small red moustache and a lean, hard-bitten face whose redness made it evident that its acquaintance, if not with the smoke of gunpowder, at all events with that of tobacco, was intimate and extensive. Nevertheless he greeted Chichikov civilly, and the latter returned his bow.
One CAN'T help respecting a decent fellow. For instance, this gentleman of mine why, every one looks up to him, for he has been in the Government's service, and is a Collegiate Councillor." Thus soliloquising, he passed to more remote abstractions; until, had Chichikov been listening, he would have learnt a number of interesting details concerning himself.
Chichikov returned Vassili's scrutiny with a similar observance of the dictates of civility, and perceived that he was shorter than Platon, that his hair was of a darker shade, and that his features, though less handsome, contained far more life, animation, and kindliness than did his brother's. Clearly he indulged in less dreaming, though that was an aspect which Chichikov little regarded.
"I say this frankly, and not for the purpose of offending you, but simply to communicate to you my friendly opinion." "To everything there are limits," retorted Chichikov stiffly. "If you want to indulge in speeches of that sort you had better return to the barracks." However, after a pause he added: "If you do not care to give me the serfs, why not SELL them?" "SELL them? I know you, you rascal!
But no longer was he the old Chichikov he was only a ruin of what he had been, and his frame of mind might have been compared to a building recently pulled down to make room for a new one, while the new one had not yet been erected owing to the non-receipt of the plans from the architect. Murazov, too, had departed, but at an earlier hour, and in a tilt-waggon with Ivan Potapitch.
No, do not resist me, Chichikov, but allow me to imprint at least one baiser upon your lily-white cheek." And in his efforts to force upon Chichikov what he termed his "baisers" he came near to measuring his length upon the floor.
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.
"And the Vice-Governor, too he is a nice man, is he not?" inquired Manilov with renewed blinkings of the eyes. "Who? The Vice-Governor? Yes, a most worthy fellow!" replied Chichikov. "And what of the Chief of Police? Is it not a fact that he too is in the highest degree agreeable?" "Very agreeable indeed. And what a clever, well-read individual!
To this the lady replied that she had never so much as heard the name, since no gentleman of the name resided in the locality. "But at least you are acquainted with landowner Manilov?" continued Chichikov. "No. Who is he?" "Another landed proprietor, madam." "Well, neither have I heard of him. No such landowner lives hereabouts." "Then who ARE your local landowners?"
"Have you a sucking-pig?" Chichikov inquired of the landlady as she stood expectantly before him. "Yes." "And some horse-radish and sour cream?" "Yes." "Then serve them."
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