Dead Souls (40 page)

Once, as he sat tapping his silver snuff-box after luncheon, Chichikov
remarked:

"One thing you lack, and only one, Andrei Ivanovitch."

"What is that?" asked his host.

"A female friend or two," replied Chichikov.

Tientietnikov made no rejoinder, and the conversation came temporarily
to an end.

But Chichikov was not to be discouraged; wherefore, while waiting for
supper and talking on different subjects, he seized an opportunity to
interject:

"Do you know, it would do you no harm to marry."

As before, Tientietnikov did not reply, and the renewed mention of the
subject seemed to have annoyed him.

For the third time—it was after supper—Chichikov returned to the
charge by remarking:

"To-day, as I was walking round your property, I could not help
thinking that marriage would do you a great deal of good. Otherwise
you will develop into a hypochondriac."

Whether Chichikov's words now voiced sufficiently the note of
persuasion, or whether Tientietnikov happened, at the moment, to be
unusually disposed to frankness, at all events the young landowner
sighed, and then responded as he expelled a puff of tobacco smoke:

"To attain anything, Paul Ivanovitch, one needs to have been born
under a lucky star."

And he related to his guest the whole history of his acquaintanceship
and subsequent rupture with the General.

As Chichikov listened to the recital, and gradually realised that the
affair had arisen merely out of a chance word on the General's part,
he was astounded beyond measure, and gazed at Tientietnikov without
knowing what to make of him.

"Andrei Ivanovitch," he said at length, "what was there to take
offence at?"

"Nothing, as regards the actual words spoken," replied the other. "The
offence lay, rather, in the insult conveyed in the General's tone."
Tientietnikov was a kindly and peaceable man, yet his eyes flashed as
he said this, and his voice vibrated with wounded feeling.

"Yet, even then, need you have taken it so much amiss?"

"What? Could I have gone on visiting him as before?"

"Certainly. No great harm had been done?"

"I disagree with you. Had he been an old man in a humble station of
life, instead of a proud and swaggering officer, I should not have
minded so much. But, as it was, I could not, and would not, brook his
words."

"A curious fellow, this Tientietnikov!" thought Chichikov to himself.

"A curious fellow, this Chichikov!" was Tientietnikov's inward
reflection.

"I tell you what," resumed Chichikov. "To-morrow I myself will go and
see the General."

"To what purpose?" asked Tientietnikov, with astonishment and distrust
in his eyes.

"To offer him an assurance of my personal respect."

"A strange fellow, this Chichikov!" reflected Tientietnikov.

"A strange fellow, this Tientietnikov!" thought Chichikov, and then
added aloud: "Yes, I will go and see him at ten o'clock to-morrow; but
since my britchka is not yet altogether in travelling order, would you
be so good as to lend me your koliaska for the purpose?"

Tientietnikov's good horses covered the ten versts to the General's
house in a little over half an hour. Descending from the koliaska with
features attuned to deference, Chichikov inquired for the master of
the house, and was at once ushered into his presence. Bowing with head
held respectfully on one side and hands extended like those of a
waiter carrying a trayful of teacups, the visitor inclined his whole
body forward, and said:

"I have deemed it my duty to present myself to your Excellency. I have
deemed it my duty because in my heart I cherish a most profound
respect for the valiant men who, on the field of battle, have proved
the saviours of their country."

That this preliminary attack did not wholly displease the General was
proved by the fact that, responding with a gracious inclination of the
head, he replied:

"I am glad to make your acquaintance. Pray be so good as to take a
seat. In what capacity or capacities have you yourself seen service?"

"Of my service," said Chichikov, depositing his form, not exactly in
the centre of the chair, but rather on one side of it, and resting a
hand upon one of its arms, "—of my service the scene was laid, in the
first instance, in the Treasury; while its further course bore me
successively into the employ of the Public Buildings Commission, of
the Customs Board, and of other Government Offices. But, throughout,
my life has resembled a barque tossed on the crests of perfidious
billows. In suffering I have been swathed and wrapped until I have
come to be, as it were, suffering personified; while of the extent to
which my life has been sought by foes, no words, no colouring, no (if
I may so express it?) painter's brush could ever convey to you an
adequate idea. And now, at length, in my declining years, I am seeking
a corner in which to eke out the remainder of my miserable existence,
while at the present moment I am enjoying the hospitality of a
neighbour of your acquaintance."

"And who is that?"

"Your neighbour Tientietnikov, your Excellency."

Upon that the General frowned.

"Led me add," put in Chichikov hastily, "that he greatly regrets that
on a former occasion he should have failed to show a proper respect
for—for—"

"For what?" asked the General.

"For the services to the public which your Excellency has rendered.
Indeed, he cannot find words to express his sorrow, but keeps
repeating to himself: 'Would that I had valued at their true worth the
men who have saved our fatherland!'"

"And why should he say that?" asked the mollified General. "I bear him
no grudge. In fact, I have never cherished aught but a sincere liking
for him, a sincere esteem, and do not doubt but that, in time, he may
become a useful member of society."

"In the words which you have been good enough to utter," said
Chichikov with a bow, "there is embodied much justice. Yes,
Tientietnikov is in very truth a man of worth. Not only does he
possess the gift of eloquence, but also he is a master of the pen."

"Ah, yes; he DOES write rubbish of some sort, doesn't he? Verses, or
something of the kind?"

"Not rubbish, your Excellency, but practical stuff. In short, he is
inditing a history."

"A HISTORY? But a history of what?"

"A history of, of—" For a moment or two Chichikov hesitated. Then,
whether because it was a General that was seated in front of him, or
because he desired to impart greater importance to the subject which
he was about to invent, he concluded: "A history of Generals, your
Excellency."

"Of Generals? Of WHAT Generals?"

"Of Generals generally—of Generals at large. That is to say, and to
be more precise, a history of the Generals of our fatherland."

By this time Chichikov was floundering badly. Mentally he spat upon
himself and reflected: "Gracious heavens! What rubbish I am talking!"

"Pardon me," went on his interlocutor, "but I do not quite understand
you. Is Tientietnikov producing a history of a given period, or only a
history made up of a series of biographies? Also, is he including
ALL our Generals, or only those who took part in the campaign of 1812?"

"The latter, your Excellency—only the Generals of 1812," replied
Chichikov. Then he added beneath his breath: "Were I to be killed for
it, I could not say what that may be supposed to mean."

"Then why should he not come and see me in person?" went on his host.
"Possibly I might be able to furnish him with much interesting
material?"

"He is afraid to come, your Excellency."

"Nonsense! Just because of a hasty word or two! I am not that sort of
man at all. In fact, I should be very happy to call upon HIM."

"Never would he permit that, your Excellency. He would greatly prefer
to be the first to make advances." And Chichikov added to himself:
"What a stroke of luck those Generals were! Otherwise, the Lord knows
where my tongue might have landed me!"

At this moment the door into the adjoining room opened, and there
appeared in the doorway a girl as fair as a ray of the sun—so fair,
indeed, that Chichikov stared at her in amazement. Apparently she had
come to speak to her father for a moment, but had stopped short on
perceiving that there was some one with him. The only fault to be
found in her appearance was the fact that she was too thin and
fragile-looking.

"May I introduce you to my little pet?" said the General to Chichikov.
"To tell you the truth, I do not know your name."

"That you should be unacquainted with the name of one who has never
distinguished himself in the manner of which you yourself can boast is
scarcely to be wondered at." And Chichikov executed one of his
sidelong, deferential bows.

"Well, I should be delighted to know it."

"It is Paul Ivanovitch Chichikov, your Excellency." With that went the
easy bow of a military man and the agile backward movement of an
india-rubber ball.

"Ulinka, this is Paul Ivanovitch," said the General, turning to his
daughter. "He has just told me some interesting news—namely, that our
neighbour Tientietnikov is not altogether the fool we had at first
thought him. On the contrary, he is engaged upon a very important
work—upon a history of the Russian Generals of 1812."

"But who ever supposed him to be a fool?" asked the girl quickly.
"What happened was that you took Vishnepokromov's word—the word of a
man who is himself both a fool and a good-for-nothing."

"Well, well," said the father after further good-natured dispute on
the subject of Vishnepokromov. "Do you now run away, for I wish to
dress for luncheon. And you, sir," he added to Chichikov, "will you
not join us at table?"

Chichikov bowed so low and so long that, by the time that his eyes had
ceased to see nothing but his own boots, the General's daughter had
disappeared, and in her place was standing a bewhiskered butler, armed
with a silver soap-dish and a hand-basin.

"Do you mind if I wash in your presence?" asked the host.

"By no means," replied Chichikov. "Pray do whatsoever you please in
that respect."

Upon that the General fell to scrubbing himself—incidentally, to
sending soapsuds flying in every direction. Meanwhile he seemed so
favourably disposed that Chichikov decided to sound him then and
there, more especially since the butler had left the room.

"May I put to you a problem?" he asked.

"Certainly," replied the General. "What is it?"

"It is this, your Excellency. I have a decrepit old uncle who owns
three hundred souls and two thousand roubles-worth of other property.
Also, except for myself, he possesses not a single heir. Now, although
his infirm state of health will not permit of his managing his
property in person, he will not allow me either to manage it. And the
reason for his conduct—his very strange conduct—he states as
follows: 'I do not know my nephew, and very likely he is a
spendthrift. If he wishes to show me that he is good for anything, let
him go and acquire as many souls as
I
have acquired; and when he has
done that I will transfer to him my three hundred souls as well."

"The man must be an absolute fool," commented the General.

"Possibly. And were that all, things would not be as bad as they are.
But, unfortunately, my uncle has gone and taken up with his
housekeeper, and has had children by her. Consequently, everything
will now pass to THEM."

"The old man must have taken leave of his senses," remarked the
General. "Yet how
I
can help you I fail to see."

"Well, I have thought of a plan. If you will hand me over all the dead
souls on your estate—hand them over to me exactly as though they were
still alive, and were purchasable property—I will offer them to the
old man, and then he will leave me his fortune."

At this point the General burst into a roar of laughter such as few
can ever have heard. Half-dressed, he subsided into a chair, threw
back his head, and guffawed until he came near to choking. In fact,
the house shook with his merriment, so much so that the butler and his
daughter came running into the room in alarm.

It was long before he could produce a single articulate word; and even
when he did so (to reassure his daughter and the butler) he kept
momentarily relapsing into spluttering chuckles which made the house
ring and ring again.

Chichikov was greatly taken aback.

"Oh, that uncle!" bellowed the General in paroxysms of mirth. "Oh,
that blessed uncle! WHAT a fool he'll look! Ha, ha, ha! Dead souls
offered him instead of live ones! Oh, my goodness!"

"I suppose I've put my foot in it again," ruefully reflected
Chichikov. "But, good Lord, what a man the fellow is to laugh! Heaven
send that he doesn't burst of it!"

"Ha, ha, ha!" broke out the General afresh. "WHAT a donkey the old
man must be! To think of his saying to you: 'You go and fit yourself
out with three hundred souls, and I'll cap them with my own lot'! My
word! What a jackass!"

"A jackass, your Excellency?"

"Yes, indeed! And to think of the jest of putting him off with dead
souls! Ha, ha, ha! WHAT wouldn't I give to see you handing him the
title deeds? Who is he? What is he like? Is he very old?"

"He is eighty, your Excellency."

"But still brisk and able to move about, eh? Surely he must be pretty
strong to go on living with his housekeeper like that?"

"Yes. But what does such strength mean? Sand runs away, your
Excellency."

"The old fool! But is he really such a fool?"

"Yes, your Excellency."

"And does he go out at all? Does he see company? Can he still hold
himself upright?"

"Yes, but with great difficulty."

"And has he any teeth left?"