Dead Souls

For the first few days Andrei Ivanovich feared for his independence, lest his guest somehow bind him, hinder him with some changes in his way of life, and the order of his day, so happily established, be violated—but his fears were in vain. Our Pavel Ivanovich showed an extraordinary flexibility in adapting to everything. He approved of the philosophical unhurriedness of his host, saying that it promised a hundred-year life. About solitude he expressed himself rather felicitously—namely, that it nursed great thoughts in a man. Having looked at the library and spoken with great praise of books in general, he observed that they save a man from idleness. In short, he let fall few words, but significant. In his actions, he acted still more appropriately. He came on time, and he left on time; he did not embarrass his host with questions during the hours of his taciturnity; with pleasure he would play chess with him, with pleasure he would be silent. While the one was sending up curly clouds of pipe smoke, the other, not a pipe smoker, nevertheless invented a corresponding activity: he would, for instance, take from his pocket a silver niello snuffbox and, placing it between two fingers of his left hand, spin it quickly with a finger of the right, just as the earthly sphere spins on its axis, or else he would simply drum on the snuffbox with his fingers, whistling some tune or other. In short, he did not hinder his host in any way. "For the first time I see a man one can get along with," Tentetnikov said to himself. "Generally we lack this art. There are plenty of people among us who are intelligent, and educated, and kind, but people who are constantly agreeable, people of a constantly even temper, people with whom one can live for ages without quarreling—I don't know that we can find many such people! Here is the first, the only man I've seen!" Such was Tentetnikov's opinion of his guest.

Chichikov, for his part, was very glad to have settled for a while with such a peaceful and placid host. He was sick of the gypsy life. To have a bit of rest, at least for a month, on a wonderful estate, in view of the fields and the approaching spring, was useful even in the hemorrhoidal respect. It would have been hard to find a more reposeful little corner. Spring adorned it with an unutterable beauty. What brightness of green! What freshness of air! What birdcalls in the garden! Paradise, mirth, and exultant rejoicing in everything. The countryside resounded and sang as if newborn.