Dead Souls

The hors d'oeuvres were followed by dinner. Here the good-natured host turned into a real bully. The moment he noticed someone taking one piece, he would immediately give him a second, muttering: "Without a mate neither man nor bird can live in this world." The guest ate the two—he heaped on a third, muttering: "What good is the number two? God loves the trinity." The guest ate the third—then he: "Who ever saw a cart with three wheels? Does anyone build a cottage with three corners?" For four he had yet another saying, and also for five. Chichikov ate about a dozen helpings of something and thought: "Well, the host can't come up with anything more now." Not so: the host, without saying a word, put on his plate a rack of veal roasted on a spit, the best part there is, with the kidneys, and of such a calf!

"Milk-fed for two years," said the host. "I took care of him like my own son!"

"I can't!" said Chichikov.

"Try it, and then say 'I can't.’“

"It won't go in. No room."

"There was no room in the church either. The governor came—they found room. And there was such a crush that an apple had nowhere to fall. Just try it: this piece is the same as the governor."

Chichikov tried it—the piece was indeed something like a governor. Room was found for it, though it seemed impossible to find any.

With the wines there also came a story. Having received his mortgage money, Pyotr Petrovich had stocked up on provisions for ten years to come. He kept pouring and pouring; whatever the guests left was finished by Nikolasha and Alexasha, who tossed off glass after glass, yet when they left the table, it was as if nothing had happened, as if they had just been drinking water. Not so the guests: with great, great effort they dragged themselves over to the balcony and with great effort lowered themselves into their armchairs. The host, the moment he sat down in his, which was something like a four-seater, immediately fell asleep. His corpulent self turned into a blacksmith's bellows. Through his open mouth and the nostrils of his nose it began producing sounds such as do not exist even in the latest music. Everything was there—drum, flute, and some abrupt sound, like a dog's barking.

"What a whistler!" said Platonov.

Chichikov laughed.

"Naturally, once you've had a dinner like that," Platonov said, "how could boredom come to you! What comes is sleep."

"Yes," Chichikov said lazily. His eyes became extraordinarily small. "All the same, however, I can't understand how it's possible to be bored. There are so many remedies for boredom."

"Such as?"

"There are all sorts for a young man! You can dance, play some instrument... or else—get married."

"To whom, tell me?"

"As if there were no nice and rich brides in the neighborhood?"

"There arent.

"Well, then, you could go and look elsewhere." Here a rich thought flashed in Chichikov's head, his eyes got bigger. "But there is a wonderful remedy!" he said, looking into Platonov's eyes.

"Which?" "Travel.

"Where to?"

"If you're free, then come with me," said Chichikov, thinking to himself as he looked at Platonov: "And it would be nice: we could split the expenses, and the repairs of the carriage could go entirely to his account."

"And where are you going?"

"How shall I say—where? I'm traveling now not so much on my own as on someone else's need. General Betrishchev, a close friend and, one might say, benefactor, asked me to visit his relatives ... of course, relatives are relatives, but it is partly, so to speak, for my own self as well: for to see the world, the circulation of people—whatever they may say—is like a living book, a second education."

Platonov fell to thinking.

Chichikov meanwhile reflected thus: "Truly, it would be nice! It could even be done so that all the expenses would go to his account. It could even be arranged so that we would take his horses and mine would be fed on his estate. I could also spare my carriage by leaving it on his estate and taking his for the road."

"Well, then, why not take a trip?" Platonov was thinking meanwhile. "It really might cheer me up. I have nothing to do at home, the management is in my brother's hands anyway; so there won't be any trouble. Why, indeed, not take a trip?"

"And would you agree," he said aloud, "to being my brother's guest for a couple of days? Otherwise he won't let me go."

"With great pleasure! Even three."

"Well, in that case—my hand on it! Let's go!" said Platonov, livening up.

"Bravo!" said Chichikov, slapping his hand. "Let's go!"

"Where? where?" the host exclaimed, waking up and goggling his eyes at them. "No, gentlemen, I ordered the wheels taken off your coach, and your stallion, Platon Mikhalych, is now ten miles away from here. No, today you spend the night, and tomorrow, after an early dinner, you'll be free to go."

"Well, now!" thought Chichikov. Platonov made no reply, knowing that Petukh held fast to his customs. They had to stay.