Dead Souls

"Oh, that is correct, that is perfectly correct!" Chichikov interrupted. "What are all the treasures of the world then! 'Keep not money, but keep good people's company,' the wise man said."

"And you know, Pavel Ivanovich!" Manilov said, showing on his face an expression not merely sweet but even cloying, like the mixture a shrewd society doctor sweetens unmercifully, fancying it will please his patient. "Then one feels a sort of spiritual delight, in some way... As now, for instance, when chance has given me the, one might say, exemplary happiness of talking with you and enjoying your agreeable conversation ...”

"Good gracious, what agreeable conversation? . . . An insignificant man, nothing more," responded Chichikov.

"Oh! Pavel Ivanovich, allow me to be frank: I would gladly give half of all I possess for a portion of the virtues that are yours! ..."

"On the contrary, I, for my part, would regard it as the greatest..."

There is no knowing what the mutual outpouring of feelings between the two friends would have come to, if an entering servant had not announced that the meal was ready.

"I beg you to join us," said Manilov. "You will excuse us if we do not have such a dinner as on parquet floors and in capitals, we simply have, after the Russian custom, cabbage soup, but from the bottom of our hearts. Join us, I humbly beg you."

Here they spent some more time arguing over who should go in first, and Chichikov finally entered the dining room sideways.

In the dining room there already stood two boys, Manilov's sons, who were of the age when children already sit at the table, but still on raised seats. By them stood their tutor, who bowed politely and with a smile. The hostess sat down to her soup tureen; the guest was seated between the host and the hostess, the servant tied napkins around the children's necks.

"Such dear little children," said Chichikov, having looked at them, "and of what ages?"

"The older one is going on eight, and the younger one turned six just yesterday," said Mrs. Manilov.

"Themistoclus!" said Manilov, addressing the older boy, who was making efforts to free his chin from the napkin the lackey had tied around it.

Chichikov raised an eyebrow slightly on hearing this partly Greek name, to which, for some unknown reason, Manilov gave the ending "-us," but tried at once to bring his face back to its usual state.

"Themistoclus, tell me, what is the best city in France?"

Here the tutor turned all his attention on Themistoclus and seemed to want to jump into his eyes, but calmed himself at last and nodded when Themistoclus said: "Paris."

"And what is our best city?" Manilov asked again.

The tutor again tuned up his attention.

"Petersburg," replied Themistoclus.

"And besides that?"

"Moscow," replied Themistoclus.

"The smarty! The sweetie!" Chichikov said to that. "No, really . . . ," he continued, turning to the Manilovs with a look of some amazement, "such knowledge, at such an age! I must tell you, this child will have great abilities."

"Oh, you still don't know him," responded Manilov, "he has an exceeding amount of wit. The younger one now, Alkides, this one is not so quick, but that one, as soon as he meets something, a bug or a gnat, his eyes suddenly start rolling; he runs after it and investigates it at once. I intend him for the diplomatic line. Themistoclus," he went on, again addressing the boy, "want to be an ambassador?"

"Yes," replied Themistoclus, chewing his bread and wagging his head right and left.

At that moment the lackey who was standing behind him wiped the ambassador's nose, and it was a good thing he did, otherwise a rather sizable extraneous drop would have sunk into the soup. The conversation at table turned to the pleasures of the quiet life, interrupted by the hostess's observations about the town's theater and its actors. The tutor very attentively watched the talkers, and, as soon as he observed that they were about to smile, opened his mouth that same instant and diligently laughed. Most likely he was a grateful man and wanted thus to repay the master for his good treatment. Once, however, his face assumed a severe look and he rapped sternly on the table, aiming his glance at the children sitting across from him. This was appropriate, because Themistoclus had bitten Alkides' ear, and Alkides, screwing up his eyes and opening his mouth, was about to howl in a most pathetic way, but sensing that for that he could easily be deprived of one course, he returned his mouth to its former position and tearfully began gnawing on a lamb bone, which made both his cheeks shiny with grease. The hostess turned to Chichikov very frequently with the words: "You don't eat anything, you've taken very little." To which Chichikov would reply each time: "I humbly thank you, I'm full, agreeable conversation is better than any food."