Dead Souls

"Yes, my cook makes them well," said the mistress, "but the trouble is that the harvest was bad, and the flour turned out so uncommendable . . . But, my dear, why are you in such a rush?" she said, seeing that Chichikov had taken his peaked cap in his hand, "the britzka hasn't been harnessed yet."

"They'll harness it, dearie, they'll harness it. We harness fast."

"So, now, please don't forget about the contracts."

"I won't forget, I won't forget," Chichikov said as he went out to the front hall.

"And do you buy lard?" the mistress said, following after him.

"Why shouldn't I? I'll buy it, only later."

"Around Christmastide I'll have lard."

"We'll buy it, we'll buy it, we'll buy everything, we'll buy the lard, too."

"Maybe you'll need bird feathers. I'll have bird feathers by St. Philip's fast."[8]

"Very good, very good," said Chichikov.

"There, you see, my dear, your britzka still isn't ready," the mistress said, when they came out to the porch.

"It will be, it will be. Only tell me how to get to the main road."

"How shall I do that?" said the mistress. "It's hard to explain, there's a lot of turns; unless I give you a young girl to take you there. I expect you've got room on the box where she could sit."

"Sure thing."

"Why don't I give you a girl then; she knows the way—only watch out! don't carry her off, one of mine already got carried off by some merchants."

Chichikov promised her that he would not carry the girl off, and Korobochka, reassured, started inspecting everything that was in her yard; she fixed her eyes on the housekeeper, who was carrying a wooden stoup full of honey from the larder, on a muzhik who appeared in the gateway, and gradually settled herself back wholly into her life of management. But why occupy ourselves for so long with Korobochka? Mrs. Korobochka, Mrs. Manilov, the life of management, or of non-management—pass them by! Otherwise—marvelous is the world's makeup—the merry will turn melancholy in a trice, if you stand a long time before it, and then God knows what may enter your head. Perhaps you will even start thinking: come now, does Korobochka indeed stand so low on the endless ladder of human perfection? Is there indeed so great an abyss separating her from her sister, inaccessibly fenced off behind the walls of her aristocratic house with its fragrant cast-iron stairways, shining brass, mahogany and carpets, who yawns over an unfinished book while waiting for a witty society visit, which will give her a field on which to display her sparkling intelligence and pronounce thoughts learned by rote, thoughts which, following the law of fashion, occupy the town for a whole week, thoughts not of what is going on in her house or on her estates, confused and disorderly thanks to her ignorance of management, but of what political upheaval is brewing in France, of what direction fashionable Catholicism has taken. But pass by, pass by! why talk of that? But why, then, in the midst of unthinking, merry, carefree moments does another wondrous stream rush by of itself: the laughter has not yet had time to leave your face completely, yet you are already different among the same people and your face is already lit by a different light. . .

"Ah, here's the britzka, here's the britzka!" Chichikov cried out, seeing his britzka drive up at last. "You dolt, what have you been pottering with so long? It must be your yesterday's vapors haven't aired out yet."

To this Selifan made no reply.

"Good-bye, dearie! And, say, where's your girl?"

"Hey, Pelageya!" the lady landowner said to a girl of about eleven who was standing by the porch, in a dress of homespun blue linen and with bare legs which from a distance might have been taken for boots, so caked they were with fresh mud. "Show the master the road."

Selifan helped the girl climb up on the box, who, placing one foot on the master's step, first dirtied it with mud, and only then clambered to the top and settled herself beside him. After her, Chichikov himself placed his foot on the step and, tilting the britzka on the right side, because he was a bit of a load, finally settled himself, saying:

"Ah! that's good now! Bye-bye, dearie!"

The horses started off.