Now he attempted not to think about anything—futile attempt!—scraps of something resembling thoughts, odds and ends of thoughts, kept creeping and pecking into his head from everywhere. "A strange state!" he said and moved to the window to gaze at the road cutting through the grove, at the end of which the clouds of dust raised by the departing carriage had not yet had time to settle. But let us leave Tentetnikov and follow Chichikov.
Chapter Two
In a little over half an hour the horses carried Chichikov across the six-mile space—first through the grove, then through wheat fields already beginning to green amid the freshly ploughed earth, then over the skirts of the hills, from which views of the distance opened every minute—and along a wide avenue of spreading lindens leading to the general's estate. The avenue of lindens turned into an avenue of poplars, fenced at the base with wicker boxes, and ran up to wrought-iron gates through which appeared the splendidly ornate carved façade of the general's house, resting on eight columns with Corinthian capitals. Everywhere there was a smell of oil paint, with which everything was renewed, allowing nothing to get old. The yard was as clean as parquet. Having rolled up to the front entrance, Chichikov respectfully jumped off onto the porch, asked to be announced, and was introduced directly into the general's study.
The general struck him with his majestic appearance. He was, at that moment, dressed in a raspberry satin dressing gown. An open look, a manly face, grizzled side-whiskers and a big mustache, hair cut short and even shaved at the nape, a thick, broad neck, in three stories, as they say, or three folds with a crease across the middle, the voice a bass with some huskiness, the movements those of a general. Like all of us sinners, General Betrishchev was endowed with many virtues and many defects. Both the one and the other were scattered through him in a sort of picturesque disorder. Self-sacrifice, magnanimity in decisive moments, courage, intelligence—and with all that, a generous mixture of self-love, ambition, vanity, petty personal ticklishness, and a good many of those things which a man simply cannot do without. He disliked all those who got ahead of him in the service, spoke of them caustically, in pointed, sardonic epigrams. Most of it hit at a former colleague, whom he considered his inferior in intelligence and abilities, but who had nevertheless outstripped him and was already the Governor-general of two provinces, and, as if by design, of the very ones in which his own estates were located, so that he found himself as if dependent on him. In revenge, he derided him at every opportunity, criticized his every directive, and looked upon all his measures and actions as the height of folly. Despite his good heart, the general was given to mockery. Broadly speaking, he liked being first, liked incense, liked to shine and display his intelligence, liked knowing things that others did not know, and did not like those who knew something he did not know. Brought up with a half-foreign upbringing, he wanted at the same time to play the role of a Russian squire. With such unevenness of character, with such big, striking contrasts, he was inevitably bound to meet with a heap of troubles in the service, as a result of which he took his retirement, accusing some enemy party of everything and not having enough magnanimity to blame himself for any of it. In retirement he preserved the same picturesque, majestic bearing. In a frock coat, a tailcoat, or a dressing gown—he was the same. From his voice to his least gesture, everything in him was imperious, commanding, inspiring, if not respect, then at least timidity in the lower ranks.
Chichikov felt both the one and the other: both respect and timidity. Inclining his head respectfully to one side, he began thus:
"I felt it my duty to introduce myself to Your Excellency. Nursing the greatest respect for the men of valor who have saved the fatherland on the field of battle, I felt it my duty to introduce myself personally to Your Excellency."
The general obviously did not dislike this sort of assault. With a rather gracious motion of his head, he said:
"Very glad to meet you. Pray be seated. Where did you serve?"
"My career in the service," said Chichikov, sitting down not in the center of the armchair, but obliquely, and grasping the armrest with his hand, "began in the treasury department, Your Excellency; and the further course of same was pursued in various places: I was in the civil courts, on a building commission, and in customs. My life may be likened to a ship amidst the waves, Your Excellency. I grew up, one might say, on patience, nursed by patience, swaddled by patience, and am myself, so to speak, nothing but patience. And how much I have suffered from enemies no words or colors can tell. And now, in the evening, so to speak, of my life, I am searching for a little corner in which to pass the rest of my days. And I am staying meanwhile with a near neighbor of Your Excellency's..."
"Who is that?"
"Tentetnikov, Your Excellency."
The general winced.
"He greatly regrets, Your Excellency, his not having paid due respect..."
"To what?"
"To Your Excellency's merits. Words fail him. He says: 'If only I could somehow. . . because really,' he says, 'I know how to value the men who have saved the fatherland,' he says."
"Good gracious, what's the matter with him?. . . Why, I'm not angry!" the softened general said. "In my heart I sincerely loved him, and I'm sure that in time he will become a most useful man."
"Quite correctly put, Your Excellency, if you please, a most useful man, with a gift for eloquence, and wielding a skillful pen.
"But he writes trifles, I suppose, some sort of verses?"
"No, Your Excellency, not trifles ..."
"What, then?"
"He writes . . . history, Your Excellency."
"History! The history of what?"
"The history..." here Chichikov paused, and either because there was a general sitting before him, or simply to give more importance to the subject, added: ". . . the history of generals, Your Excellency."
"How, of generals? of what generals?"
"Of generals in general, Your Excellency, overall . . . that is, as a matter of fact, the generals of the fatherland," Chichikov said, and thought to himself: "What drivel I'm pouring out!"
"Excuse me, I don't quite understand . . . would that mean a history of some period, or separate biographies, and is it all of them, or only those who took part in the year 'twelve?"
"That's right, Your Excellency, those who took part in the year 'twelve!" Having said which, he thought to himself: "Strike me dead if I understand."
"But why doesn't he come to me, then? I could gather quite a bit of curious material for him."
"He doesn't dare, Your Excellency."
"What nonsense! Because of some trifling word . . . But I'm not that sort of man at all. I might even be ready to call on him myself."
"He wouldn't allow that, he'll come to you," Chichikov said, and at the same time thought to himself: "The generals came in nicely; and yet my tongue just stupidly blurted it out."
A rustling was heard in the study. The walnut door of a carved wardrobe opened by itself. On the other side of the open door, her wonderful hand grasping the door handle, a live little figure appeared. If a transparent painting, lit from behind, were suddenly to shine in a dark room, it would not be so striking as this little figure radiant with life appearing as if in order to light up the room. It seemed as though along with her a ray of sunlight flew into the room, suddenly illumining its ceiling, its moldings, and its dark corners. She seemed to be of glorious height. This was an illusion; it came from her extraordinary slenderness and the harmonious relation of all the parts of her body, from head to little toe. The solid-color dress that was thrown on her was thrown on with such taste that it seemed as if all the seamstresses of the capital had held a council among themselves on how best to adorn her. But it only seemed so. She made her own dresses, haphazardly; gathered an uncut piece of fabric in two or three places, and it clung and arranged itself around her in such folds as a sculptor could at once transfer to marble, and the young ladies who dressed fashionably all looked like some sort of motley hens besi
de her. Though her face was almost familiar to Chichikov from Andrei Ivanovich's drawings, he looked at her as if stunned, and only later, having come to his senses, did he notice that she lacked something very essential—namely, plumpness.
"Allow me to introduce my naughty little girl!" said the general, addressing Chichikov. "However, I still don't know your name."
"Though why should people know the name of a man not distinguished by deeds of valor?" said Chichikov.
"Still, however, one must know ..."
"Pavel Ivanovich, Your Excellency," said Chichikov, inclining his head slightly to one side.
"Ulinka! Pavel Ivanovich has just told me the most interesting news. Our neighbor Tentetnikov is not at all as stupid a man as we thought. He's occupied with something rather important: the history of the generals of the year 'twelve."
Ulinka suddenly seemed to flush and became animated.
"But who thought he was a stupid man?" she said quickly. "Maybe only Vishnepokromov could think that, whom you believe, papa, though he's both empty and mean."
"Why mean? He's a bit empty, it's true," said the general.
"He's a bit base, and a bit vile, not just a bit empty," Ulinka picked up promptly. "Whoever offends his own brothers like that, and throws his sister out of the house, is a vile man ..."
"But that's just talk."
"There wouldn't be talk for no reason. You, father, have the kindliest soul and a rare heart, but the way you act could make people think quite otherwise about you. You'll receive a man who you yourself know is bad, only because he's a fancy talker and an expert at twining himself around you."
"But, dear heart! I couldn't really throw him out," said the general.
"Don't throw him out, then, but don't love him either!"
"Not so, Your Excellency," Chichikov said to Ulinka, inclining his head slightly, with a pleasant smile. "According to Christianity, it's precisely them that we ought to love."
And, straightaway turning to the general, he said with a smile, this time a somewhat coy one:
"If you please, Your Excellency, have you ever heard it said, in this regard—'love us black, anyone can love us white'?"
"No, I haven't."
"It's a most singular anecdote," said Chichikov, with a coy smile. "There was, Your Excellency, on the estate of Prince Gukzovsky, whom Your Excellency is no doubt pleased to know ..."
"I don't."
"There was a steward, Your Excellency, of German stock, a young man. He had to go to town for supplying recruits and on other occasions, and, of course, to grease the palms of the court clerks." Here Chichikov, narrowing one eye, showed with his face how court clerks' palms are greased. "However, they also liked him and used to wine and dine him. So once, at dinner with them, he said: 'You know, gentlemen, one day you must also visit me on the prince's estate.' They said: 'We will.' Soon after that the court happened to go to investigate a case that occurred on the domains of Count Trekhmetyev, whom Your Excellency is no doubt also pleased to know."
"I don't."
"They made no investigation properly speaking, but the whole court turned off at the steward's place, to visit the count's old steward, and for three days and nights they played cards nonstop. The samovar and punch, naturally, never left the table. The old man got sick of them. In order to get rid of them somehow, he says: 'Why don't you gentlemen go and visit the prince's steward, the German: he's not far from here, and he's expecting you.' 'Why not, in fact,' they say, and half-drunk, unshaven, and sleepy, just as they were, they got into their carts and went to the German . . . And the German, be it known to Your Excellency, had just gotten married at that time. He married a boarding-school girl, a genteel young thing" (Chichikov expressed genteelness with his face). "The two of them are sitting over their tea, not suspecting anything, when suddenly the doors open and the throng barges in."
"I can imagine—a pretty sight!" the general said, laughing.
"The steward was simply dumbfounded. 'What can I do for you?' he says. 'Ah!' they said, 'so that's how you are!' And all at once, with these words, there is a change of looks and physiognomies. . . 'To business! How much liquor is distilled on the premises? Show us the books!' The man hems and haws. 'Hey, witnesses!' They took him, bound him, dragged him to town, and the German actually spent a year and a half in jail."
"Well, now!" said the general.
Ulinka clasped her hands.
"The wife went around soliciting!" Chichikov continued. "But what can a young, inexperienced woman do? Luckily there happened to be some good people who advised her to settle peaceably. He got off with two thousand and dinner for all. And at the dinner, when they all got quite merry, and he as well, they said to him: 'Aren't you ashamed to have treated us the way you did? You'd like to see us always neat and shaven and in tailcoats. No, you must love us black, anyone can love us white.’“
The general burst out laughing; Ulinka groaned painfully.
"I don't understand how you can laugh, papa!" she said quickly. Wrath darkened her beautiful brow ... "A most dishonorable act, for which I don't know where they all ought to be sent. . .
"My dear, I'm not justifying them in the least," said the general, "but what can I do if it's so funny? How did it go: 'Love us white . . .'?"
"Black, Your Excellency," Chichikov picked up.
" 'Love us black, anyone can love us white.' Ha, ha, ha, ha!"
And the general's body began to heave with laughter. Those shoulders that had once borne thick epaulettes were shaking as if even now they bore thick epaulettes.
Chichikov also delivered himself of an interjection of laughter, but, out of respect for the general, he launched it with the letter e: "Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh!" And his body, too, began to heave with laughter, though his shoulders did not shake, having never borne thick epaulettes.
"I can picture what a sight that unshaven court was!" the general said, still laughing.
"Yes, Your Excellency, in any event it was . . . nonstop ... a three-day vigil—the same as fasting: they wasted away, simply wasted away!" said Chichikov, still laughing.
Ulinka sank into an armchair and covered her beautiful eyes with her hand; as if vexed that there was no one to share her indignation, she said:
"I don't know, it's just that I'm so vexed."
Indeed, of extraordinarily strange contrast were the feelings born in the hearts of the three conversing people. One found amusing the awkward ineptitude of the German. Another found amusing the amusing way the crooks wriggled out of it. The third was saddened that an unjust act had been committed with impunity. There only lacked a fourth to ponder precisely such words as could produce laughter in one and sadness in another. What does it mean, however, that even in his fall, the perishing dirty man demands to be loved? Is it an animal instinct? or the faint cry of the soul smothered under the heavy burden of base passions, still trying to break through the hardening crust of abominations, still crying: "Save me, brother!" There lacked a fourth for whom the most painful thing of all would be his brother's perishing soul.
"I don't know," Ulinka said, taking her hand away from her face, "it's that I'm just so vexed."
"Only please don't be angry with us," said the general. "We're not to blame for anything. Give me a kiss and go to your room, because I'll be dressing for dinner now. You, my boy," the general said, suddenly turning to Chichikov, "will be dining with me?"
"If Your Excellency..."
"No ceremonies. There's cabbage soup."
Chichikov inclined his head agreeably, and when he raised it again, he no longer saw Ulinka. She had vanished. Instead of her there stood, in bushy mustache and side-whiskers, a giant of a valet, with a silver pitcher and basin in his hands.
"You'll allow me to dress in your presence, eh, my boy?" said the general, throwing off his dressing gown and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt on his mighty arms.
"Good gracious, not only to dress, you may do anything Your Excellency pleases in my presence," said Chichik
ov.
The general began to wash, splashing and snorting like a duck. Soapy water flew in all directions.
"How did it go?" he said, wiping his fat neck on all sides, “‘love us white . . .'?"
"Black, Your Excellency."
" 'Love us black, anyone can love us white.' Very, very good!"
Chichikov was in extraordinarily high spirits; he felt some sort of inspiration.
"Your Excellency!" he said.
"What?" said the general.
"There's another story."
"What sort?"
"Also an amusing story, only I don't find it amusing. Even if Your Excellency..."
"How so?"
"Here's how, Your Excellency! ..." At this point Chichikov looked around and, seeing that the valet with the basin had left, began thus: "I have an uncle, a decrepit old man. He owns three hundred souls and has no heirs except me. He himself, being decrepit, cannot manage the estate, yet he won't hand it over to me. And he gives such a strange reason: 'I don't know my nephew,' he says, 'maybe he's a spendthrift. Let him first prove to me that he's a reliable man, let him first acquire three hundred souls himself, then I'll give him my three hundred souls as well.’“
"What a fool!"
"Quite a correct observation, if you please, Your Excellency. But imagine my position now ..." Here Chichikov, lowering his voice, began speaking as if in secret: "He has a housekeeper in his house, Your Excellency, and she has children. Just you watch, everything will go to them."
"The stupid old man's gone dotty, that's all," said the general. "Only I don't see how I can be of use to you."
"Here's what I've thought up. Right now, before the new census lists have been turned in, the owners of big estates may have, along with their living souls, also some that are departed and dead ... So that if, for instance, Your Excellency were to hand them over to me as if they were alive, with a deed of purchase, I could then present this deed to the old man, and he, dodge as he may, will have to give me my inheritance."
Dead Souls Page 35
