Read the excerpts from the sixth chapter of the first volume given in the appendix. "Dead Souls" by N.V. Gogol and answer questions.
1. What elements of the composition are found in these passages? On what basis did you identify them?
2. Compare the descriptions of the village, the manor house, the room and appearance of Plyushkin. To what extent do these descriptions correspond to each other? Highlight in these descriptions the main and secondary features of the described objects.
3. Plyushkin's appearance through the eyes of the protagonist is described twice. What is it connected with? What epithets and comparisons does the author resort to when depicting Plyushkin's appearance? Does this help the reader understand the character of this character?
4. Compare two portrait characteristics of Plyushkin - in old age and youth. How has the hero changed? What internal traits of the hero and external circumstances contributed to his change? Could this hero, in other circumstances, retain those qualities that were inherent in him from a young age? What do you think it would take him to develop these qualities for the better?
5. How true, in your opinion, are the author's reasoning about old age in the last paragraph of the passage? How does this reasoning resonate with the lyrical digression at the beginning of the passage? On what basis can such reasoning be based? Why are they presented in the chapter devoted to Plushkin? To what extent can they be accepted as generalizing and extended to a wider circle of people?
6. Do you know examples (from literary works, your relatives and friends) of noble old age, when a person not only retains all the best qualities that he had in his youth and mature years, but also multiplies them? What do you think contributed to this?
7. Find examples of obsolete words and expressions. Write out archaisms and historicisms in a notebook, explain their meanings. Are there words among historicisms that have been revived in modern Russian? What words and expressions in the text indicate the time, place of action, the social status of the characters?
8. Irony is a constant companion of N.V. Gogol. Give examples of irony in these passages. What linguistic means does the writer use to create irony? To what extent does irony help the author to depict the described situation and reveal the character of both characters?
9. Explain the meaning of the adjective vulgar in the text. What is its origin? What did it signify? How has its meaning changed? When answering this question, use the Explanatory Dictionary of the Living Great Russian Language by Vladimir Ivanovich Dahl.
10. Pluralize a noun year. What form used by N.V. Gogol, corresponds to this modern form? Can we say that in the modern Russian literary language in the plural there are two forms for the word year?
11. What is the difference between words small village And small town from words village And city? What kind of words village, town? What in the text indicates the gender of these nouns?
12. Find words in the text imprinted, led, intervening, silent, for the time being, to speak out, in place, to examine, and replace them with cognates that are more common in modern speech than those used by the author.
13. What do phrases mean state house, tail of the tongue, flow in a vast amount(about the economy), swear words, cotton paper. Is it possible to replace these phrases with modern ones?
14. From what words words are formed petty-bourgeois, landowner, what words do they come from? How have the original meanings of these words changed?
15. Explain the meaning of the sentence County official, pass by - I was already wondering where he was going. What is unusual in the expression of the predicate in the first simple sentence this complex sentence?
16. What comparisons does N.V. Gogol use? What do these comparisons give the reader?
17. What is common in the use of words log And vegetable in sentences Log the huts were dark and old; Storerooms, barns and dryers were cluttered with dried fish and all kinds ofvegetable ?
18. Find a word in the text the Bureau. What is unusual for the modern reader in the use of this word? What do the words have in common coat, movie, bureau, chimpanzee in modern Russian?
19. What is the meaning of the word apartment?
20. How an adjective is formed friendly? Give as an example an adjective formed in the same way using the same morphemes.
21. What nouns used in the text, except for the word decanter, refer to diminutive derivatives?
22. Write down the words used in the text denoting kinship. Such words are called kinship terms. Are terms of kinship words husband, wife? What kinship terms, other than those used by the author in this text, do you know?
24. Write down all the names of clothes found in the text. Are there old words among them?
25. What are the morphological and syntactic signs of lyrical digressions encountered in the passage you read.
subject.
26. The main character did not immediately recognize in Plyushkin not only a gentleman, but also a man. What signs (appearance, behavior) misled Chichikov? What features, in your opinion, should the main character have an idea of the landowner?
27. Are the contents of the concepts "master" and "landowner" the same? How has the content and scope of the concept of "master" changed in the modern language? Are there any other words in the texts you have read with a changed content and scope of the concept?
28. About the character of a person, his behavior, attitude towards other people, a lot can be said about his habitat and the objects surrounding him. These are also signs on the basis of which we develop (in any case, the first
initial) impression of a person. To what extent do you think these signs are significant? By what we make a more complete picture of a person. Remember the folk proverb on this topic. Try to characterize Plyushkin based on the description of his house and the room where he received Chichikov.
29. In the read text, the names of residential and service buildings are given. What is the content of the relevant concepts? On what grounds are they opposed to each other?
30. Write out from the text verbs denoting movements. Compare their meanings and name the signs by which these verbs differ.
How do verbs differ in pairs? go - walk, run - run, fly - fly, carry - wear, lead - carry, carry - carry, roll - roll, crawl - crawl?
31. With a capital or small letter, you should write the names of literary characters, used in the plural (And now the Chichikovs and Plushkin)?
N.V. Gogol. Dead Souls (excerpt)
Before, long ago, in the summers of my youth, in the summers of my irrevocably glimpsed childhood, it was fun for me to drive up to an unfamiliar place for the first time: it doesn’t matter whether it was a village, a poor county town, a village, a suburb - I discovered a lot of curious things in it childish curiosity. Every building, everything that bore only the imprint of some noticeable feature, everything stopped and amazed me. Is it a stone state-owned house, of well-known architecture with half false windows, sticking out all alone among a hewn log heap of one-story philistine houses, is it a regular dome, all upholstered with sheet white iron, elevated above a new church whitened like snow, is it a market, is it a dandy county, caught in the middle of the city - nothing escaped the fresh, subtle attention, and, sticking my nose out of my traveling cart, I looked at the cut of some frock coat that had never been seen before, and at wooden boxes with nails, with gray, yellowing in the distance, with raisins and soap, flickering from the doors of a vegetable shop along with cans of dried-up Moscow sweets, looked at an infantry officer walking aside, brought in God knows what province to county boredom, and at a merchant who flickered in a Siberian on a racing droshky, and mentally carried away them into their poor life. District official, pass by - I was already wondering where he was going, whether to the evening to some of his brother,
or straight to your house, so that, after sitting for half an hour on the porch, while twilight has not yet deepened, sit down for an early supper with your mother, with your wife, with your wife's sister and the whole family, and about what they will talk about at that time, when a yard girl in monists or a boy in a thick jacket brings a tallow candle in a long-lasting home candlestick after the soup.
Approaching the village of some landowner, I looked with curiosity at a tall narrow wooden bell tower or a wide dark wooden old church. The red roof and white chimneys of the landowner's house flashed enticingly to me from a distance through the greenery of the trees, and I waited impatiently until the gardens that protected it would part on both sides and he would show himself all with his own, then, alas! not at all a vulgar appearance, and from it I tried to guess who the landowner himself was, whether he was fat, and whether he had sons, or as many as six daughters with ringing girlish laughter, games and the eternal beauty of the little sister, and whether they were black-eyed, and a merry fellow whether he himself, or gloomy, like September in the last days, looks at the calendar and talks about rye and wheat, boring for youth.
Now I indifferently drive up to any unfamiliar village and look indifferently at its vulgar appearance; my chilled gaze is uncomfortable, it’s not funny to me, and what in former years would have awakened a lively movement in the face, laughter and incessant speeches, now slips by, and my motionless lips keep an indifferent silence. O my youth! oh my freshness!
While Chichikov was thinking and inwardly laughing at the nickname bestowed by the peasants on Plyushkin, he did not notice how he drove into the middle of a vast village with many huts and streets. Soon, however, he noticed this remarkable jolt, produced by a log pavement, in front of which the city stone was nothing. These logs, like piano keys, rose up and down, and the unguarded rider acquired either a bump on the back of his head, or a blue spot on his forehead, or it happened with his own teeth to bite off painfully the tail of his own tongue. He noticed some special dilapidation on all the village buildings: the log on the huts was dark and old; many roofs blew through like a sieve; on others, there was only a ridge on top and poles on the sides in the form of ribs. It seems that the owners themselves took down the rags and hemp from them, arguing, and, of course, it’s fair that they don’t cover the hut in the rain, and they don’t drop into the bucket themselves, but there’s no need to fumble in it when there is room both in the tavern and on the big road, in a word, wherever you want. The windows in the huts were without glass, others were plugged with a rag or zipun; balconies under roofs with railings, for unknown reasons, made in other Russian huts, squinted and turned black, not even picturesquely. Behind the huts in many places stretched rows of huge stacks of bread, which, apparently, had stagnated for a long time; they looked like old, poorly baked bricks in color, all sorts of rubbish grew on their top, and even bushes clung to the side. The bread, apparently, was master's. From behind grain hoards and dilapidated roofs, two village churches, one near the other, rose and flashed in the clear air, now to the right, then to the left, as the britzka made turns: an empty wooden one and a stone one, with yellowish walls, stained, cracked. In parts, the master's house began to show itself, and finally looked all in the place where the chain of huts broke off and instead of them there was a wasteland of a vegetable garden or a bush, surrounded by a low, in some places broken city. This strange castle looked like some kind of decrepit invalid, long, unreasonably long. In some places it was one story, in other places it was two; on the dark roof, which did not reliably protect his old age everywhere, two belvederes stuck out, one opposite the other, both already tottering, deprived of the paint that once covered them. The walls of the house slitted bare stucco grating in places and, apparently, suffered a lot from all sorts of bad weather, rains, whirlwinds and autumn changes. Of the windows, only two were open; the rest were shuttered or even boarded up. These two windows, for their part, were also half-sighted; on one of them a pasted triangle of
blue sugar paper. [...]
Having made one or two turns, our hero finally found himself in front of the house, which now seemed even sadder. Green mold has already covered the decayed wood on the fence and gate. A crowd of buildings: human buildings, barns, cellars, apparently dilapidated, filled the yard; near them, to the right and to the left, gates to other courtyards were visible. Everything said that farming had once flown here on a vast scale, and everything looked cloudy now. Nothing was noticeable to enliven the picture: no doors opening, no people coming out from somewhere, no living troubles and worries at home! Only one main gate was open, and that was because a muzhik drove in with a loaded cart covered with matting, appearing, as if on purpose, to revive this extinct place; at other times, they were also locked tightly, for a giant lock hung in an iron loop. At one of the buildings, Chichikov soon noticed some figure who began to quarrel with a peasant who had arrived in a cart. For a long time he could not recognize what gender the figure was: a woman or a man. Her dress was completely indefinite, very similar to a woman's hood, on her head was a cap, which village yard women wear, only one voice seemed to him somewhat hoarse for a woman. "Oh, woman!" he thought to himself, and immediately added: "Oh, no!" - "Of course, woman!" he finally said, looking at
closer. The figure, for its part, looked at him intently, too. It seemed that the guest was a novelty for her, because she examined not only him, but also Selifan and the horses, from tail to muzzle. From the keys hanging from her belt and from the fact that she scolded the peasant with rather obnoxious words, Chichikov concluded that this must be the housekeeper.
Listen, mother, - he said, leaving the britzka, - what about Barin? ..
Not at home, - the housekeeper interrupted, without waiting for the end of the question, and then, after a minute, she added: - What do you need?
There is a thing!
Go to the rooms! - said the housekeeper, turning away and showing him her back, stained with flour, with a large hole below.
He stepped into the dark wide passage, from which a cold breeze blew, as from a cellar. From the passage he got into a room, also dark, slightly illuminated by light coming out from under a wide crack at the bottom of the door. Opening this door, he finally found himself in the light and was struck by the disorder that presented itself. It seemed as if the floors were being washed in the house and all the furniture had been piled up here for a while. On one table there was even a broken chair, and next to it was a clock with a stopped pendulum, to which a spider had already attached a web. Right there, leaning sideways against the wall, was a cupboard filled with antique silver, decanters, and Chinese porcelain. On the bure, lined with mother-of-pearl mosaics, which had already fallen out in places and left behind only yellowish grooves filled with glue, lay a lot of all sorts of things: a bunch of finely written papers covered with a greenish marble press with an egg on top, some old book bound in leather with red cut, a lemon, all dried up, not more than a hazelnut, a broken armchair, a glass with some liquid and three flies, covered with a letter, a piece of sealing wax, a piece of a rag raised somewhere, two feathers stained with ink, dried up, as in consumption, a toothpick, completely yellowed, with which the owner, perhaps, picked his teeth even before the French invasion of Moscow.[...]
It would have been impossible to say that a living creature lived in this room, if the old, worn cap, lying on the table, did not herald his presence. While he was examining all the strange decoration, a side door opened, and the same housekeeper, whom he had met in the yard, entered. But then he saw that it was more of a housekeeper than a housekeeper: at least the housekeeper does not shave his beard, but this one, on the contrary, shaved, and it seemed quite rarely, because his entire chin with the lower part of the cheek looked like a comber from iron wire, which is used to clean horses in the stable. Chichikov, putting on an inquiring expression on his face, waited impatiently for what the housekeeper wanted to tell him. The key keeper, for his part, also expected what Chichikov wanted to tell him. Finally, the last, surprised ta-
With strange bewilderment, he decided to ask:
What is the barin? at home, right?
The owner is here, - said the keykeeper.
Where? Chichikov repeated.
What, father, are they blind, or what? - said the key. - Ehwa! And I'm the owner!
Here our hero involuntarily stepped back and looked at him intently. He happened to see many different kinds of people, even such as the reader and I may never have to see; but he had never seen anything like it. His face was nothing special; it was almost the same as that of many thin old men, only one chin protruded very far forward, so that he had to cover it with a handkerchief every time so as not to spit; little eyes had not yet gone out and were running from under high-grown eyebrows, like mice, when, sticking out their pointed muzzles from dark holes, pricking up their ears and blinking their mustaches, they look out for a cat or a naughty boy hiding somewhere, and suspiciously smell the very air. Much more remarkable was his attire: no means and efforts could have got to the bottom of what his dressing gown was concocted from: the sleeves and upper floors were so greasy and shiny that they looked like yuft, which is used for boots; behind, instead of two, four floors dangled, from which cotton paper climbed in flakes. He also had something tied around his neck that could not be made out: whether it was a stocking, a garter, or an underbelly, but not a tie. In a word, if Chichikov had met him, dressed up like that, somewhere at the church doors, he would probably have given him a copper penny. For to the honor of our hero, it must be said that his heart was compassionate and he could not resist in any way not to give the poor man a copper penny. But before him stood not a beggar, before him stood a landowner. This landowner had more than a thousand souls, and who would have tried to find from anyone else so much bread, grain, flour and just in the luggage, who would have pantries, barns and dryers cluttered with such a multitude of canvases, cloths, dressed sheepskins and rawhide, dried fish and any vegetable, or gubin. If someone had looked into his working yard, where it was prepared for a supply of all kinds of wood and utensils that had never been used, it would have seemed to him that he had somehow ended up in Moscow on a wood chip yard, where quick mothers-in-law and mother-in-law, with cooks behind, to make their household supplies and where every tree whitens like mountains - sewn, chiseled, laid and wicker: barrels, crossed, tubs, lagoons, jugs with stigmas and without stigmas, brothers, baskets, mykolniki, where the women put their lobes and other squabbles, boxes made of thin bent aspen, beetroots made of wicker birch bark, and a lot of everything that goes to the needs of rich and poor Russia. Why would Plyushkin, it seemed, need such a destruction of such products? in his whole life he would not have had to use them even on two such estates as he had - but even this seemed to him not enough. Not content with this, he still walked every day through the streets of his village, looked under the bridges, under the crossbars and everything that came across to him: an old sole, a woman's rag, an iron nail, a clay shard - he dragged everything to himself and put it in the pile that Chichikov noticed in the corner of the room. "There already the fisherman went hunting!" - the peasants said when they saw him going to prey. And in fact, after him there was no need to sweep the street: a passing officer happened to lose his spur, this spur immediately went into a known heap; if a woman, somehow gaping at the well, forgot the bucket, he dragged the bucket away. however, when the peasant who noticed him caught him right there, he did not argue and handed over the stolen thing; but as soon as it got into a pile, then it was all over: he swore that the thing was his, bought by him then, from someone, or inherited from his grandfather. In his room, he picked up everything he saw from the floor: sealing wax, a piece of paper, a feather, and put it all on a bureau or on a window.
But there was a time when he was only a thrifty owner! He was married and a family man, and a neighbor came to dine with him, listen to him and learn from him housekeeping and wise stinginess. Everything flowed vividly and took place at a measured pace: mills, felters were moving, cloth factories, carpentry machines, spinning mills were working; everywhere the keen glance of the owner entered into everything and, like an industrious spider, he ran troublesomely, but quickly, along all ends of his economic web. Too strong feelings were not reflected in his features, but intelligence was visible in his eyes; his speech was permeated with experience and knowledge of the world, and it was pleasant for the guest to listen to him; the friendly and talkative hostess was famous for her hospitality; two pretty daughters came out to meet them, both blond and fresh as roses; the son ran out, a broken boy, and kissed everyone, paying little attention to whether the guest was happy or not happy about this. All the windows in the house were open, the mezzanine was occupied by the apartment of the French teacher, who had a nice shave and was a great shooter: he always brought black grouse and ducks for dinner, and sometimes only sparrow eggs, from which he ordered scrambled eggs, because no one else in the house did not eat. His compatriot, the mentor of two girls, also lived on the mezzanine. The owner himself appeared at the table in a frock coat, although somewhat worn, but neat, the elbows were in order: there was no patch anywhere. But the good mistress died; part of the keys, and with them minor worries, passed to him. Plyushkin became more restless and, like all widowers, more suspicious and stingy. He could not rely on his eldest daughter Alexandra Stepanovna in everything, and he was right, because Alexandra Stepanovna soon ran away with the staff captain, God knows what cavalry regiment, and married him somewhere hastily in the village church, knowing that her father does not like officers due to a strange prejudice, as if all military gamblers and motishki. Her father sent a curse to her on the road, but did not care to pursue. The house became even more empty. In the owner, stinginess became more noticeable, his gray hair sparkling in his coarse hair, her faithful friend, helped her to develop even more; the French teacher was released because it was time for his son to serve; Madame was driven away, because she turned out to be not without sin in the abduction of Alexandra Stepanovna; the son, being sent to a provincial town in order to find out in the ward, in the opinion of his father, an essential service, decided instead to join the regiment and wrote to his father already in his own definition, asking for money for uniforms; it is quite natural that he received for this what is called shish in the common people. Finally, the last daughter who remained with him in the house died, and the old man found himself alone the watchman, keeper and owner of his wealth. A solitary life has given nourishment to avarice, which, as you know, has a ravenous hunger, and the more it devours, the more insatiable it becomes; human feelings, which were already not deep in him, grew shallow every minute, and every day something was lost in this worn-out ruin. If it happened at such a moment, as if on purpose to confirm his opinion about the military, that his son lost at cards; he sent him his father's curse from the bottom of his heart and was never interested in knowing whether he existed in the world or not. Every year the windows in his house were pretended to be, finally only two remained, of which one, as the reader has already seen, was sealed with paper; every year more and more of the main parts of the household went out of sight, and his petty glance turned to the pieces of paper and feathers that he collected in his room; he became more uncompromising to the buyers who came to take away his household works; the buyers bargained and bargained and finally abandoned him altogether, saying that he was a demon and not a man; hay and bread rotted, stacks and haystacks turned into clean carts, even plant cabbage on them, flour in the cellars turned into stone, and it was necessary to chop it, it was terrible to touch the cloth, canvas and household materials: they turned into dust. He himself had already forgotten how much he had, and he only remembered where in his closet there was a decanter with the rest of some kind of tincture, on which he himself made a mark so that no one thieves would drink it, and where the feather lay. or wax. Meanwhile, income was collected on the farm as before: the peasant had to bring the same amount of quitrent, every woman had to pay the same amount of nuts, the weaver had to weave the same amount of linen - all this fell into the storerooms, and everything became rotten and torn , and he himself turned at last into some kind of tear in humanity. [...]
And so, what kind of landowner stood before Chichikov! It must be said that such a phenomenon rarely comes across in Rus', where everything likes to unfold rather than shrink, and it is all the more striking that right there in the neighborhood a landowner will turn up, reveling in the full breadth of Russian prowess and nobility, burning, as they say, through life . [...]
And a person could descend to such insignificance, pettiness, disgust! could have changed! And does it look like it's true? Everything seems to be true, everything can happen to a person. The current fiery young man would jump back in horror if they showed him his own portrait in old age. Take with you on your journey, emerging from your soft youthful years into a stern, hardening courage, take with you all human movements, do not leave them on the road, do not pick them up later! Terrible, terrible is the coming old age ahead, and gives nothing back and back! The grave is more merciful than her, on the grave it will be written: "A man is buried here!" - but nothing can be read in the cold, insensitive features of inhuman old age.
Glossary
Mezzanine, pl. - The top floor of the house.
bang, nesov. - To bask.
Gazebo, m. - A small structure towering above the roof.
Beetroot, m. - A box of birch bark.
squabble, m. - Small items; trash.
Zipun, m. - Peasant working caftan.
Apartment, and. - Housing, place of residence.
compatriot, and. - Compatriot.
madam, and. - A French governess.
lobe, and. - Thread, fiber, yarn.
Mykolnik, m. - Lukoshko.
crossed, m. - A barrel sawn in half.
twin brother, g - Large foot, a vessel for drinking.
Siberia, and. - A kind of short caftan.
frock coat, m. - Men's top double-breasted clothing at the waist in long floors.
Staff Captain, m. - Officer rank in the pre-revolutionary Russian army, as well as
face in this rank.
Pitched yard.- A market where they sold wooden carved, turning utensils.
Yuft, and. - Bull or cow leather dressed with tar.
I am posting excerpts from a wonderful poem by Nikolai Vasilyevich, which I managed to read, making up for the gaps in the school curriculum. I must say that the passages below touched me personally, were made by me, and therefore have a subjective assessment. They in no way detract from other passages of the poem, to which, due to my "merits", I simply did not pay attention. You can comment, add your subjective observations. Are the thoughts of the classic still relevant today? How accurately is the soul of the nation reflected in the thoughts of the author of the poem? Has much changed in the time that has passed?
“But the man is strange: he was greatly upset by the dislike of those whom he did not respect and about whom he spoke sharply, vilifying their vanity and outfits. This was all the more annoying to him because, having examined the matter clearly, he saw how the cause of this was partly himself. With himself, however, he was not angry, and in that, of course, he was right. We all have a slight weakness to spare ourselves a little, but we will try better to find some neighbor on whom to take out our annoyance, for example, on a servant, on an official, on a subordinate who turned up just in time, on his wife, or, finally, on a chair that will be thrown ... to the very doors, so that the handle and back will fly off from him: let him, they say, know what anger is ”(Gogol N.V. Dead Souls: A Poem. - M .: Mosk. Rabochiy, 1984. - 188 p. )
“Strange people, these gentlemen officials, and behind them all the reason for the title: after all, they knew very well that Nozdryov was a liar, that he could not be trusted in a single word, not in the trifle itself, but meanwhile they resorted to him. Come and get along with the man! He does not believe in God, but believes that if the bridge of his nose itches, he will certainly die; he will let past the creation of a poet, clear as day, all imbued with harmony and the high wisdom of simplicity, and will rush exactly where some daring confuses, twists, breaks, twists nature, and he will like it, and he will begin to shout: “Here it is Here is the true knowledge of the secrets of the heart!” All his life he doesn’t put a penny on doctors, but ends up turning to a woman who heals with whispers and spitting, or, even better, he invents some kind of dekocht himself out of god knows what rubbish, which, for some unknown reason, will imagine to him just a remedy for his illness "(Gogol N.V. Dead Souls: A Poem. - M .: Mosk.worker, 1984. - 223s.)
“Human passions are countless, like the sea sands, and all are not alike, and all of them, low and beautiful, are at the beginning obedient to man and then become his terrible rulers” (Gogol N.V. Dead Souls: Poem. - M.: Mosk.worker, 1984. - 261s.)
“... and that money, which would somehow improve the matter, goes to various means to bring oneself into oblivion. The mind sleeps, perhaps having found a great spring of great means; and there the estate bukh, from the auction, and the landowner went to be forgotten in the world with his soul, from the extreme. Ready for baseness, which he himself would have been horrified of before ”(Gogol N.V. Dead Souls: A Poem. - M .: Mosk. Rabochiy, 1984. - 262 p.)
“... in order to respond modestly to the accusation from some ardent patriots, until the time they are engaged in some kind of philosophy or increments at the expense of the sums of their dearly beloved fatherland, thinking not about not doing bad things, but about not only saying that they do bad things ”(Gogol N.V. Dead Souls: A Poem. - M .: Mosk. Rabochiy, 1984. - 264 p.)
V.U. compare with 2 Corinthians 13:7 “We pray to God that you do no evil, not in order to seem to us what you should be; but that you do good, even though we appear not to be what we ought to be.”
“But youth is happy that it has a future. As the time for graduation neared, his heart began to beat. He said to himself: “After all, this is not life yet; this is only preparation for life; real life is in the service.
“- They think how to enlighten a man! Yes, you first make him a rich and good owner, and then he will learn by himself. After all, how now, at this time, the whole world has become stupid, so you cannot imagine. What are the clickers writing now! Some milk-drinker (?) will let in a book, and so everyone will rush at her. This is what they began to say: “The peasant leads a very simple life; you need to acquaint him with luxury items, instill in him a need beyond the state ... "That thanks to this luxury they themselves became rags, and not people, and diseases ... what kind of diseases they have accumulated, and there is no eighteen-year-old boy who has not tried everything: he has no teeth, and bald like a bubble - so now they want to infect these too. Yes, thank God that we have at least one more healthy class left. Who did not get acquainted with these whims! For that we just have to thank God. Yes, the cultivators are more respectable to me than all - why are you touching him? God forbid that everyone be cultivators ”(Gogol N.V. Dead Souls: A Poem. - M .: Mosk. Rabochiy, 1984. - 335s.)
“We were not born for prudence at all. I don't believe that any of us are sensible. If I see that another even lives decently, collects and saves money, I do not believe even that. In old age, the devil will confuse him: then he will suddenly lower everything. And everything is so, right: both enlightened and unenlightened. No, something else is missing, but I don’t know what myself ”(Gogol N.V. Dead Souls: A Poem. - M .: Mosk. Rabochiy, 1984. - 350s.)
Listen, Semyon Semyonovich, but you pray, you go to church, you don't miss, I know, either Matins or Vespers. Although you do not want to get up early, you get up and go, - you go at four o'clock in the morning, when no one gets up so early.
- That's another matter, Afanasy Vasilyevich. I know that I am doing this not for a person, but for the One who ordered us all to be in the world. What to do? I believe that He is merciful to me, that no matter how vile or vile I am, He can forgive and accept, while people will push me away with their foot and the best of friends will sell me, and even later say that he sold for a good purpose ... "(Gogol N.V. Dead Souls: A Poem. - M .: Mosk.worker, 1984. - 368s.)
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SOURCE Gogol N.V. Dead Souls: A Poem. - M .: Mosk.worker, 1984. - 399s., illust
Read the poem 10/08/2011
Let's go look for Manilovka. Having traveled two versts, they met a turn onto a country road, but already two, and three, and four versts, it seems, had been made, and the stone house on two floors was still not visible. Here Chichikov remembered that if a friend invites him to his village fifteen miles away, it means that there are sure thirty. The village of Manilovka could lure a few with its location. The master's house stood alone in the south, that is, on a hill, open to all the winds that it might take a fancy to blow; the slope of the mountain on which he stood was dressed in trimmed turf. Two or three flowerbeds with lilac and yellow acacia bushes were scattered on it in the English style; here and there five or six birches in small clusters raised their small-leaved thin tops. Beneath two of them was a gazebo with a flat green dome, blue wooden columns and the inscription "Temple of Solitary Reflection"; lower down is a pond covered with greenery, which, however, is not a wonder in the English gardens of Russian landowners. At the foot of this elevation, and partly along the slope itself, gray log huts darkened up and down, which our hero, for unknown reasons, immediately began to count and counted more than two hundred; nowhere between them is a growing tree or some kind of greenery; everywhere looked only one log. The view was enlivened by two women, who, picturesquely picking up their dresses and tucking themselves in from all sides, wandered knee-deep in the pond, dragging a tattered log by two wooden nags, where two entangled crayfish were visible and a caught roach glittered; the women, it seemed, were at odds with one another and were squabbling over something. At some distance, to the side, a pine forest darkened with some dull bluish color. Even the weather itself was very helpful: the day was either clear or gloomy, but of some kind of light gray color, which happens only on the old uniforms of garrison soldiers, this, however, a peaceful army, but partly drunk on Sundays. To complete the picture, there was no lack of a rooster, a harbinger of changeable weather, which, despite the fact that the head was gouged to the very brain by the noses of other roosters in known deeds of red tape, bawled very loudly and even flapped its wings, tattered like old matting. Approaching the courtyard, Chichikov noticed the owner himself on the porch, who was standing in a green chalon frock coat, with his hand to his forehead in the form of an umbrella over his eyes, in order to get a better look at the approaching carriage. As the britzka drew nearer to the porch, his eyes grew merrier and his smile widened more and more.
"Pavel Ivanovich!" he exclaimed at last, when Chichikov got out of the britzka. “Forcibly you still remembered us!”
Both friends kissed very warmly, and Manilov led his guest into the room. Although the time during which they will pass through the entrance hall, the hallway and the dining room is somewhat short, we will try to see if we can somehow use it and say something about the owner of the house. But here the author must admit that such an undertaking is very difficult to portray characters of large size much easier: there, just throw paint with all your hands onto the canvas, black scorching eyes, hanging eyebrows, a forehead cut with a wrinkle, a black or scarlet cloak thrown over his shoulder , - and the portrait is ready; but all these gentlemen, of whom there are many in the world, who look very similar to each other, but meanwhile, as you look closely, you will see many of the most elusive features - these gentlemen are terribly difficult for portraits. Here you will have to strain your attention strongly until you force all the subtle, almost invisible features to stand out before you, and in general you will have to deepen your gaze, already sophisticated in the science of probing.
God alone could not say what the character of Manilov was. There is a kind of people known by the name: people are so-so, neither this nor that, neither in the city of Bogdan, nor in the village of Selifan, according to the proverb. Perhaps Manilov should join them. In his eyes he was a prominent person; his features were not devoid of pleasantness, but this pleasantness seemed to have been conveyed too much sugar; there was something in his manners and turns that ingratiated himself with favors and acquaintances. He smiled enticingly, was blond, with blue eyes. In the first minute of a conversation with him, you cannot but say: what a pleasant and kind person! In the next minute you will not say anything, but in the third you will say: the devil knows what it is! and move away; if you don’t move away, you will feel mortal boredom. You will not expect any lively or even arrogant word from him, which you can hear from almost anyone if you touch on the subject that bullies him. Everyone has his own enthusiasm: one has turned his enthusiasm to greyhounds; to another it seems that he is a strong lover of music and surprisingly feels all the deep places in it; the third is a master of famously dine; the fourth to play a role at least one inch higher than the one assigned to him; the fifth, with a more limited desire, sleeps and dreams about how to go on festivities with the adjutant wing, showing off to his friends, acquaintances and even strangers; the sixth is already endowed with such a hand that feels a supernatural desire to break the corner of some diamond ace or deuce, while the hand of the seventh climbs somewhere to make order somewhere, to get closer to the personality of the stationmaster or coachmen - in a word, everyone has his own, but Manilov had nothing. At home he spoke very little and for the most part reflected and thought, but what he thought about, too, God only knew. - You can’t say that he was engaged in farming, he never even went to the fields, farming went on somehow by itself. When the clerk said: “It would be nice, the gentleman to do this and that,” “yes, not bad,” he usually answered, smoking a pipe, which he made a habit of smoking when he was still in the army, where he was considered the most modest, most delicate and most educated officer: “yes Precisely not bad," he repeated. When a peasant came to him and, scratching the back of his head with his hand, said, “Master, let me go to work, give me some money,” “go on,” he said, smoking a pipe, and it didn’t even occur to him that the peasant was going to get drunk. Sometimes, looking from the porch at the yard and at the pond, he would talk about how nice it would be if all of a sudden to lead an underground passage from the house or build a stone bridge across the pond, on which there would be benches on both sides, and so that people would sit in them. merchants and sold various small goods needed by the peasants. - At the same time, his eyes became extremely sweet and his face assumed the most contented expression, however, all these projects ended in only one word. In his office there was always some kind of book, bookmarked on page 14, which he had been constantly reading for two years. Something was always missing in his house: in the living room there was beautiful furniture, upholstered in smart silk fabric, which, no doubt, was very expensive; but it was not enough for two armchairs, and the armchairs were upholstered simply with matting; however, for several years the host warned his guest every time with the words: "Do not sit on these chairs, they are not yet ready." In another room there was no furniture at all, although it was said in the first days after the marriage: “Darling, you will need to work tomorrow to put furniture in this room at least for a while.” In the evening, a very smart candlestick made of dark bronze with three antique graces, with a mother-of-pearl smart shield, was served on the table, and next to it was placed some kind of simply copper invalid, lame, curled up on the side and covered in fat, although neither the owner nor mistress, no servant. his wife ... however, they were perfectly pleased with each other. Despite the fact that more than eight years of their marriage had passed, each of them still brought to the other either a piece of an apple, or a candy, or a nut and spoke in a touchingly tender voice expressing perfect love: this piece." - It goes without saying that the mouth opened very gracefully on this occasion. There were surprises being prepared for the birthday: some kind of beaded case for a toothpick. And very often, sitting on the sofa, suddenly, for absolutely no reason, one left his pipe, and the other work, if only it was held at that time in their hands, they impressed each other with such a languid and long kiss that it could be continued It would be easy to smoke a small straw cigar. In a word, they were what they say happy. Of course, one would notice that there are many other things to do in the house besides long kisses and surprises, and many requests could be made. Why, for example, stupidly and uselessly preparing in the kitchen? Why is the pantry so empty? why is the key thief? Why are servants unclean and drunkards? why do all the domestics sleep in an unmerciful way and hang around the rest of the time? But all these subjects are low, and Manilova was brought up well. A good upbringing, as you know, is obtained in boarding schools. And in boarding schools, as you know, three main subjects form the basis of human virtues: the French language, which is necessary for the happiness of family life, the piano, for delivering pleasant moments to the spouse, and, finally, the economic part itself: knitting purses and other surprises. However, there are various improvements and changes in methods, especially at the present time; all this depends more on the prudence and abilities of the hostesses themselves. In other boarding schools it happens that first the pianoforte, then the French language, and then the economic part. And sometimes it also happens that formerly the economic part, that is, knitting surprises, then French, and then the pianoforte. There are different methods. It does not interfere with the remark that Manilova ... but I confess that I am very afraid to talk about ladies, and besides, it’s time for me to return to our heroes, who have been standing for several minutes at the door of the drawing room, mutually begging each other to go forward.
"Do me a favor, don't worry like that for me, I'll go after," said Chichikov.
"No, Pavel Ivanovich, no, you are a guest," said Manilov, pointing to the door with his hand.
“Don't be embarrassed, please don't be embarrassed. Please come in," Chichikov said.
“No, sorry, I won’t let such a pleasant, educated guest pass behind.”
"Why is the educated ?.. Please come through."
"Well, yes, if you please, you pass."
"Yes, why?"
"Well, that's why!" said Manilov with a pleasant smile.
Finally, both friends entered the door sideways and squeezed each other a little.
“Let me introduce my wife to you,” said Manilov. "Darling, Pavel Ivanovich!"
Chichikov, as if, saw a lady, whom he had completely failed to notice, bowing at the door with Manilov. She was not bad, dressed to the face. A pale-colored silk cloth hood sat well on her, her thin small hand threw something hastily on the table and squeezed a cambric handkerchief with embroidered corners. She got up from the sofa on which she was sitting; Chichikov approached her hand, not without pleasure. Manilova said, even burping a little, that he made them very happy with his arrival and that her husband did not go a day without thinking about him.
“Yes,” said Manilov, “she used to keep asking me: “But why isn’t your friend coming?” "Wait, darling, he will come." But you finally honored us with your visit. Such, right, brought pleasure, May day, name day of the heart ... "
Chichikov, hearing that it had already come to the name day of the heart, was even somewhat embarrassed and replied modestly that he had neither a big name, nor even a noticeable rank.
"You have everything," interrupted Manilov with the same pleasant smile: "you have everything, even more."
“How did our city seem to you?” said Manilova. "Did you have a good time there?"
“A very good city, a beautiful city,” answered Chichikov, “and he spent a very pleasant time: the society is most courteous.”
And how did you find our governor? Manilova said.
“Isn’t it true that the most honorable and most amiable person?” added Manilov.
“Absolutely true,” said Chichikov, “a most respectable person. And how he entered his position, how he understands it! We need to want more people like that."
“How can he, you know, accept anyone like that, observe the delicacy in his actions,” Manilov added with a smile and closed his eyes almost completely with pleasure, like a cat whose fingers have been lightly tickled behind the ears.
"A very courteous and pleasant man," Chichikov continued, "and what an expert! I couldn't even imagine it. How well he embroiders various home patterns. He showed me his wallet, a rare lady can embroider so skillfully.
“And the lieutenant governor, isn’t it, what a nice person?” said Manilov, screwing up his eyes somewhat again.
"A very, very worthy man," answered Chichikov.
“Well, excuse me, how did the police chief seem to you? Isn't it true that a very nice person?
“Extremely pleasant, and what a smart, what a well-read person! We lost whist with him, together with the prosecutor and the chairman of the chamber, until the very last cocks. A very, very worthy person!”
"Well, what do you think of the police chief's wife?" Manilova added. "Isn't it true, dear woman?"
“Oh, this is one of the most worthy women I know,” Chichikov answered.
Therefore, they did not let the chairman of the chamber, the postmaster, and thus went through almost all the officials of the city, who all turned out to be the most worthy people.
"Do you always spend time in the village?" did at last, in turn, question Chichikov.
"More in the countryside," replied Manilov. “Sometimes, however, we come to the city only to see educated people. You get wild, you know, if you live locked up all the time.
"True, true," said Chichikov.
“Of course,” continued Manilov, “it would be another matter if the neighborhood were good, if, for example, there was such a person with whom one could talk in some way about kindness, about good treatment, to follow some kind of science, so that stirred the soul, would give, so to speak, a sort of guy ... Here he wanted to express something else, but, noticing that he had somewhat reported, he only poked his hand in the air and continued: “then, of course, the countryside and solitude would have a lot of amenities. But there is absolutely no one ... But sometimes you read “Son of the Fatherland”.
Chichikov agreed with this completely, adding that nothing could be more pleasant than living in solitude, enjoying the spectacle of nature, and occasionally reading some book. ...
"Oh, that's fair, that's perfectly fair!" interrupted Chichikov; "What? all the treasures then in the world! Have no money, have good people to convert, said a wise man.
“And you know, Pavel Ivanovich,” said Manilov, displaying in his face an expression that was not only sweet, but even cloying, like the mixture that the clever worldly doctor sweetened mercilessly, imagining to please the patient with it: “then you feel some, in some way , spiritual delight ... Here is how, for example, now, when the case has brought me happiness, I can say exemplary, talk to you and enjoy your pleasant conversation ... »
"Excuse me, what a pleasant conversation ?.. An insignificant person, and nothing else, ”Chichikov answered.
"ABOUT! Pavel Ivanovich, let me be frank: I would gladly give half of my entire fortune in order to have some of the virtues that you have. !.. »
“On the contrary, I would consider for my part the greatest ... »
It is not known what the mutual outpouring of feelings of both friends would have reached if the servant who entered had not reported that the food was ready.
"I beg you most humbly," said Manilov.
“Forgive me if we don’t have such a dinner as on the parquets and in the capitals; we simply, according to Russian custom, cabbage soup, but from the bottom of our hearts. I humbly ask."
Here they argued for some more time about who should go in first, and finally Chichikov entered the dining room sideways.
Two boys were already standing in the dining room, Manilov's sons, who were of those years when they already seat children at the table, but still on high chairs. The teacher stood beside them, bowing politely and with a smile. The hostess sat down to her soup bowl; the guest was seated between the host and the hostess, the servant tied napkins around the children's necks.
"What nice little children," said Chichikov, looking at them: "and what year?"
“The eldest is eight, and the youngest just passed six yesterday,” Manilova said.
"Themistoclus!" said Manilov, turning to the elder, who was trying to free his chin, which had been tied up in a napkin by the lackey. Chichikov raised a few eyebrows when he heard such a partly Greek name, to which, for some unknown reason, Manilov gave the ending in yus, but he tried at the same time to bring his face back to its usual position.
"Themistoclus, tell me, what is the best city in France?"
Here the teacher turned all his attention to Themistoclus and seemed to want to jump into his eyes, but at last he completely calmed down and nodded his head when Themistoclus said: "Paris."
“And what is the best city we have?” asked Manilov again.
The teacher turned his attention back.
"Petersburg," replied Themistoclus.
"What else?"
"Moscow," answered Themistoclus.
"Clever, darling!" Chichikov said to this. "Tell me, but ... he continued, turning at once, with a certain air of astonishment, to the Manilovs. "I have to tell you that there will be great abilities in this child."
"Oh, you don't know him yet!" Manilov replied: “He has an extremely large amount of wit. Here is the smaller one, Alkid, that one is not so fast, but this one now, if he meets something, a bug, a goat, his eyes suddenly start to run; run after her and immediately pay attention. I'll read it on the diplomatic side. Themistoclus! he continued, turning to him again: "Do you want to be a messenger?"
"I want to," answered Themistoclus, chewing bread and shaking his head right and left.
At this time, the footman standing behind wiped the envoy's nose and did very well, otherwise a pretty foreign drop would have sunk into the soup. The conversation began around the table about the pleasures of a quiet life, interrupted by the remarks of the hostess about the city theater and about the actors. The teacher looked very attentively at the speakers, and as soon as he noticed that they were ready to grin, he immediately opened his mouth and laughed with zeal. He was probably an appreciative person and wanted to pay this owner for good treatment. Once, however, his face took on a stern look, and he sternly tapped his fork on the table, fixing his eyes on the children sitting across from him. This was near the spot, because Themistoclusus bit Alcides on the ear, and Alcides, closing his eyes and opening his mouth, was ready to sob in the most miserable way, but, sensing that for this it was easy to lose the dish, he returned his mouth to its previous position and began with gnawed with tears at a mutton bone, from which both cheeks were shiny with fat. The hostess very often turned to Chichikov with the words: “You don’t eat anything, you took very little.” To which Chichikov replied every time: "Thank you most humbly, I'm full, pleasant conversation is better than any meal."
Already got up from the table. Manilov was exceedingly pleased and, supporting his guest's back with his hand, was preparing to escort him into the drawing room in this way, when suddenly the guest announced with a very significant air that he intended to talk to him about one very necessary matter.
"In that case, let me ask you to my office," said Manilov, and led him into a small room with a window facing a blue forest. "Here is my corner," said Manilov.
"Nice little room," said Chichikov, glancing over it with his eyes. The room was, as it were, not without pleasantness; the walls were painted with some kind of blue-gray paint; four chairs, one armchair, a table on which lay a book with a bookmark, which we have already had occasion to mention; several written papers; but most of all was tobacco. It was in different forms: in caps and in a tabernacle, and finally it was simply poured in a heap on the table. On both windows there were also mounds of ash knocked out of a pipe, arranged, not without diligence, in very beautiful rows. It was noticeable that this sometimes gave the owner a pastime.
“Let me ask you to sit in these chairs,” Manilov said. "Here you will be calmer."
"Let me sit on a chair."
"Allow me not to allow this," said Manilov with a smile. “I have already assigned this chair for a guest: for the sake of it or not for the sake of it, they must sit down.”
Chichikov sat down.
"Let me treat you with a pipe."
"No, I don't smoke," Chichikov answered affectionately and, as it were, with an air of regret.
"From what?" said Manilov, also affectionately and with an air of regret.
“I haven't made a habit, I'm afraid; they say the pipe dries.
“Let me tell you that this is a prejudice. I even think that smoking a pipe is much healthier than sniffing tobacco. In our regiment there was a lieutenant, a most excellent and most educated man who never let his pipe out of his mouth, not only at the table, but even, so to speak, in all other places. And now he is now more than forty years old, but thanks to God he is still as healthy as possible.
Chichikov noticed that this certainly happens and that there are many things in nature that are inexplicable even for a vast mind.
"But first, let me ask you one thing. ... he said in a voice in which some strange, or almost strange, expression was heard, and after that, for some unknown reason, he looked back. Manilov, too, for some unknown reason, looked back. “How long ago did you deign to submit a revision tale?”
“Yes, a long time ago; Or better yet, I don't remember."
“How many peasants have died since that time?”
“But I can’t know: about this, I believe, you need to ask the clerk. Hey, man, call the clerk, he should be here today.
The clerk has arrived. He was a man of about forty, who shaved his beard, walked in a frock coat, and, apparently, led a very quiet life, because his face looked like some kind of plump fullness, and the yellowish skin color and small eyes showed that he knew too well what down jackets and feather beds. It could be seen at once that he had completed his career, as all the master's clerks do it: before that he was just a literate boy in the house, then he married some Agashka the housekeeper, a mistress's favorite, became a housekeeper himself, and then a clerk. And having become a clerk, he acted, of course, like all clerks: he hung out and mingled with those who were richer in the village, added to the poorer taxes, waking up at nine o'clock in the morning, waited for the samovar and drank tea.
“Listen, dear! how many peasants have died since the revision was filed?
“Yes, how much? Many have died since then, ”said the clerk, and at the same time hiccupped, covering his mouth slightly with his hand like a shield.
“Yes, I confess, I myself thought so,” Manilov picked up: “it was precisely very many who died!” Here he turned to Chichikov and added: "That's right, very many."
“What about the number, for example?” asked Chichikov.
"Yes, how many?" picked up Manilov.
“Yes, how to say the number? It is not known how many died. no one counted them."
“Yes, exactly,” said Manilov, turning to Chichikov: “I also assumed a high mortality rate; It is not known how many died.
"Reread them, please," said Chichikov; "and make a detailed register of everyone by name."
"Yes, all by name," said Manilov.
The clerk said: "I'm listening!" and left.
"And for what reasons do you need it?" Manilov asked the clerk as he left.
This question seemed to embarrass the guest, his face showed some kind of tense expression, from which he even blushed, the tension to express something, not quite submissive to words. And in fact, Manilov finally heard such strange and unusual things as never before heard by human ears.
“For what reason, you ask? the reasons are as follows: I would like to buy peasants ... said Chichikov, stammering, and did not finish his speech.
“But let me ask you,” said Manilov, “how do you want to buy the peasants, with land, or just for withdrawal, that is, without land?”
“No, I’m not completely peasant,” said Chichikov, “I wish to have dead ... »
“How-with? Sorry ... I am somewhat hard of hearing, I heard a strange word ... »
“I suppose to acquire the dead, which, however, would be listed as alive according to the revision,” said Chichikov.
Manilov immediately dropped the chubuk with his pipe on the floor, and as he opened his mouth, he remained with his mouth open for several minutes. The two friends, who were talking about the pleasures of a friendly life, remained motionless, gazing at each other, like those portraits that in the old days were hung one against the other on both sides of the mirror. Finally Manilov picked up the pipe with the chibouk and looked down into his face, trying to see if there was any kind of smile on his lips, if he was joking; but nothing of the kind was visible; on the contrary, the face even seemed more sedate than usual; then he wondered if the guest had somehow accidentally lost his mind, and looked intently at him with fear; but the visitor's eyes were perfectly clear, there was no wild, restless fire in them, which runs in the eyes of a crazy person, everything was decent and in order. No matter how Manilov thought out how to be and what to do, he could not think of anything else but to let out the remaining smoke from his mouth in a very thin stream.
"So, I would like to know if you can give me those who are not really alive, but alive in relation to the legal form, to transfer, to cede, or as you please better?"
But Manilov was so embarrassed and confused that he only looked at him.
"I think you're having a hard time ?.. Chichikov remarked.
"I ?.. no, I'm not that," said Manilov, "but I can't reach ... Sorry ... I, of course, could not receive such a brilliant education, which, so to speak, is visible in your every movement; I don't have the art of expressing myself ... Maybe here ... in this explanation you have just expressed ... hidden another ... Perhaps you deigned to express yourself in this way for the beauty of the style?
"No," Chichikov picked up, "no, I mean the subject as it is, that is, those souls who have definitely already died."
Manilov was completely at a loss. He felt that he needed to do something, to propose a question, and what question - the devil knows. He finally ended by exhaling smoke again, but not through his mouth, but through his nasal nostrils.
“So, if there are no obstacles, then with God, we could begin to make a purchase fortress,” said Chichikov.
“How, a bill of sale for dead souls?”
"Ah, no!" Chichikov said. “We will write that they are alive, as it really is in the revision tale. I am used to not deviating from civil laws in anything, although I suffered in the service for this, but excuse me: duty is a sacred thing for me, the law - I am dumb before the law.
Manilov liked the last words, but he still did not penetrate into the meaning of the matter itself, and instead of answering, he began to suck his chibouk so hard that he finally began to wheeze like a bassoon. It seemed as if he wanted to extract from him an opinion on such an unheard-of circumstance; but the chubuk wheezed and nothing more.
"Perhaps you have any doubts?"
"ABOUT! sorry, nothing. I'm not talking about having some, that is, a critical prejudice against you. But let me report whether this enterprise, or, to put it even more, so to speak, negotiation, so whether this negotiation will not correspond to civil regulations and further types of Russia.
Here Manilov, making a slight movement of his head, looked very significantly into Chichikov's face, showing in all the features of his face and in his compressed lips such a deep expression, which, perhaps, could not be seen on a human face, except for some too intelligent minister, and even then at the moment of the most puzzling case.
But Chichikov simply said that such an undertaking, or negotiation, would in no way be inconsistent with civil decrees and further types of Russia, and a minute later he added that the treasury would even benefit, for it would receive legal duties.
"So you think ?.. »
"I believe it will be good."
"And if it's good, that's another matter: I'm against it," said Manilov, and completely calmed down.
“Now it remains to agree on a price ... »
"How's the price?" Manilov said again and stopped. “Do you really think that I will take money for souls that, in some way, have ended their existence? If you already have such a fantastic desire, so to speak, then, for my part, I betray them to you without interest and take over the bill of sale.
A great reproach would be given to the historian of the proposed events if he neglected to say that pleasure overwhelmed the guest after such words uttered by Manilov. No matter how sedate and reasonable he was, he almost even made a leap after the model of a goat, which, as you know, is done only in the strongest outbursts of joy. He twisted so violently in his chair that the woolen material that covered the pillow snapped; Manilov himself looked at him in some bewilderment. Prompted by gratitude, he immediately uttered so many thanks that he became confused, blushed all over, made a negative gesture with his head, and finally expressed himself that this being is nothing, that he, exactly, would like to prove in some way the heart's attraction, the magnetism of the soul, and the dead souls are, in a way, complete rubbish.
"Not at all rubbish," said Chichikov, shaking his hand. A very deep sigh was let out here. He seemed to be in the mood for outpourings of the heart; not without feeling and expression, he finally uttered the following words:
“If you knew what a service this apparently rubbish rendered to a man without a tribe and family! And indeed, what did I not tolerate? like some kind of barge among the ferocious waves ... What persecution, what persecution did he not experience, what grief did he not taste, but for what? for keeping the truth, that he was pure in his conscience, that he gave a hand to both the helpless widow and the unfortunate orphan !.. Here he even wiped away a tear that had rolled out with a handkerchief.
Manilov was completely moved. Both friends shook each other's hands for a long time and looked silently into each other's eyes for a long time, in which tears were visible. Manilov did not want to let go of our hero's hand and continued to press it so fervently that he no longer knew how to rescue it. Finally, pulling it out slowly, he said that it would not be bad to make the bill of sale as soon as possible, and it would be good if he himself visited the city. Then he took his hat and began to take his leave.
"How? do you want to go?" said Manilov, suddenly coming to himself and almost frightened.
At this time, she entered Manilov's office.
"Lizanka," said Manilov with a somewhat pitiful look: "Pavel Ivanovich is leaving us!"
“Because we are tired of Pavel Ivanovich,” answered Manilova.
"Madam! here," said Chichikov, "here, that's where," here he put his hand on his heart: "yes, here will be the pleasantness of the time spent with you! And, believe me, there would be no greater bliss for me than to live with you, if not in the same house, then at least in the very next neighborhood.
“Do you know, Pavel Ivanovich,” said Manilov, who was very pleased with this idea: “how nice it would really be if we could live like that together, under the same roof, or under the shade of some elm tree, philosophize about something, go deep into !.. »
"ABOUT! it would be heavenly life!” said Chichikov, sighing. "Farewell, ma'am!" he went on, going up to Manilov's pen. "Farewell, dearest friend! Don't forget to ask!"
"Oh, rest assured!" answered Manilov. "I will part with you no longer than for two days."
Everyone went to the dining room.
"Goodbye, little darlings!" said Chichikov, seeing Alcides and Themistoclus, who were attending to some kind of wooden hussar, who no longer had either an arm or a nose. "Goodbye my little ones. You will excuse me that I did not bring you a present, because, I confess, I did not even know if you lived in the world; but now, when I arrive, I will certainly bring it. I will bring you a saber; do you want a saber?
"I want," answered Themistoclus.
“And you have a drum; Isn't it a drum for you?" he continued, leaning towards Alcides.
"Parapan," answered Alkid in a whisper and bowing his head.
"Okay, I'll bring you a drum. Such a nice drum !.. So everything will be: turrr ... RU ... tra-ta-ta, ta-ta-ta ... Farewell, darling! Goodbye!" Here he kissed him on the head and turned to Manilov and his wife with a slight laugh, with which parents are usually addressed, letting them know about the innocence of the desires of their children.
“Really, stay, Pavel Ivanovich!” said Manilov, when everyone had already gone out onto the porch. "Look at the clouds."
"These are little clouds," answered Chichikov.
“Do you know the way to Sobakevich?”
"That's what I want to ask you."
"Let me tell your coachman now." Here Manilov, with the same courtesy, told the coachman the matter, and even said to him once: you.
The coachman, hearing that he had to skip two turns and turn onto the third, said: "Let's have fun, your honor," and Chichikov drove away, accompanied by long bows and waving of a handkerchief from the hosts who were rising on tiptoe.
Manilov stood for a long time on the porch, following the retreating britzka with his eyes, and when it was no longer visible at all, he was still standing, smoking his pipe. At last he entered the room, sat down on a chair and gave himself over to reflection, sincerely glad that he had given his guest a little pleasure. Then his thoughts drifted imperceptibly to other objects, and finally drifted to God knows where. He thought about the well-being of a friendly life, about how nice it would be to live with a friend on the banks of some river, then a bridge began to be built across this river, then a huge house with such a high belvedere that you could even see Moscow from there, and there to drink tea in the evening in the open air and talk about some pleasant subjects. - Because they, together with Chichikov, arrived in some kind of society, in good carriages, where they enchant everyone with pleasant treatment, and that it was as if the sovereign, having learned about their friendship, granted them generals, and then finally God knows what is, what he himself could not make out. Chichikov's strange request suddenly interrupted all his dreams. The thought of her somehow did not particularly boil in his head: no matter how he turned it over, he could not explain it to himself, and all the time he sat and smoked his pipe, which lasted until dinner.
Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol
Chichikov's childhood
(Excerpt from the poem "Dead Souls")
<…> One day, with the first spring sun and overflowing streams, the father, taking his son, rode out with him on a cart, which was dragged by a mukhorty piebald horse, known among horse dealers under the name of magpie; it was ruled by a coachman, a little hunchback, the ancestor of the only serf family that belonged to Chichikov's father, who occupied almost all positions in the house. On a magpie they trudged for more than a day and a half; they spent the night on the road, crossed the river, ate a cold pie and roast lamb, and only on the third day in the morning reached the city. The streets of the city flashed with unexpected splendor before the boy, forcing him to open his mouth for several minutes. Then the magpie flopped along with the cart into the pit, which began a narrow alley, which was all striving down and choked with mud; for a long time she worked there with all her might and kneaded with her legs, instigated by both the hunchback and the master himself, and finally dragged them into a small courtyard, which stood on a slope with two blossoming apple trees in front of an old house and a garden behind it, low, small, consisting only of mountain ash, elderberry and hiding in the depths of her wooden booth, covered with shrapnel, with a narrow frosted window. Here lived a relative of theirs, a flabby old woman who still went to the market every morning and then dried her stockings at the samovar, who patted the boy on the cheek and admired his fullness. Here he was supposed to stay and go daily to the classes of the city school. Father, having spent the night, got out on the road the next day. At parting, no tears were shed from parental eyes; was given half a copper for consumption and goodies, and, much more importantly, a clever instruction: “Look, Pavlusha, study, don’t be a fool and don’t hang out, but most of all please teachers and bosses. If you please your boss, then, although you won’t succeed in science and God didn’t give you talent, you will go all out and get ahead of everyone. Don't hang out with your comrades, they won't teach you good things; and if it comes to that, then hang out with those who are richer, so that on occasion they can be useful to you. Do not treat or treat anyone, but behave better in such a way that you are treated; and most of all, take care and save a penny: this thing is more reliable than anything in the world. A comrade or friend will cheat you and in trouble will be the first to betray you, but a penny will not betray you, no matter what trouble you are in. You will do everything and break everything in the world with a penny. Having given such instruction, the father parted from his son, dragged himself home again on his magpie, and since then he never saw him again, but the words and instructions were sunk deep into his soul.
End of introductory segment.
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Notes
Mukhortaya - with yellow tan marks (horse color).
The visitor, it seemed, avoided talking much about himself; if he spoke, then in some general places, with noticeable modesty, and his conversation in such cases took on somewhat bookish turns: that he was an insignificant worm of this world and was unworthy of being cared for a lot, that he had experienced a lot in his lifetime , suffered in the service for the truth, had many enemies who even attempted on his life, and that now, wanting to calm down, he is finally looking for a place to live, and that, having arrived in this city, he felt it an indispensable duty to pay his respects to its first dignitaries . Here is everything that the city learned about this new face, who very soon did not fail to show himself at the governor's party. The preparation for this party took more than two hours, and here the newcomer showed such attentiveness to the toilet, which is not even seen everywhere. After a short afternoon nap, he ordered to wash and rubbed both cheeks with soap for an extremely long time, propping them from the inside with his tongue; then, taking a towel from the tavern servant's shoulder, he wiped his plump face from all sides with it, beginning from behind his ears and snorting first or twice into the tavern servant's very face. Then he put on his shirt-front in front of the mirror, plucked out two hairs that had come out of his nose, and immediately after that found himself in a lingonberry-colored tailcoat with a spark. Thus dressed, he rolled in his own carriage along the endlessly wide streets, illuminated by the meager illumination from the windows that flickered here and there. However, the governor's house was so lit up, even for a ball; carriages with lanterns, two gendarmes in front of the entrance, postillion cries in the distance - in a word, everything is as it should be. On entering the hall, Chichikov had to shut his eyes for a minute, because the glare from the candles, lamps, and ladies' dresses was terrible. Everything was filled with light. Black tailcoats flickered and flitted apart and in heaps here and there, like flies on the white shining refined sugar during the hot July summer, when the old housekeeper cuts and divides it into sparkling fragments in front of the open window; the children all stare, gathered around, following with curiosity the movements of her hard hands, raising the hammer, and the aerial squadrons of flies, lifted by the light air, fly in boldly, like complete masters, and, taking advantage of the old woman's short-sightedness and the sun that disturbs her eyes, sprinkle tidbits, where broken, where thick heaps. Saturated with a rich summer, already at every step arranging delicious dishes, they flew in not at all to eat, but only to show themselves, to walk up and down the sugar heap, to rub their back or front legs against one another, or to scratch them. under your wings, or, stretching out both front paws, rub them over your head, turn around and fly away again and fly back again with new tiresome squadrons.
Before Chichikov had time to look around, he was already seized by the arm of the governor, who immediately introduced him to the governor's wife. The visiting guest did not drop himself here either: he said some kind of compliment, very decent for a middle-aged man who has a rank that is not too high and not too small. When the established pairs of dancers pressed everyone against the wall, he, laying his hands behind him, looked at them for about two minutes very carefully. Many ladies were well dressed and fashionable, others dressed in what God sent to the provincial town. The men here, as elsewhere, were of two kinds: some thin, who kept hovering around the ladies; some of them were of such a kind that it was difficult to distinguish them from Petersburg ones: they also had sideburns combed very cleanly, deliberately and tastefully, or simply plausible, very smoothly shaven ovals of faces, just as casually sat down to the ladies, they spoke in the same way -French and made the ladies laugh just like in St. Petersburg. Another kind of men were fat or the same as Chichikov, that is, not so fat, but not thin either. These, on the contrary, squinted and backed away from the ladies and looked only around to see if the governor's servant had set up a green table for whist somewhere. Their faces were full and round, some even had warts, some were pockmarked; they didn’t wear their hair on their heads either in tufts, or curls, or in the manner of “damn me,” as the French say; their hair was either cut low or sleek, and their features were more rounded and strong. These were honorary officials in the city. Alas! fat people know how to handle their affairs better in this world than thin ones. The thin ones serve more on special assignments or are only registered and wag hither and thither; their existence is somehow too easy, airy and completely unreliable. Fat people never occupy indirect places, but all straight, and if they sit somewhere, they will sit securely and firmly, so that the place will soon crackle and bend under them, and they won’t fly off. They do not like external brilliance; on them the tailcoat is not so cleverly tailored as on thin ones, but in the caskets there is the grace of God. At the age of three, a thin man does not have a single soul left that is not pawned in a pawnshop; the fat one calmly, lo and behold, a house appeared somewhere at the end of the city, bought in the name of his wife, then another house at the other end, then a village near the city, then a village with all the land. Finally, the fat one, having served God and the sovereign, having earned universal respect, leaves the service, moves over and becomes a landowner, a glorious Russian master, a hospitable man, and lives, and lives well. And after him, again, thin heirs lower, according to Russian custom, all their father's goods on courier. It cannot be concealed that almost this kind of reflection occupied Chichikov at the time when he was examining society, and the consequence of this was that he finally joined the fat ones, where he met almost all the familiar faces: the prosecutor with very black thick eyebrows and a somewhat winking left with an eye as if saying: “Let's go, brother, to another room, there I will tell you something,” - a man, however, serious and silent; the postmaster, a short man, but a wit and a philosopher; chairman of the chamber, a very sensible and amiable man, who all greeted him as if they were an old acquaintance, to which Chichikov bowed somewhat sideways, however, not without pleasantness. Immediately he met the very courteous and courteous landowner Manilov and the somewhat clumsy-looking Sobakevich, who stepped on his foot the first time, saying: "I beg your pardon." Immediately he was given a whist card, which he accepted with the same polite bow.
……………………………………………………………………………….
A little later, they brought to him, as if, an invitation to a ball to the governor - a very common thing in provincial cities; where the governor is, there is a ball, otherwise there will be no proper love and respect from the nobility.
Everything extraneous was at that very moment abandoned and pushed away, and everything was directed towards preparations for the ball; for, to be sure, there were many motivating and bullying reasons. But, perhaps, since the very creation of the world, so much time has not been spent on the toilet. A whole hour was devoted to just looking at the face in the mirror. They tried to give him many different expressions: now important and sedate, now respectful, but with a certain smile, then simply respectful without a smile; several bows were made in the mirror, accompanied by indistinct sounds, partly similar to French ones, although Chichikov did not know French at all. He made even himself many pleasant surprises, winked his eyebrow and lips, and did something even with his tongue; in a word, you never know what you do, left alone, feeling, moreover, that you are good, and besides, being sure that no one looks through the crack. Finally, he lightly patted his chin, saying: “Oh, you, such a muzzle!” and began to dress. The most contented disposition accompanied him all the time he was dressing: putting on his suspenders or tying his tie, he bowed and bowed with particular dexterity, and although he never danced, he made an entrechat. This entrecha produced a small innocent consequence: the chest of drawers trembled and a brush fell from the table.
His appearance at the ball produced an extraordinary effect. Everything that happened turned to meet him, some with cards in their hands, some at the most interesting point of the conversation saying: “And the lower Zemstvo court answers this ...”, but what is the Zemstvo court answering, he already threw it aside and hastened to greet our hero. "Pavel Ivanovich! Oh, my God, Pavel Ivanovich! Dear Pavel Ivanovich! Dear Pavel Ivanovich! My soul Pavel Ivanovich! There you are, Pavel Ivanovich! Here he is, our Pavel Ivanovich! Allow me to press you, Pavel Ivanovich! Let's him here, so I'll kiss him harder, my dear Pavel Ivanovich! Chichikov at once felt himself in several embraces. Before he had time to completely get out of the arms of the chairman, he found himself already in the arms of the police chief; the chief of police handed him over to the inspector of the medical board; the inspector of the medical council - to the tax-farmer, the tax-farmer - to the architect ... The governor, who at that time was standing near the ladies and holding a candy ticket in one hand, and a lap dog in the other, when he saw him, threw both the ticket and the lap dog on the floor, - only the little dog squealed; in a word, he spread joy and extraordinary joy. There was no face that did not express pleasure, or at least a reflection of general pleasure. This is what happens on the faces of officials during an inspection by the arrived chief of their places entrusted to the department: after the first fear had already passed, they saw that he liked a lot, and he himself finally deigned to joke, that is, to say a few words with a pleasant smile. Laugh twice in response to this surrounded by his close officials; laugh heartily those who are farther away from him and who, however, somewhat badly heard the words he uttered, and, finally, standing far away at the door, at the very exit, some policeman who had never laughed in his whole life and had just before that he showed his fist to the people, and he, according to the invariable laws of reflection, expresses some kind of smile on his face, although this smile is more like someone about to sneeze after strong tobacco. Our hero answered each and every one and felt some kind of extraordinary dexterity: he bowed to the right and left, as usual, somewhat to one side, but completely freely, so that he charmed everyone. The ladies immediately surrounded him with a shining garland and brought with them whole clouds of all sorts of fragrances: one breathed roses, another smelled of spring and violets, the third was completely perfumed with mignonette; Chichikov only turned his nose up and sniffed. In the outfits, their taste was an abyss: muslins, satins, muslins were of such pale fashionable colors that even the names could not be cleaned up (the subtlety of taste reached such a degree). Ribbon bows and flower bouquets fluttered here and there over the dresses in the most picturesque mess, although a lot of decent head was working on this mess.
The light headdress rested only on one ear and seemed to say: “Hey, I’ll fly away, it’s only a pity that I won’t take the beauty with me!” The waists were tight-fitting and had the strongest and most pleasing shapes to the eye (it should be noted that in general all the ladies of the city of N were somewhat full, but they laced up so skillfully and had such pleasant circulation that the thickness could not be noticed). Everything was invented and provided for with extraordinary circumspection; neck, shoulders were open just as much as necessary, and no further; each bared her possessions until she felt, by her own conviction, that they were capable of destroying a person; everything else was hidden with unusual taste: either some light tie made of ribbon, or a scarf lighter than a cake, known as a “kiss”, ethereally hugged the neck, or small jagged walls of thin cambric, known as "modesty". These “modesty” hid in front and behind that which could no longer cause death to a person, but meanwhile they made one suspect that it was there that the very death was. Long gloves were worn not up to the sleeves, but deliberately left naked the exciting parts of the arms above the elbow, which in many breathed an enviable fullness; some even had their kid gloves burst, prompted to move further — in a word, it seemed as if it was written on everything: no, this is not a province, this is the capital, this is Paris itself! Only in places would suddenly protrude some kind of cap that the earth had not seen, or even some kind of almost peacock feather, contrary to all fashions, according to one's own taste. But without this it is impossible, such is the property of a provincial city: somewhere it will certainly break off. Chichikov, standing in front of them, thought: "Which, however, is the writer of the letter?" - and stuck his nose forward; but on the very nose he was pulled by a whole row of elbows, cuffs, sleeves, ends of ribbons, fragrant chemisettes and dresses. The gallopade flew in full swing: a postmaster, a police captain, a lady with a blue feather, a lady with a white feather, the Georgian prince Chipkhaikhilidzev, an official from St. Petersburg; an official from Moscow, a Frenchman Kuku, Perkhunovsky, Berebendovsky - everything got up and away ...
Won! The province has gone to write! - said Chichikov, stepping back, and as soon as the ladies sat down in their seats, he again began to look out, whether it was possible to recognize by the expression in her face and in her eyes who the writer was; but it was by no means possible to recognize, either by the expression in her face or by the expression in her eyes, which was the writer. Everywhere one could see something so slightly revealed, so elusively subtle, wow! how subtle! .. “No,” Chichikov said to himself, “women, this is such an object ...” Here he waved his hand: “There’s simply nothing to say! Go ahead, try to tell or convey everything that runs on their faces, all those bends, hints, but you just can’t convey anything. One of their eyes is such an endless state into which a person drove in - and remember what your name was! You can’t pull him out of there with a hook, nothing. Well, try, for example, to tell one of their shine: wet, velvety, sugary. God knows what they don't have yet! And hard, and soft, and even completely languid, or, as others say, in bliss, or without bliss, but more than in bliss, so it will hook on the heart, and it will lead throughout the soul, as if with a bow.
No, you just can’t take the words: the haberdashery half of the human race and nothing more!
Guilty! It seems that a word, noticed on the street, has flown from the lips of our hero. What to do? Such is the position of a writer in Rus'! However, if a word from the street got into a book, it’s not the writer’s fault, the readers are to blame, and above all the readers of high society: you won’t hear a single decent Russian word from them first, and they will probably endow French, German and English in such quantities, what you don’t want, and they will give even with the preservation of all possible pronunciations, in French through the nose and burr, they will pronounce in English like a bird should, and even make a bird’s face, and even laugh at those who fail to make a bird’s face. But only Russians will not be endowed with anything, unless out of patriotism they will build a hut in the country in the Russian style for themselves. Such are the readers of the upper class, and behind them all those who claim themselves to be among the upper class! And meanwhile, what exactingness! They absolutely want everything to be written in the most strict, refined, and noblest language—in a word, they want the Russian language to suddenly descend from the clouds of its own accord, processed properly, and sit right on their tongues, and they would have nothing more to do as soon as open your mouth and put it out. Of course, the female half of the human race is tricky; but respectable readers, it must be confessed, are even wiser.
…………………………………………………………………………………
The ladies were very pleased and not only found in him a bunch of amenities and courtesies, but even began to find a majestic expression on his face, something even Mars and military, which, as you know, women really like. Even because of him, they were already starting to quarrel a little: noticing that he usually stood near the doors, some vied with each other in a hurry to take a chair closer to the doors, and when one had the good fortune to do this before, an unpleasant story almost happened, and many who wanted to do that However, such impudence already seemed too disgusting.
Chichikov was so busy talking to the ladies, or, better, the ladies so occupied and swirled him with their conversations, sprinkling a bunch of the most intricate and subtle allegories that everyone had to figure out, which even made sweat on his forehead - that he forgot to fulfill the duty of decency and approach the hostess first. He remembered this already when he heard the voice of the governor's wife herself, who had been standing in front of him for several minutes. The governor's wife said in an affectionate and somewhat sly voice with a pleasant shake of her head: “Ah, Pavel Ivanovich! so that's how you are! ..” I can’t exactly convey the words of the governor, but something was said filled with great courtesy in the spirit in which ladies and gentlemen express themselves in the stories of our secular writers, hunters to describe living rooms and boast of knowledge of a higher tone, in the spirit of the fact that they really took possession of your heart so that there is no longer any place in it, nor the most cramped corner for those ruthlessly forgotten by you. Our hero turned at that very moment to the governor's wife and was ready to give her an answer no worse than those that the Zvonskys, Linskys, Lidins, Gremins and all sorts of military people give in fashionable stories, when, casually raising his eyes, he suddenly stopped, as if stunned by a blow. .
Before him stood more than one governor's wife: she held by the arm a young girl of sixteen, a fresh blonde, with thin and slender features, with a pointed chin, with a charmingly rounded oval face, which an artist would take as a model for a Madonna and which only a rare case comes across Russia, where everything likes to be in a wide size, everything that is: mountains and forests and steppes, and faces and lips and legs: the very blonde that he met on the road, riding from Nozdryov, when, through the stupidity of coachmen or horses , their carriages collided so strangely, having mixed up the harness, and Uncle Mityai and Uncle Minyay undertook to unravel the matter. Chichikov was so confused that he could not utter a single sensible word and muttered the devil knows what it is, which neither Gremin, nor Zvonsky, nor Lidin would have said.
You don't know my daughter yet? the governor said. - Institutka, just released.
He replied that he had already had the good fortune of accidentally making his acquaintance; I tried to add something else, but something did not work out at all. The governor's wife, after saying two or three words, finally went with her daughter to the other end of the hall to the other guests, and Chichikov still stood motionless in the same place, like a man who merrily went out into the street in order to take a walk, with eyes disposed to look at everything, and suddenly stopped motionless, remembering that he had forgotten something, and even then nothing could be more stupid than such a person: in an instant, a carefree expression flies from his face; he tries to remember what he forgot, is it not a handkerchief, but a handkerchief in his pocket, is it not money, but money is also in his pocket, everything seems to be with him, and meanwhile some unknown spirit whispers in his ears that he forgot something. And now he looks confused and vaguely at the moving crowd in front of him, at the flying carriages, at the shako and guns of the passing regiment, at the signboard, and sees nothing well. So Chichikov suddenly became a stranger to everything that happened around him. At this time, many hints and questions rushed to him from the ladies’ fragrant lips, penetrated through subtlety and courtesy: “Are we, the poor inhabitants of the earth, allowed to be so bold as to ask you what you dream about?”, “Where are those happy places in which your thought flutters?”, “Is it possible to know the name of the one who plunged you into this sweet valley of thought?”. But he answered everything with resolute inattention, and pleasant phrases sank into the water. He was even so discourteous that he soon left them in the other direction, wanting to see where the governor's wife and her daughter had gone. But the ladies didn't seem to want to leave him so soon; each inwardly decided to use all possible weapons, so dangerous for our hearts, and put into play everything that was best. It should be noted that some ladies, I say, some, it’s not like everyone else, have a small weakness: if they notice something especially good in themselves, whether it’s their forehead, mouth, or hands, then they already think that the best part of their face is the first and will catch everyone's eyes, and everyone will suddenly speak in one voice: "Look, look what a beautiful Greek nose she has" or "What a regular, charming forehead!" The one who has good shoulders is sure in advance that all young people will be completely delighted and will repeat every now and then as she passes by: “Oh, what wonderful shoulders this one has!” - but they don’t even look at the face, hair, nose, forehead, if they do, then as something extraneous. This is how other women think. Each lady made an inner vow to herself to be as charming as possible in dancing and to show in all its splendor the superiority of what was most excellent in her. The postmaster, waltzing, lowered her head to one side with such languor that something unearthly was indeed heard. One very amiable lady - who did not come at all to dance, because of what happened, as she herself put it, a small inkomodit in the form of a pea on her right leg, as a result of which she even had to put on plush boots - could not bear it, however, and she made several circles in plush boots, precisely so that the postmaster would not really take too much into her head.
But all this did not produce the intended effect on Chichikov. He did not even look at the circles made by the ladies, but constantly rose on tiptoe to look over their heads, where the entertaining blonde might climb; He also squatted down, looking between the shoulders and backs, finally found his way and saw her sitting with her mother, over whom some kind of oriental turban with a feather was majestically swaying. It seemed as if he wanted to take them by storm; whether the spring disposition had an effect on him, or someone was pushing him from behind, only he resolutely pushed forward, in spite of everything; the tax farmer received such a push from him that he staggered and barely managed to stay on one leg, otherwise, of course, he would have knocked down a whole row behind him; the postmaster also stepped back and looked at him with astonishment, mingled with rather subtle irony, but he did not look at them; all he saw in the distance was a blond woman putting on a long glove and, no doubt, burning with a desire to start flying across the parquet. And there, aside, four couples were breaking off a mazurka; the heels broke the floor, and the army staff captain worked with his soul and body, and with his hands and feet, unscrewing such pas that no one had ever unscrewed in a dream. Chichikov darted past the mazurka almost on the very heels and straight to the place where the governor's wife was sitting with her daughter. However, he approached them very timidly, did not mince so smartly and smartly with his feet, even hesitated a little, and in all his movements there appeared some kind of awkwardness.
It is impossible to say for sure whether the feeling of love really awakened in our hero, it is even doubtful that gentlemen of this kind, that is, not so fat, but not exactly thin, were capable of love, but for all that there was something something so strange, something of a kind that he himself could not explain to himself: it seemed to him, as he himself later confessed, that the whole ball, with all its talk and noise, seemed for several minutes to be somewhere far away; violins and trumpets were cut somewhere beyond the mountains, and everything was shrouded in mist, like a carelessly painted field in a picture. And from this hazy, somehow sketched field, only the subtle features of the fascinating blonde emerged clearly and completely: her oval-rounded face, her thin, thin figure, which a college student has in the first months after graduation, her white, almost simple dress, easily and deftly embraced in all places young, slender members, which were signified in some kind of clean lines. It seemed that she was all like some kind of toy, distinctly carved from ivory; she only turned white and emerged transparent and bright from the muddy and opaque crowd.
Evidently, this is how it happens in the world, it is evident that even the Chichikovs, for a few minutes in their lives, turn into poets, but the word "poet" will be too much. At least he felt like a completely young man, almost a hussar. Seeing an empty chair near them, he immediately took it. The conversation did not go well at first, but after that it went on, and he even began to get force, but ... here, to the greatest regret, it must be noted that people who are sedate and occupy important positions are somehow a little heavy in conversations with ladies; for this, the masters, gentlemen, lieutenants, and no further than the captain's ranks. How they do it, God knows them: it seems that they say not very sophisticated things, but the girl now and then sways in her chair with laughter; the state councilor, God knows what, will tell: either he will talk about the fact that Russia is a very spacious state, or he will release a compliment, which, of course, was not invented without wit, but it smells terribly of a book; if he says something funny, he himself laughs incomparably more than the one who listens to him. This is noted here so that readers can see why the blonde began to yawn during the stories of our hero. The hero, however, did not notice this at all, telling a lot of pleasant things that he had already happened to say on similar occasions in different places: it was in the Simbirsk province at Sofron Ivanovich Careless, where his daughter Adelaide Sofronovna was then with three sisters-in-law: Marya Gavrilovna, Alexandra Gavrilovna and Adelgeida Gavrilovna; at Fyodor Fedorovich Perekroev in the Ryazan province; with Flor Vasilyevich Pobedonosny in the Penza province and with his brother Pyotr Vasilyevich, where his sister-in-law Katerina Mikhailovna and her grand sisters Roza Fedorovna and Emilia Fedorovna were; in the Vyatka province with Pyotr Varsonofyevich, where his daughter-in-law's sister Pelageya Yegorovna was with her niece Sofya Rostislavna and two half-sisters Sofya Alexandrovna and Maklatura Alexandrovna.
All the ladies did not like this treatment of Chichikov at all. One of them deliberately passed by to let him notice this, and even touched the blonde rather casually with the thick roll of her dress, and ordered the scarf that fluttered around her shoulders so that he waved the end of his over her very face; at the same time, behind him, out of some ladies' lips, along with the smell of violets, a rather caustic and caustic remark came out. But either he did not really hear, or he pretended that he did not hear, only that was not good; for the opinion of the ladies must be valued; he repented of this, but after that, it was already too late.
Indignation, in all respects just, was portrayed in many faces. No matter how great Chichikov’s weight was in society, although he was a millionaire and greatness and even something Mars and military were expressed in his face, there are things that ladies will not forgive anyone, no matter who he is, and then just write is gone ! There are cases where a woman, no matter how weak and powerless in character in comparison with a man, suddenly becomes stronger not only than a man, but also everything that is in the world. The neglect shown by Chichikov, almost unintentionally, restored even the harmony between the ladies, which was on the verge of death after the impudent taking over of the chair. In some dry and ordinary words he casually uttered, sharp hints were found. To top it off, one of the young people immediately composed satirical poems about the dancing society, without which, as you know, they almost never do at provincial balls. These verses were immediately attributed to Chichikov. The indignation grew, and the ladies began to talk about him in different corners in the most unfavorable way; and the poor college girl was completely destroyed, and her sentence had already been signed.
Meanwhile, a most unpleasant surprise was being prepared for our hero: at the time when the blonde was yawning, and he was telling her some stories that happened at different times and even touched on the Greek philosopher Diogenes, Nozdryov appeared from the last room.
Incommodite (distorted French incommodite) - an inconvenience.
