“If Colonel Koshkarev should turn out to be as mad as the last one it is a bad look-out,” said Chichikov to himself on opening his eyes amid fields and open country—everything else having disappeared save the vault of heaven and a couple of low-lying clouds.
“Selifan,” he went on, “did you ask how to get to Colonel Koshkarev's?”
“Yes, Paul Ivanovitch. At least, there was such a clatter around the koliaska that I could not; but Petrushka asked the coachman.”
“You fool! How often have I told you not to rely on Petrushka? Petrushka is a blockhead, an idiot. Besides, at the present moment I believe him to be drunk.”
“No, you are wrong, barin,” put in the person referred to, turning his head with a sidelong glance. “After we get down the next hill we shall need but to keep bending round it. That is all.”
“Yes, and I suppose you'll tell me that sivnkha is the only thing that has passed your lips? Well, the view at least is beautiful. In fact, when one has seen this place one may say that one has seen one of the beauty spots of Europe.” This said, Chichikov added to himself, smoothing his chin: “What a difference between the features of a civilised man of the world and those of a common lacquey!”
Meanwhile the koliaska quickened its pace, and Chichikov once more caught sight of Tientietnikov's aspen-studded meadows. Undulating gently on elastic springs, the vehicle cautiously descended the steep incline, and then proceeded past water-mills, rumbled over a bridge or two, and jolted easily along the rough-set road which traversed the flats. Not a molehill, not a mound jarred the spine. The vehicle was comfort itself.
Swiftly there flew by clumps of osiers, slender elder trees, and silver-leaved poplars, their branches brushing against Selifan and Petrushka, and at intervals depriving the valet of his cap. Each time that this happened, the sullen-faced servitor fell to cursing both the tree responsible for the occurrence and the landowner responsible for the tree being in existence; yet nothing would induce him thereafter either to tie on the cap or to steady it with his hand, so complete was his assurance that the accident would never be repeated. Soon to the foregoing trees there became added an occasional birch or spruce fir, while in the dense undergrowth around their roots could be seen the blue iris and the yellow wood-tulip. Gradually the forest grew darker, as though eventually the obscurity would become complete. Then through the trunks and the boughs there began to gleam points of light like glittering mirrors, and as the number of trees lessened, these points grew larger, until the travellers debouched upon the shore of a lake four versts or so in circumference, and having on its further margin the grey, scattered log huts of a peasant village. In the water a great commotion was in progress. In the first place, some twenty men, immersed to the knee, to the breast, or to the neck, were dragging a large fishing-net inshore, while, in the second place, there was entangled in the same, in addition to some fish, a stout man shaped precisely like a melon or a hogshead. Greatly excited, he was shouting at the top of his voice: “Let Kosma manage it, you lout of a Denis! Kosma, take the end of the rope from Denis! Don't bear so hard on it, Thoma Bolshoy! Go where Thoma Menshov is! Damn it, bring the net to land, will you!” From this it became clear that it was not on his own account that the stout man was worrying. Indeed, he had no need to do so, since his fat would in any case have prevented him from sinking. Yes, even if he had turned head over heels in an effort to dive, the water would persistently have borne him up; and the same if, say, a couple of men had jumped on his back—the only result would have been that he would have become a trifle deeper submerged, and forced to draw breath by spouting bubbles through his nose. No, the cause of his agitation was lest the net should break, and the fish escape: wherefore he was urging some additional peasants who were standing on the bank to lay hold of and to pull at, an extra rope or two.
“That must be the barin—Colonel Koshkarev,” said Selifan.
“Why?” asked Chichikov.
“Because, if you please, his skin is whiter than the rest, and he has the respectable paunch of a gentleman.”
Meanwhile good progress was being made with the hauling in of the barin; until, feeling the ground with his feet, he rose to an upright position, and at the same moment caught sight of the koliaska, with Chichikov seated therein, descending the declivity.
“Have you dined yet?” shouted the barin as, still entangled in the net, he approached the shore with a huge fish on his back. With one hand shading his eyes from the sun, and the other thrown backwards, he looked, in point of pose, like the Medici Venus emerging from her bath.
“No,” replied Chichikov, raising his cap, and executing a series of bows.
“Then thank God for that,” rejoined the gentleman.
“Why?” asked Chichikov with no little curiosity, and still holding his cap over his head.
“Because of THIS. Cast off the net, Thoma Menshov, and pick up that sturgeon for the gentleman to see. Go and help him, Telepen Kuzma.”
With that the peasants indicated picked up by the head what was a veritable monster of a fish. “Isn't it a beauty—a sturgeon fresh run from the river?” exclaimed the stout barin. “And now let us be off home. Coachman, you can take the lower road through the kitchen garden. Run, you lout of a Thoma Bolshoy, and open the gate for him. He will guide you to the house, and I myself shall be along presently.”
Thereupon the barelegged Thoma Bolshoy, clad in nothing but a shirt, ran ahead of the koliaska through the village, every hut of which had hanging in front of it a variety of nets, for the reason that every inhabitant of the place was a fisherman. Next, he opened a gate into a large vegetable enclosure, and thence the koliaska emerged into a square near a wooden church, with, showing beyond the latter, the roofs of the manorial homestead.
“A queer fellow, that Koshkarev!” said Chichikov to himself.
“Well, whatever I may be, at least I'm here,” said a voice by his side. Chichikov looked round, and perceived that, in the meanwhile, the barin had dressed himself and overtaken the carriage. With a pair of yellow trousers he was wearing a grass-green jacket, and his neck was as guiltless of a collar as Cupid's. Also, as he sat sideways in his drozhki, his bulk was such that he completely filled the vehicle. Chichikov was about to make some remark or another when the stout gentleman disappeared; and presently his drozhki reemerged into view at the spot where the fish had been drawn to land, and his voice could be heard reiterating exhortations to his serfs. Yet when Chichikov reached the verandah of the house he found, to his intense surprise, the stout gentleman waiting to welcome the visitor. How he had contrived to convey himself thither passed Chichikov's comprehension. Host and guest embraced three times, according to a bygone custom of Russia. Evidently the barin was one of the old school.
“I bring you,” said Chichikov, “a greeting from his Excellency.”
“From whom?”
“From your relative General Alexander Dmitrievitch.”
“Who is Alexander Dmitrievitch?”
“What? You do not know General Alexander Dmitrievitch Betrishev?” exclaimed Chichikov with a touch of surprise.
“No, I do not,” replied the gentleman.
Chichikov's surprise grew to absolute astonishment.
“How comes that about?” he ejaculated. “I hope that I have the honour of addressing Colonel Koshkarev?”
“Your hopes are vain. It is to my house, not to his, that you have come; and I am Peter Petrovitch Pietukh—yes, Peter Petrovitch Pietukh.”
Chichikov, dumbfounded, turned to Selifan and Petrushka.
“What do you mean?” he exclaimed. “I told you to drive to the house of Colonel Koshkarev, whereas you have brought me to that of Peter Petrovitch Pietukh.”
“All the same, your fellows have done quite right,” put in the gentleman referred to. “Do you” (this to Selifan and Petrushka) “go to the kitchen, where they will give you a glassful of vodka apiece. Then put up the horses, and be off to the servants' quarters.”
“I regret the mistake extremely,” said Chichikov.
“But it is not a mistake. When you have tried the dinner which I have in store for you, just see whether you think IT a mistake. Enter, I beg of you.” And, taking Chichikov by the arm, the host conducted him within, where they were met by a couple of youths.
“Let me introduce my two sons, home for their holidays from the Gymnasium ,” said Pietukh. “Nikolasha, come and entertain our good visitor, while you, Aleksasha, follow me.” And with that the host disappeared.
Chichikov turned to Nikolasha, whom he found to be a budding man about town, since at first he opened a conversation by stating that, as no good was to be derived from studying at a provincial institution, he and his brother desired to remove, rather, to St. Petersburg, the provinces not being worth living in.
“I quite understand,” Chichikov thought to himself. “The end of the chapter will be confectioners' assistants and the boulevards.”
“Tell me,” he added aloud, “how does your father's property at present stand?”
“It is all mortgaged,” put in the father himself as he re-entered the room. “Yes, it is all mortgaged, every bit of it.”
“What a pity!” thought Chichikov. “At this rate it will not be long before this man has no property at all left. I must hurry my departure.” Aloud he said with an air of sympathy: “That you have mortgaged the estate seems to me a matter of regret.”
“No, not at all,” replied Pietukh. “In fact, they tell me that it is a good thing to do, and that every one else is doing it. Why should I act differently from my neighbours? Moreover, I have had enough of living here, and should like to try Moscow—more especially since my sons are always begging me to give them a metropolitan education.”
“Oh, the fool, the fool!” reflected Chichikov. “He is for throwing up everything and making spendthrifts of his sons. Yet this is a nice property, and it is clear that the local peasants are doing well, and that the family, too, is comfortably off. On the other hand, as soon as ever these lads begin their education in restaurants and theatres, the devil will away with every stick of their substance. For my own part, I could desire nothing better than this quiet life in the country.”
“Let me guess what is in your mind,” said Pietukh.
“What, then?” asked Chichikov, rather taken aback.
“You are thinking to yourself: ‘That fool of a Pietukh has asked me to dinner, yet not a bite of dinner do I see.’ But wait a little. It will be ready presently, for it is being cooked as fast as a maiden who has had her hair cut off plaits herself a new set of tresses.”
“Here comes Platon Mikhalitch, father!” exclaimed Aleksasha, who had been peeping out of the window.
“Yes, and on a grey horse,” added his brother.
“Who is Platon Mikhalitch?” inquired Chichikov.
“A neighbour of ours, and an excellent fellow.”
The next moment Platon Mikhalitch himself entered the room, accompanied by a sporting dog named Yarb. He was a tall, handsome man, with extremely red hair. As for his companion, it was of the keen-muzzled species used for shooting.
“Have you dined yet?” asked the host.
“Yes,” replied Platon.
“Indeed? What do you mean by coming here to laugh at us all? Do I ever go to YOUR place after dinner?”
The newcomer smiled. “Well, if it can bring you any comfort,” he said, “l(fā)et me tell you that I ate nothing at the meal, for I had no appetite.”
“But you should see what I have caught—what sort of a sturgeon fate has brought my way! Yes, and what crucians and carp!”
“Really it tires one to hear you. How come you always to be so cheerful?”
“And how come YOU always to be so gloomy?” retorted the host.
“How, you ask? Simply because I am so.”
“The truth is you don't eat enough. Try the plan of making a good dinner. Weariness of everything is a modern invention. Once upon a time one never heard of it.”
“Well, boast away, but have you yourself never been tired of things?”
“Never in my life. I do not so much as know whether I should find time to be tired. In the morning, when one awakes, the cook is waiting, and the dinner has to be ordered. Then one drinks one's morning tea, and then the bailiff arrives for HIS orders, and then there is fishing to be done, and then one's dinner has to be eaten. Next, before one has even had a chance to utter a snore, there enters once again the cook, and one has to order supper; and when she has departed, behold, back she comes with a request for the following day's dinner! What time does THAT leave one to be weary of things?”
Throughout this conversation, Chichikov had been taking stock of the newcomer, who astonished him with his good looks, his upright, picturesque figure, his appearance of fresh, unwasted youthfulness, and the boyish purity, innocence, and clarity of his features. Neither passion nor care nor aught of the nature of agitation or anxiety of mind had ventured to touch his unsullied face, or to lay a single wrinkle thereon. Yet the touch of life which those emotions might have imparted was wanting. The face was, as it were, dreaming, even though from time to time an ironical smile disturbed it.
“I, too, cannot understand,” remarked Chichikov, “how a man of your appearance can find things wearisome. Of course, if a man is hard pressed for money, or if he has enemies who are lying in wait for his life (as have certain folk of whom I know), well, then—”
“Believe me when I say,” interrupted the handsome guest, “that, for the sake of a diversion, I should be glad of ANY sort of an anxiety. Would that some enemy would conceive a grudge against me! But no one does so. Everything remains eternally dull.”
“But perhaps you lack a sufficiency of land or souls?”
“Not at all. I and my brother own ten thousand desiatins of land, and over a thousand souls.”
“Curious! I do not understand it. But perhaps the harvest has failed, or you have sickness about, and many of your male peasants have died of it?”
“On the contrary, everything is in splendid order, for my brother is the best of managers.”
“Then to find things wearisome!” exclaimed Chichikov. “It passes my comprehension.” And he shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, we will soon put weariness to flight,” interrupted the host. “Aleksasha, do you run helter-skelter to the kitchen, and there tell the cook to serve the fish pasties. Yes, and where have that gawk of an Emelian and that thief of an Antoshka got to? Why have they not handed round the zakuski?”
At this moment the door opened, and the “gawk” and the “thief” in question made their appearance with napkins and a tray—the latter bearing six decanters of variously-coloured beverages. These they placed upon the table, and then ringed them about with glasses and platefuls of every conceivable kind of appetiser. That done, the servants applied themselves to bringing in various comestibles under covers, through which could be heard the hissing of hot roast viands. In particular did the “gawk” and the “thief” work hard at their tasks. As a matter of fact, their appellations had been given them merely to spur them to greater activity, for, in general, the barin was no lover of abuse, but, rather, a kind-hearted man who, like most Russians, could not get on without a sharp word or two. That is to say, he needed them for his tongue as he need a glass of vodka for his digestion. What else could you expect? It was his nature to care for nothing mild.
To the zakuski succeeded the meal itself, and the host became a perfect glutton on his guests' behalf. Should he notice that a guest had taken but a single piece of a comestible, he added thereto another one, saying: “Without a mate, neither man nor bird can live in this world.” Should any one take two pieces, he added thereto a third, saying: “What is the good of the number 2? God loves a trinity.” Should any one take three pieces, he would say: “Where do you see a waggon with three wheels? Who builds a three-cornered hut?” Lastly, should any one take four pieces, he would cap them with a fifth, and add thereto the punning quip, “Na piat opiat ”. After devouring at least twelve steaks of sturgeon, Chichikov ventured to think to himself, “My host cannot possibly add to THEM,” but found that he was mistaken, for, without a word, Pietukh heaped upon his plate an enormous portion of spit-roasted veal, and also some kidneys. And what veal it was!
“That calf was fed two years on milk,” he explained. “I cared for it like my own son.”
“Nevertheless I can eat no more,” said Chichikov.
“Do you try the veal before you say that you can eat no more.”
“But I could not get it down my throat. There is no room left.”
“If there be no room in a church for a newcomer, the beadle is sent for, and room is very soon made—yes, even though before there was such a crush that an apple couldn't have been dropped between the people. Do you try the veal, I say. That piece is the titbit of all.”
So Chichikov made the attempt; and in very truth the veal was beyond all praise, and room was found for it, even though one would have supposed the feat impossible.
“Fancy this good fellow removing to St. Petersburg or Moscow!” said the guest to himself. “Why, with a scale of living like this, he would be ruined in three years.” For that matter, Pietukh might well have been ruined already, for hospitality can dissipate a fortune in three months as easily as it can in three years.
The host also dispensed the wine with a lavish hand, and what the guests did not drink he gave to his sons, who thus swallowed glass after glass. Indeed, even before coming to table, it was possible to discern to what department of human accomplishment their bent was turned. When the meal was over, however, the guests had no mind for further drinking. Indeed, it was all that they could do to drag themselves on to the balcony, and there to relapse into easy chairs. Indeed, the moment that the host subsided into his seat—it was large enough for four—he fell asleep, and his portly presence, converting itself into a sort of blacksmith's bellows, started to vent, through open mouth and distended nostrils, such sounds as can have greeted the reader's ear but seldom—sounds as of a drum being beaten in combination with the whistling of a flute and the strident howling of a dog.
“Listen to him!” said Platon.
Chichikov smiled.
“Naturally, on such dinners as that,” continued the other, “our host does NOT find the time dull. And as soon as dinner is ended there can ensue sleep.”
“Yes, but, pardon me, I still fail to understand why you should find life wearisome. There are so many resources against ennui!”
“As for instance?”
“For a young man, dancing, the playing of one or another musical instrument, and—well, yes, marriage.”
“Marriage to whom?”
“To some maiden who is both charming and rich. Are there none in these parts?”
“No.”
“Then, were I you, I should travel, and seek a maiden elsewhere.” And a brilliant idea therewith entered Chichikov's head. “This last resource,” he added, “is the best of all resources against ennui.”
“What resource are you speaking of?”
“Of travel.”
“But whither?”
“Well, should it so please you, you might join me as my companion.” This said, the speaker added to himself as he eyed Platon: “Yes, that would suit me exactly, for then I should have half my expenses paid, and could charge him also with the cost of mending the koliaska.”
“And whither should we go?”
“In that respect I am not wholly my own master, as I have business to do for others as well as for myself. For instance, General Betristchev—an intimate friend and, I might add, a generous benefactor of mine—has charged me with commissions to certain of his relatives. However, though relatives are relatives, I am travelling likewise on my own account, since I wish to see the world and the whirligig of humanity—which, in spite of what people may say, is as good as a living book or a second education.” As a matter of fact, Chichikov was reflecting, “Yes, the plan is an excellent one. I might even contrive that he should have to bear the whole of our expenses, and that his horses should be used while my own should be put out to graze on his farm.”
“Well, why should I not adopt the suggestion?” was Platon's thought. “There is nothing for me to do at home, since the management of the estate is in my brother's hands, and my going would cause him no inconvenience. Yes, why should I not do as Chichikov has suggested?”
Then he added aloud:
“Would you come and stay with my brother for a couple of days? Otherwise he might refuse me his consent.”
“With great pleasure,” said Chichikov. “Or even for three days.”
“Then here is my hand on it. Let us be off at once.” Platon seemed suddenly to have come to life again.
“Where are you off to?” put in their host unexpectedly as he roused himself and stared in astonishment at the pair. “No, no, my good sirs. I have had the wheels removed from your koliaska, Monsieur Chichikov, and have sent your horse, Platon Mikhalitch, to a grazing ground fifteen versts away. Consequently you must spend the night here, and depart to-morrow morning after breakfast.”
What could be done with a man like Pietukh? There was no help for it but to remain. In return, the guests were rewarded with a beautiful spring evening, for, to spend the time, the host organised a boating expedition on the river, and a dozen rowers, with a dozen pairs of oars, conveyed the party (to the accompaniment of song) across the smooth surface of the lake and up a great river with towering banks. From time to time the boat would pass under ropes, stretched across for purposes of fishing, and at each turn of the rippling current new vistas unfolded themselves as tier upon tier of woodland delighted the eye with a diversity of timber and foliage. In unison did the rowers ply their sculls, yet it was though of itself that the skiff shot forward, bird-like, over the glassy surface of the water; while at intervals the broad-shouldered young oarsman who was seated third from the bow would raise, as from a nightingale's throat, the opening staves of a boat song, and then be joined by five or six more, until the melody had come to pour forth in a volume as free and boundless as Russia herself. And Pietukh, too, would give himself a shake, and help lustily to support the chorus; and even Chichikov felt acutely conscious of the fact that he was a Russian. Only Platon reflected: “What is there so splendid in these melancholy songs? They do but increase one's depression of spirits.”
The journey homeward was made in the gathering dusk. Rhythmically the oars smote a surface which no longer reflected the sky, and darkness had fallen when they reached the shore, along which lights were twinkling where the fisherfolk were boiling live eels for soup. Everything had now wended its way homeward for the night; the cattle and poultry had been housed, and the herdsmen, standing at the gates of the village cattle-pens, amid the trailing dust lately raised by their charges, were awaiting the milk-pails and a summons to partake of the eel-broth. Through the dusk came the hum of humankind, and the barking of dogs in other and more distant villages; while, over all, the moon was rising, and the darkened countryside was beginning to glimmer to light again under her beams. What a glorious picture! Yet no one thought of admiring it. Instead of galloping over the countryside on frisky cobs, Nikolasha and Aleksasha were engaged in dreaming of Moscow, with its confectioners' shops and the theatres of which a cadet, newly arrived on a visit from the capital, had just been telling them; while their father had his mind full of how best to stuff his guests with yet more food, and Platon was given up to yawning. Only in Chichikov was a spice of animation visible. “Yes,” he reflected, “some day I, too, will become lord of such a country place.” And before his mind's eye there arose also a helpmeet and some little Chichikovs.
By the time that supper was finished the party had again over-eaten themselves, and when Chichikov entered the room allotted him for the night, he lay down upon the bed, and prodded his stomach. “It is as tight as a drum,” he said to himself. “Not another titbit of veal could now get into it.” Also, circumstances had so brought it about that next door to him there was situated his host's apartment; and since the intervening wall was thin, Chichikov could hear every word that was said there. At the present moment the master of the house was engaged in giving the cook orders for what, under the guise of an early breakfast, promised to constitute a veritable dinner. You should have heard Pietukh's behests! They would have excited the appetite of a corpse.
“Yes,” he said, sucking his lips, and drawing a deep breath, “in the first place, make a pasty in four divisions. Into one of the divisions put the sturgeon's cheeks and some viaziga , and into another division some buckwheat porridge, young mushrooms and onions, sweet milk, calves' brains, and anything else that you may find suitable—anything else that you may have got handy. Also, bake the pastry to a nice brown on one side, and but lightly on the other. Yes, and, as to the under side, bake it so that it will be all juicy and flaky, so that it shall not crumble into bits, but melt in the mouth like the softest snow that ever you heard of.” And as he said this Pietukh fairly smacked his lips.
“The devil take him!” muttered Chichikov, thrusting his head beneath the bedclothes to avoid hearing more. “The fellow won't give one a chance to sleep.”
Nevertheless he heard through the blankets:
“And garnish the sturgeon with beetroot, smelts, peppered mushrooms, young radishes, carrots, beans, and anything else you like, so as to have plenty of trimmings. Yes, and put a lump of ice into the pig's bladder, so as to swell it up.”
Many other dishes did Pietukh order, and nothing was to be heard but his talk of boiling, roasting, and stewing. Finally, just as mention was being made of a turkey cock, Chichikov fell asleep.
Next morning the guest's state of repletion had reached the point of Platon being unable to mount his horse; wherefore the latter was dispatched homeward with one of Pietukh's grooms, and the two guests entered Chichikov's koliaska. Even the dog trotted lazily in the rear; for he, too, had over-eaten himself.
“It has been rather too much of a good thing,” remarked Chichikov as the vehicle issued from the courtyard.
“Yes, and it vexes me to see the fellow never tire of it,” replied Platon.
“Ah,” thought Chichikov to himself, “if I had an income of seventy thousand roubles, as you have, I'd very soon give tiredness one in the eye! Take Murazov, the tax-farmer—he, again, must be worth ten millions. What a fortune!”
“Do you mind where we drive?” asked Platon. “I should like first to go and take leave of my sister and my brother-in-law.”
“With pleasure,” said Chichikov.
“My brother-in-law is the leading landowner hereabouts. At the present moment he is drawing an income of two hundred thousand roubles from a property which, eight years ago, was producing a bare twenty thousand.”
“Truly a man worthy of the utmost respect! I shall be most interested to make his acquaintance. To think of it! And what may his family name be?”
“Kostanzhoglo.”
“And his Christian name and patronymic?”
“Constantine Thedorovitch.”
“Constantine Thedorovitch Kostanzhoglo. Yes, it will be a most interesting event to make his acquaintance. To know such a man must be a whole education.”
Here Platon set himself to give Selifan some directions as to the way, a necessary proceeding in view of the fact that Selifan could hardly maintain his seat on the box. Twice Petrushka, too, had fallen headlong, and this necessitated being tied to his perch with a piece of rope. “What a clown!” had been Chichikov's only comment.
“This is where my brother-in-law's land begins,” said Platon.
“They give one a change of view.”
And, indeed, from this point the countryside became planted with timber; the rows of trees running as straight as pistol-shots, and having beyond them, and on higher ground, a second expanse of forest, newly planted like the first; while beyond it, again, loomed a third plantation of older trees. Next there succeeded a flat piece of the same nature.
“All this timber,” said Platon, “has grown up within eight or ten years at the most; whereas on another man's land it would have taken twenty to attain the same growth.”
“And how has your brother-in-law effected this?”
“You must ask him yourself. He is so excellent a husbandman that nothing ever fails with him. You see, he knows the soil, and also knows what ought to be planted beside what, and what kinds of timber are the best neighbourhood for grain. Again, everything on his estate is made to perform at least three or four different functions. For instance, he makes his timber not only serve as timber, but also serve as a provider of moisture and shade to a given stretch of land, and then as a fertiliser with its fallen leaves. Consequently, when everywhere else there is drought, he still has water, and when everywhere else there has been a failure of the harvest, on his lands it will have proved a success. But it is a pity that I know so little about it all as to be unable to explain to you his many expedients. Folk call him a wizard, for he produces so much. Nevertheless, personally I find what he does uninteresting.”
“Truly an astonishing fellow!” reflected Chichikov with a glance at his companion. “It is sad indeed to see a man so superficial as to be unable to explain matters of this kind.”
At length the manor appeared in sight—an establishment looking almost like a town, so numerous were the huts where they stood arranged in three tiers, crowned with three churches, and surrounded with huge ricks and barns. “Yes,” thought Chichikov to himself, “one can see what a jewel of a landowner lives here.” The huts in question were stoutly built and the intervening alleys well laid-out; while, wherever a waggon was visible, it looked serviceable and more or less new. Also, the local peasants bore an intelligent look on their faces, the cattle were of the best possible breed, and even the peasants' pigs belonged to the porcine aristocracy. Clearly there dwelt here peasants who, to quote the song, were accustomed to “pick up silver by the shovelful.” Nor were Englishified gardens and parterres and other conceits in evidence, but, on the contrary, there ran an open view from the manor house to the farm buildings and the workmen's cots, so that, after the old Russian fashion, the barin should be able to keep an eye upon all that was going on around him. For the same purpose, the mansion was topped with a tall lantern and a superstructure—a device designed, not for ornament, nor for a vantage-spot for the contemplation of the view, but for supervision of the labourers engaged in distant fields. Lastly, the brisk, active servants who received the visitors on the verandah were very different menials from the drunken Petrushka, even though they did not wear swallow-tailed coats, but only Cossack tchekmenu of blue homespun cloth.
The lady of the house also issued on to the verandah. With her face of the freshness of “blood and milk” and the brightness of God's daylight, she as nearly resembled Platon as one pea resembles another, save that, whereas he was languid, she was cheerful and full of talk.
“Good day, brother!” she cried. “How glad I am to see you! Constantine is not at home, but will be back presently.”
“Where is he?”
“Doing business in the village with a party of factors,” replied the lady as she conducted her guests to the drawing-room.
With no little curiosity did Chichikov gaze at the interior of the mansion inhabited by the man who received an annual income of two hundred thousand roubles; for he thought to discern therefrom the nature of its proprietor, even as from a shell one may deduce the species of oyster or snail which has been its tenant, and has left therein its impression. But no such conclusions were to be drawn. The rooms were simple, and even bare. Not a fresco nor a picture nor a bronze nor a flower nor a china what-not nor a book was there to be seen. In short, everything appeared to show that the proprietor of this abode spent the greater part of his time, not between four walls, but in the field, and that he thought out his plans, not in sybaritic fashion by the fireside, nor in an easy chair beside the stove, but on the spot where work was actually in progress—that, in a word, where those plans were conceived, there they were put into execution. Nor in these rooms could Chichikov detect the least trace of a feminine hand, beyond the fact that certain tables and chairs bore drying-boards whereon were arranged some sprinklings of flower petals.
“What is all this rubbish for?” asked Platon.
“It is not rubbish,” replied the lady of the house. “On the contrary, it is the best possible remedy for fever. Last year we cured every one of our sick peasants with it. Some of the petals I am going to make into an ointment, and some into an infusion. You may laugh as much as you like at my potting and preserving, yet you yourself will be glad of things of the kind when you set out on your travels.”
Platon moved to the piano, and began to pick out a note or two.
“Good Lord, what an ancient instrument!” he exclaimed. “Are you not ashamed of it, sister?”
“Well, the truth is that I get no time to practice my music. You see,” she added to Chichikov, “I have an eight-year-old daughter to educate; and to hand her over to a foreign governess in order that I may have leisure for my own piano-playing—well, that is a thing which I could never bring myself to do.”
“You have become a wearisome sort of person,” commented Platon, and walked away to the window. “Ah, here comes Constantine,” presently he added.
Chichikov also glanced out of the window, and saw approaching the verandah a brisk, swarthy-complexioned man of about forty, a man clad in a rough cloth jacket and a velveteen cap. Evidently he was one of those who care little for the niceties of dress. With him, bareheaded, there came a couple of men of a somewhat lower station in life, and all three were engaged in an animated discussion. One of the barin's two companions was a plain peasant, and the other (clad in a blue Siberian smock) a travelling factor. The fact that the party halted awhile by the entrance steps made it possible to overhear a portion of their conversation from within.
“This is what you peasants had better do,” the barin was saying. “Purchase your release from your present master. I will lend you the necessary money, and afterwards you can work for me.”
“No, Constantine Thedorovitch,” replied the peasant. “Why should we do that? Remove us just as we are. You will know how to arrange it, for a cleverer gentleman than you is nowhere to be found. The misfortune of us muzhiks is that we cannot protect ourselves properly. The tavern-keepers sell us such liquor that, before a man knows where he is, a glassful of it has eaten a hole through his stomach, and made him feel as though he could drink a pail of water. Yes, it knocks a man over before he can look around. Everywhere temptation lies in wait for the peasant, and he needs to be cunning if he is to get through the world at all. In fact, things seem to be contrived for nothing but to make us peasants lose our wits, even to the tobacco which they sell us. What are folk like ourselves to do, Constantine Thedorovitch? I tell you it is terribly difficult for a muzhik to look after himself.”
“Listen to me. This is how things are done here. When I take on a serf, I fit him out with a cow and a horse. On the other hand, I demand of him thereafter more than is demanded of a peasant anywhere else. That is to say, first and foremost I make him work. Whether a peasant be working for himself or for me, never do I let him waste time. I myself toil like a bullock, and I force my peasants to do the same, for experience has taught me that that is the only way to get through life. All the mischief in the world comes through lack of employment. Now, do you go and consider the matter, and talk it over with your mir .”
“We have done that already, Constantine Thedorovitch, and our elders' opinion is: ‘There is no need for further talk. Every peasant belonging to Constantine Thedorovitch is well off, and hasn't to work for nothing. The priests of his village, too, are men of good heart, whereas ours have been taken away, and there is no one to bury us.’”
“Nevertheless, do you go and talk the matter over again.”
“We will, barin.”
Here the factor who had been walking on the barin's other side put in a word.
“Constantine Thedorovitch,” he said, “I beg of you to do as I have requested.”
“I have told you before,” replied the barin, “that I do not care to play the huckster. I am not one of those landowners whom fellows of your sort visit on the very day that the interest on a mortgage is due. Ah, I know your fraternity thoroughly, and know that you keep lists of all who have mortgages to repay. But what is there so clever about that? Any man, if you pinch him sufficiently, will surrender you a mortgage at half-price,—any man, that is to say, except myself, who care nothing for your money. Were a loan of mine to remain out three years, I should never demand a kopeck of interest on it.”
“Quite so, Constantine Thedorovitch,” replied the factor. “But I am asking this of you more for the purpose of establishing us on a business footing than because I desire to win your favour. Prey, therefore, accept this earnest money of three thousand roubles.” And the man drew from his breast pocket a dirty roll of bank-notes, which, carelessly receiving, Kostanzhoglo thrust, uncounted, into the back pocket of his overcoat.
“Hm!” thought Chichikov. “For all he cares, the notes might have been a handkerchief.” When Kostanzhoglo appeared at closer quarters—that is to say, in the doorway of the drawing-room—he struck Chichikov more than ever with the swarthiness of his complexion, the dishevelment of his black, slightly grizzled locks, the alertness of his eye, and the impression of fiery southern origin which his whole personality diffused. For he was not wholly a Russian, nor could he himself say precisely who his forefathers had been. Yet, inasmuch as he accounted genealogical research no part of the science of estate-management, but a mere superfluity, he looked upon himself as, to all intents and purposes, a native of Russia, and the more so since the Russian language was the only tongue he knew.
Platon presented Chichikov, and the pair exchanged greetings.
“To get rid of my depression, Constantine,” continued Platon, “I am thinking of accompanying our guest on a tour through a few of the provinces.”
“An excellent idea,” said Kostanzhoglo. “But precisely whither?” he added, turning hospitably to Chichikov.
“To tell you the truth,” replied that personage with an affable inclination of the head as he smoothed the arm of his chair with his hand, “I am travelling less on my own affairs than on the affairs of others. That is to say, General Betristchev, an intimate friend, and, I might add, a generous benefactor, of mine, has charged me with commissions to some of his relatives. Nevertheless, though relatives are relatives, I may say that I am travelling on my own account as well, in that, in addition to possible benefit to my health, I desire to see the world and the whirligig of humanity, which constitute, so to speak, a living book, a second course of education.”
“Yes, there is no harm in looking at other corners of the world besides one's own.”
“You speak truly. There IS no harm in such a proceeding. Thereby one may see things which one has not before encountered, one may meet men with whom one has not before come in contact. And with some men of that kind a conversation is as precious a benefit as has been conferred upon me by the present occasion. I come to you, most worthy Constantine Thedorovitch, for instruction, and again for instruction, and beg of you to assuage my thirst with an exposition of the truth as it is. I hunger for the favour of your words as for manna.”
“But how so? What can I teach you?” exclaimed Kostanzhoglo in confusion. “I myself was given but the plainest of educations.”
“Nay, most worthy sir, you possess wisdom, and again wisdom. Wisdom only can direct the management of a great estate, that can derive a sound income from the same, that can acquire wealth of a real, not a fictitious, order while also fulfilling the duties of a citizen and thereby earning the respect of the Russian public. All this I pray you to teach me.”
“I tell you what,” said Kostanzhoglo, looking meditatively at his guest. “You had better stay with me for a few days, and during that time I can show you how things are managed here, and explain to you everything. Then you will see for yourself that no great wisdom is required for the purpose.”
“Yes, certainly you must stay here,” put in the lady of the house. Then, turning to her brother, she added: “And you too must stay. Why should you be in such a hurry?”
“Very well,” he replied. “But what say YOU, Paul Ivanovitch?”
“I say the same as you, and with much pleasure,” replied Chichikov. “But also I ought to tell you this: that there is a relative of General Betristchev's, a certain Colonel Koshkarev—”
“Yes, we know him; but he is quite mad.”
“As you say, he is mad, and I should not have been intending to visit him, were it not that General Betristchev is an intimate friend of mine, as well as, I might add, my most generous benefactor.”
“Then,” said Kostanzhoglo, “do you go and see Colonel Koshkarev NOW. He lives less than ten versts from here, and I have a gig already harnessed. Go to him at once, and return here for tea.”
“An excellent idea!” cried Chichikov, and with that he seized his cap.
Half an hour's drive sufficed to bring him to the Colonel's establishment. The village attached to the manor was in a state of utter confusion, since in every direction building and repairing operations were in progress, and the alleys were choked with heaps of lime, bricks, and beams of wood. Also, some of the huts were arranged to resemble offices, and superscribed in gilt letters “Depot for Agricultural Implements,” “Chief Office of Accounts,” “Estate Works Committee,” “Normal School for the Education of Colonists,” and so forth.
Chichikov found the Colonel posted behind a desk and holding a pen between his teeth. Without an instant's delay the master of the establishment—who seemed a kindly, approachable man, and accorded to his visitor a very civil welcome—plunged into a recital of the labour which it had cost him to bring the property to its present condition of affluence. Then he went on to lament the fact that he could not make his peasantry understand the incentives to labour which the riches of science and art provide; for instance, he had failed to induce his female serfs to wear corsets, whereas in Germany, where he had resided for fourteen years, every humble miller's daughter could play the piano. None the less, he said, he meant to peg away until every peasant on the estate should, as he walked behind the plough, indulge in a regular course of reading Franklin's Notes on Electricity, Virgil's Georgics, or some work on the chemical properties of soil.
“Good gracious!” mentally exclaimed Chichikov. “Why, I myself have not had time to finish that book by the Duchesse de la Vallière!”
Much else the Colonel said. In particular did he aver that, provided the Russian peasant could be induced to array himself in German costume, science would progress, trade increase, and the Golden Age dawn in Russia.
For a while Chichikov listened with distended eyes. Then he felt constrained to intimate that with all that he had nothing to do, seeing that his business was merely to acquire a few souls, and thereafter to have their purchase confirmed.
“If I understand you aright,” said the Colonel, “you wish to present a Statement of Plea?”
“Yes, that is so.”
“Then kindly put it into writing, and it shall be forwarded to the Office for the Reception of Reports and Returns. Thereafter that Office will consider it, and return it to me, who will, in turn, dispatch it to the Estate Works Committee, who will, in turn, revise it, and present it to the Administrator, who, jointly with the Secretary, will—”
“Pardon me,” expostulated Chichikov, “but that procedure will take up a great deal of time. Why need I put the matter into writing at all? It is simply this. I want a few souls which are—well, which are, so to speak, dead.”
“Very good,” commented the Colonel. “Do you write down in your Statement of Plea that the souls which you desire are, ‘so to speak, dead.’”
“But what would be the use of my doing so? Though the souls are dead, my purpose requires that they should be represented as alive.”
“Very good,” again commented the Colonel. “Do you write down in your Statement that ‘it is necessary’ (or, should you prefer an alternative phrase, ‘it is requested,’ or ‘it is desiderated,’ or ‘it is prayed,’) ‘that the souls be represented as alive.’ At all events, WITHOUT documentary process of that kind, the matter cannot possibly be carried through. Also, I will appoint a Commissioner to guide you round the various Offices.”
And he sounded a bell; whereupon there presented himself a man whom, addressing as “Secretary,” the Colonel instructed to summon the “Commissioner.” The latter, on appearing, was seen to have the air, half of a peasant, half of an official.
“This man,” the Colonel said to Chichikov, “will act as your escort.”
What could be done with a lunatic like Koshkarev? In the end, curiosity moved Chichikov to accompany the Commissioner. The Committee for the Reception of Reports and Returns was discovered to have put up its shutters, and to have locked its doors, for the reason that the Director of the Committee had been transferred to the newly-formed Committee of Estate Management, and his successor had been annexed by the same Committee. Next, Chichikov and his escort rapped at the doors of the Department of Estate Affairs; but that Department's quarters happened to be in a state of repair, and no one could be made to answer the summons save a drunken peasant from whom not a word of sense was to be extracted. At length the escort felt himself removed to remark:
“There is a deal of foolishness going on here. Fellows like that drunkard lead the barin by the nose, and everything is ruled by the Committee of Management, which takes men from their proper work, and sets them to do any other it likes. Indeed, only through the Committee does ANYTHING get done.”
By this time Chichikov felt that he had seen enough; wherefore he returned to the Colonel, and informed him that the Office for the Reception of Reports and Returns had ceased to exist. At once the Colonel flamed to noble rage. Pressing Chichikov's hand in token of gratitude for the information which the guest had furnished, he took paper and pen, and noted eight searching questions under three separate headings: “Why has the Committee of Management presumed to issue orders to officials not under its jurisdiction?” “Why has the Chief Manager permitted his predecessor, though still in retention of his post, to follow him to another Department?” and “Why has the Committee of Estate Affairs suffered the Office for the Reception of Reports and Returns to lapse?”
“Now for a row!” thought Chichikov to himself, and turned to depart; but his host stopped him, saying:
“I cannot let you go, for, in addition to my honour having become involved, it behoves me to show my people how the regular, the organised, administration of an estate may be conducted. Herewith I will hand over the conduct of your affair to a man who is worth all the rest of the staff put together, and has had a university education. Also, the better to lose no time, may I humbly beg you to step into my library, where you will find notebooks, paper, pens, and everything else that you may require. Of these articles pray make full use, for you are a gentleman of letters, and it is your and my joint duty to bring enlightenment to all.”
So saying, he ushered his guest into a large room lined from floor to ceiling with books and stuffed specimens. The books in question were divided into sections—a section on forestry, a section on cattle-breeding, a section on the raising of swine, and a section on horticulture, together with special journals of the type circulated merely for the purposes of reference, and not for general reading. Perceiving that these works were scarcely of a kind calculated to while away an idle hour, Chichikov turned to a second bookcase. But to do so was to fall out of the frying-pan into the fire, for the contents of the second bookcase proved to be works on philosophy, while, in particular, six huge volumes confronted him under a label inscribed “A Preparatory Course to the Province of Thought, with the Theory of Community of Effort, Co-operation, and Subsistence, in its Application to a Right Understanding of the Organic Principles of a Mutual Division of Social Productivity.” Indeed, wheresoever Chichikov looked, every page presented to his vision some such words as “phenomenon,” “development,” “abstract,” “contents,” and “synopsis.” “This is not the sort of thing for me,” he murmured, and turned his attention to a third bookcase, which contained books on the Arts. Extracting a huge tome in which some by no means reticent mythological illustrations were contained, he set himself to examine these pictures. They were of the kind which pleases mostly middle-aged bachelors and old men who are accustomed to seek in the ballet and similar frivolities a further spur to their waning passions. Having concluded his examination, Chichikov had just extracted another volume of the same species when Colonel Koshkarev returned with a document of some sort and a radiant countenance.
“Everything has been carried through in due form!” he cried. “The man whom I mentioned is a genius indeed, and I intend not only to promote him over the rest, but also to create for him a special Department. Herewith shall you hear what a splendid intellect is his, and how in a few minutes he has put the whole affair in order.”
“May the Lord be thanked for that!” thought Chichikov. Then he settled himself while the Colonel read aloud:
“After giving full consideration to the Reference which your Excellency has entrusted to me, I have the honour to report as follows:”
“‘In the Statement of Plea presented by one Paul Ivanovitch Chichikov, Gentleman, Chevalier, and Collegiate Councillor, there lurks an error, in that an oversight has led the Petitioner to apply to Revisional Souls the term “Dead.” Now, from the context it would appear that by this term the Petitioner desires to signify Souls Approaching Death rather than Souls Actually Deceased: wherefore the term employed betrays such an empirical instruction in letters as must, beyond doubt, have been confined to the Village School, seeing that in truth the Soul is Deathless.’”
“The rascal!” Koshkarev broke off to exclaim delightedly. “He has got you there, Monsieur Chichikov. And you will admit that he has a sufficiently incisive pen?”
“On this Estate there exist no Unmortgaged Souls whatsoever, whether Approaching Death or Otherwise; for the reason that all Souls thereon have been pledged not only under a First Deed of Mortgage, but also (for the sum of One Hundred and Fifty Roubles per Soul) under a Second,—the village of Gurmailovka alone excepted, in that, in consequence of a Suit having been brought against Landowner Priadistchev, and of a caveat having been pronounced by the Land Court, and of such caveat having been published in No. 42 of the Gazette of Moscow, the said Village has come within the Jurisdiction of the Court Above-Mentioned.”
“Why did you not tell me all this before?” cried Chichikov furiously. “Why you have kept me dancing about for nothing?”
“Because it was absolutely necessary that you should view the matter through forms of documentary process. This is no jest on my part. The inexperienced may see things subconsciously, yet is imperative that he should also see them CONSCIOUSLY.”
But to Chichikov's patience an end had come. Seizing his cap, and casting all ceremony to the winds, he fled from the house, and rushed through the courtyard. As it happened, the man who had driven him thither had, warned by experience, not troubled even to take out the horses, since he knew that such a proceeding would have entailed not only the presentation of a Statement of Plea for fodder, but also a delay of twenty-four hours until the Resolution granting the same should have been passed. Nevertheless the Colonel pursued his guest to the gates, and pressed his hand warmly as he thanked him for having enabled him (the Colonel) thus to exhibit in operation the proper management of an estate. Also, he begged to state that, under the circumstances, it was absolutely necessary to keep things moving and circulating, since, otherwise, slackness was apt to supervene, and the working of the machine to grow rusty and feeble; but that, in spite of all, the present occasion had inspired him with a happy idea—namely, the idea of instituting a Committee which should be entitled “The Committee of Supervision of the Committee of Management,” and which should have for its function the detection of backsliders among the body first mentioned.
It was late when, tired and dissatisfied, Chichikov regained Kostanzhoglo's mansion. Indeed, the candles had long been lit.
“What has delayed you?” asked the master of the house as Chichikov entered the drawing-room.
“Yes, what has kept you and the Colonel so long in conversation together?” added Platon.
“This—the fact that never in my life have I come across such an imbecile,” was Chichikov's reply.
“Never mind,” said Kostanzhoglo. “Koshkarev is a most reassuring phenomenon. He is necessary in that in him we see expressed in caricature all the more crying follies of our intellectuals—of the intellectuals who, without first troubling to make themselves acquainted with their own country, borrow silliness from abroad. Yet that is how certain of our landowners are now carrying on. They have set up ‘offices’ and factories and schools and ‘commissions,’ and the devil knows what else besides. A fine lot of wiseacres! After the French War in 1812 they had to reconstruct their affairs: and see how they have done it! Yet so much worse have they done it than a Frenchman would have done that any fool of a Peter Petrovitch Pietukh now ranks as a good landowner!”
“But he has mortgaged the whole of his estate?” remarked Chichikov.
“Yes, nowadays everything is being mortgaged, or is going to be.” This said, Kostanzhoglo's temper rose still further. “Out upon your factories of hats and candles!” he cried. “Out upon procuring candle-makers from London, and then turning landowners into hucksters! To think of a Russian pomiestchik , a member of the noblest of callings, conducting workshops and cotton mills! Why, it is for the wenches of towns to handle looms for muslin and lace.”
“But you yourself maintain workshops?” remarked Platon.
“I do; but who established them? They established themselves. For instance, wool had accumulated, and since I had nowhere to store it, I began to weave it into cloth—but, mark you, only into good, plain cloth of which I can dispose at a cheap rate in the local markets, and which is needed by peasants, including my own. Again, for six years on end did the fish factories keep dumping their offal on my bank of the river; wherefore, at last, as there was nothing to be done with it, I took to boiling it into glue, and cleared forty thousand roubles by the process.”
“The devil!” thought Chichikov to himself as he stared at his host. “What a fist this man has for making money!”
“Another reason why I started those factories,” continued Kostanzhoglo, “is that they might give employment to many peasants who would otherwise have starved. You see, the year happened to have been a lean one—thanks to those same industry-mongering landowners, in that they had neglected to sow their crops; and now my factories keep growing at the rate of a factory a year, owing to the circumstance that such quantities of remnants and cuttings become so accumulated that, if a man looks carefully to his management, he will find every sort of rubbish to be capable of bringing in a return—yes, to the point of his having to reject money on the plea that he has no need of it. Yet I do not find that to do all this I require to build a mansion with facades and pillars!”
“Marvellous!” exclaimed Chichikov. “Beyond all things does it surprise me that refuse can be so utilised.”
“Yes, and that is what can be done by SIMPLE methods. But nowadays every one is a mechanic, and wants to open that money chest with an instrument instead of simply. For that purpose he hies him to England. Yes, THAT is the thing to do. What folly!” Kostanzhoglo spat and added: “Yet when he returns from abroad he is a hundred times more ignorant than when he went.”
“Ah, Constantine,” put in his wife anxiously, “you know how bad for you it is to talk like this.”
“Yes, but how am I to help losing my temper? The thing touches me too closely, it vexes me too deeply to think that the Russian character should be degenerating. For in that character there has dawned a sort of Quixotism which never used to be there. Yes, no sooner does a man get a little education into his head than he becomes a Don Quixote, and establishes schools on his estate such as even a madman would never have dreamed of. And from that school there issues a workman who is good for nothing, whether in the country or in the town—a fellow who drinks and is for ever standing on his dignity. Yet still our landowners keep taking to philanthropy, to converting themselves into philanthropic knights-errant, and spending millions upon senseless hospitals and institutions, and so ruining themselves and turning their families adrift. Yes, that is all that comes of philanthropy.”
Chichikov's business had nothing to do with the spread of enlightenment, he was but seeking an opportunity to inquire further concerning the putting of refuse to lucrative uses; but Kostanzhoglo would not let him get a word in edgeways, so irresistibly did the flow of sarcastic comment pour from the speaker's lips.
“Yes,” went on Kostanzhoglo, “folk are always scheming to educate the peasant. But first make him well-off and a good farmer. THEN he will educate himself fast enough. As things are now, the world has grown stupid to a degree that passes belief. Look at the stuff our present-day scribblers write! Let any sort of a book be published, and at once you will see every one making a rush for it. Similarly will you find folk saying: ‘The peasant leads an over-simple life. He ought to be familiarised with luxuries, and so led to yearn for things above his station.’ And the result of such luxuries will be that the peasant will become a rag rather than a man, and suffer from the devil only knows what diseases, until there will remain in the land not a boy of eighteen who will not have experienced the whole gamut of them, and found himself left with not a tooth in his jaws or a hair on his pate. Yes, that is what will come of infecting the peasant with such rubbish. But, thank God, there is still one healthy class left to us—a class which has never taken up with the ‘a(chǎn)dvantages’ of which I speak. For that we ought to be grateful. And since, even yet, the Russian agriculturist remains the most respect-worthy man in the land, why should he be touched? Would to God every one were an agriculturist!”
“Then you believe agriculture to be the most profitable of occupations?” said Chichikov.
“The best, at all events—if not the most profitable. ‘In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou till the land.’ To quote that requires no great wisdom, for the experience of ages has shown us that, in the agricultural calling, man has ever remained more moral, more pure, more noble than in any other. Of course I do not mean to imply that no other calling ought to be practised: simply that the calling in question lies at the root of all the rest. However much factories may be established privately or by the law, there will still lie ready to man's hand all that he needs—he will still require none of those amenities which are sapping the vitality of our present-day folk, nor any of those industrial establishments which make their profit, and keep themselves going, by causing foolish measures to be adopted which, in the end, are bound to deprave and corrupt our unfortunate masses. I myself am determined never to establish any manufacture, however profitable, which will give rise to a demand for ‘higher things,’ such as sugar and tobacco—no not if I lose a million by my refusing to do so. If corruption MUST overtake the MIR, it shall not be through my hands. And I think that God will justify me in my resolve. Twenty years have I lived among the common folk, and I know what will inevitably come of such things.”
“But what surprises me most,” persisted Chichikov, “is that from refuse it should be possible, with good management, to make such an immensity of profit.”
“And as for political economy,” continued Kostanzhoglo, without noticing him, and with his face charged with bilious sarcasm, “—as for political economy, it is a fine thing indeed. Just one fool sitting on another fool's back, and flogging him along, even though the rider can see no further than his own nose! Yet into the saddle will that fool climb—spectacles and all! Oh, the folly, the folly of such things!” And the speaker spat derisively.
“That may be true,” said his wife. “Yet you must not get angry about it. Surely one can speak on such subjects without losing one's temper?”
“As I listen to you, most worthy Constantine Thedorovitch,” Chichikov hastened to remark, “it becomes plain to me that you have penetrated into the meaning of life, and laid your finger upon the essential root of the matter. Yet supposing, for a moment, we leave the affairs of humanity in general, and turn our attention to a purely individual affair, might I ask you how, in the case of a man becoming a landowner, and having a mind to grow wealthy as quickly as possible (in order that he may fulfil his bounden obligations as a citizen), he can best set about it?”
“How he can best set about growing wealthy?” repeated Kostanzhoglo. “Why,—”
“Let us go to supper,” interrupted the lady of the house, rising from her chair, and moving towards the centre of the room, where she wrapped her shivering young form in a shawl. Chichikov sprang up with the alacrity of a military man, offered her his arm, and escorted her, as on parade, to the dining-room, where awaiting them there was the soup-toureen. From it the lid had just been removed, and the room was redolent of the fragrant odour of early spring roots and herbs. The company took their seats, and at once the servants placed the remainder of the dishes (under covers) upon the table and withdrew, for Kostanzhoglo hated to have servants listening to their employers' conversation, and objected still more to their staring at him all the while that he was eating.
When the soup had been consumed, and glasses of an excellent vintage resembling Hungarian wine had been poured out, Chichikov said to his host:
“Most worthy sir, allow me once more to direct your attention to the subject of which we were speaking at the point when the conversation became interrupted. You will remember that I was asking you how best a man can set about, proceed in, the matter of growing...”
[Here from the original two pages are missing.]
... “A property for which, had he asked forty thousand, I should still have demanded a reduction.”
“Hm!” thought Chichikov; then added aloud: “But why do you not purchase it yourself?”
“Because to everything there must be assigned a limit. Already my property keeps me sufficiently employed. Moreover, I should cause our local dvoriane to begin crying out in chorus that I am exploiting their extremities, their ruined position, for the purpose of acquiring land for under its value. Of that I am weary.”
“How readily folk speak evil!” exclaimed Chichikov.
“Yes, and the amount of evil-speaking in our province surpasses belief. Never will you hear my name mentioned without my being called also a miser and a usurer of the worst possible sort; whereas my accusers justify themselves in everything, and say that, ‘though we have wasted our money, we have started a demand for the higher amenities of life, and therefore encouraged industry with our wastefulness, a far better way of doing things than that practised by Kostanzhoglo, who lives like a pig.’”
“Would I could live in your ‘piggish’ fashion!” ejaculated Chichikov.
“And so forth, and so forth. Yet what are the ‘higher amenities of life’? What good can they do to any one? Even if a landowner of the day sets up a library, he never looks at a single book in it, but soon relapses into cardplaying—the usual pursuit. Yet folk call me names simply because I do not waste my means upon the giving of dinners! One reason why I do not give such dinners is that they weary me; and another reason is that I am not used to them. But come you to my house for the purpose of taking pot luck, and I shall be delighted to see you. Also, folk foolishly say that I lend money on interest; whereas the truth is that if you should come to me when you are really in need, and should explain to me openly how you propose to employ my money, and I should perceive that you are purposing to use that money wisely, and that you are really likely to profit thereby—well, in that case you would find me ready to lend you all that you might ask without interest at all.”
“That is a thing which it is well to know,” reflected Chichikov.
“Yes,” repeated Kostanzhoglo, “under those circumstances I should never refuse you my assistance. But I do object to throwing my money to the winds. Pardon me for expressing myself so plainly. To think of lending money to a man who is merely devising a dinner for his mistress, or planning to furnish his house like a lunatic, or thinking of taking his paramour to a masked ball or a jubilee in honour of some one who had better never have been born!”
And, spitting, he came near to venting some expression which would scarcely have been becoming in the presence of his wife. Over his face the dark shadow of hypochondria had cast a cloud, and furrows had formed on his brow and temples, and his every gesture bespoke the influence of a hot, nervous rancour.
“But allow me once more to direct your attention to the subject of our recently interrupted conversation,” persisted Chichikov as he sipped a glass of excellent raspberry wine. “That is to say, supposing I were to acquire the property which you have been good enough to bring to my notice, how long would it take me to grow rich?”
“That would depend on yourself,” replied Kostanzhoglo with grim abruptness and evident ill-humour. “You might either grow rich quickly or you might never grow rich at all. If you made up your mind to grow rich, sooner or later you would find yourself a wealthy man.”
“Indeed?” ejaculated Chichikov.
“Yes,” replied Kostanzhoglo, as sharply as though he were angry with Chichikov. “You would merely need to be fond of work: otherwise you would effect nothing. The main thing is to like looking after your property. Believe me, you would never grow weary of doing so. People would have it that life in the country is dull; whereas, if I were to spend a single day as it is spent by some folk, with their stupid clubs and their restaurants and their theatres, I should die of ennui. The fools, the idiots, the generations of blind dullards! But a landowner never finds the days wearisome—he has not the time. In his life not a moment remains unoccupied; it is full to the brim. And with it all goes an endless variety of occupations. And what occupations! Occupations which genuinely uplift the soul, seeing that the landowner walks with nature and the seasons of the year, and takes part in, and is intimate with, everything which is evolved by creation. For let us look at the round of the year's labours. Even before spring has arrived there will have begun a general watching and a waiting for it, and a preparing for sowing, and an apportioning of crops, and a measuring of seed grain by byres, and drying of seed, and a dividing of the workers into teams. For everything needs to be examined beforehand, and calculations must be made at the very start. And as soon as ever the ice shall have melted, and the rivers be flowing, and the land have dried sufficiently to be workable, the spade will begin its task in kitchen and flower garden, and the plough and the harrow their tasks in the field; until everywhere there will be tilling and sowing and planting. And do you understand what the sum of that labour will mean? It will mean that the harvest is being sown, that the welfare of the world is being sown, that the food of millions is being put into the earth. And thereafter will come summer, the season of reaping, endless reaping; for suddenly the crops will have ripened, and rye-sheaf will be lying heaped upon rye-sheaf, with, elsewhere, stocks of barley, and of oats, and of wheat. And everything will be teeming with life, and not a moment will there need to be lost, seeing that, had you even twenty eyes, you would have need for them all. And after the harvest festivities there will be grain to be carted to byre or stacked in ricks, and stores to be prepared for the winter, and storehouses and kilns and cattle-sheds to be cleaned for the same purpose, and the women to be assigned their tasks, and the totals of everything to be calculated, so that one may see the value of what has been done. And lastly will come winter, when in every threshing-floor the flail will be working, and the grain, when threshed, will need to be carried from barn to binn, and the mills require to be seen to, and the estate factories to be inspected, and the workmen's huts to be visited for the purpose of ascertaining how the muzhik is faring (for, given a carpenter who is clever with his tools, I, for one, am only too glad to spend an hour or two in his company, so cheering to me is labour). And if, in addition, one discerns the end to which everything is moving, and the manner in which the things of earth are everywhere multiplying and multiplying, and bringing forth more and more fruit to one's profiting, I cannot adequately express what takes place in a man's soul. And that, not because of the growth in his wealth—money is money and no more—but because he will feel that everything is the work of his own hands, and that he has been the cause of everything, and its creator, and that from him, as from a magician, there has flowed bounty and goodness for all. In what other calling will you find such delights in prospect?” As he spoke, Kostanzhoglo raised his face, and it became clear that the wrinkles had fled from it, and that, like the Tsar on the solemn day of his crowning, Kostanzhoglo's whole form was diffusing light, and his features had in them a gentle radiance. “In all the world,” he repeated, “you will find no joys like these, for herein man imitates the God who projected creation as the supreme happiness, and now demands of man that he, too, should act as the creator of prosperity. Yet there are folk who call such functions tedious!”
Kostanzhoglo's mellifluous periods fell upon Chichikov's ear like the notes of a bird of paradise. From time to time he gulped, and his softened eyes expressed the pleasure which it gave him to listen.
“Constantine, it is time to leave the table,” said the lady of the house, rising from her seat. Every one followed her example, and Chichikov once again acted as his hostess's escort—although with less dexterity of deportment than before, owing to the fact that this time his thoughts were occupied with more essential matters of procedure.
“In spite of what you say,” remarked Platon as he walked behind the pair, “I, for my part, find these things wearisome.”
But the master of the house paid no attention to his remark, for he was reflecting that his guest was no fool, but a man of serious thought and speech who did not take things lightly. And, with the thought, Kostanzhoglo grew lighter in soul, as though he had warmed himself with his own words, and were exulting in the fact that he had found some one capable of listening to good advice.
When they had settled themselves in the cosy, candle-lighted drawing-room, with its balcony and the glass door opening out into the garden—a door through which the stars could be seen glittering amid the slumbering tops of the trees—Chichikov felt more comfortable than he had done for many a day past. It was as though, after long journeying, his own rooftree had received him once more—had received him when his quest had been accomplished, when all that he wished for had been gained, when his travelling-staff had been laid aside with the words “It is finished.” And of this seductive frame of mind the true source had been the eloquent discourse of his hospitable host. Yes, for every man there exist certain things which, instantly that they are said, seem to touch him more closely, more intimately, than anything has done before. Nor is it an uncommon occurrence that in the most unexpected fashion, and in the most retired of retreats, one will suddenly come face to face with a man whose burning periods will lead one to forget oneself and the tracklessness of the route and the discomfort of one's nightly halting-places, and the futility of crazes and the falseness of tricks by which one human being deceives another. And at once there will become engraven upon one's memory—vividly, and for all time—the evening thus spent. And of that evening one's remembrance will hold true, both as to who was present, and where each such person sat, and what he or she was wearing, and what the walls and the stove and other trifling features of the room looked like.
In the same way did Chichikov note each detail that evening—both the appointments of the agreeable, but not luxuriously furnished, room, and the good-humoured expression which reigned on the face of the thoughtful host, and the design of the curtains, and the amber-mounted pipe smoked by Platon, and the way in which he kept puffing smoke into the fat jowl of the dog Yarb, and the sneeze which, on each such occasion, Yarb vented, and the laughter of the pleasant-faced hostess (though always followed by the words “Pray do not tease him any more”) and the cheerful candle-light, and the cricket chirping in a corner, and the glass door, and the spring night which, laying its elbows upon the tree-tops, and spangled with stars, and vocal with the nightingales which were pouring forth warbled ditties from the recesses of the foliage, kept glancing through the door, and regarding the company within.
“How it delights me to hear your words, good Constantine Thedorovitch!” said Chichikov. “Indeed, nowhere in Russia have I met with a man of equal intellect.”
Kostanzhoglo smiled, while realising that the compliment was scarcely deserved.
“If you want a man of GENUINE intellect,” he said, “I can tell you of one. He is a man whose boot soles are worth more than my whole body.”
“Who may he be?” asked Chichikov in astonishment.
“Murazov, our local Commissioner of Taxes.”
“Ah! I have heard of him before,” remarked Chichikov.
“He is a man who, were he not the director of an estate, might well be a director of the Empire. And were the Empire under my direction, I should at once appoint him my Minister of Finance.”
“I have heard tales beyond belief concerning him—for instance, that he has acquired ten million roubles.”
“Ten? More than forty. Soon half Russia will be in his hands.”
“You don't say so?” cried Chichikov in amazement.
“Yes, certainly. The man who has only a hundred thousand roubles to work with grows rich but slowly, whereas he who has millions at his disposal can operate over a greater radius, and so back whatsoever he undertakes with twice or thrice the money which can be brought against him. Consequently his field becomes so spacious that he ends by having no rivals. Yes, no one can compete with him, and, whatsoever price he may fix for a given commodity, at that price it will have to remain, nor will any man be able to outbid it.”
“My God!” muttered Chichikov, crossing himself, and staring at Kostanzhoglo with his breath catching in his throat. “The mind cannot grasp it—it petrifies one's thoughts with awe. You see folk marvelling at what Science has achieved in the matter of investigating the habits of cowbugs, but to me it is a far more marvellous thing that in the hands of a single mortal there can become accumulated such gigantic sums of money. But may I ask whether the great fortune of which you speak has been acquired through honest means?”
“Yes; through means of the most irreproachable kind—through the most honourable of methods.”
“Yet so improbable does it seem that I can scarcely believe it. Thousands I could understand, but millions—!”
“On the contrary, to make thousands honestly is a far more difficult matter than to make millions. Millions are easily come by, for a millionaire has no need to resort to crooked ways; the way lies straight before him, and he needs but to annex whatsoever he comes across. No rival will spring up to oppose him, for no rival will be sufficiently strong, and since the millionaire can operate over an extensive radius, he can bring (as I have said) two or three roubles to bear upon any one else's one. Consequently, what interest will he derive from a thousand roubles? Why, ten or twenty per cent. at the least.”
“And it is beyond measure marvellous that the whole should have started from a single kopeck.”
“Had it started otherwise, the thing could never have been done at all. Such is the normal course. He who is born with thousands, and is brought up to thousands, will never acquire a single kopeck more, for he will have been set up with the amenities of life in advance, and so never come to stand in need of anything. It is necessary to begin from the beginning rather than from the middle; from a kopeck rather than from a rouble; from the bottom rather than from the top. For only thus will a man get to know the men and conditions among which his career will have to be carved. That is to say, through encountering the rough and the tumble of life, and through learning that every kopeck has to be beaten out with a three-kopeck nail, and through worsting knave after knave, he will acquire such a degree of perspicuity and wariness that he will err in nothing which he may tackle, and never come to ruin. Believe me, it is so. The beginning, and not the middle, is the right starting point. No one who comes to me and says, ‘Give me a hundred thousand roubles, and I will grow rich in no time,’ do I believe, for he is likely to meet with failure rather than with the success of which he is so assured. 'Tis with a kopeck, and with a kopeck only, that a man must begin.”
“If that is so, I shall grow rich,” said Chichikov, involuntarily remembering the dead souls. “For of a surety I began with nothing.”
“Constantine, pray allow Paul Ivanovitch to retire to rest,” put in the lady of the house. “It is high time, and I am sure you have talked enough.”
“Yes, beyond a doubt you will grow rich,” continued Kostanzhoglo, without heeding his wife. “For towards you there will run rivers and rivers of gold, until you will not know what to do with all your gains.”
As though spellbound, Chichikov sat in an aureate world of ever-growing dreams and fantasies. All his thoughts were in a whirl, and on a carpet of future wealth his tumultuous imagination was weaving golden patterns, while ever in his ears were ringing the words, “towards you there will run rivers and rivers of gold.”
“Really, Constantine, DO allow Paul Ivanovitch to go to bed.”
“What on earth is the matter?” retorted the master of the household testily. “Pray go yourself if you wish to.” Then he stopped short, for the snoring of Platon was filling the whole room, and also—outrivalling it—that of the dog Yarb. This caused Kostanzhoglo to realise that bedtime really had arrived; wherefore, after he had shaken Platon out of his slumbers, and bidden Chichikov good night, all dispersed to their several chambers, and became plunged in sleep.
All, that is to say, except Chichikov, whose thoughts remained wakeful, and who kept wondering and wondering how best he could become the owner, not of a fictitious, but of a real, estate. The conversation with his host had made everything clear, had made the possibility of his acquiring riches manifest, had made the difficult art of estate management at once easy and understandable; until it would seem as though particularly was his nature adapted for mastering the art in question. All that he would need to do would be to mortgage the dead souls, and then to set up a genuine establishment. Already he saw himself acting and administering as Kostanzhoglo had advised him—energetically, and through personal oversight, and undertaking nothing new until the old had been thoroughly learned, and viewing everything with his own eyes, and making himself familiar with each member of his peasantry, and abjuring all superfluities, and giving himself up to hard work and husbandry. Yes, already could he taste the pleasure which would be his when he had built up a complete industrial organisation, and the springs of the industrial machine were in vigorous working order, and each had become able to reinforce the other. Labour should be kept in active operation, and, even as, in a mill, flour comes flowing from grain, so should cash, and yet more cash, come flowing from every atom of refuse and remnant. And all the while he could see before him the landowner who was one of the leading men in Russia, and for whom he had conceived such an unbounded respect. Hitherto only for rank or for opulence had Chichikov respected a man—never for mere intellectual power; but now he made a first exception in favour of Kostanzhoglo, seeing that he felt that nothing undertaken by his host could possibly come to naught. And another project which was occupying Chichikov's mind was the project of purchasing the estate of a certain landowner named Khlobuev. Already Chichikov had at his disposal ten thousand roubles, and a further fifteen thousand he would try and borrow of Kostanzhoglo (seeing that the latter had himself said that he was prepared to help any one who really desired to grow rich); while, as for the remainder, he would either raise the sum by mortgaging the estate or force Khlobuev to wait for it—just to tell him to resort to the courts if such might be his pleasure.
Long did our hero ponder the scheme; until at length the slumber which had, these four hours past, been holding the rest of the household in its embraces enfolded also Chichikov, and he sank into oblivion.
“如果柯式凱略夫大佐確是發(fā)瘋的,那就著實(shí)不壞了?!碑?dāng)乞乞科夫又到了廣宇之下,曠野之上的時(shí)候,他說。一切人們的住所,都遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)的橫在他后面:他現(xiàn)在只看見廣大的蒼穹和遠(yuǎn)處的兩朵小小的云片。
“你問明白了到柯式凱略夫大佐那里去的路了嗎,綏里方?”
“您要知道,保甫爾·伊凡諾維支,我對(duì)付車子的事情多得很,分不出工夫來呀。不過彼得爾希加是向車夫問了路的。”
“這樣的一匹驢子!我早對(duì)你說過,你不要聽?wèi){彼得爾希加;彼得爾希加一定又喝得爛醉了!”
“這可并不是大了不得的事情。”彼得爾希加從他的坐位上稍為轉(zhuǎn)過一點(diǎn)來,向乞乞科夫瞥了一眼,說?!拔覀冎灰芟律?,順草地走上去,再?zèng)]有別的了!”
“可是你專門喝燒酒!再?zèng)]有別的了!你總是不會(huì)錯(cuò)的!一到你,人也可以說:這是漂亮到要嚇倒歐洲的家伙哩?!闭f到這里,乞乞科夫就摸一把自己的下巴,并且想道:“好出身的有教養(yǎng)的人和這樣的一個(gè)粗俗的下人之間,是有很大的區(qū)別的?!?/p>
這時(shí)車子已經(jīng)駛向山下去。又只看見草地和廣遠(yuǎn)的種著白楊樹林的處所了。
舒適的馬車在彈簧上輕輕搖動(dòng)著,注意的下了微斜的山腳;于是又經(jīng)過草地,曠野和水磨;車子隆隆的過了幾道橋,搖搖擺擺的在遠(yuǎn)的不平的地面上跳來跳去。然而沒有一座土岡,連打攪我們的旅客的清游的一個(gè)道路的高低,也非常之少。這簡直是享福,并不是坐車。
葡萄樹叢,細(xì)瘦的赤楊和銀色的白楊,在他們身旁很快的飛過去,還用它們的枝條著實(shí)打著兩個(gè)坐在馬夫臺(tái)上的奴子綏里方和彼得爾希加。而且屢次從彼得爾希加的頭上掣去了帽子。這嚴(yán)厲的家丁有一回就跳下馬夫臺(tái),罵著混賬樹,以及栽種它們的人,但他竟不想縛住自己的帽子,或者用手將它按定,因?yàn)樗M@是最末的一次,以后就不再遇到這等事了。不多久,樹木里又加上了白樺,有幾處還有一株樅樹。樹根上長著茂草,其間開著藍(lán)色的燕子花和黃色的野生郁金香。樹林盡是昏暗下去,好像黑夜籠罩了旅行者。突然在枝條和樹樁之間,到處閃出雪亮的光輝,仿佛一面明鏡的反射。樹木疏下去了,發(fā)光的面積就大起來……他們面前橫著一個(gè)湖——很大的水面,約有四維爾斯他之廣。對(duì)面的岸上,現(xiàn)出許多小小的木屋。這是一個(gè)村子。湖水中發(fā)著大聲的叫喊和呼喚,大約有二十個(gè)漢子都站在湖水里,水或者到腰帶,或者到肩頭,或者到頸子,是在把網(wǎng)拉到岸上去。這之間,他們里面竟起了意外的事情。其中的一個(gè)壯大的漢子,和一條魚一同落在網(wǎng)里了,這人幾乎身寬和身長相等,看去好像一個(gè)西瓜或者像是一個(gè)桶。他的景況是極窘的,就使盡力量,大叫道:“臺(tái)尼斯,你這昏蛋!把這交給柯什瑪!柯什瑪,從臺(tái)尼斯手里按過網(wǎng)頭來呀。不要這么推,喂,大個(gè)子孚瑪。來來,站到那邊去,到小個(gè)子孚瑪站著的地方去。畜生!我對(duì)你們說,你們還連網(wǎng)都要撕破了!”這西瓜分明并不擔(dān)心它本身:它太胖,是淹不死的,即使想要沉沒,翻個(gè)筋斗,水也總會(huì)把它送上來;真的,它的背脊上簡直還可以坐兩個(gè)人,也能像頑強(qiáng)的豬尿泡一樣,浮在水面上,至多,也不過哼上幾聲,用鼻子吹起幾個(gè)泡。然而他很害怕網(wǎng)會(huì)撕破,魚會(huì)逃走,所以許多人只好拉著魚網(wǎng)的索子,要把他拖到岸上來。
“這一定是老爺,柯式凱略夫大佐了。”綏里方說。
“為什么?”
“您只要看看他是怎樣的一個(gè)身子就是。他比別人白,他的塊頭也出色,正像一位闊佬呀。”
這之間,人已經(jīng)把這落網(wǎng)的地主拉得很近湖邊了。他一覺得他的腳踏著實(shí)地,就站起來,而且在這瞬間,也看見了駛下堤來的馬車和里面的坐客乞乞科夫。
“您吃過中飯了嗎?”那紳士向他們叫喊著,一面拿著捉到的魚,走向岸上來。他還全罩在魚網(wǎng)里,很有些像夏天的閨秀的纖手,戴著鏤空的手套,一只手搭在眼上,仿佛一個(gè)遮陽,防著日光,別一只垂在下面,近乎剛剛出浴的眉提希的威奴斯(1)的位置。
“還沒有呢?!逼蚱蚩品蚧卮鹬旅弊?,在馬車?yán)飿O客氣的招呼。
“哦,那么,您感謝您的造物主罷!”
“為什么呢?”乞乞科夫好奇的問,把帽子擎在頭頂上。
“您馬上知道了!喂,小個(gè)子孚瑪,放下魚網(wǎng),向桶子里去取出鱘魚來??率铂敚氵@昏蛋,去,幫幫他!”
兩個(gè)漁夫從桶子里拉出一個(gè)怪物的頭來——“瞧罷,怎樣的一個(gè)大腳色!這是從河里錯(cuò)跑進(jìn)這里來的!”那滾圓的紳士大聲說?!澳缴衢g去就是!車夫,經(jīng)過菜園,往下走!跑呀,大個(gè)子孚瑪,你這呆木頭,開園門去!他來帶領(lǐng)您了,我立刻就來……”
長腳而赤腳的大個(gè)子孚瑪,簡直是只穿一件小衫,在馬車前頭跑通了全村。每家的小屋子前面,掛著各種打魚器具,魚網(wǎng)呀,魚籪呀,以及諸如此類;全村人都是漁夫;于是孚瑪開了園的柵門,馬車經(jīng)過一些菜畦,到了村教堂附近的一塊空地上。在教堂稍遠(yuǎn)之處,望見主人的府邸的屋頂。
“這柯式凱略夫是有點(diǎn)古怪的!”乞乞科夫想。
“唔,我在這里!”旁邊起了一種聲音。乞乞科夫向周圍一看。那主人穿著草綠色的南京棉布的上衣,黃色的褲子,沒有領(lǐng)帶,仿佛一個(gè)庫必陀(2)似的從他旁邊拉過去了。他斜坐在彈簧馬車?yán)?,填滿著全坐位。乞乞科夫想對(duì)他說幾句話,但這胖子又即不見了。他的車子立刻又在用網(wǎng)打魚的地方出現(xiàn),又聽到他那叫喊的聲音:“大個(gè)子孚瑪,小個(gè)子孚瑪!柯什瑪和臺(tái)尼斯呀!”然而乞乞科夫到得府邸門口的時(shí)候,卻大大的吃了一驚,他看見那胖子地主已經(jīng)站在階沿上,迎迓著來賓,親愛的抱在他的臂膊里。他怎么跑的這么飛快呢——卻終于是一個(gè)謎。他們依照俄國的古禮,十字形的接吻了三回:這地主是一個(gè)古董的漢子。
“我到您這里,是來傳達(dá)大人的問候的。”乞乞科夫說。
“那一位大人?”
“您的親戚,亞歷山大·特米德里維支將軍!”
“這亞歷山大·特米德里維支是誰呀?”
“貝得理錫且夫?qū)④??!逼蚱蚩品虼鹬?,有點(diǎn)錯(cuò)愕了。
“我不認(rèn)識(shí)他?!蹦侨艘苍尞惖幕卮鸬?。
乞乞科夫的驚異,只是增加了起來。
“哦,那是怎的……?我的希望,是在和大佐柯式凱略夫先生談話的?”
“不,您還是不希望罷!您沒有到他那里,卻到我這里來了。我是彼得·彼得洛維支·胚土赫!胚土赫(3)!彼得·彼得洛維支!”主人回答說。
乞乞科夫驚愕得手足無措?!斑@不能!”他說,一面轉(zhuǎn)向一樣的張著嘴巴,瞪著眼睛的綏里方和彼得爾希加。一個(gè)坐在馬夫臺(tái)上,別一個(gè)是站在車門口?!澳銈兪窃趺磁?,你們這驢子!我對(duì)你們說過,駛到柯式凱略夫大佐那里去……這里卻是彼得·彼得洛維支……”
“你們弄得很好,伙計(jì)們!到廚房去,好請(qǐng)你們喝杯燒酒……”彼得·彼得洛維支·胚土赫大聲說?!靶断埋R匹,就到廚房里去罷!”
“我真是抱歉得很!鬧這么一個(gè)大錯(cuò)!這么突然的……”乞乞科夫吶吶的說。
“一點(diǎn)也沒有錯(cuò)。您先等一等,看午餐的味道怎么樣,那時(shí)再說錯(cuò)了沒有罷。請(qǐng)請(qǐng)?!迸咄梁照f著,一面拉了乞乞科夫的臂膊,引進(jìn)宅子里去了。這里有兩個(gè)穿著夏衣的少年來迎接著他們,都很細(xì)長,像一對(duì)柳條,比他們的父親總要高到一阿耳申(4)的樣子。
“是我的小兒!他們都在中學(xué)里,放暑假回來的……尼古拉沙,你留在這里陪客;你,亞歷克賽沙,同我來?!闭f到這里,主人就不見了。
乞乞科夫和尼古拉沙留下著,尋些話來和他扳談。尼古拉沙是好像要變懶惰青年的。他立刻對(duì)乞乞科夫說,進(jìn)外省的中學(xué),全無意義,他和他的兄弟,都準(zhǔn)備上彼得堡去,因?yàn)樵谕馐∵^活,是沒有價(jià)值的。
“我懂得了,”乞乞科夫想,“馬路邊和咖啡店在招引你們呀……”但他就又大聲的問道:“請(qǐng)您告訴我,您的父親的田地,是什么情形呢?”
“我押掉了!”那父親忽然又在大廳上出現(xiàn)了,就自己回答道,“押掉了許許多。”
“不行,這很不行,”乞乞科夫想,“沒有抵押的田地,立刻就要一點(diǎn)不剩了。要趕緊才好?!薄澳サ盅?,是應(yīng)該慢一下子的?!彼b著同情的樣子,說。
“阿,不的。那不相干!”胚土赫答道。“人說,這倒上算。現(xiàn)在大家都在去抵押,人可也不愿意自己比別人落后呀!況且我一生住在這地方;現(xiàn)在也想去看一看莫斯科了。我的兒子們也總在催逼我,他們實(shí)在想受些大都會(huì)的教育哩?!?/p>
“這樣的一個(gè)胡涂蟲!”乞乞科夫想?!八麜?huì)把一切弄得精光,連自己的兒子也教成浪費(fèi)者的。他有這么一宗出色的田產(chǎn)??雌饋恚教庯@著好景況。農(nóng)奴是好好的,主人也不愁什么缺乏。但如果他們一受大菜館和戲院的教育,可就全都一塌胡涂了。他其實(shí)還不如靜靜的留在鄉(xiāng)下的好,這吹牛皮家伙。”
“您現(xiàn)在在想什么,我知道的!”胚土赫說。
“什么呀?”乞乞科夫說著,有點(diǎn)狼狽了。
“您在想:‘這胚土赫可真是一個(gè)胡涂蟲;他邀人來吃中飯,卻教人盡等?!蛠恚R上來了,最敬愛的。您看著罷,一個(gè)剪發(fā)的姑娘還不及趕忙挽好髻子,飯菜就擺在桌上了?!?/p>
“阿呀!柏拉圖·密哈洛維支騎了馬來哩!”站在窗前,望著外面的亞歷克賽沙說。
“他騎著他那棗騮馬呢!”尼古拉沙接著道,一面向窗口彎著腰。
“那里?那里?”胚土赫叫著,也跑到窗口去了。
“那是誰呀,柏拉圖·密哈洛維支?”乞乞科夫問亞歷克賽沙道。
“我們的鄰居,柏拉圖·密哈洛維支·柏拉圖諾夫,一個(gè)非凡的人,一個(gè)出眾的人。”主人自己回答說。
在這瞬息中,柏拉圖諾夫走進(jìn)屋子里來了。他是一個(gè)亞麻色卷發(fā)的漂亮而瘦長的男子。一匹狗子的精怪,名叫雅爾伯,響著項(xiàng)圈,跟在他后面。
“您已經(jīng)吃過飯了嗎?”
“是的,多謝!”
“您是來和我開玩笑的嗎?如果您已經(jīng)吃過,教我怎么辦才好呢?”
客人微笑著說道:“我可以不使您為難,我其實(shí)什么也沒有吃過,我不想吃?!?/p>
“您就是瞧瞧罷,我們今天捉到了怎樣的東西呵!我們網(wǎng)得了出色的鱘魚!還有出色的鯽魚和鯉魚呢!”
“聽您說話,就令人要生起氣來的。您為什么總是這么高興的?”
“為什么我該陰郁呢?我請(qǐng)教您!”那主人說。
“怎么?為什么嗎?——因?yàn)槭澜缟鲜潜Ш蜔o聊呀?!?/p>
“這只因?yàn)槟鷽]有吃足。您飽飽的吃一頓試試看。這陰郁和這憂愁,也是一種摩登的發(fā)明。先前是誰也不陰郁的。”
“您的圣諭,盡夠了!這么一說,好像您就沒有憂愁過似的?!?/p>
“從來沒有!我也毫沒有分給憂愁的工夫。早上——是睡著,剛剛睜開眼睛,廚子已經(jīng)站在面前了,就得安排中餐的菜單,于是喝茶,吩咐管事人,出去捉魚,一下子,就到了中餐的時(shí)候。中餐之后,不過睡了一下,廚子可又來了。得準(zhǔn)備晚餐,晚餐之后又來了廚子,又得想明天的中餐,教人那里有憂愁的工夫呢?”
當(dāng)兩人交談之間,乞乞科夫就觀察那來客,他那非凡的美麗,他那苗條的,合適的體態(tài),他那尚未耗損的青春之力的清新,以及他那絕無小瘡損了顏色的處女一般的純凈,都使他驚異了。激情或苦痛,連近似懊惱或不安那樣的東西,也從沒有碰著過他那年青的純潔的臉,或在平靜的表面上,掘出一條皺紋來,但自然也不能使它活潑。他的臉雖然由于嘲弄的微笑,有時(shí)見得快活,然而總有些懵懂的樣子。
“如果您容許我說幾句話,那么,以您們的風(fēng)采,卻還要悲哀,我可實(shí)在不解了!”乞乞科夫說?!叭俗匀灰渤钌?jì),也有仇人……也有誰在想陷害或者竟至于圖謀性命……”
“您以為我,”那漂亮的客人打斷他道,“您以為我因?yàn)橐凶兓怪劣谠谙M裁葱⌒〉拇剃獑??如果有誰要惱我一下,或者有這一類事情的話——然而這事誰也沒有做。生活只是無聊——如此而巳?!?/p>
“那么,您該是地面不夠,或者也許是農(nóng)奴太少了?!?/p>
“完全不是。我的兄弟和我一共有一萬頃的田地,一千以上的魂靈?!?/p>
“奇怪。那我就不能懂了。但也許您苦于收成不好和時(shí)疫?也許您損失了許多農(nóng)奴罷?”
“倒相反,什么都非常之好,我的兄弟是一個(gè)出眾的田地經(jīng)營家!”
“但是您卻在悲哀和不舒服!這我不懂?!逼蚱蚩品蛘f,聳一聳肩。
“您瞧著罷,我們要立刻來趕走這憂郁病了。”主人說,“亞歷克賽沙,快跑到廚房里去,對(duì)廚子說,他得給我們送魚肉饅頭來了。懶蟲亞美梁在那里?一定又是大張著嘴巴了。還有那賊骨頭,那安多式加呢?他們?yōu)槭裁床话崂浔P來的?”
但這時(shí)候,房門開開了。走進(jìn)懶蟲亞美梁和賊骨頭安多式加來,挾著桌布,蓋好了食桌,擺上一個(gè)盤,其中是各樣顏色的六瓶酒。繞著這些,立刻攢聚了盛著種種可口的食品的盤子一大圈。家丁們敏捷的在奔走,總在搬進(jìn)些有蓋的盤子來,人聽到那里面牛酪吱吱發(fā)響。懶蟲亞美梁和賊骨頭安多式加都把自己的事情做得很出色。他們的有著這樣的綽號(hào),是不過為了鼓勵(lì)而設(shè)的。主人決沒有罵人的嗜好,他還要和善得多;然而一個(gè)俄國人,是不能不說一句惡話的。他要這東西,正如他那幫助消化的一小杯燒酒。有什么辦法呢!這是他的天性,來消遣那沒有刺戟性的食料的!
接著冷盤,才是正式的中餐。這時(shí)候,我們的和善的主人,可就化為真正的專制君主了。他一看見客人里面的誰,盤子里只剩著一塊,便立刻給他放上第二塊,一面申說道:“世界上是什么都成對(duì)的,人類,飛禽和走獸!”誰的盤子里有兩塊,他就去添上第三塊,并且注意道:“這不是好數(shù)目:二!所有的好物事都是三。”客人剛把三塊吃完,他又已經(jīng)叫起來了:“您曾見過一輛三輪的車子,或者一間三角的小屋子嗎?”對(duì)于四或五這些數(shù)目,他也都準(zhǔn)備著一句成語。乞乞科夫確已吃了十二塊,自己想:“哼,現(xiàn)在是主人一定不會(huì)再勸了!”然而他是錯(cuò)誤的:主人一聲不響,就把一大塊烤牛排和腰子都放在他的盤子上。而且是多么大的牛排呵!
“這是兩個(gè)月之間,單用牛奶喂養(yǎng)的?!敝魅苏f?!拔覔狃B(yǎng)它,就像親生兒子一樣?!?/p>
“我吃不下了!”乞乞科夫呻吟道。
“您先嘗一嘗,然后再說:我吃不下了!”
“這可實(shí)在不成了!我胃里已經(jīng)沒有地方了。”
“教堂里也已經(jīng)沒有地方,但警察局長跑來了,瞧罷,總還能找出一塊小地方。那是擁擠到連一個(gè)蘋果也落不到地的時(shí)候呢。您嘗一嘗:這一小塊——這也是一位警察局長呀?!?/p>
乞乞科夫嘗起來,而且的確——這一塊和警察局長十分相像,真的找到了地方,然而他的胃也好像填得滿滿了。
“這樣的人,是不能到彼得堡或莫斯科去的,他那闊綽,三年里面就會(huì)弄到一文不剩。”然而他還沒有知道:現(xiàn)在已經(jīng)很不同:即使并不這么請(qǐng)客,在那地方也能把他的財(cái)產(chǎn)在三年里——什么話,在三年里!——在三個(gè)月里化得精光的。
這之間,主人還不住的斟酒;客人不喝,就得由亞歷克賽沙和尼古拉沙來喝干,一杯一杯挨次灌下喉嚨去;這就可以推想,他們將來到得首都,特別用功的是人類知識(shí)的那一方面了??腿藗儙缀醵寂没桀^昏腦!他們只好努力蹩出涼臺(tái)去,立刻倒在安樂椅子上。主人是好容易這才找到自己的坐位,但一坐倒也就睡去了。他那茁壯的自己立刻化為大風(fēng)箱,從張開的嘴巴和鼻孔里發(fā)出一種我們現(xiàn)代的音樂家很少演奏的聲音來:混雜著打鼓和吹笛,還有短促的斷續(xù)聲,非常像狗叫。
“您聽到他怎樣的吹嗎?”柏拉圖諾夫說。
乞乞科夫只得笑了起來。
“自然;如果吃了這樣的中餐,人還那里來的無聊呢?睡覺壓倒他了——不是嗎?”
“是的。請(qǐng)您寬恕,但我可真的不懂,人怎么會(huì)不快活,消遣的方法是多得很的?!?/p>
“那是些什么呢?”
“一個(gè)年青人,什么不可以弄呢?跳舞,音樂……玩一種什么樂器……或者……譬如說,他為什么不結(jié)婚的?”
“但和誰呀?”
“好像四近竟沒有漂亮的,有錢的閨女似的!”
“沒有呵!”
“那么,到別地方去看去。旅行一下……”乞乞科夫突然起了出色的想頭?!澳怯袑?duì)付憂郁和無聊的好法子的!”他說,一面看一看柏拉圖諾夫的眼睛。
“什么法子呢?”
“旅行?!?/p>
“到那里去旅行呢?”
“如果您有工夫,那么,就請(qǐng)您同我一道走罷?!逼蚱蚩品蛘f,并且觀察著柏拉圖諾夫,自己想道:“這真上算。他可以負(fù)擔(dān)一半用度,馬車修繕費(fèi)也可以歸他獨(dú)自支付了。”
“您要到那里去呀?”
“目下我并非怎么為了自己的事情,倒是別人的關(guān)系。貝德理錫且夫?qū)④?,是我的一個(gè)好朋友,我也可以說,是我的恩人,他托我去探問幾個(gè)他的親戚……探親戚自然是很重要的,但我的旅行,可也為了所謂我本身的快樂:見見世面,在人海的大旋渦中混一下——無論怎么說,這是所謂活書本,而且也是一種學(xué)問呀?!闭f到這里,他又想道:“真的,這很好。他簡直可以負(fù)擔(dān)全部的用度,我們還連馬匹也可以用他的,把我的放在他這里,好好的養(yǎng)一養(yǎng)哩?!?/p>
“為什么我不去旅行一下呢?”這時(shí)柏拉圖諾夫想?!熬褪遣怀鋈ィ以诩依镆矝]有事,管理經(jīng)濟(jì)的是我的兄弟,也不是我;我出了門,這些都毫無影響的。為什么我不同去走走呢?”——“您能到我的兄弟那里去做兩天客嗎?”他大聲說?!耙蝗?,我的兄弟是不放我走的?!?/p>
“這可是非常之愿意。就是三天也不要緊?!?/p>
“那么,約定了。我們走罷!”柏拉圖諾夫活潑的說。
乞乞科夫握手為信?!昂芎?!我們走罷!”
“那里去?那里去?”主人剛剛從睡夢(mèng)里醒來,吃驚的看定了他們,叫喊道。——“不成的呵,親愛的先生們,我已經(jīng)吩咐把車輪子卸掉了,還趕走了您的馬,柏拉圖·密哈洛維支,離這里有五維爾斯他。不成的,今天你們總得在我這里過夜,明天我們中餐吃的早一點(diǎn),那么,隨便你們走就是了?!?/p>
這有什么辦法呢?人只好決定留下。但他們卻因此無憂無慮的過了可驚的春晚。主人給去游湖了。十二個(gè)槳手用二十四枝槳,唱著快活的歌,送他們到了鏡似的湖面上。從湖里又到了河上,前面一望無涯,兩面都界著平坦的河岸。他們逐漸臨近那橫截河流的大網(wǎng)和張著小網(wǎng)的地方去。沒有一個(gè)微波來皺蹙那光滑的水面;鄉(xiāng)村的美景,寂無聲息的在他們面前連翩而過,還有昏暗的叢樹和小林,則以樹木的各式各樣的排列和攢聚,來聳動(dòng)他們的視線。船夫們一律抓住槳,仿佛出于一手似的二十四枝就同時(shí)舉在空中——恰如一匹輕禽一樣,小船就在不動(dòng)的水面上滑過去了。一個(gè)年青人,是強(qiáng)壯的闊肩膀的家伙,舵前的第三個(gè),用出于夜鶯的喉里一般的他那澄凈的聲音,開始唱起歌來,于是第五個(gè)接唱著,第六個(gè)搖曳著,響亮而抑揚(yáng)的彌滿了歌曲:無邊無際,恰如俄羅斯本身。如果合唱隊(duì)沒了勁,胚土赫也常常自己來出馬和支持,用一種聲音,很像公雞叫。真的,在這一晚,連乞乞科夫也活潑的覺得自己是俄國人了。只有柏拉圖諾夫卻想:“在這憂郁的歌里面,有什么好東西呢?這不過使已在悲哀的人,更加悲哀罷了?!?/p>
當(dāng)大家返棹時(shí),黃昏已經(jīng)開始。天色昏暗起來;現(xiàn)在是只在不再反映天空的水里打槳。到得岸上,早已完全昏黑了。到處點(diǎn)著火把,漁夫們用了還會(huì)動(dòng)彈的活鱸魚,在三腳架上熬魚湯。人們都回到家里去了。家畜和家禽久已歸舍,它們攪起的塵頭,也已經(jīng)平靜,牧人們站在門口,等著牛奶瓶和分來的魚湯。人聲的輕微的嘈雜,在夜中發(fā)響,還從一個(gè)鄰村傳來了遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)的犬吠聲。月亮剛剛上升,陰暗處這才籠罩了它的光輝;一切東西,立刻全都朗然晃耀了。多么出色的景象呵!然而能夠欣賞的人,卻一個(gè)也沒有。尼古拉沙和亞歷克賽沙也沒有跳上兩匹剽悍的駿馬,為了打賭,在夜里發(fā)狂的飛跑,卻只默默的想著莫斯科,想著咖啡店和戲院,這是一個(gè)土官候補(bǔ)生從首都前來訪問,滔滔的講給他們聽了的;他們的父親是在想他怎樣來好好的塞飽他的客人,柏拉圖諾夫則在打呵欠。乞乞科夫卻還算最活潑:“唔,真的,我也應(yīng)該給自己買一宗田產(chǎn)的!”于是他已經(jīng)看見,旁邊一位結(jié)實(shí)的娘兒們,周圍一大群小乞乞科夫們的幻影了。
晚餐也還是吃的很多。當(dāng)乞乞科夫跨進(jìn)給他睡覺的屋子,躺在床上,摸著自己的肚子時(shí),就說:“簡直成了一面鼓!連警察局長也進(jìn)不去了!”而且環(huán)境也很不尋常,臥室的隔壁就是主人的屋子。墻壁又薄得很,因此什么談話都聽得到。主人正在吩咐廚子,安排明天一早開出來的中餐的豐盛之至的飯菜。而且那是多么注意周到呵!連一個(gè)死尸也會(huì)饞起來的!
“那么,你給我烤起四方的魚肉包子來?!彼f,一面高聲的嘖嘖的響著嘴巴,使勁的吸一口氣?!耙粋€(gè)角上,你給我包上鱘魚的臉肉和軟骨,別的地方就用蕎麥粥呀,蘑菇呀,蔥呀,甜的魚白呀,腦子呀以及什么這一類東西,你是知道的……一面你要烤得透,烤得它發(fā)黃,別一面可用不著這么烤透。最要緊的是得留心餡子——要拌得極勻,你知道,萬不可弄得散散的,卻應(yīng)該放到嘴里就化,像雪一樣;連吃的人自己也不大覺得?!闭f到這里,胚土赫又嘖嘖的響了幾下嘴唇,嘖的響了一聲舌頭。
“見鬼!這教人怎么睡得著。”乞乞科夫想著,拉上蓋被來蒙了頭,要不再聽到。然而這并不能救助他,在蓋被下面,他還是聽到胚土赫的說話。
“鱘魚旁邊,你得圍上紅蘿卜的星花,白魚和香菌;也還要加些蘿卜呀,胡蘿卜呀,豆子呀,以及各式各樣,這你是知道的;總而言之,添配的作料要多,你聽見了沒有?你還得在豬肚里灌上冰,使它脹起一點(diǎn)!”
胚土赫還吩咐了許多另外的美味的食品。人只聽得他總在說:“給我烤一下,要烤得透,給我蒸一蒸罷!”待到他終于講到火雞的時(shí)候,乞乞科夫睡著了。
第二天,客人們吃得非常之飽,柏拉圖諾夫至于再不能騎馬了。胚土赫的馬夫把他的駿馬送到家里去。于是大家上了車。那匹大頭狗就懶懶的跟在車后面:它也吃得太飽了。
“唉唉,這太過了!”當(dāng)大家離開府邸時(shí),乞乞科夫說。
“那人可總是快活!這真惱人?!?/p>
“倘使我有你的七萬盧布的進(jìn)款,憂郁是進(jìn)不了門的!”乞乞科夫想?!澳莻€(gè)包辦酒捐的木拉梭夫——就有一千萬。說說容易,一千萬——但我以為是一個(gè)數(shù)兒呵!”
“如果我們?cè)谥型就R幌?,您沒有什么異議嗎?我還想上我的姊姊和姊夫那里去辭一辭行呢?!?/p>
“非常之愿意!”乞乞科夫說。
“他是一個(gè)極出色的地主。在這四近是首屈一指的。八年以前,收入不到二萬盧布的田產(chǎn),他現(xiàn)在弄到歲收二十萬盧布了!”
“哦,這一定是一位極有意思,極可尊敬的人了!我是很愿意向這樣的人領(lǐng)教的。我拜托您——您以為怎么樣……他的貴姓呢?”
“康士坦夏格羅?!?/p>
“那么,他的本名和父稱呢,如果我可以問的話?”
“康士坦丁·菲陀洛維支。”
“康士坦丁·菲陀洛維支·康士坦夏格羅。我實(shí)在極愿意認(rèn)識(shí)認(rèn)識(shí)他。從這樣的一個(gè)人,可學(xué)的地方多得很?!?/p>
柏拉圖諾夫擔(dān)當(dāng)了重大的職務(wù),是監(jiān)督綏里方,因?yàn)樗淮竽軌蛟隈R夫臺(tái)上坐定了,所以要監(jiān)督。彼得爾希加是已經(jīng)兩回倒栽蔥跌下馬車來,因此也要用一條繩,在馬夫臺(tái)上縛住。
“這豬玀!”乞乞科夫所能說的,只有這一句。
“您看!從這里起,是他的田地了!”柏拉圖諾夫說。“樣子就全兩樣!”
實(shí)在的:他們前面橫著一片滿生嫩林的幼樹保護(hù)地——每棵小樹,都很苗條,而且直的像一枝箭,這后面又看見第二片也還是幼稚的小樹林,再后面才聳著一座老林,滿是出色的樅樹,越后就越高大。于是又來了一片幼樹保護(hù)地,一條新的,之后是一條老的樹林子。他們經(jīng)過了三回樹林,好像通過城門一樣:“這全個(gè)林子,僅僅種了八年到十年,倘是別人,即使等到二十年,恐怕也未必長的這么高大?!?/p>
“但是他怎樣辦的呢?”
“您問他自己罷。那是一個(gè)非凡的土壤學(xué)家——什么也不會(huì)白費(fèi)。他不但很明白土壤,也知道什么樹木,什么植物,在什么的近鄰,就長得最好,以及什么樹木,應(yīng)該靠近谷物來種之類。在他那里,一切東西都同時(shí)有三四種作用。樹林是不但為了木料的,尤其是因?yàn)檫@一帶的田野,要有許多濕氣和許多陰涼,枯葉呢,他還用作土壤的肥料……即使四近到處是旱災(zāi),他這里卻什么都很像樣;所有的鄰居都嘆收成壞,只有他卻用不著訴苦??上覍?duì)于這事情知道得很少,講不出來……誰明白他那些花樣和玩藝呢!在那里,人是大抵叫他魔術(shù)家的。他有什么會(huì)沒有呀!……但是呵!雖然如此,也無聊的很!”
“這實(shí)在該是一個(gè)可驚的人物了!”乞乞科夫想?!翱上н@少年人竟這么膚淺,對(duì)人講不出什么來?!?/p>
村莊也到底出現(xiàn)了。布在三個(gè)高地上的許許多農(nóng)家,遠(yuǎn)看竟好像一個(gè)市鎮(zhèn)。每個(gè)岡上,都有教堂結(jié)頂,到處看見站著谷物和干草的大堆?!斑?!”乞乞科夫想,“人立刻知道,這里是住著一位王侯似的地主的!”農(nóng)夫小屋都造得很堅(jiān)牢和耐久;處處停著一輛貨車——車子也都強(qiáng)固,簇新。凡所遇見的農(nóng)奴,個(gè)個(gè)是聰明伶俐的臉相;牛羊也是最好的種子,連農(nóng)奴的豬,看去也好像貴族似的。人們所得的印象,是住在這里的農(nóng)夫,恰如詩歌里說的那樣,在用鏟子把銀子搬到家里去。這地方?jīng)]有英國式的公園,以及草地,以及別樣窮工盡巧的布置,倒不過照著舊習(xí)慣,是一大排谷倉和工廠,一直接到府邸,給主人可以管理他前前后后的事情;府邸的高的屋頂上有一座燈塔一類的東西;這并非建筑上的裝飾;也不是為主人和他的客人而設(shè),給他們可以在這里賞鑒美麗的風(fēng)景,倒是由此監(jiān)視那些在遠(yuǎn)處的工人的。旅客們到了門口,由機(jī)靈的家丁們來招待,全不像永遠(yuǎn)爛醉的彼得爾希加;他們也不穿常禮服,卻是平常的手織的藍(lán)布衫,像哥薩克所常用的那樣。
主婦也跑下階沿來。她有血乳交融似的鮮活的臉色,美如上帝的晴天,她和柏拉圖諾夫就像兩個(gè)蛋,所不同的只是她沒有他那么衰弱和昏沉,卻總是快活,愛說話。
“日安,兄弟!你來了,這使我很高興??上У氖强凳刻苟]在家,但他也就回來的。”
“他那里去了呢?”
“他和幾個(gè)商人在村子里有點(diǎn)事情。”她說著,一面把客人引進(jìn)屋里去。
乞乞科夫好奇的環(huán)顧了這歲收二十萬盧布的奇特人物的住家,他以為可以由這里窺見主人的性格和特長,恰如從曾經(jīng)住過,剩著痕跡的空殼,來推見牡蠣或蝸牛一樣。然而住家卻什么鑰匙也不給。屋子全都質(zhì)樸,簡單,而且近乎空空洞洞;既沒有壁畫,也沒有銅像,花卉,放著貴重磁器的架子,簡直連書籍也沒有??偠灾?,這一切,就說明了住在這里的人,他那生活的最大部份,是不在四面墻壁的房子里面的,卻過在外面的田野上,而且他的計(jì)畫,也不是安閑的靠著軟椅,對(duì)著爐火,在這里耽樂他的思想的,卻在正在努力做事的處所,而且也就在那里實(shí)行。在屋子里,乞乞科夫只能發(fā)見一位賢婦的治家精神的痕跡:桌子和椅子上,放著菩提樹板,板上撒著一種花瓣,分明是在陰干。
“這是什么廢物呀,那散在這里的,姊姊?”柏拉圖諾夫說。
“這可并不是廢物呵!”主婦回答道?!斑@是醫(yī)熱病的好藥料。去年我們把所有我們的農(nóng)夫都用這東西治好了。我們用這來做酒,那邊的一些是要浸的。你總是笑我們的果醬和腌菜,但你一吃,卻自己稱贊起來了?!?/p>
柏拉圖諾夫走近鋼琴去,看看翻開著的樂譜。
“天哪,這古董!”他說?!澳愫敛浑y為情嗎,姊姊?”
“你不要怪我罷,兄弟,我已經(jīng)沒有潛心音樂的工夫了。我有一個(gè)八歲的女兒,我得教導(dǎo)她。難道為了要有閑工夫來弄音樂,就把她交給一個(gè)外國的家庭教師嗎?——這是不行的,對(duì)不起,我可不這么辦!”
“你也變了無聊了,姊姊!”那兄弟說著,走到窗口去:“阿呀,他已經(jīng)在這里,他來了,他恰恰回來了!”柏拉圖諾夫叫喊道。
乞乞科夫也跑到窗口去。一個(gè)大約四十歲的男子,淺黑的活潑的臉,身穿駝毛的短衫,正在走向家里來。對(duì)于衣服,他是不注意的。他戴一頂沒邊的帽子。旁邊一同走著兩個(gè)身分低微的男人,極恭敬的光著頭,交談得很起勁;一個(gè)只是平常的農(nóng)奴,別一個(gè)是走江湖的鄉(xiāng)下掮客,穿著垂膝的長衫的狡猾的家伙。三個(gè)人都在門口站住了,但在屋子里,可以分明的聽到他們的談話。
“你們所做得到的,最好是這樣:把你們從自己的主人那里贖出來。這款子我不妨借給你們;你們將來可以用做工來還清的!”
“不不,康士坦丁·菲陀洛維支,我們?yōu)槭裁匆H出自己來呢?還是請(qǐng)您完全買了我們的好。在您這里,我們能夠?qū)W好。像您似的好人,全世界上是不會(huì)再有的。現(xiàn)在誰都過著困苦的日子,沒有法子辦。酒店主人發(fā)明了這樣的燒酒,喝一點(diǎn)到肚子里,就像喝完了一大桶水似的:不知不覺,把最末的一文錢也化光了。誘惑也很大。我相信,惡在支配著世界哩,實(shí)在的!教農(nóng)夫們發(fā)昏的事情,他們什么不干呢!煙草和所有這些壞花樣。怎么辦才好呢,康士坦丁·菲陀洛維支?人總不過是一個(gè)人——是很容易受引誘的。”
“聽罷:要商量的就是這件事。即使你們到我這里來,你們也還是并不自由的呵,自然,你們能得到一切需要的東西:一頭牛和一匹馬;不過我所要求于我的農(nóng)夫的,卻也和別的地主不一樣。在我這里,首先是要做工,這是第一;為我,還是為自己呢,這都毫無差別,只是不能偷懶。我自己也公牛似的做,和我的農(nóng)夫一樣多,因?yàn)閾?jù)我的經(jīng)驗(yàn):凡一個(gè)人只想輕浮,就因?yàn)椴蛔鍪碌木壒???傊?,關(guān)于這事情,你們?nèi)ハ胍幌?,并且好好的商量一下罷,如果你們統(tǒng)統(tǒng)要來的話?!?/p>
“我們商量過好多回了,康士坦丁·菲陀洛維支。就是老人們也已經(jīng)說過:‘您這里的農(nóng)夫都有錢,這不是偶然的;您這里的牧師也很會(huì)體帖人,有好心腸。我們的卻滿不管,現(xiàn)在是,我們連一個(gè)能給人好好的安葬的人也沒有了?!?/p>
“你還是再向教區(qū)去談一談的好。”
“遵您的命?!?/p>
“不是嗎,康士坦丁·菲陀洛維支,您已經(jīng)這么客氣了,把價(jià)錢讓一點(diǎn)點(diǎn)罷?!痹趧e一邊和康士坦夏格羅排著走來的,穿藍(lán)長衫的走江湖的鄉(xiāng)下掮客說。
“我早已告訴你,我是不讓價(jià)的。我可不像別個(gè)的地主,他們那里,你是總在他們應(yīng)該還你款子的時(shí)候,立刻露臉的。我很明白你們;你們有一本簿子,記著欠賬的人們。這簡單得很,這樣的一個(gè)人,是在毫無辦法的境地上,那他自然把一切都用半價(jià)賣給你們了,我這里卻不一樣。我要你的錢做什么呢?我可以把貨色靜靜的躺三年;我不必到抵押銀行里去付利息!”
“您說的真對(duì),康士坦丁·菲陀洛維支。我說這話,不過為了將來也要和您有往來,并不是出于貪得和利己。請(qǐng),這里是三千盧布的定錢!”一說這話,商人就從胸口的袋子里,拉出一束污舊的鈔票來??凳刻瓜母窳_極平淡的接到手,也不點(diǎn)數(shù),就塞在衣袋里了。
“哼,”乞乞科夫想,“就好像是他的手帕似的!”但這時(shí)康士坦夏格羅在客廳的門口出現(xiàn)了。他那曬黑的臉孔,他那處處見得已經(jīng)發(fā)白的蓬松的黑頭發(fā),他那眼睛的活潑的表情,以及顯得是出于南方的有些激情的樣子,都給了乞乞科夫很深的印象。他不是純粹的俄羅斯人。但他的祖先是出于那里的呢,他卻連自己也不十分明白。他并不留心自己的家譜;這和他不相干,而且他以為對(duì)于經(jīng)營家業(yè),這是沒有什么用處的。他自認(rèn)為一個(gè)俄國人,除俄國話之外,也不懂別種的言語。
柏拉圖諾夫紹介了乞乞科夫。他們倆接了吻。
“你知道,康士坦丁,我已經(jīng)決定,要旅行一下,到幾個(gè)外省去看看了。我要治一治我的無聊,”柏拉圖諾夫說,“保甫爾·伊凡諾維支已經(jīng)對(duì)我說過,和他一同走?!?/p>
“這好極了!”康士坦夏格羅說?!暗悄涞侥切┑胤饺ツ??”他親熱的轉(zhuǎn)向乞乞科夫,接下去道。
“我得申明一下,”乞乞科夫說,一面謙恭的側(cè)著頭,并用手擦著安樂椅子的靠手,“我得申明一下,我旅行并非為了自己的事情,倒是別人的關(guān)系:我的一個(gè)好朋友,我也可以說,是我的恩人,貝德理錫且夫?qū)④?,囑托了我,去探問幾個(gè)他的親戚。探親自然是很重要的,但另一方面,我的旅行,卻也為了所謂我本身的快樂,即使把旅行有益于痔瘡,不算作一件事:而見見世面,在人海的大旋渦中混一下——這是所謂活書本,而且也是一種學(xué)問呵?!?/p>
“非常之對(duì)!到世界上去游歷游歷,是很好的。”
“高明的見解!的確得很,實(shí)在是好的。人可以看見平常不會(huì)看見的各式各樣的東西,還遇見平??峙虏粫?huì)碰到的人物。許多交談,是價(jià)值等于黃金的,例子就在眼前,在我是一個(gè)很僥幸的機(jī)會(huì)……我拜托您,最可敬的康士坦丁·菲陀洛維支。請(qǐng)您幫助我,請(qǐng)您教導(dǎo)我,請(qǐng)您鎮(zhèn)撫我的饑渴,并且指示我以進(jìn)向真理的道路。我非常渴望您的話,恰如對(duì)于上天的曼那(5)?!?/p>
“哦,那是什么呢?……我能教您什么呢?”康士坦夏格羅惶惑的說?!斑B我自己也不過化了幾文學(xué)費(fèi)的!”
“智慧呀,尊敬的人,請(qǐng)您指教我智慧和方法,怎樣操縱農(nóng)業(yè)經(jīng)濟(jì)的重任,怎樣賺取確實(shí)的利益,怎樣獲得財(cái)富和幸福,而且要并非空想上,卻是實(shí)際上的幸福,因?yàn)檫@是每個(gè)市民的義務(wù),也借此博得同人的尊敬的呵。”
“您可知道?”康士坦夏格羅說,并且深思的向他凝視著。“您在我這里停一天罷。我就給您看所有的設(shè)備,并且告訴您一切,您就知道,這是用不著什么大智慧的?!?/p>
“當(dāng)然,您停下罷!”主婦插嘴說;于是轉(zhuǎn)向她的兄弟,接下去道:“停下罷,兄弟,你是不忙什么的?!?/p>
“我都隨便。但保甫爾·伊凡諾維支沒有什么不方便嗎?”
“一點(diǎn)兒也沒有,非常之愿意……只不過還有一件事情:一位貝德理錫且夫?qū)④姷挠H戚,柯式凱略夫大佐……”
“這人可是發(fā)瘋的哩!”
“自然是發(fā)瘋的!我并不要去探問他,然而貝德理錫且夫?qū)④?,您知道,我的一個(gè)好朋友,也是所謂我的恩人……”
“您可知道?那么,您馬上就去罷,”康士坦夏格羅說,“您馬上到他那里去。他家離這里不到十維爾斯他的。我的車正駕著——您坐了去就是。到喝茶時(shí)候,您就可以已經(jīng)回來了。”
“很好的想頭!”乞乞科夫抓起了帽子,大聲說。
(未完)
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(1) 威奴斯是羅馬神話上的美和愛欲的女神,至今還存留著當(dāng)時(shí)的好幾種雕像?!懊继嵯5耐埂保╒enus de Medici)為克萊阿美納斯(Cleomenes)所雕刻,一手當(dāng)胸,一手置胸腹之間?!g者。
(2) Kupido,希臘神話的戀愛之神?!g者。
(3) Petukh的意義是“雄雞”?!g者。
(4) Arshin=2/3 Meter,約中國二尺二寸。——譯者。
(5) Manna,古代以色列人旅行荒野時(shí)所用的食物,以其信為上天所賜,所以也可以譯作“天祿”?!g者。
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