Authors: Nikolai Gogol
"Allow me," put in the Head of the Police Department. "You have said
that Kopeikin had lost an arm and a leg; whereas Chichikov—"
To say anything more was unnecessary. The Postmaster clapped his hand
to his forehead, and publicly called himself a fool, though, later, he
tried to excuse his mistake by saying that in England the science of
mechanics had reached such a pitch that wooden legs were manufactured
which would enable the wearer, on touching a spring, to vanish
instantaneously from sight.
Various other theories were then propounded, among them a theory that
Chichikov was Napoleon, escaped from St. Helena and travelling about
the world in disguise. And if it should be supposed that no such
notion could possibly have been broached, let the reader remember that
these events took place not many years after the French had been
driven out of Russia, and that various prophets had since declared
that Napoleon was Antichrist, and would one day escape from his island
prison to exercise universal sway on earth. Nay, some good folk had
even declared the letters of Napoleon's name to constitute the
Apocalyptic cipher!
As a last resort, the tchinovniks decided to question Nozdrev, since
not only had the latter been the first to mention the dead souls, but
also he was supposed to stand on terms of intimacy with Chichikov.
Accordingly the Chief of Police dispatched a note by the hand of a
commissionaire. At the time Nozdrev was engaged on some very important
business—so much so that he had not left his room for four days, and
was receiving his meals through the window, and no visitors at all.
The business referred to consisted of the marking of several dozen
selected cards in such a way as to permit of his relying upon them as
upon his bosom friend. Naturally he did not like having his retirement
invaded, and at first consigned the commissionaire to the devil; but
as soon as he learnt from the note that, since a novice at cards was
to be the guest of the Chief of Police that evening, a call at the
latter's house might prove not wholly unprofitable he relented,
unlocked the door of his room, threw on the first garments that came
to hand, and set forth. To every question put to him by the
tchinovniks he answered firmly and with assurance. Chichikov, he
averred, had indeed purchased dead souls, and to the tune of several
thousand roubles. In fact, he (Nozdrev) had himself sold him some, and
still saw no reason why he should not have done so. Next, to the
question of whether or not he considered Chichikov to be a spy, he
replied in the affirmative, and added that, as long ago as his and
Chichikov's joint schooldays, the said Chichikov had been known as
"The Informer," and repeatedly been thrashed by his companions on that
account. Again, to the question of whether or not Chichikov was a
forger of currency notes the deponent, as before, responded in the
affirmative, and appended thereto an anecdote illustrative of
Chichikov's extraordinary dexterity of hand—namely, an anecdote to
that effect that, once upon a time, on learning that two million
roubles worth of counterfeit notes were lying in Chichikov's house,
the authorities had placed seals upon the building, and had surrounded
it on every side with an armed guard; whereupon Chichikov had, during
the night, changed each of these seals for a new one, and also so
arranged matters that, when the house was searched, the forged notes
were found to be genuine ones!
Again, to the question of whether or not Chichikov had schemed to
abduct the Governor's daughter, and also whether it was true that he,
Nozdrev, had undertaken to aid and abet him in the act, the witness
replied that, had he not undertaken to do so, the affair would never
have come off. At this point the witness pulled himself up, on
realising that he had told a lie which might get him into trouble; but
his tongue was not to be denied—the details trembling on its tip were
too alluring, and he even went on to cite the name of the village
church where the pair had arranged to be married, that of the priest
who had performed the ceremony, the amount of the fees paid for the
same (seventy-five roubles), and statements (1) that the priest had
refused to solemnise the wedding until Chichikov had frightened him by
threatening to expose the fact that he (the priest) had married
Mikhail, a local corn dealer, to his paramour, and (2) that Chichikov
had ordered both a koliaska for the couple's conveyance and relays of
horses from the post-houses on the road. Nay, the narrative, as
detailed by Nozdrev, even reached the point of his mentioning certain
of the postillions by name! Next, the tchinovniks sounded him on the
question of Chichikov's possible identity with Napoleon; but before
long they had reason to regret the step, for Nozdrev responded with a
rambling rigmarole such as bore no resemblance to anything possibly
conceivable. Finally, the majority of the audience left the room, and
only the Chief of Police remained to listen (in the hope of gathering
something more); but at last even he found himself forced to disclaim
the speaker with a gesture which said: "The devil only knows what the
fellow is talking about!" and so voiced the general opinion that it
was no use trying to gather figs of thistles.
Meanwhile Chichikov knew nothing of these events; for, having
contracted a slight chill, coupled with a sore throat, he had decided
to keep his room for three days; during which time he gargled his
throat with milk and fig juice, consumed the fruit from which the
juice had been extracted, and wore around his neck a poultice of
camomile and camphor. Also, to while away the hours, he made new and
more detailed lists of the souls which he had bought, perused a work
by the Duchesse de la Valliere
[36]
, rummaged in his portmanteau, looked
through various articles and papers which he discovered in his
dispatch-box, and found every one of these occupations tedious. Nor
could he understand why none of his official friends had come to see
him and inquire after his health, seeing that, not long since, there
had been standing in front of the inn the drozhkis both of the
Postmaster, the Public Prosecutor, and the President of the Council.
He wondered and wondered, and then, with a shrug of his shoulders,
fell to pacing the room. At length he felt better, and his spirits
rose at the prospect of once more going out into the fresh air;
wherefore, having shaved a plentiful growth of hair from his face, he
dressed with such alacrity as almost to cause a split in his trousers,
sprinkled himself with eau-de-Cologne, and wrapping himself in warm
clothes, and turning up the collar of his coat, sallied forth into the
street. His first destination was intended to be the Governor's
mansion, and, as he walked along, certain thoughts concerning the
Governor's daughter would keep whirling through his head, so that
almost he forgot where he was, and took to smiling and cracking jokes
to himself.
Arrived at the Governor's entrance, he was about to divest himself of
his scarf when a Swiss footman greeted him with the words, "I am
forbidden to admit you."
"What?" he exclaimed. "You do not know me? Look at me again, and see
if you do not recognise me."
"Of course I recognise you," the footman replied. "I have seen you
before, but have been ordered to admit any one else rather than
Monsieur Chichikov."
"Indeed? And why so?"
"Those are my orders, and they must be obeyed," said the footman,
confronting Chichikov with none of that politeness with which, on
former occasions, he had hastened to divest our hero of his wrappings.
Evidently he was of opinion that, since the gentry declined to receive
the visitor, the latter must certainly be a rogue.
"I cannot understand it," said Chichikov to himself. Then he departed,
and made his way to the house of the President of the Council. But so
put about was that official by Chichikov's entry that he could not
utter two consecutive words—he could only murmur some rubbish which
left both his visitor and himself out of countenance. Chichikov
wondered, as he left the house, what the President's muttered words
could have meant, but failed to make head or tail of them. Next, he
visited, in turn, the Chief of Police, the Vice-Governor, the
Postmaster, and others; but in each case he either failed to be
accorded admittance or was received so strangely, and with such a
measure of constraint and conversational awkwardness and absence of
mind and embarrassment, that he began to fear for the sanity of his
hosts. Again and again did he strive to divine the cause, but could
not do so; so he went wandering aimlessly about the town, without
succeeding in making up his mind whether he or the officials had gone
crazy. At length, in a state bordering upon bewilderment, he returned
to the inn—to the establishment whence, that every afternoon, he had
set forth in such exuberance of spirits. Feeling the need of something
to do, he ordered tea, and, still marvelling at the strangeness of his
position, was about to pour out the beverage when the door opened and
Nozdrev made his appearance.
"What says the proverb?" he began. "'To see a friend, seven versts is
not too long a round to make.' I happened to be passing the house, saw
a light in your window, and thought to myself: 'Now, suppose I were to
run up and pay him a visit? It is unlikely that he will be asleep.'
Ah, ha! I see tea on your table! Good! Then I will drink a cup with
you, for I had wretched stuff for dinner, and it is beginning to lie
heavy on my stomach. Also, tell your man to fill me a pipe. Where is
your own pipe?"
"I never smoke," rejoined Chichikov drily.
"Rubbish! As if I did not know what a chimney-pot you are! What is
your man's name? Hi, Vakhramei! Come here!"
"Petrushka is his name, not Vakhramei."
"Indeed? But you USED to have a man called Vakhramei, didn't you?"
"No, never."
"Oh, well. Then it must be Derebin's man I am thinking of. What a
lucky fellow that Derebin is! An aunt of his has gone and quarrelled
with her son for marrying a serf woman, and has left all her property
to HIM, to Derebin. Would that
I
had an aunt of that kind to
provide against future contingencies! But why have you been hiding
yourself away? I suppose the reason has been that you go in for
abstruse subjects and are fond of reading" (why Nozdrev should have
drawn these conclusions no one could possibly have said—least of all
Chichikov himself). "By the way, I can tell you of something that
would have found you scope for your satirical vein" (the conclusion as
to Chichikov's "satirical vein" was, as before, altogether unwarranted
on Nozdrev's part). "That is to say, you would have seen merchant
Likhachev losing a pile of money at play. My word, you would have
laughed! A fellow with me named Perependev said: 'Would that Chichikov
had been here! It would have been the very thing for him!'" (As a
matter of fact, never since the day of his birth had Nozdrev met any
one of the name of Perependev.) "However, my friend, you must admit
that you treated me rather badly the day that we played that game of
chess; but, as I won the game, I bear you no malice. A propos, I am
just from the President's, and ought to tell you that the feeling
against you in the town is very strong, for every one believes you to
be a forger of currency notes. I myself was sent for and questioned
about you, but I stuck up for you through thick and thin, and told the
tchinovniks that I had been at school with you, and had known your
father. In fact, I gave the fellows a knock or two for themselves."
"You say that I am believed to be a forger?" said Chichikov, starting
from his seat.
"Yes," said Nozdrev. "Why have you gone and frightened everybody as
you have done? Some of our folk are almost out of their minds about
it, and declare you to be either a brigand in disguise or a spy.
Yesterday the Public Prosecutor even died of it, and is to be buried
to-morrow" (this was true in so far as that, on the previous day, the
official in question had had a fatal stroke—probably induced by the
excitement of the public meeting). "Of course,
I
don't suppose you
to be anything of the kind, but, you see, these fellows are in a blue
funk about the new Governor-General, for they think he will make
trouble for them over your affair. A propos, he is believed to be a
man who puts on airs, and turns up his nose at everything; and if so,
he will get on badly with the dvoriane, seeing that fellows of that
sort need to be humoured a bit. Yes, my word! Should the new
Governor-General shut himself up in his study, and give no balls,
there will be the very devil to pay! By the way, Chichikov, that is a
risky scheme of yours."
"What scheme to you mean?" Chichikov asked uneasily.
"Why, that scheme of carrying off the Governor's daughter. However, to
tell the truth, I was expecting something of the kind. No sooner did I
see you and her together at the ball than I said to myself: 'Ah, ha!
Chichikov is not here for nothing!' For my own part, I think you have
made a poor choice, for I can see nothing in her at all. On the other
hand, the niece of a friend of mine named Bikusov—she IS a girl,
and no mistake! A regular what you might call 'miracle in muslin!'"
"What on earth are you talking about?" asked Chichikov with his eyes
distended. "HOW could I carry off the Governor's daughter? What on
earth do you mean?"
"Come, come! What a secretive fellow you are! My only object in having
come to see you is to lend you a helping hand in the matter. Look
here. On condition that you will lend me three thousand roubles, I
will stand you the cost of the wedding, the koliaska, and the relays
of horses. I must have the money even if I die for it."
Throughout Nozdrev's maunderings Chichikov had been rubbing his eyes
to ascertain whether or not he was dreaming. What with the charge of
being a forger, the accusation of having schemed an abduction, the
death of the Public Prosecutor (whatever might have been its cause),
and the advent of a new Governor-General, he felt utterly dismayed.