The proposed history, as will become clear from what follows, took place somewhat shortly after the "glorious expulsion of the French." Collegiate councilor Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov arrives in the provincial town of NN (he is not old and not too young, not fat and not thin, rather pleasant and somewhat rounded in appearance) and settles in a hotel. He makes a lot of questions to the tavern servant - both regarding the owner and income of the tavern, and revealing the solidity of it: about city officials, the most significant landowners, asks about the state of the region and whether there were "what diseases in their province, epidemic fevers" and other similar adversity.

Having gone on visits, the visitor discovers extraordinary activity (visiting everyone, from the governor to the inspector of the medical board) and courtesy, for he knows how to say something pleasant to everyone. He speaks about himself somehow vaguely (that he “experienced a lot in his lifetime, endured in the service for the truth, had many enemies who even attempted on his life,” and now he is looking for a place to live). On the house party with the governor, he succeeds in gaining general favor and, among other things, making acquaintance with the landowners Manilov and Sobakevich. In the following days, he dined with the chief of police (where he met the landowner Nozdryov), visited the chairman of the chamber and the vice-governor, the farmer and the prosecutor, and went to the Manilov estate (which, however, was preceded by a fair author's digression, where, justified by love for detail, the author certifies in detail Petrushka, the visitor's servant: his passion for "the process of reading itself" and the ability to carry with him a special smell, "responding somewhat to residential peace").

Having traveled, against the promised, not fifteen, but all thirty miles, Chichikov finds himself in Manilovka, in the arms of an affectionate owner. Manilov's house, standing on a jig, surrounded by several English-style flower beds and a gazebo with the inscription "Temple of Solitary Reflection", could characterize the owner, who was "neither this nor that", not weighed down by any passions, only unnecessarily cloying. After Manilov's confessions that Chichikov's visit was "a May day, a name day of the heart", and a dinner in the company of the hostess and two sons, Themistoclus and Alkid, Chichikov discovers the reason for his arrival: he would like to acquire peasants who have died, but have not yet been declared as such in the revision help, having issued everything legally, as if on the living (“the law - I am dumb before the law”). The first fright and bewilderment are replaced by the perfect disposition of the kind host, and, having made a deal, Chichikov departs for Sobakevich, and Manilov indulges in dreams of Chichikov's life in the neighborhood across the river, of the construction of a bridge, of a house with such a belvedere that Moscow is visible from there, and of their friendship, having learned about which the sovereign would grant them generals. Chichikov's coachman Selifan, much favored by Manilov's yard people, in conversations with his horses misses the right turn and, at the sound of a downpour, knocks the master over into the mud. In the dark, they find lodging for the night at Nastasya Petrovna Korobochka, a somewhat timid landowner, with whom Chichikov also begins to trade dead souls in the morning. Explaining that he himself would now pay taxes for them, cursing the old woman’s stupidity, promising to buy both hemp and lard, but another time, Chichikov buys souls from her for fifteen rubles, receives a detailed list of them (in which Peter Savelyev is especially struck. Disrespect -Trough) and, having eaten an unleavened egg pie, pancakes, pies and other things, departs, leaving the hostess in great concern as to whether she had sold too cheap.

Having driven out onto the high road to the tavern, Chichikov stops to have a bite to eat, which the author provides with a lengthy discourse on the properties of the gentlemen's appetite. middle class. Here Nozdryov meets him, returning from the fair in the britzka of his son-in-law Mizhuev, for he lost everything with his horses and even the watch chain. Describing the charms of the fair, the drinking qualities of dragoon officers, a certain Kuvshinnikov, a great lover of "to use about strawberries" and, finally, presenting a puppy, "a real muzzle", Nozdryov takes Chichikov (thinking to get hold of here too) to himself, taking away his reluctant son-in-law. Having described Nozdryov, “in some respects a historical person” (for wherever he was, there was history), his possessions, the unpretentiousness of dinner with an abundance, however, drinks of dubious quality, the author sends his son-in-law to his wife (Nozdryov admonishes him with abuse and a word “fetyuk”), and Chichikova is forced to turn to her subject; but he can neither beg nor buy souls: Nozdryov offers to exchange them, take them in addition to the stallion, or make them a bet in card game finally scolds, quarrels, and they part for the night. Persuasion resumes in the morning, and, having agreed to play checkers, Chichikov notices that Nozdryov is shamelessly cheating. Chichikov, whom the owner and the servants are already trying to beat, manages to escape in view of the appearance of the police captain, who announces that Nozdryov is on trial. On the road, Chichikov's carriage collides with a certain carriage, and, while the onlookers who have come running are breeding tangled horses, Chichikov admires the sixteen-year-old young lady, indulges in reasoning about her and dreams of family life. A visit to Sobakevich in his strong, like himself, estate is accompanied by a thorough dinner, a discussion of city officials, who, according to the owner, are all swindlers (one prosecutor is a decent person, “and even that one, to tell the truth, is a pig”), and is crowned with an interesting guest deal. Not at all frightened by the strangeness of the object, Sobakevich bargains, characterizes the favorable qualities of each serf, provides Chichikov with a detailed list and forces him to give a deposit.

Chichikov's path to the neighboring landowner Plyushkin, mentioned by Sobakevich, is interrupted by a conversation with a peasant who gave Plyushkin an apt, but not too printed nickname, and the author's lyrical reflection on his former love for unfamiliar places and now indifference. Plyushkin, this "hole in humanity", Chichikov at first takes for a housekeeper or a beggar, whose place is on the porch. His most important feature is his amazing stinginess, and he even carries the old sole of his boot into a heap heaped in the master's chambers. Having shown the profitability of his proposal (namely, that he would take over the taxes for the dead and runaway peasants), Chichikov fully succeeds in his enterprise and, refusing tea with rusk, provided with a letter to the chairman of the chamber, departs in the most cheerful mood.

While Chichikov is sleeping in the hotel, the author reflects with sadness on the meanness of the objects he paints. Meanwhile, the satisfied Chichikov, waking up, composes merchant's fortresses, studies the lists of acquired peasants, reflects on their alleged fate, and finally goes to the civil chamber in order to conclude the case as soon as possible. Manilov, met at the gates of the hotel, accompanies him. Then follows a description of the public office, Chichikov's first ordeals and a bribe to a certain jug snout, until he enters the chairman's apartment, where, by the way, he also finds Sobakevich. The chairman agrees to be Plyushkin's attorney, and at the same time speeds up other transactions. The acquisition of Chichikov is being discussed, with land or for withdrawal he bought peasants and in what places. Having found out that they were sent to the Kherson province, having discussed the properties of the sold peasants (here the chairman remembered that the coachman Mikheev seemed to have died, but Sobakevich assured that he was still alive and "has become healthier than before"), they finish with champagne, go to the chief of police, "father and a philanthropist in the city” (whose habits are immediately outlined), where they drink to the health of the new Kherson landowner, become completely excited, force Chichikov to stay and attempt to marry him.

Chichikov's purchases make a splash in the city, a rumor is circulating that he is a millionaire. Ladies are crazy about him. Several times trying to describe the ladies, the author becomes shy and retreats. On the eve of the governor's ball, Chichikov even receives a love letter, though unsigned. Having used, as usual, a lot of time on the toilet and being pleased with the result, Chichikov goes to the ball, where he passes from one embrace to another. The ladies, among whom he is trying to find the sender of the letter, even quarrel, challenging his attention. But when the governor's wife approaches him, he forgets everything, because she is accompanied by her daughter ("Institute, just released"), a sixteen-year-old blonde, whose carriage he encountered on the road. He loses the favor of the ladies, because he starts a conversation with a fascinating blonde, scandalously neglecting the rest. To top off the trouble, Nozdryov appears and loudly asks if Chichikov has bought a lot of the dead. And although Nozdryov is obviously drunk and the embarrassed society is gradually distracted, Chichikov is not given a whist or the subsequent dinner, and he leaves upset.

At this time, a tarantass with the landowner Korobochka enters the city, whose growing anxiety forced her to come, in order to still find out what the price of dead souls is. The next morning, this news becomes the property of a certain pleasant lady, and she hurries to tell it to another, pleasant in all respects, the story is overgrown with amazing details (Chichikov, armed to the teeth, breaks into Korobochka at dead midnight, demands souls that have died, inspires terrible fear - “ the whole village has come running, the children are crying, everyone is screaming. Her friend concludes from the fact that the dead souls are only a cover, and Chichikov wants to take away the governor's daughter. After discussing the details of this enterprise, the undoubted participation of Nozdryov in it and the qualities of the governor's daughter, both ladies dedicate the prosecutor to everything and set off to rebel the city.

AT a short time the city is seething, to which is added the news of the appointment of a new governor-general, as well as information about the papers received: about the maker of forged banknotes, who showed up in the province, and about the robber who fled from legal persecution. Trying to understand who Chichikov is, they recall that he was certified very vaguely and even spoke about those who attempted on his life. The postmaster's statement that Chichikov, in his opinion, is Captain Kopeikin, who took up arms against the injustice of the world and became a robber, is rejected, since it follows from the entertaining postmaster's story that the captain is missing an arm and leg, and Chichikov is whole. An assumption arises whether Chichikov is Napoleon in disguise, and many begin to find a certain similarity, especially in profile. Inquiries from Korobochka, Manilov and Sobakevich do not yield results, and Nozdryov only multiplies the confusion, declaring that Chichikov is definitely a spy, a fake banknote maker and had an undoubted intention to take away the governor's daughter, in which Nozdryov undertook to help him (each of the versions was accompanied by detailed details up to the name priest who took up the wedding). All these rumors have a tremendous effect on the prosecutor, he has a stroke, and he dies.

Chichikov himself, sitting in a hotel with a slight cold, is surprised that none of the officials visits him. Finally, having gone on visits, he discovers that they do not receive him at the governor's, and in other places they fearfully shun him. Nozdryov, visiting him at the hotel, among the general noise he made, partly clarifies the situation, announcing that he agrees to facilitate the kidnapping of the governor's daughter. The next day, Chichikov hurriedly leaves, but is stopped by a funeral procession and forced to contemplate the whole world of bureaucracy flowing behind the coffin of the prosecutor Brichka leaves the city, and the open spaces on both sides of it evoke sad and encouraging thoughts about Russia, the road, and then only sad about their chosen hero. Having concluded that it is time for the virtuous hero to give rest, but, on the contrary, to hide the scoundrel, the author sets out the life story of Pavel Ivanovich, his childhood, training in classes where he already showed a practical mind, his relationship with his comrades and teacher, his service later in the state chamber, some kind of commission for the construction of a government building, where for the first time he gave vent to some of his weaknesses, his subsequent departure to other, not so profitable places, transfer to the customs service, where, showing honesty and incorruptibility almost unnatural, he made a lot of money in collusion with smugglers, went bankrupt, but dodged the criminal court, although he was forced to resign. He became an attorney and, during the fuss about the pledge of the peasants, put together a plan in his head, began to go around the expanses of Russia, so that, having bought dead souls and pledged them to the treasury as living, to get money, maybe buy a village and provide future offspring.

Having again complained about the properties of his hero’s nature and partly justified him, having found him the name of “owner, acquirer”, the author is distracted by the urged running of horses, the similarity of the flying troika with rushing Russia and the ringing of a bell completes the first volume.

Volume two

It opens with a description of the nature that makes up the estate of Andrei Ivanovich Tentetnikov, whom the author calls "the smoker of the sky." The story of the stupidity of his pastime is followed by the story of a life inspired by hopes at the very beginning, overshadowed by the pettiness of service and troubles later; he retires, intending to improve the estate, reads books, takes care of the peasant, but without experience, sometimes just human, this does not give the expected results, the peasant is idle, Tentetnikov gives up. He breaks off acquaintances with his neighbors, offended by the treatment of General Betrishchev, stops visiting him, although he cannot forget his daughter Ulinka. In a word, without someone who would tell him an invigorating “forward!”, He completely turns sour.

Chichikov comes to him, apologizing for a breakdown in the carriage, curiosity and a desire to pay respect. Having won the favor of the owner amazing ability his ability to adapt to anyone, Chichikov, having lived with him for a while, goes to the general, to whom he spins a story about a absurd uncle and, as usual, begs for the dead. On the laughing general, the poem fails, and we find Chichikov heading towards Colonel Koshkarev. Against expectation, he gets to Pyotr Petrovich Rooster, whom he finds at first completely naked, keen on hunting for sturgeon. At the Rooster, having nothing to get hold of, for the estate is mortgaged, he only overeats terribly, gets acquainted with the bored landowner Platonov and, having incited him to travel together in Russia, goes to Konstantin Fedorovich Kostanzhoglo, married to Platonov's sister. He talks about the ways of managing, by which he increased the income from the estate dozens of times, and Chichikov is terribly inspired.

Very promptly, he visits Colonel Koshkarev, who has divided his village into committees, expeditions and departments and has arranged a perfect paper production in the mortgaged estate, as it turns out. Returning, he listens to the curses of the bilious Costanjoglo to factories and manufactories that corrupt the peasant, to the absurd desire of the peasant to enlighten, and to his neighbor Khlobuev, who has run a hefty estate and is now lowering it for nothing. Having experienced tenderness and even a craving for honest work, after listening to the story of the farmer Murazov, who made forty millions in an impeccable way, Chichikov the next day, accompanied by Kostanzhoglo and Platonov, goes to Khlobuev, observes the unrest and debauchery of his household in the neighborhood of a governess for children, dressed in fashion wife and other traces of ridiculous luxury. Having borrowed money from Kostanzhoglo and Platonov, he gives a deposit for the estate, intending to buy it, and goes to the Platonov estate, where he meets his brother Vasily, who effectively manages the economy. Then he suddenly appears at their neighbor Lenitsyn, obviously a rogue, wins his sympathy with his skillfully tickling a child and receives dead souls.

After many seizures in the manuscript, Chichikov is found already in the city at a fair, where he buys fabric of a lingonberry color so dear to him with a spark. He runs into Khlobuev, whom, apparently, he cheated, either depriving him, or almost depriving him of his inheritance by some kind of forgery. Khlobuev, who missed him, is taken away by Murazov, who convinces Khlobuev of the need to work and determines for him to raise funds for the church. Meanwhile, denunciations are being found against Chichikov both about forgery and about dead souls. The tailor brings a new coat. Suddenly, a gendarme appears, dragging smart Chichikov to the governor-general, "angry as anger itself." Here all his atrocities become apparent, and he, kissing the general's boot, plunges into the prison. In a dark closet, tearing his hair and coat tails, mourning the loss of a box of papers, Murazov finds Chichikov, awakens in him with simple virtuous words the desire to live honestly and goes to soften the governor general. At that time, officials who want to harm their wise superiors and receive a bribe from Chichikov deliver a box to him, kidnap an important witness and write many denunciations in order to completely confuse the matter. Unrest breaks out in the province itself, greatly worrying the governor-general. However, Murazov knows how to feel the sensitive strings of his soul and give him the right advice, with which the Governor-General, having released Chichikov, is already going to use it, as "the manuscript breaks off."

To the estate of General Betrishchev. Chichikov ordered to report on himself and was led to Betrishchev's office. The general struck him with his majestic appearance, courageous face and thick neck - he was one of those picture generals with whom the famous 12th year was so rich.

General Betrishchev included a lot of advantages and a lot of shortcomings. In decisive moments, he could show generosity, courage, generosity, intelligence, but combined with this whims, ambition and pride. He was a champion of enlightenment and liked to show off his knowledge of what others did not know, but he did not like people who knew something that he did not know. Brought up by a semi-foreign upbringing, he wanted to play at the same time the role of a Russian master. From his voice to the slightest movement, everything in him was domineering, commanding, inspiring, if not respect, then at least timidity.

Gogol. Dead Souls. Volume 2, chapter 2. audiobook

Chichikov immediately understood what kind of person he was. Tilting his head respectfully to one side and spreading his arms out to the side, as if preparing to lift the tray of cups with them, he bent down in front of the general with amazing deftness and said: “Having respect for the valor of men who saved the fatherland on the battlefield, I considered it a duty to introduce myself personally to Your Excellency.”

The General liked it. He immediately got into a conversation with Chichikov and asked where he served. Chichikov replied that his service flowed in different places, but everywhere - like a ship among the waves, from the intrigues of numerous enemies who even attempted on his life. "Now I'm staying with your neighbor Tentetnikov, who is very repentant of his former quarrel with your excellency, for he knows how to appreciate the husbands who saved the fatherland."

– Yes, what is he? Why, I'm not angry! – said the relenting general.

Chichikov immediately told him that Tentetnikov was writing a serious essay.

- What is it?

Chichikov hesitated, not knowing what to answer, and suddenly said:

- The story of the generals for 12 years, Your Excellency.

Mentally, at the same time, he almost spat and said to himself: “Lord, what kind of nonsense I am talking about!” But Betrishchev immediately perked up and began to wonder:

- Why doesn't Tentetnikov come to me, I could give him a lot of interesting materials.

Just then the door opened and Ulinka came in, striking Chichikov with her good looks and beauty.

- I recommend you my darling! the general said. - Ulinka, Pavel Ivanovich just informed me that our neighbor Tentetnikov is not at all such a stupid person as we thought. He deals with the history of the generals of the twelfth year.

Ulinka said that she had not considered Tentetnikov stupid before. She went to her room, and the general asked Chichikov:

- After all you I hope you dine at my place?

Chichikov, in contrast to Tentetnikov, did not take offense at the word you. Meanwhile, the valet appeared with a washstand.

“Will you let me dress myself?” Betrishchev asked Pavel Ivanovich.

“Not only to dress, but you can do whatever Your Excellency wants in my presence.

The general began to wash himself so that water and soap flew in all directions. Noticing his benevolence, Chichikov decided to move on to the main business.

“Your Excellency,” he said as the valet left. “I have an uncle, a decrepit old man. He has an estate of three hundred souls, of which I am the only heir. But my uncle is a strange man and does not want to bequeath his estate to me, saying: let the nephew first prove that he is not a wast, but a reliable person. Let him first acquire at least three hundred souls of peasants, then I will give him my three hundred souls.

- Isn't he a fool? Betrishchev asked.

Yes, he's old and out of his mind. But here's what I came up with. If you, Your Excellency, hand over all the dead souls of your village to me as if they were alive, then I would present this bill of sale to the old man, and he would give me the inheritance.

The general fell into an armchair and laughed so loudly that Ulinka and the valet came running.

- Uncle, uncle! what fools it will be,” he shouted. – Ha, ha, ha! The dead instead of the living will receive. After all, he is an ass! I would give God knows what to see how you bring him a bill of sale for them.

- Donkey! Chichikov confirmed.

- Is he old?

- Eighty years old.

- Any more teeth?

"Two teeth in all, Your Excellency," Chichikov laughed too.

- Yes, for such an invention, I will give you the dead with land, with housing! Take over the whole cemetery!

And the general's laughter began to resound again in the general's quarters.

[The end of the 2nd chapter of the 2nd volume of Dead Souls is missing from Gogol. In the first edition of this book (1855) there is a note: “The reconciliation between General Betrishchev and Tentetnikov is omitted here; dinner with the general and their conversation about the twelfth year; Ulinka's engagement to Tentetnikov; her prayer and weeping at her mother's grave; conversation of the engaged in the garden. Chichikov, on behalf of General Betrishchev, goes to his relatives to announce the engagement of his daughter, and goes to one of these relatives, Colonel Koshkarev.]

In a remote corner of Russia, in beautiful area in the midst of high hills, forests and plains was the estate of 33-year-old gentleman Andrei Ivanovich Tentetnikov. By nature, he was a good-looking, but inactive person - one of those who are called "sky-smokers." Waking up in the morning, he sat on the bed for a long time, rubbing his eyes. Then he sat for two hours at tea, watching scenes in the yard from the window, where the barman Grigory usually cursed with the housekeeper Perfilyevna, or the dog squealed like a greyhound, which the cook had doused with boiling water. Having seen enough, Tentetnikov went to his office - to write a serious essay, which was supposed to embrace all of Russia from civil, political, religious, philosophical points, to resolve the difficult questions posed to her by the time, and to clearly define her great future. But this colossal undertaking hardly progressed with him. After biting his pen and lightly drawing on paper with it, Tentetnikov began to read, then smoked his pipe - on this his day usually ended.

In his youth, Andrei Ivanovich served in a St. Petersburg department, but retired, bored with rewriting monotonous papers and quarreled with his boss. He left for his estate, deciding that he would benefit the homeland through the wise management of the peasants.

Gogol. Dead Souls. Volume 2, chapter 1. audiobook

However, the good goals of Tentetnikov collapsed because he did not understand anything in agriculture. Things on the estate after his arrival went not better, but worse. Andrei Ivanovich realized his inability to practice, lost his zeal and only admired the surrounding views. There was no one nearby who could shout an invigorating word to him: forward, which Russian people long for everywhere of all classes and crafts.

He was, however, nearly awakened by something that looked like love. Ten versts from his village lived a general who had a daughter, Ulinka. Ardent, responsive to generous impulses, she was alive, like life itself. When she spoke, everything followed her thought—the expression on her face, the tone of her conversation, her movements, the very folds of her dress. It seemed that she herself would fly away after her own words. The boring life of Tentetnikov, after meeting Ulinka, lit up for a moment.

However, her father, a general, treated young Andrei Ivanovich too familiarly and sometimes even told him you. Tentetnikov put up with this for a long time, gritting his teeth, but at last he directly expressed his insult and stopped going to the general. Love for Ulinka ended at the very beginning, and Tentetnikov once again indulged in a lazy, idle existence...

This morning he was looking out of the window with his usual thoughtfulness, and suddenly he saw a troika with a chaise drive through the gate. A gentleman of unusually decent appearance jumped out of it with the speed and agility of an almost military man. The stranger entered Andrey Ivanovich's room and bowed with incredible dexterity, keeping his head somewhat sideways in a respectful position. He explained that he had been wandering around Russia for a long time, prompted by curiosity and that he had been forced to call on his estate due to a sudden breakdown in the carriage. Having finished his speech, the guest shuffled his foot with charming pleasantness and, despite the fullness of his body, jumped back a little with the ease of a rubber ball.

This man was already familiar to the reader Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov. He told Tentetnikov that he suffered a lot for the truth, that even his very life was more than once in danger from enemies, and likened his fate to a ship in the middle of the seas, driven from everywhere by treacherous winds. At the conclusion of his speech, he blew his nose into a white cambric handkerchief as loudly as Andrei Ivanovich had ever heard before. Chichikov has not in the least lost his inherent dexterity of getting around.

He settled at Tentetnikov's for several days and immediately approved of the host's philosophical slowness, saying that she promised centennial life. Chichikov liked Tentetnikov, who had never seen a man so helpful and accommodating.

Spring was beginning, and the surroundings of the Tentetnikov estate were blooming after hibernation. Mobile Chichikov walked with pleasure through the fields, watching the beginning of rural work. “What, however, is the cattle of Tentetnikov! he thought as he got to know everyone better. - Such an estate and that way to run. It would be possible to have fifty thousand annual income!”

Chichikov had long been attracted by the idea of ​​becoming a landowner himself. He also imagined a young, fresh, white-faced wench, from a wealthy class, who would also know music. The children's generation of young descendants was also imagined ...

The courtyards of Pavel Ivanovich, Petrushka and Selifan also took root in the village. Petrushka became friends with the barman Grigory, becoming a regular with him at the local tavern. The coachman Selifan was very pleased to go to spring round dances with stately, white-breasted village girls.

So far, Chichikov was careful not to talk about dead souls with Tentetnikov. But he remarked to the young owner: “No matter how I turn your circumstances around, I see that you need to get married: you will fall into hypochondria.” Tentetnikov sighed and told him the story of his love for Ulinka and the quarrel with her father. Hearing her, Chichikov was dumbfounded: for a minute he looked intently into the eyes of Andrei Ivanovich, not knowing how to decide about him: whether he was a round fool, or just a fool - he quarreled with the father of his beloved girl because of one word you.

He began to convince Tentetnikov: this insult is completely empty, the generals tell everyone you, and why not allow this to a well-deserved, respectable person? “On the contrary,” Tentetnikov objected. - If he were a poor man, not swaggering, not a general, I would then let him tell me you and would even accept it respectfully.”

"He's a complete fool," Chichikov thought to himself, "to let a ragamuffin, but not to let a general!" But aloud he began to persuade Andrei Ivanovich to reconcile with the general and offered to act as an intermediary in this matter: to go to the general as if to pay respect, and meanwhile to arrange a world peace.

After hesitating, Tentetnikov agreed. The next day, Chichikov jumped into his carriage with the ease of almost a military man and drove out of the gate, while Andrei Ivanovich, who remained at home, came into such an agitation of spirit as he had not experienced for a long time.

© Author of the summary - Russian Historical Library. On our website you can also read the full text of this chapter of the 2nd volume of Dead Souls.

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Detailed content of "Dead Souls" by chapter

Chapter first

"In ina company of a hotel in the provincial city of NN moved in, a rather beautiful spring-loaded small britzka in which bachelors ride. "In the britzka sat a gentleman of pleasant appearance, not too fat, but not too thin, not handsome, but not bad-looking, one cannot say that he was old, but he was not too young either. The britzka drove up to the hotel. It was a very long two-story building with the lower floor unplastered and the upper one painted with eternal yellow paint. Below there were benches, in one of the windows there was a sbitennik with a red copper samovar. The guest was greeted and led to show him "peace", usual for hotels of this kind, "where for two rubles a day, travelers get ... a room with cockroaches peeking out from everywhere like prunes ..." Following the master, his servants appear - the coachman Selifan , a short man in a sheepskin coat, and the footman Petrushka, a fellow about thirty, with somewhat large lips and nose.

Chapter second

After spending more than a week in the city, Pavel Ivanovich finally decided to pay visits to Manilov and Sobakevich. As soon as Chichikov left the city, accompanied by Selifan and Petrushka, the usual picture appeared: bumps, bad roads, burnt trunks of pines, village houses covered with gray roofs, yawning men, women with fat faces, and so on.Manilov, inviting Chichikov to his place, informed him that his village was fifteen versts from the city, but that a sixteenth verst had already passed, and there was no village. Pavel Ivanovich was a quick-witted man, and he remembered that if you are invited to a house fifteen miles away, it means that you will have to travel all thirty.But here is the village of Manilovka. Few guests could she lure to her. The master's house stood to the south, open to all winds; the hill on which he stood was covered with turf. Two or three flowerbeds with acacia, five or six thin birches, a wooden arbor and a pond completed this picture. Chichikov began to count and counted more than two hundred peasant huts. On the porch of the manor house, its owner had long been standing and, putting his hand to his eyes, tried to make out the man driving up in the carriage. As the chaise approached, Manilov's face changed: his eyes became more cheerful, and his smile became wider. He was very glad to see Chichikov and took him to him.What kind of person was Manilov? It is difficult to characterize it. He was, as they say, neither one nor the other - neither in the city of Bogdan, nor in the village of Selifan. Manilov was a pleasant man, but too much sugar was added to this pleasantness. When a conversation with him was just beginning, for the first moment the interlocutor thought: "What a pleasant and a kind person!", but after a minute I wanted to say: "The devil knows what it is!" Manilov did not take care of the house, he did not take care of the housework either, he never even went to the fields. For the most part, he thought, pondered. to him with proposals on housekeeping, they say, it would be necessary to do this and that, Manilov usually answered: “Yes, not bad.” If, however, a peasant came to the master and asked to leave in order to earn quitrent, then Manilov immediately let him go. it didn’t even occur to the peasant that he was going to get drunk.Sometimes he came up with various projects, for example, he dreamed of building a stone bridge across the pond, on which there would be shops, merchants would sit in the shops and sell various goods.In his house there was beautiful furniture, but two armchairs were not upholstered in silk, and the host had been telling the guests for two years that they were not finished. There was no furniture at all in one room. On the table next to the smart one stood a lame and greasy candlestick, but no one noticed this. Manilov was very much his wife. dovo flax, because she was "to match" him. In the course of a fairly long life together, the spouses both did nothing but imprint long kisses on each other. Many questions could arise from a sane guest: why is the pantry empty and so much and stupidly cooked in the kitchen? Why does the housekeeper steal and the servants are always drunk and unclean? Why is the mourner sleeping or frankly lounging? But these are all questions of a low quality, and the mistress of the house is well brought up and will never stoop to them. At dinner, Manilov and the guest spoke compliments to each other, as well as various pleasant things about city officials. Manilov's children, Alkid and Themistoclus, demonstrated their knowledge of geography.After dinner, a conversation took place directly about the case. Pavel Ivanovich informs Manilov that he wants to buy souls from him, which, according to the latest revision tale, are listed as alive, but in fact have long since died. Manilov is at a loss, but Chichikov manages to persuade him into a deal. Since the owner is a person who tries to be pleasant, he takes upon himself the execution of the purchase fortress. To register the bill of sale, Chichikov and Manilov agree to meet in the city, and Pavel Ivanovich finally leaves this house. Manilov sits down in an armchair and, smoking his pipe, ponders the events of today, rejoices that fate has brought him together with such a pleasant person. But Chichikov's strange request to sell him dead souls interrupted his former dreams. Thoughts about this request did not boil in his head, and therefore he sat on the porch for a long time and smoked a pipe until dinner.

Chapter third

Chichikov, meanwhile, was driving along the high road, hoping that Selifan would soon bring him to Sobakevich's estate. Selifan was drunk and, therefore, did not follow the road. The first drops dripped from the sky, and soon a real long torrential rain charged. Chichikov's chaise had completely lost its way, it was getting dark, and it was no longer clear what to do, when a dog barking was heard. Soon Selifan was already knocking on the gate of the house of a certain landowner, who let them spend the night.From the inside, the rooms of the landowner's house were pasted over with old wallpaper, pictures with some birds and huge mirrors hung on the walls. For each such mirror, either an old deck of cards, or a stocking, or a letter was stuffed. The hostess turned out to be an elderly woman, one of those mother landowners who all the time cry over crop failures and lack of money, while they themselves gradually put aside money in bundles and bags.Chichikov stays overnight. Waking up, he looks out the window at the landowner's household and the village in which he found himself. The window overlooks the chicken coop and the fence. Behind the fence are spacious beds with vegetables. All plantings in the garden are thought out, in some places several apple trees grow to protect against birds, stuffed animals with outstretched arms are poked from them, on one of these scarecrows was the cap of the hostess herself. Appearance peasant houses showed "the contentment of their inhabitants." The boarding on the roofs was new everywhere, nowhere was the rickety gate to be seen, and here and there Chichikov saw a new spare cart parked.Nastasya Petrovna Korobochka (that was the name of the landowner) invited him to have breakfast. With her, Chichikov behaved much more freely in conversation. He stated his request regarding the purchase of dead souls, but he soon regretted it, since his request aroused the bewilderment of the hostess. Then Korobochka began to offer, in addition to dead souls, hemp, flax, and so on, down to bird feathers. Finally, an agreement was reached, but the old woman was always afraid that she had sold too cheap. For her, dead souls turned out to be the same commodity as everything produced on the farm. Then Chichikov was fed with pies, donuts and shanezhki, and a promise was taken from him that he would also buy pork fat in the fall and bird feathers. Pavel Ivanovich hurried to leave this house - Nastasya Petrovna was very difficult in conversation. The landowner gave him a girl to accompany him, and she showed him how to get out onto the high road. Having released the girl, Chichikov decided to stop by a tavern that stood in the way.

Chapter fourth

Just like the hotel, it was an ordinary tavern for all county roads. The traveler was served a traditional pig with horseradish, and, as usual, the guest asked the hostess about everything in the world - from how long she had run the tavern to questions about the condition of the landowners living nearby. During a conversation with the hostess, the sound of the wheels of the approaching carriage was heard. Two men came out of it: blond, tall, and, below him, swarthy. At first, a blond-haired man appeared in the tavern, followed by him, taking off his cap, his companion. He was a fellow of medium height, very not badly built, with full ruddy cheeks, teeth as white as snow, whiskers as black as pitch, and all fresh as blood and milk. Chichikov recognized in him his new acquaintance Nozdryov.The type of this person is probably known to everyone. People of this kind are known at school as good comrades, but at the same time they are often beaten. Their face is clean, open, you will not have time to get to know each other, after a while they say “you” to you. Friendship will be made, it would seem, forever, but it happens that after a while they fight with a new friend at a feast. They are always talkers, revelers, scorchers and, for all that, desperate liars.By the age of thirty, life had not changed Nozdryov at all, he remained the same as he was at eighteen and at twenty. Marriage did not affect him in any way, especially since the wife soon went to the other world, leaving her husband two children who he did not need at all. Nozdryov had a passion for the card game, but, being dishonest and dishonest in the game, he often brought his partners to assault, leaving two sideburns with one, liquid. However, after a while he met with people who beat him, as if nothing had happened. And his friends, oddly enough, also behaved as if nothing had happened. Nozdryov was a historical man; he was everywhere and always got into history. There was no way to get along with him. short leg and even more so to open the soul - he will shit in it, and he will compose such a fable about a person who trusted him that it will be difficult to prove the opposite. After some time, he took the same person at a friendly meeting by the buttonhole and said: "After all, you are such a scoundrel, you will never come to me." Another passion of Nozdryov was the exchange - anything became its subject, from a horse to the smallest things. Nozdryov invites Chichikov to his village, and he agrees. While waiting for dinner, Nozdryov, accompanied by his son-in-law, arranges a tour of the village for his guest, while boasting to everyone right and left. His extraordinary stallion, for which he allegedly paid ten thousand, in fact is not worth even a thousand, the field that completes his possessions turns out to be a swamp, and for some reason the inscription "Master Savely Sibiryakov" is on the Turkish dagger, which the guests are looking at while waiting for dinner. Lunch leaves much to be desired - something was not cooked, but something was burnt. The cook, apparently, was guided by inspiration and put the first thing that came to hand. There was nothing to say about wine - from the mountain ash it smelled of fuselage, and Madeira turned out to be diluted with rum.After dinner, Chichikov nevertheless decided to present to Nozdryov a request for the purchase of dead souls. It ended with Chichikov and Nozdryov completely quarreling, after which the guest went to bed. He slept horribly, waking up and meeting the owner the next morning was just as unpleasant. Chichikov was already scolding himself for having trusted Nozdryov. Now Pavel Ivanovich was offered to play checkers for dead souls: in case of winning, Chichikov would have got the souls for free. The game of checkers was accompanied by Nozdrev's cheating and almost ended in a fight. Fate saved Chichikov from such a turn of events - a police captain came to Nozdrev to inform the brawler that he was on trial until the end of the investigation, because he insulted the landowner Maksimov while drunk. Chichikov, without waiting for the end of the conversation, ran out onto the porch and ordered Selifan to drive the horses at full speed.

Chapter fifth

Thinking about everything that had happened, Chichikov rode in his carriage along the road. A collision with another carriage jolted him a little - in it sat a lovely young girl with an elderly woman accompanying her. After they parted, Chichikov thought for a long time about the stranger he met. At last the village of Sobakevich appeared. The traveler's thoughts turned to their constant subject.The village was quite large, it was surrounded by two forests: pine and birch. In the middle one could see the master's house: wooden, with a mezzanine, a red roof and gray, one might even say wild, walls. It was evident that during its construction the taste of the architect was constantly struggling with the taste of the owner. The architect wanted beauty and symmetry, and the owner wanted convenience. On one side, the windows were boarded up, and instead of them, one window was checked, apparently needed for a closet. The pediment did not fall in the middle of the house, since the owner ordered to remove one column, of which there were not four, but three. In everything one could feel the efforts of the owner about the strength of his buildings. Very strong logs were used for stables, sheds and kitchens, peasant huts were also cut down firmly, firmly and very carefully. Even the well was lined with very strong oak. Driving up to the porch, Chichikov noticed faces looking out the window. The footman went out to meet him.When looking at Sobakevich, it immediately suggested: a bear! perfect bear! And indeed, his appearance was similar to that of a bear. A big, strong man, he always stepped at random, because of which he constantly stepped on someone's feet. Even his tailcoat was bear-colored. To top it off, the owner's name was Mikhail Semenovich. He almost did not turn his neck, he held his head down rather than up, and rarely looked at his interlocutor, and if he managed to do this, then his eyes fell on the corner of the stove or at the door. Since Sobakevich himself was a healthy and strong man, he wanted to be surrounded by the same strong objects. His furniture was heavy and pot-bellied, and portraits of strong, healthy men hung on the walls. Even the thrush in the cage looked very much like Sobakevich. In a word, it seemed that every object in the house said: "And I also look like Sobakevich."Before dinner, Chichikov tried to strike up a conversation by talking flatteringly about the local officials. Sobakevich answered that "these are all swindlers. The whole city is like that: a swindler sits on a swindler and drives a swindler." By chance, Chichikov learns about Sobakevich's neighbor - a certain Plyushkin, who has eight hundred peasants who are dying like flies.After a hearty and plentiful dinner, Sobakevich and Chichikov rest. Chichikov decides to state his request for the purchase of dead souls. Sobakevich is not surprised at anything and attentively listens to his guest, who began the conversation from afar, gradually leading to the subject of the conversation. Sobakevich understands that Chichikov needs dead souls for something, so the bargaining begins with a fabulous price - one hundred rubles apiece. Mikhailo Semenovich talks about the virtues of the dead peasants as if the peasants were alive. Chichikov is at a loss: what kind of conversation can there be about the merits of dead peasants? In the end, they agreed on two rubles and a half for one soul. Sobakevich receives a deposit, he and Chichikov agree to meet in the city to make a deal, and Pavel Ivanovich leaves. Having reached the end of the village, Chichikov called a peasant and asked how to get to Plyushkin, who feeds people poorly (it was impossible to ask otherwise, because the peasant did not know the name of the neighboring master). "Ah, patched, patched!" cried the peasant, and pointed the way.

For more than a week the visiting gentleman had been living in the city, driving around for parties and dinners, and thus spending, as they say, a very pleasant time. Finally, he decided to postpone his visits outside the city and visit the landowners Manilov and Sobakevich, to whom he gave his word. Perhaps another, more significant reason prompted him to do this, a matter more serious, closer to his heart ... But the reader will learn about all this gradually and in due time, if he only has the patience to read the proposed story, which is very long, having after that to move apart wider and more spacious as you approach the end, crowning the case. The coachman Selifan was ordered early in the morning to put the horses into a well-known britzka; Petrushka was ordered to stay at home, to look after the room and the suitcase. It will not be superfluous for the reader to get acquainted with these two serfs of our hero. Although, of course, they are not so noticeable faces, and what are called secondary or even tertiary ones, although the main moves and springs of the poem are not approved on them and only in some places touch and easily hook them, but the author loves to be extremely thorough in everything and from this side, despite the fact that the person himself is Russian, he wants to be accurate, like a German. This, however, will not take much time and space, because not much needs to be added to what the reader already knows, that is, that Petrushka went around in a somewhat wide brown frock coat from the master’s shoulder and had, according to the custom of people of his rank, a large nose and lips. He was more silent than talkative in character; he even had a noble impulse to enlightenment, that is, to read books, the content of which did not bother him: it made absolutely no difference to him whether the adventure of a hero in love, just a primer or a prayer book, he read everything with equal attention; if he had been given chemo, he would not have refused it either. He liked not what he read about, but rather the reading itself, or, to put it better, the process of reading itself, that some word always comes out of the letters, which sometimes the devil knows what it means. This reading was done more in a lying position in the hallway, on the bed and on the mattress, which became dead and thin as a cake from such a circumstance. In addition to his passion for reading, he had two more habits that constituted two of his other characteristic features: to sleep without undressing, as he was, in the same frock coat, and always to carry with him some kind of special air, of his own smell, which resonated somewhat living peace, so that it was enough for him to just add his bed somewhere, even in a hitherto uninhabited room, and drag his overcoat and belongings there, and it already seemed that people had lived in this room for ten years. Chichikov, being a very ticklish and even in some cases fastidious person, drawing air into his fresh nose in the morning, only grimaced and shook his head, saying: “You, brother, the devil knows you, are you sweating or something. You should have gone to the bath." To which Petrushka made no answer and tried to get down to business at once; or approached with a brush to the lord's hanging tailcoat, or simply tidied up something. What he was thinking at the time when he was silent - perhaps he was saying to himself: “And you, however, are good, you are not tired of repeating the same thing forty times” - God knows, it’s hard to know what the courtyard is thinking a serf at a time when the master gives him instructions. So, here is what for the first time can be said about Petrushka. The coachman Selifan was a completely different person ... But the author is very ashamed to occupy readers for so long with people low class, knowing from experience how reluctantly they get acquainted with the lower classes. Such is already a Russian man: a strong passion to become arrogant with someone who would be at least one rank higher than him, and a captive acquaintance with a count or prince is better for him than any close friendly relations. The author even fears for his hero, who is only a collegiate adviser. Court advisers, perhaps, will get to know him, but those who have already crept up to the ranks of generals, those, God knows, may even cast one of those contemptuous glances that a man proudly throws at everything that does not grovel at his feet. , or, even worse, perhaps they will pass by a fatal inattention for the author. But no matter how regrettable one or the other, but all the same, it is necessary to return to the hero. So, having given the necessary orders since the evening, waking up very early in the morning, having washed, wiping from head to toe with a wet sponge, which was done only on Sundays - and on that day it was Sunday - having shaved in such a way that the cheeks became a real satin in reasoning of smoothness and gloss, putting on a lingonberry-colored tailcoat with a spark and then an overcoat on big bears, he went down the stairs, supported by the arm, now on one side, then on the other, by a tavern servant, and sat down in the britzka. With a thunder, the britzka drove out from under the gate of the hotel into the street. The passing priest took off his hat, several boys in soiled shirts held out their hands, saying: “Master, give it to the orphan!” The coachman, noticing that one of them was a big fan of standing on the heel, whipped him with a whip, and the britzka went to jump over the stones. Not without joy, a striped barrier was seen in the distance, letting know that the pavement, like any other torment, would soon end; and hitting his head quite hard on the truck a few more times, Chichikov finally rushed across the soft earth. As soon as the city had gone back, they began to write, according to our custom, nonsense and game on both sides of the road: tussocks, fir groves, low thin bushes of young pines, burnt trunks of old ones, wild heather, and similar nonsense. There were villages stretched out along the cord, built like old stacked firewood, covered with gray roofs with carved wooden decorations underneath in the form of hanging embroidered towels. Several peasants, as usual, yawned, sitting on benches in front of the gates in their sheepskin coats. Babas with fat faces and bandaged breasts looked out of the upper windows; a calf peeped out from below, or a pig stuck out its blind muzzle. In a word, the species are known. Having traveled the fifteenth verst, he remembered that here, according to Manilov, should be his village, but even the sixteenth verst flew by, and the village was still not visible, and if it were not for two peasants who came across, it would hardly have been possible to please them okay. When asked how far the village of Zamanilovka was, the peasants took off their hats, and one of them, who was smarter and wore a beard in a wedge, answered:

– Manilovka, maybe, not Zamanilovka?

- Well, yes, Manilovka.

- Manilovka! and as you drive another mile, so here you are, that is, straight ahead to the right.

- Right? the coachman replied.

“To the right,” said the man. - This will be your way to Manilovka; and there is no lure. She is called that, that is, her nickname is Manilovka, and Zamanilovka is not here at all. There, right on the mountain, you will see a house, stone, two stories high, the master's house, in which, that is, the master himself lives. This is what Manilovka is for you, and there is no Zamanilovka at all here and never was.

Let's go look for Manilovka. Having traveled two versts, they met a turn onto a country road, but already two, and three, and four versts, it seems, had been made, and the stone house on two floors was still not visible. Here Chichikov remembered that if a friend invites him to his village fifteen miles away, it means that there are sure thirty. The village of Manilovka could lure a few with its location. The master's house stood alone in the south, that is, on a hill, open to all the winds, whichever it takes to blow; the slope of the mountain on which he stood was dressed in trimmed turf. Two or three flowerbeds with lilac and yellow acacia bushes were scattered on it in the English style; here and there five or six birches in small clusters raised their small-leaved thin tops. Beneath two of them was a gazebo with a flat green dome, blue wooden columns and the inscription: "Temple of Solitary Reflection"; lower down is a pond covered with greenery, which, however, is not a wonder in the English gardens of Russian landowners. At the foot of this elevation, and partly along the very slope, gray log huts darkened up and down, which our hero, for unknown reasons, immediately began to count and counted more than two hundred; nowhere between them is a growing tree or some kind of greenery; everywhere looked only one log. The view was enlivened by two women, who, picturesquely picking up their dresses and tucking themselves in from all sides, wandered up to their knees in the pond, dragging a tattered log by two wooden nags, where two entangled crayfish were visible and a caught roach glittered; the women, it seemed, were at odds with one another and were squabbling over something. At some distance, to the side, it darkened with some dull bluish color. Pine forest. Even the weather itself was very useful: the day was either clear or gloomy, but of some kind of light gray color, which only happens on the old uniforms of garrison soldiers, this, however, a peaceful army, but partly drunk on Sundays. To complete the picture, there was no lack of a rooster, a harbinger of changeable weather, which, despite the fact that the head was gouged to the very brain by the noses of other roosters in known deeds of red tape, bawled very loudly and even flapped its wings, torn like old matting. Approaching the courtyard, Chichikov noticed the owner himself on the porch, who was standing in a green chalon frock coat, with his hand to his forehead in the form of an umbrella over his eyes, in order to get a better look at the approaching carriage. As the britzka drew nearer to the porch, his eyes grew merrier and his smile widened more and more.

- Pavel Ivanovich! he cried at last, when Chichikov got out of the britzka. - You really remembered us!

Both friends kissed very warmly, and Manilov led his guest into the room. Although the time during which they will pass through the entrance hall, the hallway and the dining room is somewhat short, we will try to see if we can somehow use it and say something about the owner of the house. But here the author must admit that such an undertaking is very difficult. It is much easier to portray characters of a large size: there, just throw paint with all your hands onto the canvas, black scorching eyes, hanging eyebrows, a forehead cut with a wrinkle, a black or scarlet cloak thrown over your shoulder - and the portrait is ready; but all these gentlemen, of whom there are many in the world, who look very similar to each other, but meanwhile, if you look closely, you will see many of the most elusive features - these gentlemen are terribly difficult for portraits. Here you will have to strain your attention strongly until you force all the subtle, almost invisible features to stand out before you, and in general you will have to deepen your gaze, already sophisticated in the science of probing.

The hero of "Dead Souls" Manilov. Artist A. Laptev

God alone could not say what the character of Manilov was. There is a kind of people known by the name: people are so-so, neither this nor that, neither in the city of Bogdan, nor in the village of Selifan, according to the proverb. Perhaps Manilov should join them. In his eyes he was a prominent person; his features were not devoid of pleasantness, but this pleasantness seemed to have been conveyed too much sugar; in his manners and turns there was something ingratiating himself with favors and acquaintances. He smiled enticingly, was blond, with blue eyes. In the first minute of a conversation with him, you can’t help but say: “What a pleasant and kind person!” In the next minute you will not say anything, and in the third you will say: “The devil knows what it is!” - and you will move away; if you don’t move away, you will feel mortal boredom. You will not expect any lively or even arrogant word from him, which you can hear from almost anyone if you touch on the subject that bullies him. Everyone has his own enthusiasm: one has turned his enthusiasm to greyhounds; it seems to another that he is a strong lover of music and surprisingly feels everything deep places in her; the third is a master of famously dine; the fourth to play a role at least one inch higher than the one assigned to him; the fifth, with a more limited desire, sleeps and dreams about how to go on a walk with the adjutant wing, showing off to his friends, acquaintances and even strangers; the sixth is already gifted with such a hand that feels a supernatural desire to break the corner of some diamond ace or deuce, while the hand of the seventh climbs somewhere to put things in order, to get closer to the personality of the stationmaster or coachmen - in a word, everyone has his own, but Manilov had nothing. At home he spoke very little and for the most part thought and thought, but what he thought about, too, God knew. It cannot be said that he was engaged in farming, he never even went to the fields, farming somehow went on by itself. When the clerk said: "It would be nice, sir, to do this and that," - "Yes, not bad," he usually answered, smoking a pipe, which he made a habit of smoking when he still served in the army, where he was considered the most modest, most delicate and most educated officer . “Yes, it’s not bad,” he repeated. When a peasant came to him and, scratching the back of his head with his hand, said: “Master, let me go to work, give money,” “Go,” he said, smoking a pipe, and it didn’t even occur to him that the peasant was going to get drunk. Sometimes, looking from the porch at the yard and at the pond, he would say how nice it would be if suddenly underground passage or build a stone bridge across the pond, on which there would be shops on both sides, and so that merchants would sit in them and sell various small goods needed by the peasants. At the same time, his eyes became extremely sweet and his face assumed the most contented expression; however, all these projects ended in only one word. In his study there was always some kind of book, bookmarked on the fourteenth page, which he had been constantly reading for two years. Something was always missing in his house: in the living room there was beautiful furniture, upholstered in smart silk fabric, which, no doubt, was very expensive; but it was not enough for two armchairs, and the armchairs were upholstered simply with matting; however, for several years the host warned his guest every time with the words: "Do not sit on these chairs, they are not yet ready." In another room there was no furniture at all, although it was said in the first days after the marriage: "Darling, you will need to work tomorrow to put furniture in this room at least for a while." In the evening, a very smart candlestick made of dark bronze with three antique graces, with a mother-of-pearl smart shield, was served on the table, and next to it was placed some kind of simply copper invalid, lame, curled up on the side and covered in fat, although neither the owner nor mistress, no servant. His wife ... however, they were perfectly pleased with each other. Despite the fact that more than eight years of their marriage had passed, each of them still brought to the other either a piece of an apple, or a candy, or a nut and said in a touchingly tender voice expressing perfect love: “Open up your mouth, darling, I’ll put this a piece". It goes without saying that the mouth opened very gracefully on this occasion. There were surprises being prepared for the birthday: some kind of beaded case for a toothpick. And very often, sitting on the couch, suddenly, for absolutely no reason at all, one, leaving his pipe, and the other work, if only it was held in their hands at that time, they impressed each other with such a languid and long kiss that in continuation of it one could easily smoke a small straw cigar. In a word, they were, as they say, happy. Of course, one would notice that there are many other things to do in the house besides long kisses and surprises, and many requests could be made. Why, for example, stupidly and uselessly preparing in the kitchen? Why is the pantry so empty? why is the key thief? Why are servants unclean and drunkards? why do all the domestics sleep in an unmerciful way and hang around the rest of the time? But all these subjects are low, and Manilova was brought up well. A good upbringing, as you know, is obtained in boarding schools. And in boarding schools, as you know, three main subjects form the basis of human virtues: the French language, which is necessary for the happiness of family life, the piano, for delivering pleasant moments to the spouse, and, finally, the economic part itself: knitting purses and other surprises. However, there are various improvements and changes in methods, especially in present time; all this depends more on the prudence and ability of the hostesses themselves. In other boarding schools it happens that first the pianoforte, then the French language, and then the economic part. And sometimes it also happens that first the economic part, that is, knitting surprises, then the French language, and then the pianoforte. There are different methods. It doesn’t hurt to make the remark that Manilova ... but, I confess, I’m very afraid to talk about ladies, and besides, it’s time for me to return to our heroes, who had been standing for several minutes in front of the drawing-room door, mutually begging each other to come forward.

"Do me a favour, don't worry about me like that, I'll pass later," said Chichikov.

“No, Pavel Ivanovich, no, you are a guest,” said Manilov, pointing to the door with his hand.

- Don't be embarrassed, please don't be embarrassed. Please, come in, - said Chichikov.

“No, excuse me, I won’t let such a pleasant, educated guest pass behind.

- Why educated? .. Please, come in.

- Well, yes, if you please, you pass.

- Yes, why?

- Well, that's why! Manilov said with a pleasant smile.

Finally, both friends entered the door sideways and squeezed each other a little.

"Allow me to introduce my wife to you," said Manilov. - Darling! Pavel Ivanovich!

Chichikov, as if, saw a lady, whom he had completely failed to notice, bowing at the door with Manilov. She was not bad, dressed to the face. A pale silk cloth hood sat well on her; her thin, small hand threw something hastily on the table and clutched a cambric handkerchief with embroidered corners. She got up from the sofa on which she was sitting; Chichikov approached her hand, not without pleasure. Manilova said, even burping a little, that he had made them very happy with his arrival, and that her husband did not go a day without thinking of him.

“Yes,” said Manilov, “she used to keep asking me: “But why isn’t your friend coming?” - "Wait, darling, he will come." But you finally honored us with your visit. Really, it was such a pleasure ... May day ... name day of the heart ...

Chichikov, hearing that it had already come to the name day of the heart, was even somewhat embarrassed and replied modestly that he had neither a big name, nor even a noticeable rank.

“You have everything,” Manilov interrupted with the same pleasant smile, “you have everything, even more.

How do you feel about our city? Manilova said. - Did you have a good time there?

- A very good city a beautiful city, - answered Chichikov, - and spent the time very pleasantly: the society is most courteous.

- And how did you find our governor? Manilova said.

“Isn’t it true that the most respected and most amiable person? added Manilov.

"It's absolutely true," said Chichikov, "a most respectable man." And how he entered his position, how he understands it! We need to want more people like this.

“How can he, you know, accept anyone like that, observe delicacy in his actions,” Manilov added with a smile and almost closed his eyes with pleasure, like a cat whose fingers have been lightly tickled behind the ears.

"A very courteous and pleasant man," Chichikov went on, "and what an expert!" I couldn't even imagine it. How well he embroiders various home patterns! He showed me his wallet: a rare lady can embroider so skillfully.

- And the vice-governor, isn't it, what a nice person? said Manilov, screwing up his eyes somewhat again.

"A very, very worthy man," answered Chichikov.

- Well, excuse me, but how did the police chief seem to you? Isn't it true that a very nice person?

- Extremely pleasant, and what a smart, what a well-read person! We played whist with him, together with the prosecutor and the chairman of the chamber, until the very last cocks; very, very worthy person.

"Well, what do you think of the police chief's wife?" Manilova added. “Isn’t it true, dear woman?

"Oh, she's one of the most worthy women I know," Chichikov replied.

Therefore, they did not let the chairman of the chamber, the postmaster, and thus went through almost all the officials of the city, who all turned out to be the most worthy people.

Do you always spend time in the village? Chichikov finally asked in his turn.

“More in the countryside,” Manilov answered. “Sometimes, however, we come to town only to see educated people. You get wild, you know, if you live locked up all the time.

"True, true," said Chichikov.

“Of course,” continued Manilov, “it would be another matter if the neighborhood were good, if, for example, there was such a person with whom one could talk in some way about courtesy, about good treatment, to follow some kind of science so that stirred the soul, it would give, so to speak, a kind of guy ... - Here he still wanted to express something, but, noticing that he had somewhat reported, he only poked his hand in the air and continued: - Then, of course, the village and solitude would have a lot amenities. But there is definitely no one ... Only sometimes you read "Son of the Fatherland".

Chichikov agreed with this completely, adding that nothing could be more pleasant than living in solitude, enjoying the spectacle of nature and sometimes reading some book ...

Oh, that's fair, that's perfectly fair! interrupted Chichikov. What are all the treasures in the world then! “Have no money, have good people to convert,” said a wise man.

- And you know, Pavel Ivanovich! - said Manilov, showing in his face an expression not only sweet, but even cloying, like the mixture that the dexterous secular doctor sweetened mercilessly, imagining to please the patient with it. “Then you feel some sort of spiritual pleasure... Like, for example, now, when chance has brought me happiness, you can say exemplary, to talk to you and enjoy your pleasant conversation...

"Excuse me, what a pleasant conversation?... An insignificant person, and nothing more," answered Chichikov.

- O! Pavel Ivanovich, allow me to be frank: I would gladly give half of my entire fortune in order to have a part of those advantages that you have! ..

“On the contrary, I would consider for my part the greatest ...

It is not known what the mutual outpouring of feelings of both friends would have reached if the servant who entered had not reported that the food was ready.

“I beg you most humbly,” said Manilov. - Excuse me if we don’t have such a dinner as on the parquets and in the capitals, we just have, according to Russian custom, cabbage soup, but from the bottom of our hearts. I kindly ask.

Here they argued for some more time about who should go in first, and finally Chichikov entered the dining room sideways.

Two boys were already standing in the dining room, Manilov's sons, who were of those years when they already seat children at the table, but still on high chairs. The teacher stood beside them, bowing politely and with a smile. The hostess sat down to her soup bowl; the guest was seated between the host and the hostess, the servant tied napkins around the children's necks.

“What nice little children,” Chichikov said, looking at them, “and what year is it?”

“The eldest is eighth, and the youngest was only six yesterday,” said Manilova.

- Themistoclus! - said Manilov, turning to the elder, who was trying to free his chin, which was tied up in a napkin by the footman.

Chichikov raised a few eyebrows, hearing this in part. Greek name, to which, for some unknown reason, Manilov gave the ending in "yus", but he tried at the same time to bring his face back to its usual position.

- Themistoclus, tell me, what is the best city in France?

Here the teacher turned all his attention to Themistoclus and seemed to want to jump into his eyes, but at last he completely calmed down and nodded his head when Themistoclus said: "Paris."

What is the best city in our country? Manilov asked again.

The teacher turned his attention back.

Petersburg, answered Themistoclus.

- And what else?

“Moscow,” answered Themistoclus.

- Clever, darling! Chichikov said to this. “Tell me, but…” he continued, turning immediately to the Manilovs with a certain look of amazement, “in such years and already such information! I must tell you that this child will have great abilities.

“Oh, you don’t know him yet,” replied Manilov, “he has an extremely large amount of wit. Here is the smaller one, Alkid, that one is not so fast, but this one now, if he meets something, a bug, a goat, his eyes suddenly start to run; run after her and immediately pay attention. I'll read it on the diplomatic side. Themistoclus,” he continued, turning to him again, “do you want to be a messenger?

“I want to,” replied Themistoclus, chewing bread and shaking his head right and left.

At this time, the footman who was standing behind wiped the envoy's nose, and he did it very well, otherwise a pretty extraneous drop would have sunk into the soup. The conversation began around the table about the pleasures of a quiet life, interrupted by the remarks of the hostess about the city theater and about the actors. The teacher looked very attentively at the speakers, and as soon as he noticed that they were ready to grin, at that very moment he opened his mouth and laughed with zeal. He was probably an appreciative person and wanted to pay this owner for good treatment. Once, however, his face took on a stern look, and he sternly pounded on the table, fixing his eyes on the children sitting across from him. This was near the spot, because Themistoclusus bit Alcides on the ear, and Alcides, closing his eyes and opening his mouth, was ready to sob in the most miserable way, but, sensing that for this it was easy to lose the dish, he returned his mouth to its previous position and began with gnawed with tears at a mutton bone, from which both cheeks were shiny with fat. The hostess very often turned to Chichikov with the words: “You don’t eat anything, you took very little.” To which Chichikov replied every time: "Thank you most humbly, I'm full, pleasant conversation is better than any meal."

Already got up from the table. Manilov was exceedingly pleased and, supporting his guest's back with his hand, was preparing to escort him into the drawing room in this way, when suddenly the guest announced with a very significant air that he intended to talk to him about one very necessary matter.

“In that case, let me ask you to come to my office,” said Manilov, and led him into a small room with a window facing a blue forest. “Here is my corner,” said Manilov.

"Nice little room," said Chichikov, glancing over it with his eyes.

The room was certainly not without pleasantness: the walls were painted with some kind of blue paint, like gray, four chairs, one armchair, a table on which lay a book with a bookmark, which we have already had the opportunity to mention, several scribbled papers, but more everything was tobacco. He was in different types: in caps and in a tobacco case, and, finally, it was just poured in a heap on the table. On both windows there were also mounds of ash knocked out of a pipe, arranged, not without diligence, in very beautiful rows. It was noticeable that this sometimes gave the owner a pastime.

“Allow me to ask you to sit in these chairs,” said Manilov. - Here you will be calmer.

Let me sit on a chair.

"Allow me not to allow that," said Manilov with a smile. - This chair I have already assigned for a guest: for the sake of it or not for the sake of it, but they must sit down.

Chichikov sat down.

“Let me treat you with a pipe.

"No, I don't smoke," Chichikov answered affectionately and, as it were, with an air of pity.

- From what? said Manilov, also affectionately and with an air of regret.

“I haven’t made a habit, I’m afraid; they say the pipe dries.

“Let me tell you that this is a prejudice. I even think that smoking a pipe is much healthier than sniffing tobacco. In our regiment there was a lieutenant, a most excellent and most educated man who never let his pipe out of his mouth, not only at the table, but even, so to speak, in all other places. And now he is now more than forty years old, but, thanks to God, he is still as healthy as possible.

Chichikov noticed that this certainly happens and that there are many things in nature that are inexplicable even for a vast mind.

“But first, allow me one request…” he said in a voice in which some strange or almost strange expression was heard, and after that he looked back for some unknown reason. Manilov, too, for some unknown reason, looked back. - How long ago did you deign to submit a revision tale?

- Yes, a long time ago; Or rather, I don't remember.

How many peasants have died since that time?

- But I can not know; about this, I think, you need to ask the clerk. Hey man! call the clerk, he should be here today.

The clerk has arrived. He was a man of about forty, who shaved his beard, walked in a frock coat, and, apparently, led a very quiet life, because his face looked like some kind of plump fullness, and the yellowish skin color and small eyes showed that he knew too well, what are down jackets and feather beds. It could be seen at once that he had completed his career, as all the master's clerks do it: before that he was just a literate boy in the house, then he married some Agashka the housekeeper, a mistress's favorite, became a housekeeper himself, and then a clerk. And having become a clerk, he acted, of course, like all clerks: he hung out and made friends with those who were richer in the village, added to the poorer taxes, waking up at nine in the morning, waiting for the samovar and drinking tea.

- Listen, dear! how many peasants have died in our country since the revision was filed?

- Yes, how much? Many have died since then,” said the clerk, and at the same time he hiccupped, covering his mouth slightly with his hand, like a shield.

“Yes, I confess, I myself thought so,” Manilov picked up, “exactly, very many died!” - Here he turned to Chichikov and added: - Exactly, very many.

How about a number, for example? Chichikov asked.

- Yes, how many? Manilov picked up.

- How do you say the number? After all, it is not known how many died, no one counted them.

- Yes, exactly, - said Manilov, turning to Chichikov, - I also assumed a high mortality; it is not known how many died.

“Reread them, please,” Chichikov said, “and make a detailed register of everyone by name.”

“Yes, all by name,” said Manilov.

The clerk said: "I'm listening!" - and left.

- Why do you need it? Manilov asked the clerk as he left.

This question, it seemed, made the visitor uneasy, his face showed a kind of tense expression, from which he even blushed, - the tension to express something, not quite submissive to words. And in fact, Manilov finally heard such strange and unusual things as never before heard by human ears.

“For what reason, you ask?” The reasons are as follows: I would like to buy - To the right, - said the man. - This will be your way to Manilovka; and there is no lure. She is called that, that is, her nickname is Manilovka, and Zamanilovka is not here at all. There, right on the mountain, you will see a house, stone, two stories high, the master's house, in which, that is, the master himself lives. This is what Manilovka is for you, and there is absolutely no Zamanilovka here and there were no peasants ... - said Chichikov, stammered and did not finish his speech.

“But let me ask you,” said Manilov, “how do you want to buy the peasants: with land or just for withdrawal, that is, without land?”

“No, I’m not exactly peasants,” said Chichikov, “I want to have dead people ...

- How-with? excuse me... I'm a little hard of hearing, I heard a strange word...

“I suppose to acquire the dead, which, however, would be listed as alive according to the revision,” said Chichikov.

Manilov immediately dropped the chibouk with his pipe on the floor, and as he opened his mouth, he remained with his mouth open for several minutes. The two friends, who were talking about the pleasures of a friendly life, remained motionless, gazing at each other, like those portraits that in the old days were hung one against the other on both sides of the mirror. Finally Manilov picked up the pipe with the chibouk and looked down into his face, trying to see if there was any kind of smile on his lips, if he was joking; but nothing of the kind was visible, on the contrary, the face even seemed more sedate than usual; then he wondered if the guest had somehow accidentally lost his mind, and looked intently at him with fear; but the visitor's eyes were perfectly clear, there was no wild, restless fire in them, which runs in the eyes of a crazy person, everything was decent and in order. No matter how Manilov thought out how to be and what to do, he could not think of anything else but to let out the remaining smoke from his mouth in a very thin stream.

“So, I would like to know if you can give me those who are not really alive, but alive in relation to the legal form, to transfer, to cede, or as you please better?

But Manilov was so embarrassed and confused that he only looked at him.

“It seems to me that you are at a loss?” Chichikov remarked.

“I? .. no, I’m not that,” said Manilov, “but I can’t comprehend ... excuse me ... I, of course, could not receive such a brilliant education, which, so to speak, is visible in your every movement; I don’t have a high art of expressing myself… Maybe here… in this explanation you just expressed… something else is hidden… Maybe you deigned to express yourself like this for the beauty of the style?

“No,” Chichikov picked up, “no, I mean the subject as it is, that is, those souls who, for sure, have already died.

Manilov was completely at a loss. He felt that he needed to do something, to propose a question, and what question - the devil knows. He finally ended by exhaling smoke again, only not through his mouth, but through his nasal nostrils.

“So, if there are no obstacles, then with God we could begin to make a purchase fortress,” said Chichikov.

- How, on the dead souls of a bill of sale?

– Oh, no! Chichikov said. - We will write that they are alive, as it really is in the revision tale. I am used to not deviating from civil laws in anything, although I suffered for this in the service, but excuse me: duty is a sacred thing for me, the law - I am dumb before the law.

Manilov liked the last words, but he still did not penetrate into the meaning of the matter itself, and instead of answering, he began to suck his chibouk so hard that he finally began to wheeze like a bassoon. It seemed as if he wanted to extract from him an opinion on such an unheard-of circumstance; but the chubuk wheezed, and nothing more.

- Do you have any doubts?

- O! sorry, nothing. I'm not talking about having some, that is, critical prejudice against you. But let me report whether this enterprise will not be, or, to put it even more, so to speak, negotiation - so will this negotiation be inconsistent with civil decrees and further types of Russia?

Here Manilov, making a slight movement of his head, looked very significantly into Chichikov's face, showing in all the features of his face and in his compressed lips such a deep expression, which, perhaps, was not seen on human face, except perhaps with some too smart minister, and even then at the moment of the most puzzling case.

But Chichikov simply said that such an undertaking, or negotiation, would in no way be inconsistent with civil decrees and further types of Russia, and a minute later he added that the treasury would even receive benefits, for it would receive legal duties.

- So you think? ..

- I think it will be good.

“But if it’s good, that’s another matter: I’m against it,” said Manilov, and completely calmed down.

“Now we have to agree on a price.

- How about the price? Manilov said again and stopped. “Do you really think that I would take money for souls that, in some way, ended their existence?” If you have received such, so to speak, a fantastic desire, then for my part I pass them on to you without interest and take over the bill of sale.

A great reproach would be given to the historian of the proposed events if he neglected to say that pleasure overwhelmed the guest after such words uttered by Manilov. No matter how sedate and reasonable he was, he almost even made a leap after the model of a goat, which, as you know, is done only in the strongest outbursts of joy. He twisted so violently in his chair that the woolen material that covered the pillow snapped; Manilov himself looked at him in some bewilderment. Prompted by gratitude, he immediately uttered so many thanks that he became confused, blushed all over, made a negative gesture with his head, and finally expressed himself that this being is nothing, that he, exactly, would like to prove in some way the heart's attraction, the magnetism of the soul, and the dead souls are, in a way, complete rubbish.

"Don't be very rubbish," said Chichikov, shaking his hand. A very deep sigh was let out here. He seemed to be in the mood for outpourings of the heart; not without feeling and expression he finally said following words: - If you knew what service this, apparently, rubbish rendered to a man without a tribe and family! And indeed, what did I not tolerate? like some kind of barge among the ferocious waves ... What kind of persecution, what persecution did not experience, what grief did not taste, but for what? for keeping the truth, for being pure in his conscience, for giving a hand to both the helpless widow and the miserable orphan!

Manilov was completely moved. Both friends shook each other's hands for a long time and looked silently into each other's eyes for a long time, in which tears were visible. Manilov did not want to let go of our hero's hand and continued to press it so fervently that he no longer knew how to rescue it. Finally, pulling it out slowly, he said that it would not be bad to make the bill of sale as soon as possible, and it would be good if he himself visited the city. Then he took his hat and began to take his leave.

- How? do you want to go already? said Manilov, suddenly waking up and almost frightened.

At this time, she entered Manilov's office.

“Lizanka,” said Manilov with a somewhat pitiful air, “Pavel Ivanovich is leaving us!”

“Because Pavel Ivanovich is tired of us,” Manilova answered.

- Madame! here,” said Chichikov, “here, this is where,” here he laid his hand on his heart, “yes, here will be the pleasantness of the time spent with you! and believe me, there would be no greater bliss for me than to live with you, if not in the same house, then at least in the very next neighborhood.

“Do you know, Pavel Ivanovich,” said Manilov, who liked this idea very much, “how it would really be nice if we could live like that together, under the same roof, or under the shade of some elm tree, philosophize about something, go deep into !..

- O! it would be heavenly life! said Chichikov, sighing. - Farewell, ma'am! he continued, going up to Manilova's pen. - Farewell, dearest friend! Don't forget the requests!

- Oh, be sure! Manilov answered. “I will part with you no longer than for two days.

Everyone went to the dining room.

- Farewell, little ones! - said Chichikov, seeing Alkid and Themistoclus, who were busy with some kind of wooden hussar, who no longer had either a hand or a nose. - Farewell, my little ones. You will excuse me that I did not bring you a present, because, I confess, I did not even know if you lived in the world, but now, when I arrive, I will certainly bring it. I will bring you a saber; do you want a sword?

“I want to,” answered Themistoclus.

- And you drum; don't you, you drum? he continued, leaning towards Alcides.

“Parapan,” Alkid answered in a whisper and lowered his head.

- Okay, I'll bring you a drum. Such a glorious drum, so everything will be: turrr ... ru ... tra-ta-ta, ta-ta-ta ... Farewell, darling! goodbye! - Here he kissed him on the head and turned to Manilov and his wife with a small laugh, with which parents are usually addressed, letting them know about the innocence of the desires of their children.

“Really, stay, Pavel Ivanovich! - said Manilov, when everyone had already gone out onto the porch. - Look at the clouds.

"Those are little clouds," Chichikov replied.

- Do you know the way to Sobakevich?

“I want to ask you about this.

“Let me tell your coachman now. - Here Manilov with the same courtesy told the case to the coachman and even said to him once "you".

The coachman, hearing that it was necessary to skip two turns and turn onto the third, said: "Let's have fun, your honor," - and Chichikov left, accompanied by long bows and waving of a handkerchief by the hosts who were rising on tiptoe.

Manilov stood for a long time on the porch, following the retreating britzka with his eyes, and when it was no longer visible at all, he was still standing, smoking his pipe. At last he entered the room, sat down on a chair and gave himself over to reflection, sincerely glad that he had given his guest a little pleasure. Then his thoughts drifted imperceptibly to other objects, and finally drifted to God knows where. He thought about the well-being of a friendly life, about how nice it would be to live with a friend on the banks of some river, then a bridge began to be built across this river, then a huge house with such a high belvedere that you can even see Moscow from there and there drink tea in the evening in the open air and talk about some pleasant subjects. Then, that they, together with Chichikov, arrived in some kind of society in good carriages, where they enchant everyone with pleasant treatment, and that it was as if the sovereign, having learned about their friendship, granted them generals, and then, finally, God knows what is, what he himself could not make out. Chichikov's strange request suddenly interrupted all his dreams. The thought of her somehow did not particularly boil in his head: no matter how he turned it over, he could not explain it to himself, and all the time he sat and smoked his pipe, which lasted until dinner.