Мертвые души
Chapter 6
Chichikovassumedaquestioningair,andwaitedtohearwhatthehousekeepermighthavetosay.Thehousekeeperdidthesame.Atlength,surprisedatthemisunderstanding,Chichikovdecidedtoaskthefirstquestion.
“Isthemasterathome?”heinquired.
“Yes,”repliedthepersonaddressed.
“Thenwhereishe?”continuedChichikov.
“Areyoublind,mygoodsir?”retortedtheother.“Iamthemaster.”
Involuntarilyourherostartedandstared.Duringhistravelsithadbefallenhimtomeetvarioustypesofmen—someofthem,itmaybe,typeswhichyouandIhaveneverencountered;buteventoChichikovthisparticularspecieswasnew.Intheoldman’sfacetherewasnothingveryspecial—itwasmuchlikethewizenedfaceofmanyanotherdotard,savethatthechinwassogreatlyprojectedthatwheneverhespokehewasforcedtowipeitwithahandkerchieftoavoiddribbling,andthathissmalleyeswerenotyetgrowndull,buttwinkledundertheiroverhangingbrowsliketheeyesofmicewhen,withattentiveearsandsensitivewhiskers,theysnufftheairandpeerforthfromtheirholestoseewhetheracatoraboymaynotbeinthevicinity.No,themostnoticeablefeatureaboutthemanwashisclothes.Innowaycouldithavebeenguessedofwhathiscoatwasmade,forbothitssleevesanditsskirtsweresoraggedandfilthyastodefydescription,whileinsteadoftwoposteriortails,theredangledfourofthoseappendages,with,projectingfromthem,atornnewspaper.
