Мертвые души
Chapter 7
NeveroncedidSobakevitch’sfacemoveamuscle,and,asforManilov,hewastoomuchunderthespellofChichikov’seloquencetodoaughtbeyondnodhisapprovalatintervals,andstrikethekindofattitudewhichisassumedbyloversofmusicwhenaladysingerhas,inrivalryofanaccompanyingviolin,producedanotewhereoftheshrillnesswouldexceedeventhecapacityofabird’sthrostle.
“ButwhynottellIvanGrigorievitchpreciselywhatyouhavebought?”inquiredSobakevitchofChichikov.“Andwhy,IvanGrigorievitch,doYOUnotaskMonsieurChichikovpreciselywhathispurchaseshaveconsistedof?Whatasplendidlotofserfs,tobesure!Imyselfhavesoldhimmywheelwright,Michiev.”
“What?YouhavesoldhimMichiev?”exclaimedthePresident.“Iknowthemanwell.Heisasplendidcraftsman,and,ononeoccasion,mademeadrozhki32.Only,only—well,latelydidn’tyoutellmethatheisdead?”
“ThatMichievisdead?”re-echoedSobakevitch,comingperilouslyneartolaughing.“Ohdearno!Thatwashisbrother.Michievhimselfisverymuchalive,andinevenbetterhealththanheusedtobe.AnydayhecouldknockyouupabritchkasuchasyoucouldnotprocureeveninMoscow.However,heisnowboundtoworkforonlyonemaster.”
“Indeedasplendidcraftsman!”repeatedthePresident.“Myonlywonderisthatyoucanhavebroughtyourselftopartwithhim.”
“ThenthinkyouthatMichievistheONLYserfwithwhomIhaveparted?Nay,forIhavepartedalsowithProbkaStepan,mycarpenter,withMilushkin,mybricklayer,andwithTeliatnikov,mybootmaker.
