Мертвые души
Chapter 8
Thegoldenhair,thefine-drawn,delicatecontours,thefacewithitsbewitchingoval—afacewhichmighthaveservedasamodelforthecountenanceoftheMadonna,sinceitwasofatyperarelytobemetwithinRussia,wherenearlyeverything,fromplainstohumanfeet,is,rather,onthegiganticscale;thesefeatures,Isay,werethoseoftheidenticalmaidenwhomChichikovhadencounteredontheroadwhenhehadbeenfleeingfromNozdrev’s.Hisemotionwassuchthathecouldnotformulateasingleintelligiblesyllable;hecouldmerelymurmurthedevilonlyknowswhat,thoughcertainlynothingofthekindwhichwouldhaverisentothelipsoftheheroofafashionablenovel.
“Ithinkthatyouhavenotmetmydaughterbefore?”saidMadame.“Sheisjustfreshfromschool.”
HerepliedthatheHADhadthehappinessofmeetingMademoisellebefore,andunderratherunexpectedcircumstances;butonhistryingtosaysomethingfurtherhistonguecompletelyfailedhim.TheGovernor’swifeaddedawordortwo,andthencarriedoffherdaughtertospeaktosomeoftheotherguests.
Chichikovstoodrootedtothespot,likeamanwho,afterissuingintothestreetforapleasantwalk,hassuddenlycometoahaltonrememberingthatsomethinghasbeenleftbehindhim.Inamoment,ashestrugglestorecallwhatthatsomethingis,themienofcarelessexpectancydisappearsfromhisface,andhenolongerseesasinglepersonorasingleobjectinhisvicinity.InthesamewaydidChichikovsuddenlybecomeoblivioustothescenearoundhim.
