Мертвые души
Chapter 1
Evenaftergazingatthespectacleforacoupleofhoursorso,thevisitorwouldstillfindnothingtosay,save:“LordofHeaven,butwhataprospect!”Thenwhoisthedwellerin,theproprietorof,thismanor—amanortowhich,astoanimpregnablefortress,entrancecannotbegainedfromthesidewherewehavebeenstanding,butonlyfromtheotherapproach,whereafewscatteredoaksofferhospitablewelcometothevisitor,andthen,spreadingabovehimtheirspaciousbranches(asinfriendlyembrace),accompanyhimtothefacadeofthemansionwhosetopwehavebeenregardingfromthereverseaspect,butwhichnowstandsfrontwiseontous,andhas,ononesideofit,arowofpeasants’hutswithredtilesandcarvedgables,and,ontheother,thevillagechurch,withthoseglitteringgoldencrossesandgildedopen-workcharmswhichseemtohangsuspendedintheair?Yes,indeed!—towhatfortunateindividualdoesthiscorneroftheworldbelong?ItbelongstoAndreiIvanovitchTientietnikov,landownerofthecantonofTremalakhan,and,withal,abachelorofaboutthirty.
ShouldmyladyreadersaskofmewhatmannerofmanisTientietnikov,andwhatarehisattributesandpeculiarities,Ishouldreferthemtohisneighbours.Ofthese,amemberofthealmostextincttribeofintelligentstaffofficersontheretiredlistoncesummedupTientietnikovinthephrase,“Heisanabsoluteblockhead;”whileaGeneralwhoresidedtenverstsawaywasheardtoremarkthat“heisayoungmanwho,thoughnotexactlyafool,hasatleasttoomuchcrowdedintohishead.
