Мертвые души
Chapter 3
Fromtimetotimetheboatwouldpassunderropes,stretchedacrossforpurposesoffishing,andateachturnoftheripplingcurrentnewvistasunfoldedthemselvesastierupontierofwoodlanddelightedtheeyewithadiversityoftimberandfoliage.Inunisondidtherowersplytheirsculls,yetitwasthoughofitselfthattheskiffshotforward,bird-like,overtheglassysurfaceofthewater;whileatintervalsthebroad-shoulderedyoungoarsmanwhowasseatedthirdfromthebowwouldraise,asfromanightingale’sthroat,theopeningstavesofaboatsong,andthenbejoinedbyfiveorsixmore,untilthemelodyhadcometopourforthinavolumeasfreeandboundlessasRussiaherself.AndPietukh,too,wouldgivehimselfashake,andhelplustilytosupportthechorus;andevenChichikovfeltacutelyconsciousofthefactthathewasaRussian.OnlyPlatonreflected:“Whatistheresosplendidinthesemelancholysongs?Theydobutincreaseone’sdepressionofspirits.”
Thejourneyhomewardwasmadeinthegatheringdusk.Rhythmicallytheoarssmoteasurfacewhichnolongerreflectedthesky,anddarknesshadfallenwhentheyreachedtheshore,alongwhichlightsweretwinklingwherethefisherfolkwereboilingliveeelsforsoup.Everythinghadnowwendeditswayhomewardforthenight;thecattleandpoultryhadbeenhoused,andtheherdsmen,standingatthegatesofthevillagecattle-pens,amidthetrailingdustlatelyraisedbytheircharges,wereawaitingthemilk-pailsandasummonstopartakeoftheeel-broth.
