Мертвые души
Chapter 3
WithnolittlecuriositydidChichikovgazeattheinteriorofthemansioninhabitedbythemanwhoreceivedanannualincomeoftwohundredthousandroubles;forhethoughttodiscerntherefromthenatureofitsproprietor,evenasfromashellonemaydeducethespeciesofoysterorsnailwhichhasbeenitstenant,andhasleftthereinitsimpression.Butnosuchconclusionsweretobedrawn.Theroomsweresimple,andevenbare.Notafresconorapicturenorabronzenoraflowernorachinawhat-notnorabookwastheretobeseen.Inshort,everythingappearedtoshowthattheproprietorofthisabodespentthegreaterpartofhistime,notbetweenfourwalls,butinthefield,andthathethoughtouthisplans,notinsybariticfashionbythefireside,norinaneasychairbesidethestove,butonthespotwhereworkwasactuallyinprogress—that,inaword,wherethoseplanswereconceived,theretheywereputintoexecution.NorintheseroomscouldChichikovdetecttheleasttraceofafemininehand,beyondthefactthatcertaintablesandchairsboredrying-boardswhereonwerearrangedsomesprinklingsofflowerpetals.
“Whatisallthisrubbishfor?”askedPlaton.
“Itisnotrubbish,”repliedtheladyofthehouse.“Onthecontrary,itisthebestpossibleremedyforfever.Lastyearwecuredeveryoneofoursickpeasantswithit.SomeofthepetalsIamgoingtomakeintoanointment,andsomeintoaninfusion.Youmaylaughasmuchasyoulikeatmypottingandpreserving,yetyouyourselfwillbegladofthingsofthekindwhenyousetoutonyourtravels.
