Мертвые души
Chapter 3
”
Platonmovedtothepiano,andbegantopickoutanoteortwo.
“GoodLord,whatanancientinstrument!”heexclaimed.“Areyounotashamedofit,sister?”
“Well,thetruthisthatIgetnotimetopracticemymusic.Yousee,”sheaddedtoChichikov,“Ihaveaneight-year-olddaughtertoeducate;andtohandherovertoaforeigngovernessinorderthatImayhaveleisureformyownpiano-playing—well,thatisathingwhichIcouldneverbringmyselftodo.”
“Youhavebecomeawearisomesortofperson,”commentedPlaton,andwalkedawaytothewindow.“Ah,herecomesConstantine,”presentlyheadded.
Chichikovalsoglancedoutofthewindow,andsawapproachingtheverandahabrisk,swarthy-complexionedmanofaboutforty,amancladinaroughclothjacketandavelveteencap.Evidentlyhewasoneofthosewhocarelittleforthenicetiesofdress.Withhim,bareheaded,therecameacoupleofmenofasomewhatlowerstationinlife,andallthreewereengagedinananimateddiscussion.Oneofthebarin’stwocompanionswasaplainpeasant,andtheother(cladinablueSiberiansmock)atravellingfactor.Thefactthatthepartyhaltedawhilebytheentrancestepsmadeitpossibletooverhearaportionoftheirconversationfromwithin.
“Thisiswhatyoupeasantshadbetterdo,”thebarinwassaying.“Purchaseyourreleasefromyourpresentmaster.Iwilllendyouthenecessarymoney,andafterwardsyoucanworkforme.”
“No,ConstantineThedorovitch,”repliedthepeasant.“Whyshouldwedothat?Removeusjustasweare.
