Мертвые души
Chapter 4
Why,then,shouldsuchatempesthaveburstuponme?WhyshouldIhavesustainedsuchablow?Wasnotmylifealreadylikeabarquetossedtoandfrobythebillows?WhereisHeaven’sjustice—whereistherewardforallmypatience,formyboundlessperseverance?ThreetimesdidIhavetobeginlifeafresh,andeachtimethatIlostmyallIbeganwithasinglekopeckatamomentwhenothermenwouldhavegiventhemselvesuptodespairanddrink.HowmuchdidInothavetoovercome.HowmuchdidInothavetobear!EverykopeckwhichIgainedIhadtomakewithmywholestrength;forthough,toothers,wealthmaycomeeasily,everycoinofminehadtobe‘forgedwithanailworththreekopecks’astheproverbhasit.Withsuchanail—withthenailofaniron,unwearyingperseverance—didIforgemykopecks.”
Convulsivelysobbingwithagriefwhichhecouldnotrepress,Chichikovsankuponachair,torefromhisshouldersthelastragged,trailingremnantsofhisfrockcoat,andhurledthemfromhim.Then,thrustinghisfingersintothehairwhichhehadoncebeensocarefultopreserve,hepulleditoutbyhandfulsatatime,asthoughhehopedthroughphysicalpaintodeadenthementalagonywhichhewassuffering.
MeanwhileMurazovsatgazinginsilenceattheunwontedspectacleofamanwhohadlatelybeenmincingwiththegaitofaworldlingoramilitaryfopnowwrithingindishevelmentanddespairashepouredoutuponthehostileforcesbywhichhumaningenuitysooftenfindsitselfoutwittedafloodofinvective.
