Мертвые души

           Also,wereyoutosketchhim,youwouldbesketchingaveritablePrometheus,forhisglanceisasthatofaneagle,andhewalkswithmeasured,statelystride.Yetnosoonerwilltheeaglehavelefttheroomtoseekthestudyofhissuperiorofficerthanhewillgoscurryingalong(papersheldclosetohisnose)likeanypartridge.Butinsociety,andattheeveningparty(shouldtherestofthosepresentbeoflesserrankthanhimself)thePrometheuswilloncemorebecomePrometheus,andthemanwhostandsastepbelowhimwilltreathiminawayneverdreamtofbyOvid,seeingthateachflyisoflesseraccountthanitssuperiorfly,andbecomes,inthepresenceofthelatter,evenasagrainofsand.“SurelythatisnotIvanPetrovitch?”youwillsayofsuchandsuchamanasyouregardhim.“IvanPetrovitchistall,whereasthismanissmallandspare.IvanPetrovitchhasaloud,deepvoice,andneversmiles,whereasthisman(whoeverhemaybe)istwitteringlikeasparrow,andsmilingallthetime.”YetapproachandtakeagoodlookatthefellowandyouwillseethatisISIvanPetrovitch.“Alack,alack!”willbetheonlyremarkyoucanmake.

           Letusreturntoourcharactersinreallife.Wehaveseenthat,onthisoccasion,Chichikovdecidedtodispensewithceremony;wherefore,takinguptheteapot,hewentonasfollows:

           “Youhaveanicelittlevillagehere,madam.Howmanysoulsdoesitcontain?”

           “Alittlelessthaneighty,dearsir.Butthetimesarehard,andIhavelostagreatdealthroughlastyear’sharvesthavingprovedafailure.”

           “Butyourpeasantslookfine,strongfellows.