Мертві душі
Chapter 8
Whenceithadcome,andwhohaddeliveredit,hefailedtodiscover,forthewaiterdeclaredthatthepersonwhohadbroughtithadomittedtoleavethenameofthewriter.Beginningabruptlywiththewords“IMUSTwritetoyou,”theletterwentontosaythatbetweenacertainpairofsoulsthereexistedabondofsympathy;andthisveritytheepistlefurtherconfirmedwithrowsoffullstopstotheextentofnearlyhalfapage.NexttherefollowedafewreflectionsofacorrectitudesoremarkablethatIhavenochoicebuttoquotethem.“What,Iwouldask,isthislifeofours?”inquiredthewriter.“‘Tisnoughtbutavaleofwoe.Andwhat,Iwouldask,istheworld?‘Tisnoughtbutamobofunthinkinghumanity.”Thereafter,incidentallyremarkingthatshehadjustdroppedateartothememoryofherdearmother,whohaddepartedthislifetwenty-fiveyearsago,the(presumably)ladywriterinvitedChichikovtocomeforthintothewilds,andtoleaveforeverthecitywhere,pennedinnoisomehaunts,folkcouldnotevendrawtheirbreath.Inconclusion,thewritergavewaytounconcealeddespair,andwoundupwiththefollowingverses:
“Twoturtledovestothee,oneday,
Mydustwillshow,congealedindeath;
And,cooingwearily,they’llsay:
‘Ingriefandlonelinessshedrewherclosingbreath.’”
True,thelastlinedidnotscan,butthatwasatrifle,sincethequatrainatleastconformedtothemodethenprevalent.
