Мертві душі

           TheotherofthepairwasafellownamedMofiKifovitch,andsontothefirstnamed.HewaswhatweRussianscalla“hero,”andwhilehisfatherwasponderingtheparturitionofbeasts,his,theson’s,lusty,twenty-year-oldtemperamentwasviolentlystrugglingfordevelopment.Yetthatsoncouldtacklenothingwithoutsomeaccidentoccurring.Atonemomentwouldhecracksomeone’sfingersinhalf,andatanotherwouldheraiseabumponsomebody’snose;sothatbothathomeandabroadeveryoneandeverything—fromtheserving-maidtotheyard-dog—fledonhisapproach,andeventhebedinhisbedroombecameshatteredtosplinters.SuchwasMofiKifovitch;andwithitallhehadakindlysoul.Buthereinisnotthechiefpoint.“Goodsir,goodKifaMokievitch,”servantsandneighbourswouldcomeandsaytothefather,“whatareyougoingtodoaboutyourMokiKifovitch?Wegetnorestfromhim,heissoabovehimself.”“Thatisonlyhisplay,thatisonlyhisplay,”thefatherwouldreply.“Whatelsecanyouexpect?Itistoolatenowtostartaquarrelwithhim,and,moreover,everyonewouldaccusemeofharshness.True,heisalittleconceited;but,wereItoreprovehiminpublic,thewholethingwouldbecomecommontalk,andfolkwouldbegingivinghimadog’sname.Andiftheydidthat,wouldnottheiropiniontouchmealso,seeingthatIamhisfather?Also,Iambusywithphilosophy,andhavenotimeforsuchthings.Lastly,MokiKifovitchismyson,andverydeartomyheart.