Мертві душі
Chapter 11
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Yetwhichofyou,whenquiet,andalone,andengagedinsolitaryself-communion,wouldnotdowelltoprobeYOUROWNsouls,andtoputtoYOURSELVESthesolemnquestion,“IstherenotinMEanelementofChichikov?”Forhowshouldtherenotbe?Whichofyouisnotliableatanymomenttobepassedinthestreetbyanacquaintancewho,nudginghisneighbour,maysayofyou,withabarelysuppressedsneer:“Look!theregoesChichikov!ThatisChichikovwhohasjustgoneby!”
Butherearewetalkingatthetopofourvoiceswhilstallthetimeourheroliesslumberinginhisbritchka!Indeed,hisnamehasbeenrepeatedsooftenduringtherecitalofhislife’shistorythathemustalmosthaveheardus!Andatanytimeheisanirritable,irasciblefellowwhenspokenofwithdisrespect.True,tothereaderChichikov’sdispleasurecannotmatterajot;butfortheauthoritwouldmeanruintoquarrelwithhishero,seeingthat,arminarm,Chichikovandhehaveyetfartogo.
“Tut,tut,tut!”cameinashoutfromChichikov.“Hi,Selifan!”
“Whatisit?”camethereply,utteredwithadrawl.
“Whatisit?Why,howdareyoudrivelikethat?Come!Bestiryourselfalittle!”
Andindeed,Selifanhadlongbeensittingwithhalf-closedeyes,andhandswhichbestowednoencouragementuponhissomnolentsteedssaveanoccasionalflickingofthereinsagainsttheirflanks;whilstPetrushkahadlosthiscap,andwasleaningbackwardsuntilhisheadhadcometorestagainstChichikov’sknees—apositionwhichnecessitatedhisbeingawakenedwithacuff.
