Tchichikoff assured the old miser of his readiness to conclude the
contract that very minute, and only demanded a list of all the peasants
that were now to become his property.
This readiness considerably tranquillized Pluschkin. It was obvious
that he was trying to remember or do something, and really, after a
few moments of reflection and hesitation, he approached his cupboard,
produced a bunch of keys, and opened the glass doors of it, he was a
considerable time in removing a number of decanters, wine glasses, and
cups, and at last exclaimed: "It is impossible for me to find it now, I
had some sweet liquors of cream, provided my servants have not drunk
it! they are so disobedient! Ah, should this perhaps be it?"
Tchichikoff now beheld a small decanter in his hands, which was thickly
covered by a coat of dust. "This was distilled by my late and much
lamented wife," continued Pluschkin; "my roguish housekeeper seems
to have completely mislaid it, and has not even put the cork in, the
negligent old wretch! Cobwebs, spiders, and dies have fallen into the
bottle, however, I have removed them, and will now pour out some for
you, a nice and clean glass full."
But Tchichikoff respectfully declined to taste any of such liquor,
saying that he had already been eating and drinking.
"You have already been eating and drinking;" said Pluschkin. "Yes,
truly, a well-bred man may be recognised by the smallest trifles;
he does not eat, and yet is fed; but when some of those hungry and
dishonest run-abouts come, you may feed them as long as you like. The
Captain for instance--who visits me by far too often; 'dear uncle,'
he is accustomed to say, 'pray let me have first something to eat!'
and after all, I am as dear an uncle to him as he is a nephew to me.
I have not the least doubt, but the young fellow has nothing to eat at
home, and of course keeps annoying me, and running about everywhere.
But, by the bye, I think you will require a list of all these idlers?
To be sure, whenever one of them died, I made it a point to note down
his name, so as to have them ready for being scratched off at the
approaching census."
Pluschkin while saying this, put on a pair of wretched spectacles,
and began to stir about in a heap of papers. In untying various
packages, he treated his guest to such a cloud of dust, that he made
him sneeze. At last he produced a slip of paper, written upon on every
available space. The names of the dead serfs covered it as thickly as
mushrooms. There were Christian and family names of every kind and
length, such as Ponomareff, Pimenoff, Semenoff, and Panteleimonoff, and
even the long name of Gregory Dogeschainedogedish; in all more than a
hundred-and-twenty different names.
Tchichikoff smiled with inward satisfaction at the sight of such a
number. Securing this curious document, and putting it in his pocket,
he made the observation to Pluschkin, that he would have to come to
town in order to conclude, in a legal manner, the contract of sale of
these dead serfs.
"Go to town, but how? how am I to leave my house? my servants are one
and all either thieves or scoundrels, in a day they would be capable of
robbing me so well, that on my return I should not be able even to find
a nail to bang my coat upon."
"In that case, you have perhaps a friend in town?"
"Yes, to be sure, a friend, but to whom? All my acquaintances have
died, or have forgotten me; but stop, my good Sir! I now remember one,
how should I not have a friend, to be sure I have one!" exclaimed the
old man suddenly. "I am on friendly terms with the President, he used
to visit me often in bygone years, how should I not know him, or he me!
we were like wheels of the same carriage, always together, up to any
mischief! how should we not know one another? he is my best friend!
would you advise me to entrust him with this business?"
"I advise you most certainly to do so," replied Tchichikoff.
"Then I will write to him, because he is a very intimate friend
of mine! indeed, now I remember it, our friendship dates from our
childhood, we were intimate school-fellows."
And suddenly over this wooden parchment-like face a warm flush passed,
but it did not express feelings of a pleasant recollection, no, only
something like a faint shadow of real feeling, an apparition similar
to the unexpected appearance of a drowning man above the surface of
the water, who causes a shout of joy among the crowd gathered along
the shores. But unavailingly do his suddenly rejoiced brothers and
sisters throw out cords and ropes to his assistance, hoping to see once
more his head, or outstretched hands, trying to seize it--alas! it was
his last re-appearance. All is silent, and the now silent and smooth
element becomes but more ominous and terrifying. Something analogous
was also visible in the expression of Pluschkin's features, after a
momentary flush of sensibility, the expression of his face became but
more unfeeling and repulsive.
"There was a sheet of note-paper lying on the table," he said, "but I
wonder what has become of it; you have no idea how impudent my servants
are!"
Hereupon he began anxiously to look about, under the table, upon the
table, stirring about everything, but at last, not being able to find
it, he shouted as loud as he could:
"Mavra! halloa, Mavra!"
Upon this call, a woman servant entered the room, holding a plate in
her hands, upon which lay the well-known Easter-cake of his daughter
Alexandra. The following conversation took place between them:
"You magpie! tell me immediately where you have put the sheet of
note-paper, that was lying here upon my table?"
"Good Heavens, Sir, do not be alarmed, but I really have not seen it,
excepting a small piece with which you covered a wine-glass the other
day."
"I see clearly by your eyes and countenance that it is you who have
surely taken it."
"For what purpose should I have done so? It could have been no use
whatever to me, for I cannot read nor write."
"Tis a falsehood, you have taken it and carried it to your cousin,
Karpuschka, the carpenter, I know him to be a scribbler and of course
you have given it to him."
"That I have not, and besides if my cousin wanted some paper, he has
the means to buy it,-for he is a good workman and can earn sufficient
to pay for it. No, it is not he who has your paper."
"Mind what you are saying and doing, for on the day of judgment the
demons will torment you, yes it is with iron rods that they will
scourge you! you may depend upon it they will punish you for your
wickedness in this world!"
"But why should they scourge me, when I never even touched your slip
of paper? I may, perhaps, like other women, have my faults, but I have
never been accused of theft before."
"The demons are sure to scourge you, and say besides: 'that is what
you deserve you wicked woman for betraying and deceiving your lawful
master, yes, it is with red-hot iron rods that they will torment you!'"
"And I shall proclaim my innocence;" added the poor woman crying, "I
shall invoke Heaven and declare that I did not touch or take any of
your property. And here it lies upon the table. You always scold and
accuse us though we are innocent!"
Pluschkin now really beheld the note-paper before him, and for a moment
he stopped short, whilst chewing with his lips, then he added:
"Well, why are you so excited? what a talkative woman you are to be
sure! Scarcely have I spoken a word to you, when you are ready with ten
answers! Go and fetch me a light to seal my letters with. But no, stop,
you are sure to lay hold of a tallow candle, grease melts: it will be a
loss; bring me a pine-torch."
Mavra left the room, Pluschkin seated himself in an arm-chair and
taking a pen up, he kept turning the sheet of note-paper for a
considerable time in his hand, thinking at the time, could it not be
possible to save the half or a portion of the paper, but at last he
felt convinced that it was an impossibility; he therefore dipped his
pen into the ink-stand and into a mouldy fluid, at the bottom of which
there were numerous dead flies, he began to write; his letters were
very much like music-notes, he was obliged to stop at each pen stroke,
for his hand shook and trembled violently over the paper, and the
progress of his writing and increase of lines was very slow indeed,
for he could not help thinking and regretting, that much of the paper
before him would have to remain unwritten upon.
And to such a degree of meanness and degradation could a well-born
man degenerate! undergo such a change! But is this like truth, like
reality? All approaches truth and reality, for a human being is liable
to undergo incredible changes. The youth of this day would start back
horrified if the portrait of his old age could be shown to him. Oh!
gather on our way--as you leave your downy pillow to start and enter
into harsh and hardening manhood--gather up all the tender impressions
of human nature, do not leave them behind you--do not pick them up
later! Harsh and frightful is such old age when looming in the future,
for it indemnifies for nothing! The grave is more merciful, upon a
tombstone may be written: here lies a man! but you can read nothing
upon the cold, unfeeling features of pitiless age.
"Do you perhaps know any one among your friends--" said Pluschkin,
whilst folding up his letter, "who might stand in want of a few
run-away serfs?"
"Ah, you have even some run-away men?" demanded Tchichikoff eagerly,
but composing himself again quickly.
"Yes, unfortunately, I have some. My son-in-law has been hunting
after them, but he assured me, that he has lost the trace of them
notwithstanding his diligence and perseverance, however, he is a
military man, accustomed to do business on horseback, if he had taken
the trouble to apply to the various courts and--"
"Pardon me for interrupting you, but how many are they in number?"
"Well, as near as I can guess about seventy."
"No, is it possible?"
"By Heavens, it is as I tell you! With every new year I find that more
and more of my men run away. My people are one and all awful gluttons,
from good living and easy tasks they are apt to burst like the frog in
the fable, whilst I have scarcely sufficient to eat myself. Really, I
should feel disposed to accept any reasonable offer for them. Pray,
speak to your friend about them: let us suppose he only recaptures
ten of them, and his trouble will be amply rewarded. And you must not
forget to tell him that our census serfs are worth five hundred silver
roubles a-piece everywhere."
"No, my good old man, don't you believe it; this piece of news my
friend shall not even be allowed to dream of," thought Tchichikoff to
himself; and then he added aloud, "That it was a perfect impossibility
to find such a friend; that the trouble and expense of recapturing
run-away serfs would exceed by far their collective value; because it
would be madness to apply to any court of law for assistance, for it
is well known that if a man enters a court of justice in Russia, he
generally has to leave, if not his own liberty behind him, at least his
property, without the exception of the very coat on his back; but if he
was really embarrassed for a little money, he would do himself pleasure
by proving him his sincere sympathy, and that he was ready to make an
offer; but as it was a mere trifle, it would be really idle even to
mention a word about it."
"Pray, and how much could you offer me?" demanded Pluschkin, with the
anxiety and eagerness of a real Shylock, his hands trembling like
quicksilver.
"I could afford to pay you at the rate of twenty-five copeks in silver
for each of your run-aways."
"And how do you propose purchasing them--will you pay ready money?"
"Yes, I am prepared to pay immediately."
"My good and dear Sir, pray don't be hard with an old man; be generous
and just; pay me at least forty copeks a head."
"Most estimable man!" exclaimed Tchichikoff, "I would not only have
paid you forty copeks, but even would have been glad to pay you five
hundred roubles for each run-away vagabond. It would have been a
gratification to me to offer you such a sum, because I see it plainly
now, that you, my worthy and excellent old Sir, are suffering from the
effects of your own misplaced benevolence."
"By Heavens, it is so! By Heavens, you spoke the truth!" exclaimed
Pluschkin, bending down his head and shaking it sorrowfully. "All from
benevolence!"
"You will agree with me, my excellent old man, that I at once knew how
to appreciate your character. And why should I, therefore, not give you
five hundred roubles for each of these serfs? but, the fact is, I am
not possessed of a large fortune; however, to be agreeable to you, I
am ready to make an addition of five copeks, so that, in this manner,
every serf will cost me the round sum of thirty silver copeks."
"Make another effort, for the power lays in your hands; give me but two
copeks more above the thirty."
"So I will, if you wish it, I'll give you two copeks more. How many
have you of those run-away rascals? You told me, I believe, seventy in
all?"
"There are a few more. In all, they number seventy-eight."
"Seventy-eight! Let me see, seventy-eight and thirty-two copeks a head,
that makes--" Hereupon our hero only took one moment for consideration,
and then continued deliberately: "That makes a total of twenty-four
roubles ninety-six copeks." He was a clever arithmetician.
After this clever calculation, he made Pluschkin write out a receipt
in form, and paid him the receipt in full upon the table, which the
other took up in both hands, and carried towards his desk, with as much
anxious precaution as if he was carrying some precious liquid, fearing
every moment lest he might spill some of it.
When he had arrived before his desk, he once more covered his money
with an ardent look, and then he laid it as carefully into one of his
secret drawers, where, no doubt, it was destined to lie buried until
Father Carp and Father Policarp, two worthy popes of his village, would
come and have to bury the wretched man himself, to the indescribable
joy of his daughter and son-in-law, and perhaps, also, to to the
great satisfaction of the always hungry Captain, who had succeeded in
establishing a relationship with the old miser.
After having hidden his treasure, Pluschkin returned to his arm-chair
and sat down; it seemed that he now was completely at a loss of a
subject for conversation.
"Do you already intend to leave me?" said he, as he happened to
perceive a slight movement which Tchichikoff made, and which was only
for the purpose of taking his pocket-handkerchief from his pocket.
This question reminded our hero that really there was no reason or
inducement for him to stay any longer with the old miser.
"Yes, it is high time for me to depart," said he, whilst taking up his
hat.
"Won't you really stay and take a cup of tea?"
"No, thank you; I think we had better leave it till the next time I
have the pleasure of seeing you."
"Why, I have given orders for the tea-urn to be heated. For my own
part, I must confess, I am not at all partial to tea-drinking, like
the rest of our countrymen; the beverage is very dear, and besides,
sugar has risen to a most unmerciful price. Froschka! I don't want the
samovar; take the cake back again to Mavra, mind you understand me
rightly; tell her to put it on the same shelf where she took it from;
but no, stop--leave it on the table; I think I shall take it back again
myself."
"Farewell, then, my dear Sir, the Almighty bless and keep you. As for
the letter to the President, do not forget to give it him immediately
on your return to Smolensk, as well as my kindest regards. Yes, let my
dear old friend read it; I know he will be pleased to hear from me. How
should he not recollect me? we used to live together, like two wheels
of the same carriage."
After this, that ancient apparition, the worn-out old miser, led his
guest the same road back on which he had entered his house, and saw
him into the court-yard, and safe into his carriage, but as soon
as the britchka had passed the gates, he ordered them to be closed
immediately; he then made a turn of inspection around his extensive
premises, with the view of convincing himself that the watchmen were
all on their guard, for he had posted sentinels at every available
corner; these poor fellows kept thumping with a large wooden spoon
against the bottom of small empty casks, instead of upon iron plates.
Being satisfied that every one was doing his duty, he entered the
kitchen, under the pretence that he came there to convince himself
that the food of his servants was good and eatable, and thus tasting
of everything, he stuffed himself with cabbage and porridge to his
heart's content; he then scolded them all, down to the scullery-maid,
reproached them with bad conduct, and, after having done this, he
quietly returned to his own room.
When he found himself alone, he began to think how he could manage to
mark his sense of gratitude to his amiable guest for an act of such
unheard-of generosity.
"I think I shall present him," thought he to himself, "with my watch.
It is a good one, a silver lever one, not one of those common Geneva or
pinchbeck watches. I remember it is rather a little out of repair; but
what does that matter? he can get it repaired himself. He seems a young
man yet, and of course he wants a watch--it will help to please his
sweetheart.
"But no," added he, after musing for a while, "I think I shall leave
him the watch as a legacy after I am dead; then he will be sure to
remember me."