Thinking about everything that had happened, Chichikov rode in his carriage along the road. A collision with another carriage shook him somewhat - in it sat a lovely young girl with an elderly woman accompanying her. After they parted, Chichikov thought for a long time about the stranger he met. At last the village of Sobakevich appeared. The traveler's thoughts turned to their constant subject.

The village was quite large, it was surrounded by two forests: pine and birch. In the middle one could see the master's house: wooden, with a mezzanine, a red roof and gray, one might even say wild, walls. It was evident that during its construction the taste of the architect was constantly struggling with the taste of the owner. The architect wanted beauty and symmetry, and the owner wanted convenience. On one side, the windows were boarded up, and instead of them, one window was checked, apparently needed for a closet. The pediment did not fall in the middle of the house, since the owner ordered to remove one column, of which there were not four, but three. In everything one could feel the efforts of the owner about the strength of his buildings. Very strong logs were used for stables, sheds and kitchens, peasant huts were also cut down firmly, firmly and very carefully. Even the well was lined with very strong oak. Driving up to the porch, Chichikov noticed faces looking out the window. The footman went out to meet him.

When looking at Sobakevich, it immediately suggested: a bear! perfect bear! And indeed, his appearance was similar to that of a bear. A big, strong man, he always stepped at random, because of which he constantly stepped on someone's feet. Even his tailcoat was bear-colored. To top it off, the owner's name was Mikhail Semenovich. He almost did not turn his neck, he held his head down rather than up, and rarely looked at his interlocutor, and if he managed to do this, then his eyes fell on the corner of the stove or at the door. Since Sobakevich himself was a healthy and strong man, he wanted to be surrounded by the same strong objects. His furniture was heavy and pot-bellied, and portraits of strong, healthy men hung on the walls. Even the thrush in the cage looked very much like Sobakevich. In a word, it seemed that every object in the house said: "And I also look like Sobakevich."

Before dinner, Chichikov tried to strike up a conversation by talking flatteringly about the local officials. Sobakevich answered that "these are all swindlers. The whole city is like that: a swindler sits on a swindler and drives a swindler." By chance, Chichikov learns about Sobakevich's neighbor - a certain Plyushkin, who has eight hundred peasants who are dying like flies.

After a hearty and plentiful dinner, Sobakevich and Chichikov rest. Chichikov decides to state his request for the purchase of dead souls. Sobakevich is not surprised at anything and attentively listens to his guest, who began the conversation from afar, gradually leading to the subject of the conversation. Sobakevich understands that Chichikov needs dead souls for something, so bargaining begins with a fabulous price - one hundred rubles apiece. Mikhailo Semenovich talks about the virtues of the dead peasants as if the peasants were alive. Chichikov is at a loss: what kind of conversation can there be about the merits of dead peasants? In the end, they agreed on two rubles and a half for one soul. Sobakevich receives a deposit, he and Chichikov agree to meet in the city to make a deal, and Pavel Ivanovich leaves. Having reached the end of the village, Chichikov called a peasant and asked how to get to Plyushkin, who feeds people badly (it was impossible to ask otherwise, because the peasant did not know the name of the neighboring master). "Ah, patched, patched!" cried the peasant, and pointed the way.

To the question What is alarming in the description of Sobakevich's farm? Gogol "Dead Souls" 5 chapter. If possible with examples. given by the author Sedge the best answer is to carry out his plans, Chichikov pays visits to landowners whose estates are located in the vicinity of the provincial city. So he gets to Sobakevich. Everything in the estate of Sobakevich was done firmly and to the glory. The thick oak buildings seemed to have been built to last. The huts of the peasants were just as strong and solid. It can be seen that the peasants lived well. The owner's house was also built solidly and comfortably. Instead of four columns, there were only three, although this did not correspond to the architecture, but it was convenient for the owner. The cart rolled up to the porch - a guest came out of it. Sobakevich received him cordially and led him into the house. Sobakevich looked like a medium-sized bear. His face was as red as a red-hot nickel. The gait was also completely bearish. His name was even Mikhail Semenovich. The decoration of Sobakevich's rooms is also interesting. He has all the furniture similar to the owner. Everything is done so firmly and rudely that every table or chair seems to want to say: "And I, too, Sobakevich." Portraits of mighty commanders hang on the walls. Among them, a portrait of Bagration was lost, which looks with a pitiful and humble look. There is not a single book in the whole house. Sobakevich knows a lot about food. He has: there is a ram - give the whole ram, there is a goose - give the whole goose. Sobakevich's main occupation in life is food. He is a moral freak, a man without a soul. "It seemed that he either had no soul at all, or he had one, but not where it should be." Sobakevich has a sober mind when it comes to profit. With him, everything is a commodity, an object of purchase and sale. He immediately understands that Chichikov needs dead souls, and he breaks the price for them as if they were alive. Sobakevich even in conversation begins to confuse the living and the dead. He speaks of the dead as if they were alive, he begins to praise everyone as a good worker, not noticing that he is talking about dead people. The Sobakeviches were convinced serf-owners, enemies of enlightenment, a firm support of the autocracy in Russia, the main force on which the autocratic-serf regime in Russia rested. In the image of Sobakevich, Gogol shows with great force the deadening influence on the soul of a person of a passion for gain, for accumulation. In Sobakevich, everything is focused on accumulation, the saturation of his own stomach, and the strengthening of his own well-being. The poem "Dead Souls" is not named so by chance. Belinsky writes that the "dead souls" are the landlords and officials themselves. N.V. Gogol wanted to show how terrible it is when "dead souls" have exorbitant power and own hundreds of peasant souls, many of whom were more talented and smarter than their masters.

Chapter first

The action takes place in the provincial town of NN, where collegiate adviser Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov arrives. He is a middle-aged man of medium build and good looks. His servants, the lackey Petrushka and the coachman Selifan, arrived with him. The time of the events described is a few years after the war of 1812.

Chichikov checks into a hotel, dine in a tavern and asks the servant there about the surrounding landowners. He is also interested in whether there was any epidemic in these places, from which many people died. Chichikov's goal is to buy dead peasant souls.

The next day, the official pays visits to important people. At a party at the governor's, he meets the landowners Manilov and Sobakevich, who invite Chichikov to their estates. And at the police chief, Pavel Ivanovich makes acquaintance with another landowner - Nozdryov. The city society is delighted with Chichikov.

Chapter Two

Pavel Ivanovich, accompanied by Petrushka and Selifan, leaves the city to visit Manilov and Sobakevich. The first on his way is the village of Manilovka, the owner of which meets Chichikov with great joy.

Gogol characterizes Manilov as a spineless person - "neither this nor that", and in communication also "sweet". Manilov constantly talks about his unrealizable and unnecessary ideas. He is a bad owner, as is his wife. Nobody cares about the house or the fields here. Servants without a master's eye steal, mess around and get drunk.

After dinner, Chichikov explains to Manilov the reason for his arrival: he wants to buy the peasants, who are still listed as alive, but have already died. The owner does not understand why the guest needs it. But, wanting to do something pleasant, he agrees. To register the bill of sale, they agree to meet in the city. After Chichikov's departure, Manilov remained perplexed for a long time.

Chapter Three

On the way to Sobakevich, the hero gets caught in a downpour and loses his way. The seeker of dead souls is forced to spend the night in the first place that comes across, which turns out to be the estate of the landowner Korobochka.

In the morning, Chichikov inspects the estate and notes the thoroughness and thriftiness in everything. The elderly widow Nastasya Petrovna Korobochka was a slow-witted woman and completely impossible to talk to. Only after long explanations Chichikov manages to buy dead souls from the landowner. True, I had to promise to buy fat and feathers from Korobochka. Nastasya Petrovna doubts for a long time: did she sell too cheap in this deal?

Chapter Four

Chichikov stops at a tavern, where he meets Nozdryov, and then accepts the landowner's invitation to visit his village. Nozdryov, according to Gogol, was a historical man, because he constantly fell into various stories. He is an incorrigible talker, a liar, a gossip, a reveler, a scorcher and a braggart. Nozdrev loves cards and other games of chance. He constantly cheats at the table and is often beaten for it, but remains on friendly terms with everyone.

Chichikov makes his request for dead souls to Nozdryov. The owner does not want to sell the peasants, but offers to play cards for them or exchange them. Having quarreled with Nozdryov, Pavel Ivanovich goes to bed. But in the morning the owner again offers to play for dead souls, now - in checkers. During the game, Nozdryov openly cheats. A scandal breaks out, turning into a fight. Suddenly, the police captain appears with a message about a lawsuit against Nozdryov. His visit saves Chichikov from beatings. Without a moment's delay, Pavel Ivanovich rushes out and orders the coachman to drive at full speed.

Chapter Five

On the way, Chichikov's britzka runs into a carriage in which an elderly lady and a lovely girl are riding. All the way to the estate of Sobakevich, Pavel Ivanovich indulges in dreams of a beautiful stranger.

Sobakevich is a thorough host. Himself large and clumsy as a bear, he surrounds himself with the same strong and durable things. Pavel Ivanovich sets out his case, Sobakevich is desperately bargaining, but in the end the deal is nevertheless concluded. The parties agree to arrange everything in the city. In a conversation with Sobakevich, Chichikov learns about the landowner Plyushkin, whose serfs are "dying like flies." Pavel Ivanovich goes with his proposal to the new owner.

Chapter six

The village of Plyushkin evokes a depressing impression: desolation and devastation reign everywhere. In the courtyard of a completely decrepit manor house, Chichikov meets a strange creature of an incomprehensible gender. Pavel Ivanovich at first takes him for a housekeeper, but it turns out that this is the owner of the house - Plyushkin. Chichikov is shocked by the beggarly appearance of the old man. Having a huge estate, colossal supplies of provisions and various goods, Plyushkin daily walks around the village and collects various little things: ropes, feathers, etc. He puts all this in his room.

Chichikov easily bargained for 120 dead souls and 70 more fugitives from the miser. Having refused the treat, which has long turned into something petrified, the happy Pavel Ivanovich returns to the hotel.

Chapter Seven

The next day, as agreed, the hero meets with Sobakevich and Manilov to finalize the deal. They concluded a bill of sale for the peasants of Plyushkin. The deal began to celebrate, to say a lot of toasts. They did not forget to drink to the future wife of the newly-minted landowner. Chichikov shared his plans to take the purchased peasants to the Kherson province.

Chapter Eight

The rumor about Chichikov's purchases quickly spreads around the city, everyone calls the hero a "millionaire". There is a big stir among the ladies. Pavel Ivanovich even receives an anonymous love letter, as well as an invitation to the governor to the ball.

Chichikov is in a great mood. At the ball, he is surrounded by ladies, among whom Pavel Ivanovich tries to guess the one that sent the letter. It turns out that the young lady who captivated his imagination is the governor's daughter. Chichikov is shocked by an unexpected meeting and neglects other ladies, which causes their displeasure. To complete the trouble, Nozdryov appears and tells how Chichikov traded dead souls with him. And although no one believes Nozdryov for a long time, Pavel Ivanovich begins to worry, he leaves the ball in disarray. At this time, the landowner Korobochka arrives in the city. She is going to find out: how much the dead souls are now.

Chapter Nine

In the morning, rumors are spreading around the city that Chichikov, with the help of Nozdryov, wants to kidnap the governor's daughter. Gossip reaches the governor's wife, and she inflicts a strict interrogation on her daughter. Chichikov was ordered not to be allowed on the threshold. Society is puzzled by the question: so who is Pavel Ivanovich? In order to understand and discuss everything, the city elite gathers at the police chief.

Chapter Ten

Here, officials discuss Chichikov and the oddities associated with him for a long time. The postmaster talks about Captain Kopeikin, suggesting that this is Pavel Ivanovich.

During the War of 1812, Captain Kopeikin lost an arm and a leg. He appealed to St. Petersburg with a request for a pension. While the officials were dragging out the case, Kopeikin ran out of money. In desperation, the captain decided to take over the ministry, but he was caught and expelled from the city. Two months later, a band of robbers led by Kopeikin began to hunt in the forests.

After listening to the story, the society protested: Kopeikin was disabled, while Chichikov's arms and legs were intact. It was decided to send for Nozdryov and question him thoroughly. Nozdryov immediately declares Chichikov a counterfeiter, a kidnapper of the governor's daughter and a spy. These rumors upset the prosecutor so much that he dies.

Now Pavel Ivanovich is not received by the governor. The situation is clarified by Nozdrev, who appeared at Chichikov's hotel. Upon learning that the official is accused of forging banknotes, the failed kidnapping of the governor's daughter, and the death of the prosecutor, Chichikov decides to urgently flee the city.

Chapter Eleven

We learn the story of the main character. Chichikov from poor nobles, his mother died early, and his father was often sick. He took little Pavlush to study in the city. The boy did not shine with his abilities, but he graduated from college with an award for diligent behavior. From an early age, he showed a talent for finding ways to make money.

As soon as Chichikov graduated from college, his father died, leaving Pavel a penny inheritance. The young man zealously took up the service, but without patronage he could only get a seedy place. However, Chichikov came up with a cunning plan and wooed the boss's ugly daughter. As soon as he was appointed to a good place, the groom immediately pretended that he had not promised anything.

Having changed several positions, where he slowly took bribes, Pavel Ivanovich got a job at customs. There he was known as a storm of smugglers. When the authorities, convinced of the loyalty of their employee, gave Chichikov all powers, he conspired with the smugglers. After several scams, Pavel Ivanovich became incredibly rich. However, while drinking, he quarreled with one of his accomplices, who brought him to justice. Chichikov nevertheless managed to escape prison, but almost nothing remained of his huge fortune.

Pavel Ivanovich again began to earn money from lower positions. One day, Chichikov learned that dead peasants, who, according to the revision tale, were still alive, could be placed in the board of trustees. So he had the idea to acquire dead souls.

And now Chichikov's britzka, harnessed by a trio of horses, rushes on.

Volume two

As you know, Gogol burned the second volume of his work. Only a few drafts survived, according to which it was possible to restore some of the chapters.

Chapter first

The author describes the magnificent landscape that opens from the balcony of the landowner Andrei Ivanovich Tentetnikov, a very lazy person. He rubs his eyes for two hours in the morning, sits at tea for the same amount of time and writes a global work on the structure of Russia. But which year did not advance even a page in this essay.

And the young man started quite worthy, showed great promise. But when his teacher died, further education caused disappointment in Tentetnikov. Entering the service under patronage, Andrei Ivanovich at first wanted to benefit the state, but soon became disillusioned with the service. He retired and returned to his estate.

One day, Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov appears in his lonely house and lingers there for some time. Having learned about the quarrel between the owner and the neighbor-general, whose daughter was predicted to be Tentetnikov's bride, Chichikov volunteers to settle the matter and goes to the military.

Chapter Two

Pavel Ivanovich gets acquainted with the general and his daughter, manages to reconcile the old man with Tentetnikov and composes a fable about his uncle in order to buy dead souls from the general ...

This is where the text of the chapter ends.

Chapter Three

Chichikov goes to Colonel Koshkarev, but ends up in a completely different estate - to Pyotr Petrovich Petukh. The hospitable host turns out to be a lover of food. Just in time for dinner, his neighbor Platon Mikhailovich Platonov arrives - a hand-written handsome man, languishing in the village from boredom. Chichikov has the idea to take Plato on his wanderings. He agrees, but first requires a short visit to his estate.

The next day, the heroes leave for the village, which belongs to Platonov's son-in-law Konstantin Konstanzhoglo. This is a surprisingly economic man, whose estate is flourishing. Chichikov is so impressed that he asks Constanjoglo to teach him the mind and tell him how to successfully conduct business. The owner of the estate advises Chichikov to go to Koshkarev, and then return and stay with him for a couple of days.

Koshkarev, not without reason, is considered crazy. His village is a ubiquitous construction site. The new state-of-the-art houses are adorned with signs like "Depot for agricultural implements." Every business with Koshkarev goes through the execution of many papers. Even oats cannot be given to horses without a whole bunch of bureaucratic permits.

Realizing that it will not be possible to buy dead souls here because of the terrible mess and bureaucracy, Chichikov returns to Constanjoglo in annoyance. At dinner, the owner shared his experience of housekeeping and tells how a profitable business can be started from any waste. The conversation also turns to the richest farmer Murazov, who started from scratch, and now has a million dollar fortune. Chichikov goes to bed with a firm determination to buy an estate and set up a household like Constanjoglo's. He hopes to acquire the neighboring Khlobuev estate.

Chapter Four

Chichikov, Platonov and Konstanzhoglo go to Khlobuev to negotiate the sale of the estate. The village and the master's house are in a severe state of disrepair. We agreed for 35 thousand rubles. Then we went to Platonov, where Chichikov met his brother Vasily. It turns out that he is in trouble - the neighbor Lenitsin captured the wasteland. Pavel Ivanovich volunteers to help in this problem and talk with the offender. At Lenitsin's, Chichikov starts his signature conversation about buying dead souls. The owner doubts, but then his wife appears with a one-year-old son. Pavel Ivanovich begins to play with the child, and he "marks" Chichikov's new tailcoat. To hush up the trouble, Lenitsin agrees to a deal.

The proposed history, as will become clear from what follows, took place somewhat shortly after the "glorious expulsion of the French." Collegiate councilor Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov arrives in the provincial town of NN (he is not old and not too young, not fat and not thin, rather pleasant and somewhat rounded in appearance) and settles in a hotel. He makes a lot of questions to the tavern servant - both regarding the owner and the income of the tavern, and revealing its solidity: about city officials, the most significant landowners, asks about the state of the region and whether there were "what diseases in their province, epidemic fevers" and other similar adversity.

Having gone on visits, the visitor discovers extraordinary activity (visiting everyone, from the governor to the inspector of the medical board) and courtesy, for he knows how to say something pleasant to everyone. About himself, he speaks somehow vaguely (that he “experienced a lot in his lifetime, endured in the service for the truth, had many enemies who even attempted on his life,” and now he is looking for a place to live). At the governor's house party, he manages to gain general favor and, among other things, make acquaintance with the landowners Manilov and Sobakevich. In the following days, he dined with the chief of police (where he met the landowner Nozdryov), visited the chairman of the chamber and the vice-governor, the farmer and the prosecutor, and went to the Manilov estate (which, however, was preceded by a fair author's digression, where, justified by love for detail, the author certifies in detail Petrushka, the visitor's servant: his passion for "the process of reading itself" and the ability to carry with him a special smell, "responding somewhat to residential peace").

Having traveled, against the promised, not fifteen, but all thirty miles, Chichikov finds himself in Manilovka, in the arms of an affectionate owner. Manilov's house, standing on a jig, surrounded by several English-style flower beds and a gazebo with the inscription "Temple of Solitary Reflection", could characterize the owner, who was "neither this nor that", not weighed down by any passions, only unnecessarily cloying. After Manilov's confessions that Chichikov's visit is "a May day, a name day of the heart", and a dinner in the company of the hostess and two sons, Themistoclus and Alkid, Chichikov discovers the reason for his arrival: he would like to acquire peasants who have died, but have not yet been declared as such in the revision help, having issued everything legally, as if on the living (“the law - I am dumb before the law”). The first fright and bewilderment are replaced by the perfect disposition of the kind host, and, having made a deal, Chichikov departs for Sobakevich, and Manilov indulges in dreams of Chichikov’s life in the neighborhood across the river, of the construction of a bridge, of a house with such a belvedere that Moscow is visible from there, and of their friendship, having learned about which the sovereign would grant them generals. Chichikov's coachman Selifan, much favored by Manilov's yard people, in conversations with his horses misses the right turn and, at the sound of a downpour, knocks the master over into the mud. In the dark, they find lodging for the night at Nastasya Petrovna Korobochka, a somewhat timid landowner, with whom Chichikov also begins to trade dead souls in the morning. Explaining that he himself would now pay taxes for them, cursing the old woman’s stupidity, promising to buy both hemp and lard, but another time, Chichikov buys souls from her for fifteen rubles, receives a detailed list of them (in which Peter Savelyev is especially struck. Disrespect -Trough) and, having eaten an unleavened egg pie, pancakes, pies and other things, departs, leaving the hostess in great concern as to whether she had sold too cheap.

Having driven out onto the main road to the tavern, Chichikov stops for a bite to eat, which the author provides with a lengthy discourse on the properties of the appetite of middle-class gentlemen. Here Nozdryov meets him, returning from the fair in the britzka of his son-in-law Mizhuev, for he lost everything with his horses and even the watch chain. Describing the charms of the fair, the drinking qualities of dragoon officers, a certain Kuvshinnikov, a great lover of "use about strawberries" and, finally, presenting a puppy, "a real muzzle", Nozdryov takes Chichikov (thinking to get hold of here too) to himself, taking away his reluctant son-in-law. Having described Nozdryov, “in some respects a historical person” (for wherever he was, there was history), his possessions, the unpretentiousness of dinner with an abundance, however, drinks of dubious quality, the author sends his son-in-law to his wife (Nozdryov admonishes him with abuse and a word “fetyuk”), and Chichikova is forced to turn to her subject; but he can neither beg nor buy souls: Nozdryov offers to exchange them, take them in addition to the stallion or make a bet in a card game, finally scolds, quarrels, and they part for the night. Persuasion resumes in the morning, and, having agreed to play checkers, Chichikov notices that Nozdryov is shamelessly cheating. Chichikov, whom the owner and the servants are already trying to beat, manages to escape due to the appearance of the police captain, who announces that Nozdryov is on trial. On the road, Chichikov's carriage collides with a certain carriage, and while the onlookers who come running are breeding tangled horses, Chichikov admires the sixteen-year-old young lady, indulges in reasoning about her and dreams of family life. A visit to Sobakevich in his strong, like himself, estate is accompanied by a thorough dinner, a discussion of city officials, who, according to the owner, are all swindlers (one prosecutor is a decent person, “and even that one, to tell the truth, is a pig”), and is crowned with an interesting guest deal. Not at all frightened by the strangeness of the object, Sobakevich bargains, characterizes the favorable qualities of each serf, provides Chichikov with a detailed list and forces him to give a deposit.

Chichikov's path to the neighboring landowner Plyushkin, mentioned by Sobakevich, is interrupted by a conversation with a peasant who gave Plyushkin an apt, but not too printed nickname, and by the author's lyrical reflection on his former love for unfamiliar places and the indifference that has now appeared. Plyushkin, this "hole in humanity", Chichikov at first takes for a housekeeper or a beggar, whose place is on the porch. His most important feature is his amazing stinginess, and he even carries the old sole of his boot into a heap heaped in the master's chambers. Having shown the profitability of his proposal (namely, that he would take over the taxes for the dead and runaway peasants), Chichikov fully succeeds in his enterprise and, having refused tea with cracker, provided with a letter to the chairman of the chamber, departs in the most cheerful mood.

While Chichikov is sleeping in the hotel, the author reflects with sadness on the meanness of the objects he paints. Meanwhile, the satisfied Chichikov, waking up, composes merchant's fortresses, studies the lists of acquired peasants, reflects on their alleged fate, and finally goes to the civil chamber in order to conclude the case as soon as possible. Manilov, met at the gates of the hotel, accompanies him. Then follows a description of the official place, Chichikov's first ordeals and a bribe to a certain jug snout, until he enters the chairman's apartment, where, by the way, he also finds Sobakevich. The chairman agrees to be Plyushkin's attorney, and at the same time speeds up other transactions. The acquisition of Chichikov is being discussed, with land or for withdrawal he bought peasants and in what places. Having found out that they were sent to the Kherson province, having discussed the properties of the sold peasants (here the chairman remembered that the coachman Mikheev seemed to have died, but Sobakevich assured that he was still alive and “became healthier than before”), they finish with champagne, they go to the chief of police, “father and a philanthropist in the city” (whose habits are immediately outlined), where they drink to the health of the new Kherson landowner, become completely excited, force Chichikov to stay and attempt to marry him.

Chichikov's purchases make a splash in the city, a rumor is circulating that he is a millionaire. Ladies are crazy about him. Several times trying to describe the ladies, the author becomes shy and retreats. On the eve of the governor's ball, Chichikov even receives a love letter, though unsigned. Having used, as usual, a lot of time on the toilet and being satisfied with the result, Chichikov goes to the ball, where he passes from one embrace to another. The ladies, among whom he is trying to find the sender of the letter, even quarrel, challenging his attention. But when the governor's wife approaches him, he forgets everything, for she is accompanied by her daughter ("Institute, just released"), a sixteen-year-old blonde, whose carriage he encountered on the road. He loses the favor of the ladies, because he starts a conversation with a fascinating blonde, scandalously neglecting the rest. To top off the trouble, Nozdryov appears and loudly asks if Chichikov has bought a lot of the dead. And although Nozdryov is obviously drunk and the embarrassed society is gradually distracted, Chichikov is not given a whist or the subsequent dinner, and he leaves upset.

At this time, a tarantass with the landowner Korobochka enters the city, whose growing anxiety forced her to come, in order to still find out what the price of dead souls is. The next morning, this news becomes the property of a certain pleasant lady, and she hurries to tell it to another, pleasant in all respects, the story is overgrown with amazing details (Chichikov, armed to the teeth, bursts into Korobochka in the dead of midnight, demands souls that have died, inspires terrible fear - “ the whole village has come running, the children are crying, everyone is screaming. Her friend concludes from the fact that the dead souls are only a cover, and Chichikov wants to take away the governor's daughter. After discussing the details of this enterprise, Nozdryov's undoubted participation in it and the qualities of the governor's daughter, both ladies dedicate the prosecutor to everything and set off to rebel the city.

In a short time, the city seethes, to which is added the news of the appointment of a new governor-general, as well as information about the papers received: about the fake banknote maker who showed up in the province, and about the robber who fled from legal persecution. Trying to understand who Chichikov is, they recall that he was certified very vaguely and even spoke about those who attempted on his life. The postmaster’s statement that Chichikov, in his opinion, is Captain Kopeikin, who took up arms against the injustice of the world and became a robber, is rejected, since it follows from the entertaining postmaster’s story that the captain is missing an arm and leg, and Chichikov is whole. An assumption arises whether Chichikov is Napoleon in disguise, and many begin to find a certain similarity, especially in profile. Inquiries from Korobochka, Manilov and Sobakevich do not produce results, and Nozdryov only multiplies the confusion, announcing that Chichikov is definitely a spy, a fake banknote maker and had an undoubted intention to take away the governor's daughter, in which Nozdryov undertook to help him (each of the versions was accompanied by detailed details up to the name priest who took up the wedding). All these rumors have a tremendous effect on the prosecutor, he has a stroke, and he dies.

Chichikov himself, sitting in a hotel with a slight cold, is surprised that none of the officials visits him. Finally, having gone on visits, he discovers that they do not receive him at the governor's, and in other places they fearfully shun him. Nozdryov, visiting him at the hotel, among the general noise he made, partly clarifies the situation, announcing that he agrees to facilitate the kidnapping of the governor's daughter. The next day, Chichikov hurriedly leaves, but is stopped by a funeral procession and forced to contemplate the whole world of bureaucracy flowing behind the coffin of the prosecutor Brichka leaves the city, and the open spaces on both sides of it evoke sad and encouraging thoughts about Russia, the road, and then only sad about their chosen hero. Concluding that it is time for the virtuous hero to give rest, but, on the contrary, to hide the scoundrel, the author sets out the life story of Pavel Ivanovich, his childhood, training in classes where he already showed a practical mind, his relationship with his comrades and teacher, his service later in the state chamber, some kind of commission for the construction of a government building, where for the first time he gave vent to some of his weaknesses, his subsequent departure to other, not so profitable places, transfer to the customs service, where, showing honesty and incorruptibility almost unnatural, he made a lot of money in collusion with smugglers, went bankrupt, but dodged the criminal court, although he was forced to resign. He became an attorney and, during the troubles about the pledge of the peasants, put together a plan in his head, began to go around the expanses of Russia, so that, having bought dead souls and pledged them to the treasury as alive, he would receive money, perhaps buy a village and provide for future offspring.

Having again complained about the properties of his hero’s nature and partly justified him, having found him the name of “owner, acquirer”, the author is distracted by the urged running of horses, the similarity of the flying troika with rushing Russia and the ringing of the bell completes the first volume.

Volume two

It opens with a description of the nature that makes up the estate of Andrei Ivanovich Tentetnikov, whom the author calls "the smoker of the sky." The story of the stupidity of his pastime is followed by the story of a life inspired by hopes at the very beginning, overshadowed by the pettiness of service and troubles later; he retires, intending to improve the estate, reads books, takes care of the peasant, but without experience, sometimes just human, this does not give the expected results, the peasant is idle, Tentetnikov gives up. He breaks off acquaintances with his neighbors, offended by the treatment of General Betrishchev, stops visiting him, although he cannot forget his daughter Ulinka. In a word, without someone who would tell him an invigorating “forward!”, He completely turns sour.

Chichikov comes to him, apologizing for a breakdown in the carriage, curiosity and a desire to pay respect. Having won the favor of the owner with his amazing ability to adapt to anyone, Chichikov, having lived with him for a while, goes to the general, to whom he spins a story about an absurd uncle and, as usual, begs for the dead. On the laughing general, the poem fails, and we find Chichikov heading towards Colonel Koshkarev. Against expectation, he gets to Pyotr Petrovich Rooster, whom he finds at first completely naked, keen on hunting for sturgeon. At the Rooster, having nothing to get hold of, for the estate is mortgaged, he only overeats terribly, gets acquainted with the bored landowner Platonov and, having incited him to travel together in Russia, goes to Konstantin Fedorovich Kostanzhoglo, married to Platonov's sister. He talks about the ways of managing, by which he increased the income from the estate dozens of times, and Chichikov is terribly inspired.

Very promptly, he visits Colonel Koshkarev, who has divided his village into committees, expeditions and departments and has arranged a perfect paper production in the mortgaged estate, as it turns out. Returning, he listens to the curses of the bilious Costanjoglo to factories and manufactories that corrupt the peasant, to the absurd desire of the peasant to enlighten, and to his neighbor Khlobuev, who has run a hefty estate and is now lowering it for nothing. Having experienced tenderness and even a craving for honest work, after listening to the story of the farmer Murazov, who made forty millions in an impeccable way, Chichikov the next day, accompanied by Kostanzhoglo and Platonov, goes to Khlobuev, observes the unrest and debauchery of his household in the neighborhood of a governess for children, dressed in fashion wife and other traces of ridiculous luxury. Having borrowed money from Kostanjoglo and Platonov, he gives a deposit for the estate, intending to buy it, and goes to the Platonov estate, where he meets his brother Vasily, who effectively manages the economy. Then he suddenly appears at their neighbor Lenitsyn, obviously a rogue, wins his sympathy with his skillfully tickling a child and receives dead souls.

After many seizures in the manuscript, Chichikov is found already in the city at a fair, where he buys fabric of a lingonberry color so dear to him with a spark. He runs into Khlobuev, whom, apparently, he cheated, either depriving him, or almost depriving him of his inheritance by some kind of forgery. Khlobuev, who missed him, is taken away by Murazov, who convinces Khlobuev of the need to work and determines for him to raise funds for the church. Meanwhile, denunciations are being found against Chichikov both about forgery and about dead souls. The tailor brings a new coat. Suddenly, a gendarme appears, dragging smart Chichikov to the governor-general, "angry as anger itself." Here all his atrocities become apparent, and he, kissing the general's boot, plunges into the prison. In a dark closet, tearing his hair and coat tails, mourning the loss of a box of papers, Murazov finds Chichikov, awakens in him with simple virtuous words the desire to live honestly and goes to soften the governor general. At that time, officials who want to harm their wise superiors and receive a bribe from Chichikov deliver a box to him, kidnap an important witness and write many denunciations in order to completely confuse the matter. Unrest breaks out in the province itself, greatly worrying the governor-general. However, Murazov knows how to feel the sensitive strings of his soul and give him the right advice, which the Governor-General, having released Chichikov, is already going to use, as "the manuscript breaks off."

Our hero collapsed, however, in order. Although the britzka was racing at full speed, and the village of Nozdryov had long since vanished from view, hidden behind fields, slopes, and hillocks, he still looked back fearfully, as if expecting a chase to come at any moment. His breathing was difficult, and when he tried to put his hand to his heart, he felt that it was beating like a quail in a cage. “Ek what a bath he asked! look what you are!” Here Nozdryov was promised many difficult and strong desires; there were even bad words. What to do? Russian people, and even in the hearts. And besides, it was quite a no-brainer. “Whatever you say,” he said to himself, “if the police captain hadn’t arrived, I might not have been able to even look at the light of God! He would have disappeared like a blister on water, without any trace, without leaving descendants, without delivering to future children either a fortune or an honest name! Our hero took great care of his descendants.

"What a nasty bastard! Selifan thought to himself. - I have not yet seen such a gentleman. That is, he would spit for it! You better not let a man eat, but you must feed a horse, because the horse loves oats. This is his food: what, by example, is kosht for us, then for him oats, he is his food.

The horses, too, seemed to think unfavorably of Nozdryov: not only the bay and Assessor, but the dappled one himself was out of sorts. Although he always got worse oats in part, and Selifan poured him into the trough in no other way than by saying before: “Oh, you scoundrel!” - but, nevertheless, it was still oats, and not simple hay, he chewed it with pleasure and often thrust his long muzzle into the troughs of his comrades to taste what kind of food they had, especially when Selifan was not in the stable, but now only hay... not good; everyone was unhappy.

But soon all the dissatisfied were interrupted in the midst of their outpourings in a sudden and completely unexpected way. Everyone, not excluding the coachman himself, came to their senses and came to their senses only when a carriage with six horses galloped over them, and almost over their heads there was a cry from the ladies sitting in the carriage, the abuse and threats of a strange coachman: “Oh, you are such a swindler; because I shouted to you in a voice: turn right, crow! Are you drunk? Selifan felt his mistake, but since a Russian person does not like to confess to another that he is guilty, he immediately said, drawing himself up: “Why are you jumping like that? put your eyes in a tavern, or what? Following this, he began to push back the britzka in order to free himself from someone else's harness in this way, but it wasn’t there, everything was messed up. Chubary sniffed with curiosity at his new friends, who found themselves on both sides of him. Meanwhile, the ladies sitting in the carriage looked at all this with an expression of fear in their faces. One was an old woman, the other young, sixteen years old, with golden hair, very deftly and nicely smoothed on a small head. The pretty oval of her face was round like a fresh egg, and, like it, turned white with some kind of transparent whiteness, when fresh, just laid down, it is held against the light in the swarthy hands of the housekeeper testing it and passes through itself the rays of the shining sun; her thin ears also showed through, glowing with the warm light that penetrated them. At the same time, the fright in her open, stopped lips, tears in her eyes - all this was so sweet in her that our hero looked at her for several minutes, not paying any attention to the mess between the horses and the coachmen. “Sit back, or something, Nizhny Novgorod crow!” shouted another driver. Selifan pulled the reins back, the strange driver did the same, the horses backed up a little and then again collided, stepping over the lines. Under this circumstance, the chubar horse liked the new acquaintance so much that he did not want to get out of the rut into which he had fallen by unforeseen destinies, and, putting his muzzle on the neck of his new friend, it seemed he was whispering something in his ear, probably nonsense terrible, because the newcomer constantly shook his ears.

For such a commotion, however, the peasants from the village, which, fortunately, was not far away, had time to gather. Since such a spectacle is a real blessing for a peasant, just like newspapers or a club for a German, soon an abyss of them accumulated around the carriage, and only old women and little guys remained in the village. The lines were untied; a few pokes in the muzzle of the dappled horse made him back away; in a word, they were separated and divorced. But whether the annoyance felt by the visiting horses for separating them from their friends, or simply nonsense, only, no matter how much their coachman whipped, they did not move and stood rooted to the spot. The participation of men has increased to an incredible degree. Everyone vied with advice: “Go, Andryushka, lead the harness on the right side, and let Uncle Mitya sit astride the indigenous one! Sit down, Uncle Mityai! The lean and long uncle Mityai with a red beard mounted his root horse and became like a village bell tower, or, better, like a hook used to get water from wells. The coachman hit the horses, but that was not the case, Uncle Mityai did nothing. "Stop, stop! the men shouted. “Sit down, Uncle Mityai, on the harness, and let Uncle Minyay sit on the root!” Uncle Minyay, a broad-shouldered muzhik with a beard as black as coal and a belly resembling that gigantic samovar in which sbiten is brewed for the entire vegetative market, willingly sat down on a native, who almost crouched under him to the ground. “Now it will work! the men shouted. - Turn it on, turn it on! whip with a whip that one, that nightingale, that he squirms like a koramora! But, seeing that things were not going well and no incandescence helped, Uncle Mityai and Uncle Minyay both sat on the root, and put Andryushka on the harness. Finally, the coachman, having lost his patience, drove both Uncle Mityai and Uncle Minya, and did well, because such steam came from the horses, as if they had grabbed the station without taking a breath. He gave them a minute to rest, after which they went on their own. Throughout this trick, Chichikov looked very attentively at the young stranger. He tried several times to talk to her, but somehow he didn't have to. And meanwhile the ladies drove off, the pretty head with thin features and a thin waist disappeared, like something like a vision, and again there was left the road, the carriage, the trio of horses familiar to the reader, Selifan, Chichikov, the smoothness and emptiness of the surrounding fields. Everywhere, wherever in life, whether among its callous, rough-poor and untidy-staining low-lying ranks, or among the monotonously cold and boringly tidy classes of the upper classes, everywhere at least once on the way a person will meet a phenomenon that is not like all that what he had seen until then, which at least once aroused in him a feeling unlike those that he was destined to feel all his life. Everywhere, no matter what the sorrows from which our life is woven, brilliant joy will rush merrily, as sometimes a brilliant carriage with golden harness, picture horses and sparkling glass of glass will suddenly suddenly rush past some stalled poor village that has seen nothing but rural carts, and for a long time the peasants stand, yawning, with their mouths open, without putting on their hats, although the marvelous carriage has long since gone and disappeared from sight. So the blonde also suddenly appeared in a completely unexpected way in our story and disappeared in the same way. Get caught at that time instead of Chichikov by some twenty-year-old youth, whether he is a hussar, whether he is a student, or just just starting a career in life - and, God! whatever wakes up, stirs, speaks in him! For a long time he would have stood insensibly in one place, staring senselessly into the distance, forgetting the road, and all the reprimands ahead, and scolding for delay, forgetting himself, and the service, and the world, and everything that is in the world.

But our hero was already middle-aged and of a prudently chilled character. He, too, pondered and thought, but more positively, his thoughts were not so unaccountable and even partly very thorough. "Glorious grandmother! he said, opening his snuff-box and sniffing the snuff. - But after all, what, most importantly, is good in it? The good thing is that she has only now, apparently, been released from some boarding school or institute, that, as they say, there is still nothing womanish about her, that is, precisely that which they have the most unpleasant. She is now like a child, everything in her is simple, she will say what she pleases, laugh where she wants to laugh. Everything can be done from it, it can be a miracle, or it can turn out to be rubbish, and rubbish will come out! Now let only mothers and aunts take care of it now. In one year it will be filled with all sorts of women so much that the father himself will not recognize it. Where will both puffiness and stiffness come from, will begin to toss and turn according to uttered instructions, will begin to rack their brains and figure out with whom, and how, and how much to say, how to look at whom, every minute will be afraid not to say more than necessary, will get confused finally on her own, and will end up lying all her life, and it will turn out just the devil knows what! Here he was silent for some time and then added: “But it would be interesting to know whose it is? what, like her father? Is it a wealthy landowner of respectable character, or just a well-meaning person with capital acquired in the service? After all, if, let's say, this girl was given two hundred thousand dowry, a very, very tasty morsel could come out of her. This could be, so to speak, the happiness of a decent person. Two hundred thousand rubles began to be drawn so attractively in his head that he began to be internally annoyed with himself, why, in the course of the fuss about the carriages, he did not find out from the postilion or coachman who the passers-by were. Soon, however, the appearance of Sobakevich's village scattered his thoughts and forced them to turn to their permanent subject.

The village seemed to him quite large; two forests, birch and pine, like two wings, one darker, the other lighter, were on her right and left; in the middle one could see a wooden house with a mezzanine, a red roof and dark gray or, better, wild walls - a house like those we build for military settlements and German colonists. It was noticeable that during the construction of its architect, he constantly fought with the taste of the owner. The architect was a pedant and wanted symmetry, the owner - convenience and, apparently, as a result of this he boarded up all the corresponding windows on one side and turned in their place one small one, probably needed for a dark closet. The pediment also did not fit in the middle of the house, no matter how hard the architect struggled, because the owner ordered one column to be thrown out from the side, and therefore there were not four columns, as it was appointed, but only three. The yard was surrounded by a strong and unreasonably thick wooden lattice. The landowner seemed to be fussing a lot about strength. For the stables, sheds and kitchens, full-weight and thick logs were used, determined to stand for centuries. The village huts of the peasants were also built marvelously: there were no brick walls, carved patterns and other tricks, but everything was fitted tightly and properly. Even the well was lined with such strong oak, which is used only for mills and ships. In a word, everything he looked at was stubbornly, without shaking, in some kind of strong and clumsy order. Approaching the porch, he noticed two faces looking out of the window almost at the same time: a female, in a cap, narrow, long, like a cucumber, and a male, round, wide, like Moldavian pumpkins, called gourds, from which balalaikas are made in Russia, two-stringed light balalaikas, the beauty and fun of a quick-witted twenty-year-old guy, flashing and dandy, and winking and whistling at the white-breasted and white-necked girls who had gathered to listen to his quiet-stringed jingling. Looking out, both faces hid at the same moment. A footman in a gray jacket with a blue stand-up collar came out onto the porch and led Chichikov into the hallway, where the master himself had already gone out. Seeing the guest, he said curtly: “Please!” - and led him to the inner dwellings.

Sobakevich (ill. P. Boklevsky)

When Chichikov glanced askance at Sobakevich, this time he seemed to him very much like a medium-sized bear. To complete the resemblance, his tailcoat was completely bear-colored, the sleeves were long, the pantaloons were long, he stepped with his feet and at random and stepped incessantly on other people's legs. The complexion was red-hot, hot, which happens on a copper penny. It is known that there are many such persons in the world, over the decoration of which nature did not think long, did not use any small tools, such as files, gimlets and other things, but simply chopped from the whole shoulder: she grabbed with an ax once - her nose came out, she had enough in another - her lips came out, she poked her eyes with a large drill and, without scraping, let them into the light, saying: “He lives!” Sobakevich had the same strong and wonderfully stitched image: he held him more down than up, did not turn his neck at all, and because of such a non-rotation he rarely looked at the one with whom he spoke, but always either at the corner of the stove or at the door. . Chichikov glanced sideways at him once more as they passed the dining-room: a bear! perfect bear! Such a strange rapprochement is needed: he was even called Mikhail Semenovich. Knowing his habit of stepping on his feet, he very carefully moved his own and gave him the way forward. The owner, it seemed, himself felt this sin behind him, and at the same time asked: “Have I disturbed you?” But Chichikov thanked him, saying that there had not yet been any disturbance.

Entering the drawing room, Sobakevich pointed to the armchairs, saying again: "Please!" Sitting down, Chichikov glanced at the walls and at the pictures hanging on them. All the pictures were good fellows, all the Greek generals, engraved in full growth: Mavrokordato in red trousers and uniform, with glasses on his nose, Miauli, Canari. All these heroes were with such thick thighs and unheard-of mustaches that a shiver passed through the body. Between the strong Greeks, it is not known how and for what reason, Bagration fit, skinny, thin, with small banners and cannons below and in the narrowest frames. Then the Greek heroine Bobelina followed again, to whom one leg seemed larger than the entire body of those dandies who fill today's living rooms. The owner, being a healthy and strong man himself, seemed to want strong and healthy people to decorate his room too. Near Bobelina, at the very window, hung a cage, from which looked out a dark-colored thrush with white speckles, also very similar to Sobakevich. The guest and the host had not had time to be silent for two minutes when the door to the living room opened and the hostess entered, a very tall lady, in a cap with ribbons dyed with homemade paint. She entered sedately, holding her head straight as a palm tree.

This is my Feodulia Ivanovna! Sobakevich said.

Chichikov went up to Feodulia Ivanovna's hand, which she almost pushed into his lips, and he had the opportunity to notice that his hands had been washed with cucumber pickle.

Feoduliya Ivanovna asked me to sit down, saying, too, "Please!" - and making a movement of the head, like actresses representing queens. Then she sat down on the sofa, covered herself with her merino shawl, and no longer moved her eye or eyebrow.

Chichikov raised his eyes again and again saw Canary with thick thighs and endless mustaches, Bobelina and the thrush in the cage.

For almost five whole minutes everyone was silent; only the sound of the thrush's nose against the wood of the wooden cage was heard, at the bottom of which it was fishing grains of bread. Chichikov looked around the room once more, and everything in it was solid, clumsy to the highest degree, and bore some strange resemblance to the owner of the house himself; in the corner of the living room stood a pot-bellied walnut office on absurd four legs, a perfect bear. The table, the armchairs, the chairs—everything was of the most heaviest and restless quality—in a word, every object, every chair, seemed to say: “And I, too, Sobakevich!” or: “And I also look a lot like Sobakevich!”

We remembered you at the chairman of the chamber, at Ivan Grigorievich's, - Chichikov said at last, seeing that no one was in the mood to start a conversation, - last Thursday. We had a very pleasant time there.

Yes, I wasn't at the chairman's office at the time," answered Sobakevich.

And a wonderful person!

Who it? - said Sobakevich, looking at the corner of the stove.

Chairman.

Well, maybe that's how it seemed to you: he's just a Freemason, but such a fool as the world hasn't produced.

Chichikov was a little taken aback by this somewhat harsh definition, but then, having recovered himself, he continued:

Of course, every person is not without weaknesses, but what an excellent person the governor is!

Is the governor an excellent man?

Yes, isn't it?

The first robber in the world!

How, the governor is a robber? - said Chichikov and could not understand at all how the governor could fall into the robbers. “I confess I never would have thought of that,” he continued. - But let me note, however, that his actions are completely different, on the contrary, there is rather a lot of gentleness in him. - Here he brought as evidence even purses, embroidered with his own hands, and praised the gentle expression of his face.

And the face of a robber! Sobakevich said. - Give him only a knife and let him out on the main road - he will kill him, he will kill him for a penny! He and even the vice-governor are Gog and Magog!

"No, he's not on good terms with them," Chichikov thought to himself. “But I’ll talk to him about the police chief: he seems to be his friend.”

However, as for me,” he said, “I confess that I like the chief of police more than anyone. Some kind of character direct, open; there is something simple-hearted in the face.

Scammer! - Sobakevich said very coolly, - he will sell, deceive, and also dine with you! I know them all: they are all swindlers, the whole city is like that: a swindler sits on a swindler and drives a swindler. All Christ sellers. There is only one decent person there: the prosecutor; and that one, to tell the truth, is a pig.

After such commendable, although a few brief biographies, Chichikov saw that there was nothing to mention about other officials, and remembered that Sobakevich did not like to speak well of anyone.

Well, darling, let's go to dinner, - his wife said to Sobakevich.

I beg! Sobakevich said.

Then, going up to the table where the appetizer was, the guest and the host drank a proper glass of vodka each, ate, as all vast Russia snacks in cities and villages, that is, with all sorts of pickles and other exciting graces, and they all flowed into the dining room; ahead of them, like a smooth goose, the hostess rushed. A small table was set for four utensils. She came to fourth place very soon, it is difficult to say in the affirmative who she is, a lady or a girl, a relative, a housekeeper or just living in the house: something without a cap, about thirty years old, in a colorful scarf. There are faces that exist in the world not as an object, but as extraneous specks or specks on an object. They sit in the same place, hold their heads in the same way, they are almost ready to be mistaken for furniture and you think that a word has not yet come out of such mouths; and somewhere in the maid's room or in the pantry it will be just: wow!

Shchi, my soul, is very good today! - said Sobakevich, taking a sip of cabbage soup and rolling off a huge piece of nanny from the dish, a famous dish that is served with cabbage soup and consists of a mutton stomach stuffed with buckwheat porridge, brain and legs. “You won’t eat like a nurse,” he continued, turning to Chichikov, “you won’t eat in the city, the devil knows what they’ll serve you there!”

The governor's table, however, is not bad, said Chichikov.

Do you know what it's all made of? you won't eat when you know.

I don't know how it's made, I can't judge about that, but the pork cutlets and boiled fish were excellent.

It seemed so to you. After all, I know what they are buying in the market. The cook over there, who learned from the Frenchman, will buy a cat, skin it, and serve it on the table instead of a hare.

Ugh! what a nuisance you are talking about,” said Sobakevich’s wife.

Well, my dear, that's how they do it, it's not my fault, that's how they all do it. Everything that is unnecessary that Akulka throws with us, if I may say so, into the garbage tub, they put it into soup! yes to the soup! there it!

You at the table will always tell such things! - Sobakevich's wife objected again.

Well, my soul, - said Sobakevich, - if I did it myself, but I'll tell you straight in the eye that I won't eat nasty things. Put some sugar on the frog for me, I won’t take it in my mouth, and I won’t take oysters either: I know what an oyster looks like. Take a ram,” he continued, turning to Chichikov, “this is a side of mutton with porridge!” These are not the fricassees that are made in the master's kitchens from lamb, which is lying around on the market for four days! All this was invented by the Germans and the French doctors, I would hang them for this! Invented a diet, treat hunger! That they have a German liquid nature, so they imagine that they can cope with the Russian stomach! No, it's all wrong, it's all fiction, it's all ... - Here Sobakevich even shook his head angrily. - Interpret: enlightenment, enlightenment, and this enlightenment - fuk! I would have said another word, but that's just indecent at the table. I don't. When I have pork - let's put the whole pig on the table, lamb - drag the whole ram, goose - just the goose! I'd rather eat two dishes, but eat in moderation, as my soul requires. - Sobakevich confirmed this with a deed: he knocked over half a lamb side to his plate, ate it all, gnawed it, sucked it to the last bone.

"Yes," thought Chichikov, "this lip is not stupid."

It’s not like that with me,” Sobakevich said, wiping his hands with a napkin, “it’s not the same with me as with some Plyushkin: he has eight hundred souls, but lives and dine worse than my shepherd!

Who is this Plyushkin? Chichikov asked.

A swindler, - answered Sobakevich. - Such a miser, which is difficult to imagine. In prison, the convicts live better than he: he starved all the people to death.

Really! - picked up with the participation of Chichikov. - And you say that he, for sure, people die in large numbers?

How flies die.

Really like flies! May I ask how far he lives from you?

Five versts.

Five miles away! Chichikov exclaimed, and even felt a slight heartbeat. - But if you leave your gate, will it be to the right or to the left?

I don't even advise you to know the way to this dog! Sobakevich said. "It's more excusable to go to some obscene place than to him."

No, I didn’t ask for anyone, but only because I’m interested in knowing all kinds of places, Chichikov answered this.

The lamb side was followed by cheesecakes, each of which was much larger than a plate, then a turkey the size of a calf, stuffed with all sorts of good things: eggs, rice, livers and who knows what, which all fell into a lump in the stomach. With this the dinner ended; but when they got up from the table, Chichikov felt a whole pood more heaviness in himself. We went into the living room, where there was already jam on a saucer - neither a pear, nor a plum, nor any other berry, which, however, neither the guest nor the host touched. The hostess came out to put it on other saucers as well. Taking advantage of her absence, Chichikov turned to Sobakevich, who, lying in an armchair, only grunted after such a hearty dinner and made some indistinct sounds with his mouth, crossing himself and covering it every minute with his hand. Chichikov addressed him with the following words:

I wanted to talk to you about a business.

Here's another jam, - said the hostess, returning with a saucer, - a radish boiled in honey!

And here we are after it! Sobakevich said. - You go now to your room, Pavel Ivanovich and I will throw off our tailcoats, take a little rest!

The hostess had already expressed her readiness to send for down jackets and pillows, but the host said: “Nothing, we will rest in armchairs,” and the hostess left.

Sobakevich bent his head slightly, preparing to hear what the business was about.

Chichikov began somehow very remotely, touched on the whole Russian state in general and spoke with great praise about its space, said that even the most ancient Roman monarchy was not so great, and foreigners are justly surprised ... Sobakevich listened to everything, bowing his head. And that, according to the existing provisions of this state, in whose glory there is no equal, revision souls, having finished their careers, are, however, until the submission of a new revision fairy tale, on an equal footing with the living, so as not to burden the government offices with a lot of petty and useless information and not to increase the complexity of the already very complex state mechanism ... Sobakevich listened to everything, bowing his head - and that, however, with all the fairness of this measure, it is somewhat painful for many owners, obliging them to pay taxes as if for a living object and that he, feeling personal respect for him, would even be ready to partly take on this really heavy duty. As for the main subject, Chichikov expressed himself very carefully: he did not in any way call the souls dead, but only non-existent.

Sobakevich listened to everything as before, bending his head, and at least something resembling an expression appeared on his face. It seemed that there was no soul in this body at all, or he did have one, but not at all where it should be, but, like the immortal Koshchei, somewhere beyond the mountains and covered with such a thick shell that everything that did not toss and turn at the bottom her, produced decidedly no shock on the surface.

So? .. - said Chichikov, waiting not without some excitement for an answer.

Do you need dead souls? Sobakevich asked very simply, without the slightest surprise, as if he were talking about bread.

Yes, - answered Chichikov, and again softened his expression, adding - non-existent.

There will be, why not be ... - said Sobakevich.

And if there are, then you, no doubt ... will be pleased to get rid of them?

If you please, I'm ready to sell,” said Sobakevich, already raising his head somewhat and realizing that the buyer must surely have some profit here.

"Damn it," Chichikov thought to himself, "this one is already selling before I give a hint!" and spoke aloud:

And, for example, what about the price? .. although, by the way, this is such an object ... which is even strange about the price ...

Yes, so as not to ask you too much, a hundred rubles apiece! Sobakevich said.

By stu! Chichikov exclaimed, opening his mouth and looking straight into his eyes, not knowing whether he had misheard himself, or whether Sobakevich's tongue, due to its heavy nature, turned in a wrong way and blurted out another word instead of one.

Well, is it expensive for you? said Sobakevich, and then added: "And what, however, would be your price?"

My price! It is true that we somehow made a mistake or do not understand each other, we forgot what the subject is. I believe for my part, hand on heart: eight hryvnia per soul, this is the reddest price!

Ek where enough - eight hryvnias!

Well, in my judgment, I think it's no longer possible.

After all, I'm not selling bast shoes.

However, agree yourself: after all, these are also not people.

So you think you will find such a fool who would sell you a revision soul for two kopecks?

But excuse me: why do you call them revisionists, because the souls have long since died, there is only one sound, intangible to the senses. However, in order not to enter into further conversations on this part, one and a half rubles, if you please, ladies, but I can’t do it anymore.

You are ashamed to say such a sum! you bargain, say the real price!

I can’t, Mikhail Semyonovich, believe my conscience, I can’t: what is already impossible to do is impossible to do, ”Chichikov said, but he added another half a ruble.

What are you stingy about? Sobakevich said. - Right, cheap! Another swindler will deceive you, sell you rubbish, not souls, but I have like a vigorous nut, everything is for selection: not a workman, but some other healthy man. You consider: here, for example, Mikheev's carriage maker! after all, he didn’t make any more crews, as soon as spring ones. And it’s not like Moscow work happens, which is for one hour - such strength, it will beat itself and cover it with varnish!

Chichikov opened his mouth in order to notice that Mikheev, however, had long been gone from the world; but Sobakevich entered, as they say, into the very power of speech, whence the lynx and the gift of speech came from.

And Cork Stepan, the carpenter? I'll lay my head down if you find such a man anywhere. After all, what a force it was! If he had served in the guard, God knows what they would have given him, three arshins and a verst in height!

Chichikov again wanted to point out that there was no Cork in the world either; but Sobakevich, apparently, was carried away: such streams of speeches poured out that one had only to listen:

Milushkin, bricklayer! could put the stove in any house. Maxim Telyatnikov, shoemaker: whatever pricks with an awl, then boots, that boots, then thanks, and at least in a drunken mouth. And Yeremey Sorokoplekhin! yes, this peasant alone will stand for everyone, he traded in Moscow, he brought one quitrent for five hundred rubles. After all, what a people! This is not something that some Plushkin will sell you.

But excuse me, - said Chichikov at last, amazed at such a plentiful flood of speeches, which seemed to have no end, - why are you counting all their qualities, because there is no sense in them now, after all they are all dead people. Support a fence with a dead body, says the proverb.

Yes, of course, they are dead,” said Sobakevich, as if coming to his senses and remembering that they really were already dead, and then he added: “However, it’s enough to say: which of these people who are now listed as living?” What are these people? flies, not people.

Yes, they still exist, and this is a dream.

Well, no, not a dream! I’ll tell you what Mikheev was like, you won’t find such people: the car is such that you won’t enter this room; no, this is not a dream! And in his shoulders he had such strength as a horse does not have; I would like to know where else you would find such a dream!

He had already said the last words, turning to the portraits of Bagration and Kolokotroni hanging on the wall, as usually happens with those who are talking, when one of them suddenly, for some unknown reason, turns not to the person to whom the words refer, but to some third person who accidentally came , even a complete stranger, from whom he knows that he will not hear any answer, no opinion, no confirmation, but on whom, however, his gaze will be so fixed, as if calling him to intermediaries; and the stranger, somewhat confused at first, does not know whether to answer the case of which he had not heard anything, or to stand like that, observing proper decency, and then go away.

No, I can’t give more than two rubles,” said Chichikov.

If you please, so that they don’t pretend to me that I’m asking dearly and don’t want to do you any favors, if you please - seventy-five rubles per head, only in banknotes, the right is only for acquaintance!

"What is he really," Chichikov thought to himself, "does he take me for a fool, or something?" - and then added aloud:

It’s strange to me, really: it seems that some kind of theatrical performance or comedy is going on between us, otherwise I can’t explain it to myself ... You seem to be a rather intelligent person, you have knowledge of education. After all, the subject is just fufu. What is he worth? who needs?

Yes, you are buying, so you need it.

Here Chichikov bit his lip and could not find anything to answer. He began to talk about some family and family circumstances, but Sobakevich answered simply:

I don't need to know what your relationship is; I don't interfere in family affairs, that's your business. You needed souls, and I sell you, and you will regret that you did not buy.

Two rubles, - said Chichikov.

Ek, right, forty Jacob said one thing about everyone, as the proverb says; as they set up for two, you don’t want to move out of them. You give the real price!

"Well, damn him," Chichikov thought to himself, "I'll add fifty dollars for him, the dog, for nuts!"

If you please, I'll add a half.

Well, if you please, I will also tell you my last word: fifty roubles! right, loss to yourself, you can’t buy such a good people anywhere cheaper!

"What a fist!" said Chichikov to himself, and then continued aloud with some annoyance:

Why, really ... as if it were a serious matter; Yes, I'll take it anywhere else. Also, everyone will gladly sell them to me, just to get rid of them as soon as possible. A fool would keep them with him and pay taxes for them!

But do you know that this kind of purchase, I say this between us, out of friendship, is not always permissible, and if I or anyone else tells it, such a person will not have any power of attorney regarding contracts or entering into any profitable obligations.

"Look, where is aiming, scoundrel!" thought Chichikov, and immediately said with the most cool air:

As you wish, I do not buy for any need, as you think, but according to the inclination of my own thoughts. If you don't want two and a half - goodbye!

"You can't knock him down, you stubborn one!" thought Sobakevich.

Well, God bless you, let's give thirty and take them for yourself!

No, I see you don't want to sell, goodbye!

Let me, let me! - said Sobakevich, not letting go of his hand and stepping on his foot, for our hero forgot to take care, in punishment for which he had to hiss and jump on one foot.

Sorry! I seem to have disturbed you. Please sit here! I beg! - Here he seated him in an armchair with some even dexterity, like such a bear, which has already been in his hands, can both roll over and do different things to the questions: “Show me, Misha, how women soar” or: “How, Misha , small guys steal peas?

Really, I'm wasting my time, I have to hurry.

Sit for a minute, I will now tell you one word that is pleasant for you. - Here Sobakevich sat down closer and said quietly in his ear, as if a secret: - Do you want a corner?

That is, twenty-five rubles? No, no, no, I won’t even give you a quarter of a corner, I won’t add a penny.

Sobakevich was silent. Chichikov also fell silent. There was silence for two minutes. Bagration with an aquiline nose looked from the wall extremely attentively at this purchase.

What will be your final price? Sobakevich finally said.

Two and a half.

Really, your human soul is like a steamed turnip. Give me at least three rubles!

I can not.

Well, there is nothing to do with you, if you please! Loss, yes, such a dog’s temper: I can’t help but give pleasure to my neighbor. After all, I am tea, and I need to make a bill of sale so that everything is in order.

Of course.

Well, that's the same, you will need to go to the city.

That is how the thing happened. Both decided to be in the city tomorrow and deal with the merchant's fortress. Chichikov asked for a list of peasants. Sobakevich readily agreed, and at once, going up to the bureau, with his own hand began to write out everyone, not only by name, but even with the designation of commendable qualities.

And Chichikov, having nothing to do, busied himself, being behind, examining his entire spacious salary. As he looked at his back, wide, like that of Vyatka squat horses, and at his legs, which looked like cast-iron pedestals that are placed on the sidewalks, he could not help exclaiming inwardly: “Ek, God rewarded you! for sure, as they say, it’s not right, but it’s tightly sewn! .. You were born like a bear, or did provincial life, grain crops, fuss with peasants, make you bearish, and through them you became what they call a man-fist? But no: I think you would still be the same, even if you were even brought up in the fashion, you would be put into action and you would live in St. Petersburg, and not in the backwoods. The whole difference is that now you will eat half a side of a lamb with porridge, having a bite of a cheesecake on a plate, and then you would eat some cutlets with truffles. Yes, now you have peasants under your rule: you are on good terms with them and, of course, you will not offend them, because they are yours, it will be worse for you; and then you would have officials, whom you would strongly click, realizing that they are not your own serfs, or you would rob the treasury! No, whoever is a fist cannot straighten into a palm! And open one or two fingers to your fist, it will come out even worse. If he tries a little the tops of some science, he will let them know later, having taken a more visible place, to all those who really have learned some kind of science. Moreover, perhaps, he will say later: “Let me show myself!” Yes, he will come up with such a wise decision that many will have salty ... Oh, if only all the fists! .. ”

The note is ready,” Sobakevich said, turning around.

Ready? Please bring her here! - He ran through it with his eyes and marveled at the accuracy and accuracy: not only was the craft, rank, years and family condition spelled out in detail, but even in the margins there were special marks about behavior, sobriety - in a word, it was a pleasure to look at.

Now, please, a deposit! Sobakevich said.

Why do you need a task? You will receive all the money in the city at once.

Everyone, you know, that's the way it is, - objected Sobakevich.

I don't know how to give it to you, I didn't take any money with me. Yes, there are ten rubles.

Well, ten! Give me at least fifty!

Chichikov began to excuse himself that he was not; but Sobakevich said in the affirmative that he had money, that he took out another piece of paper, saying:

Perhaps, here's another fifteen, for a total of twenty-five. Please just a receipt?

What do you need a receipt for?

Everyone, you know, better receipt. Not even the hour, anything can happen.

Okay, give me some money!

What's the money for? I have them in my hand! as soon as you write a receipt, you will take them at the same moment.

Yes, let me, how can I write a receipt? you have to see the money first.

Chichikov let go of the papers to Sobakevich, who, approaching the table and covering them with the fingers of his left hand, wrote with the other on a piece of paper that he had received the deposit of twenty-five rubles in state banknotes for the sold souls. After writing the note, he reviewed the banknotes once more.

The paper is old! - he said, examining one of them in the world, - a little torn, well, yes, between friends there is nothing to look at.

"Fist, fist! Chichikov thought to himself, "and a beast to boot!"

Don't want a female?

No thanks.

I would take it cheap. For dating for a ruble apiece.

No, I don't need a female field.

Well, when you don't need it, there's nothing to say. There is no law on tastes: who loves the priest, and who loves, says the proverb.

I also wanted to ask you to keep this deal between us,” Chichikov said, saying goodbye.

Yes, of course, of course. There is nothing to interfere with the third; what happens between short friends out of sincerity must remain in their mutual friendship. Farewell! Thanks for visiting; I ask you not to forget in advance: if you get a free hour, come to have lunch, spend time. Maybe it will happen again to serve each other with something.

“Yes, no matter how! Chichikov thought to himself as he got into the britzka. “Two and a half tore off for a dead soul, damn fist!”

He was dissatisfied with the behavior of Sobakevich. Still, be that as it may, he was a familiar person, and they met both at the governor's and the police chief's, but he acted as if he was a complete stranger, he took money for rubbish! When the britzka drove out of the yard, he looked back and saw that Sobakevich was still standing on the porch and seemed to be looking closely, wanting to know where the guest would go.

The scoundrel is still standing! - he said through his teeth and ordered Selifan, turning towards the peasant huts, drive off in such a way that it was impossible to see the carriage from the side of the master's yard. He wanted to visit Plyushkin, where, according to Sobakevich, people were dying like flies, but he didn't want Sobakevich to know about it. When the cart was already at the end of the village, he called the first peasant to him, who, having fallen somewhere on the road with a thick log, dragged it on his shoulder, like an indefatigable ant, to his hut.

Hey beard! but how to get from here to Plyushkin, so as not to pass by the master's house?

The man seemed to be at a loss for this question.

Well, don't you know?

No, sir, I don't know.

Oh you! And the gray hair still twitched! you don't know the curmudgeon Plyushkin, what feeds people badly?

Ah, paid, paid! - shouted the man.

He also added a noun to the word "patched", very successful, but uncommon in secular conversation, and therefore we will skip it. However, one can guess that it was expressed very aptly, because Chichikov, although the peasant had long since disappeared from sight and had gone ahead a long time, nevertheless, he was still grinning, sitting in the britzka. The Russian people express themselves strongly! and if he rewards someone with a word, then it will go to his generation and offspring, he will drag him with him to the service, and to retirement, and to Petersburg, and to the ends of the world. And no matter how cunning you later ennoble your nickname, even if you force writing people to derive it for hire from an ancient princely family, nothing will help: the nickname will croak for itself at the top of its crow’s throat and will clearly say where the bird flew from. Pronounced aptly, just like writing, is not cut down with an ax. And where is everything that came out of the depths of Russia, where there are neither German, nor Chukhonian, nor any other tribes, but everything itself is a nugget, a lively and lively Russian mind that does not go into the pocket for a word, does not hatch it , like a hen chickens, but immediately slaps like a passport on an eternal sock, and there is nothing to add later, what kind of nose or lips you have - you are outlined in one line from head to toe!

Just as a myriad of churches, monasteries with domes, domes, and crosses are scattered over holy, pious Russia, so a myriad of tribes, generations, and peoples throng, dazzle, and rush about on the face of the earth. And every nation that bears within itself a guarantee of strength, full of the creative abilities of the soul, its bright features and other gifts of God, each in its own way distinguished itself by its own word, which, expressing any object, reflects in the expression of it a part of its own character. The word of the Briton will echo with the knowledge of the heart and the wise knowledge of life; The short-lived word of a Frenchman will flash and scatter like a light dandy; the German will intricately invent his own, not accessible to everyone, cleverly thin word; but there is no word that would be so bold, so smartly burst out from under the very heart, so seething and quivering like a well-spoken Russian word.