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双语·死魂灵 第一部 第四章

所属教程:译林版·死魂灵

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2022年05月28日

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PART I CHAPTER IV

On reaching the tavern, Chichikov called a halt. His reasons for this were twofold—namely, that he wanted to rest the horses, and that he himself desired some refreshment. In this connection the author feels bound to confess that the appetite and the capacity of such men are greatly to be envied. Of those well-to-do folk of St. Petersburg and Moscow who spend their time in considering what they shall eat on the morrow, and in composing a dinner for the day following, and who never sit down to a meal without first of all injecting a pill and then swallowing oysters and crabs and a quantity of other monsters, while eternally departing for Karlsbad or the Caucasus, the author has but a small opinion. Yes, THEY are not the persons to inspire envy. Rather, it is the folk of the middle classes—folk who at one posthouse call for bacon, and at another for a sucking pig, and at a third for a steak of sturgeon or a baked pudding with onions, and who can sit down to table at any hour, as though they had never had a meal in their lives, and can devour fish of all sorts, and guzzle and chew it with a view to provoking further appetite—these, I say, are the folk who enjoy heaven's most favoured gift. To attain such a celestial condition the great folk of whom I have spoken would sacrifice half their serfs and half their mortgaged and non-mortgaged property, with the foreign and domestic improvements thereon, if thereby they could compass such a stomach as is possessed by the folk of the middle class. But, unfortunately, neither money nor real estate, whether improved or non-improved, can purchase such a stomach.

The little wooden tavern, with its narrow, but hospitable, curtain suspended from a pair of rough-hewn doorposts like old church candlesticks, seemed to invite Chichikov to enter. True, the establishment was only a Russian hut of the ordinary type, but it was a hut of larger dimensions than usual, and had around its windows and gables carved and patterned cornices of bright-coloured wood which threw into relief the darker hue of the walls, and consorted well with the flowered pitchers painted on the shutters.

Ascending the narrow wooden staircase to the upper floor, and arriving upon a broad landing, Chichikov found himself confronted with a creaking door and a stout old woman in a striped print gown. “This way, if you please,” she said. Within the apartment designated Chichikov encountered the old friends which one invariably finds in such roadside hostelries—to wit, a heavy samovar, four smooth, bescratched walls of white pine, a three-cornered press with cups and teapots, egg-cups of gilded china standing in front of ikons suspended by blue and red ribands, a cat lately delivered of a family, a mirror which gives one four eyes instead of two and a pancake for a face, and, beside the ikons, some bunches of herbs and carnations of such faded dustiness that, should one attempt to smell them, one is bound to burst out sneezing.

“Have you a sucking-pig?” Chichikov inquired of the landlady as she stood expectantly before him.

“Yes.”

“And some horse-radish and sour cream?”

“Yes.”

“Then serve them.”

The landlady departed for the purpose, and returned with a plate, a napkin (the latter starched to the consistency of dried bark), a knife with a bone handle beginning to turn yellow, a two-pronged fork as thin as a wafer, and a salt-cellar incapable of being made to stand upright.

Following the accepted custom, our hero entered into conversation with the woman, and inquired whether she herself or a landlord kept the tavern; how much income the tavern brought in; whether her sons lived with her; whether the oldest was a bachelor or married; whom the eldest had taken to wife; whether the dowry had been large; whether the father-in-law had been satisfied, and whether the said father-in-law had not complained of receiving too small a present at the wedding. In short, Chichikov touched on every conceivable point. Likewise (of course) he displayed some curiosity as to the landowners of the neighbourhood. Their names, he ascertained, were Blochin, Potchitaev, Minoi, Cheprakov, and Sobakevitch. “Then you are acquainted with Sobakevitch?” he said; whereupon the old woman informed him that she knew not only Sobakevitch, but also Manilov, and that the latter was the more delicate eater of the two, since, whereas Manilov always ordered a roast fowl and some veal and mutton, and then tasted merely a morsel of each, Sobakevitch would order one dish only, but consume the whole of it, and then demand more at the same price.

Whilst Chichikov was thus conversing and partaking of the sucking pig until only a fragment of it seemed likely to remain, the sound of an approaching vehicle made itself heard. Peering through the window, he saw draw up to the tavern door a light britchka drawn by three fine horses. From it there descended two men—one flaxen-haired and tall, and the other dark-haired and of slighter build. While the flaxen-haired man was clad in a dark-blue coat, the other one was wrapped in a coat of striped pattern. Behind the britchka stood a second, but an empty, turn-out, drawn by four long-coated steeds in ragged collars and rope harnesses. The flaxen-haired man lost no time in ascending the staircase, while his darker friend remained below to fumble at something in the britchka, talking, as he did so, to the driver of the vehicle which stood hitched behind. Somehow, the dark-haired man's voice struck Chichikov as familiar; and as he was taking another look at him the flaxen-haired gentleman entered the room. The newcomer was a man of lofty stature, with a small red moustache and a lean, hard-bitten face whose redness made it evident that its acquaintance, if not with the smoke of gunpowder, at all events with that of tobacco, was intimate and extensive. Nevertheless he greeted Chichikov civilly, and the latter returned his bow. Indeed, the pair would have entered into conversation, and have made one another's acquaintance (since a beginning was made with their simultaneously expressing satisfaction at the circumstance that the previous night's rain had laid the dust on the roads, and thereby made driving cool and pleasant) when the gentleman's darker-favoured friend also entered the room, and, throwing his cap upon the table, pushed back a mass of dishevelled black locks from his brow. The latest arrival was a man of medium height, but well put together, and possessed of a pair of full red cheeks, a set of teeth as white as snow, and coal-black whiskers. Indeed, so fresh was his complexion that it seemed to have been compounded of blood and milk, while health danced in his every feature.

“Ha, ha, ha!” he cried with a gesture of astonishment at the sight of Chichikov. “What chance brings YOU here?”

Upon that Chichikov recognised Nozdrev—the man whom he had met at dinner at the Public Prosecutor's, and who, within a minute or two of the introduction, had become so intimate with his fellow guest as to address him in the second person singular, in spite of the fact that Chichikov had given him no opportunity for doing so.

“Where have you been to-day?” Nozdrev inquired, and, without waiting for an answer, went on: “For myself, I am just from the fair, and completely cleaned out. Actually, I have had to do the journey back with stage horses! Look out of the window, and see them for yourself.” And he turned Chichikov's head so sharply in the desired direction that he came very near to bumping it against the window frame. “Did you ever see such a bag of tricks? The cursed things have only just managed to get here. In fact, on the way I had to transfer myself to this fellow's britchka.” He indicated his companion with a finger.

“By the way, don't you know one another? He is Mizhuev, my brotherin-law. He and I were talking of you only this morning. ‘Just you see,’ said I to him, ‘if we do not fall in with Chichikov before we have done.’ Heavens, how completely cleaned out I am! Not only have I lost four good horses, but also my watch and chain.” Chichikov perceived that in very truth his interlocutor was minus the articles named, as well as that one of Nozdrev's whiskers was less bushy in appearance than the other one. “Had I had another twenty roubles in my pocket,” went on Nozdrev, “I should have won back all that I have lost, as well as have pouched a further thirty thousand. Yes, I give you my word of honour on that.”

“But you were saying the same thing when last I met you,” put in the flaxen-haired man. “Yet, even though I lent you fifty roubles, you lost them all.”

“But I should not have lost them THIS time. Don't try to make me out a fool. I should NOT have lost them, I tell you. Had I only played the right card, I should have broken the bank.”

“But you did NOT break the bank,” remarked the flaxen-haired man.

“No. That was because I did not play my cards right. But what about your precious major's play? Is THAT good?”

“Good or not, at least he beat you.”

“Splendid of him! Nevertheless I will get my own back. Let him play me at doubles, and we shall soon see what sort of a player he is! Friend Chichikov, at first we had a glorious time, for the fair was a tremendous success. Indeed, the tradesmen said that never yet had there been such a gathering. I myself managed to sell everything from my estate at a good price. In fact, we had a magnificent time. I can't help thinking of it, devil take me! But what a pity YOU were not there! Three versts from the town there is quartered a regiment of dragoons, and you would scarcely believe what a lot of officers it has. Forty at least there are, and they do a fine lot of knocking about the town and drinking. In particular, Staff-Captain Potsieluev is a SPLENDID fellow! You should just see his moustache! Why, he calls good claret ‘trash’! ‘Bring me some of the usual trash,’ is his way of ordering it. And Lieutenant Kuvshinnikov, too! He is as delightful as the other man. In fact, I may say that every one of the lot is a rake. I spent my whole time with them, and you can imagine that Ponomarev, the wine merchant, did a fine trade indeed! All the same, he is a rascal, you know, and ought not to be dealt with, for he puts all sorts of rubbish into his liquor—Indian wood and burnt cork and elderberry juice, the villain! Nevertheless, get him to produce a bottle from what he calls his ‘special cellar,’ and you will fancy yourself in the seventh heaven of delight. And what quantities of champagne we drank! Compared with it, provincial stuff is kvass. Try to imagine not merely Clicquot, but a sort of blend of Clicquot and Matradura—Clicquot of double strength. Also Ponomarev produced a bottle of French stuff which he calls ‘Bonbon.’ Had it a bouquet, ask you? Why, it had the bouquet of a rose garden, of anything else you like. What times we had, to be sure! Just after we had left Pnomarev's place, some prince or another arrived in the town, and sent out for some champagne; but not a bottle was there left, for the officers had drunk every one! Why, I myself got through seventeen bottles at a sitting.”

“Come, come! You CAN'T have got through seventeen,” remarked the flaxen-haired man.

“But I did, I give my word of honour,” retorted Nozdrev.

“Imagine what you like, but you didn't drink even TEN bottles at a sitting.”

“Will you bet that I did not?”

“No; for what would be the use of betting about it?”

“Then at least wager the gun which you have bought.”

“No, I am not going to do anything of the kind.”

“Just as an experiment?”

“No.”

“It is as well for you that you don't, since, otherwise, you would have found yourself minus both gun and cap. However, friend Chichikov, it is a pity you were not there. Had you been there, I feel sure you would have found yourself unable to part with Lieutenant Kuvshinnikov. You and he would have hit it off splendidly. You know, he is quite a different sort from the Public Prosecutor and our other provincial skinflints—fellows who shiver in their shoes before they will spend a single kopeck. HE will play faro, or anything else, and at any time. Why did you not come with us, instead of wasting your time on cattle breeding or something of the sort? But never mind. Embrace me. I like you immensely. Mizhuev, see how curiously things have turned out. Chichikov has nothing to do with me, or I with him, yet here is he come from God knows where, and landed in the very spot where I happen to be living! I may tell you that, no matter how many carriages I possessed, I should gamble the lot away. Recently I went in for a turn at billiards, and lost two jars of pomade, a china teapot, and a guitar. Then I staked some more things, and, like a fool, lost them all, and six roubles in addition. What a dog is that Kuvshinnikov! He and I attended nearly every ball in the place. In particular, there was a woman—décolletée, and such a swell! I merely thought to myself, ‘The devil take her!’ but Kuvshinnikov is such a wag that he sat down beside her, and began paying her strings of compliments in French. However, I did not neglect the damsels altogether—although HE calls that sort of thing ‘going in for strawberries.’ By the way, I have a splendid piece of fish and some caviare with me. 'Tis all I HAVE brought back! In fact it is a lucky chance that I happened to buy the stuff before my money was gone. Where are you for?”

“I am about to call on a friend.”

“On what friend? Let him go to the devil, and come to my place instead.”

“I cannot, I cannot. I have business to do.”

“Oh, business again! I thought so!”

“But I HAVE business to do—and pressing business at that.”

“I wager that you're lying. If not, tell me whom you're going to call upon.”

“Upon Sobakevitch.”

Instantly Nozdrev burst into a laugh compassable only by a healthy man in whose head every tooth still remains as white as sugar. By this I mean the laugh of quivering cheeks, the laugh which causes a neighbour who is sleeping behind double doors three rooms away to leap from his bed and exclaim with distended eyes, “Hullo! Something HAS upset him!”

“What is there to laugh at?” asked Chichikov, a trifle nettled; but Nozdrev laughed more unrestrainedly than ever, ejaculating: “Oh, spare us all! The thing is so amusing that I shall die of it!”

“I say that there is nothing to laugh at,” repeated Chichikov. “It is in fulfilment of a promise that I am on my way to Sobakevitch's.”

“Then you will scarcely be glad to be alive when you've got there, for he is the veriest miser in the countryside. Oh, I know you. However, if you think to find there either faro or a bottle of ‘Bonbon’ you are mistaken. Look here, my good friend. Let Sobakevitch go to the devil, and come to MY place, where at least I shall have a piece of sturgeon to offer you for dinner. Ponomarev said to me on parting: ‘This piece is just the thing for you. Even if you were to search the whole market, you would never find a better one.’ But of course he is a terrible rogue. I said to him outright: ‘You and the Collector of Taxes are the two greatest skinflints in the town.’ But he only stroked his beard and smiled. Every day I used to breakfast with Kuvshinnikov in his restaurant. Well, what I was nearly forgetting is this: that, though I am aware that you can't forgo your engagement, I am not going to give you up—no, not for ten thousand roubles of money. I tell you that in advance.”

Here he broke off to run to the window and shout to his servant (who was holding a knife in one hand and a crust of bread and a piece of sturgeon in the other—he had contrived to filch the latter while fumbling in the britchka for something else):

“Hi, Porphyri! Bring here that puppy, you rascal! What a puppy it is! Unfortunately that thief of a landlord has given it nothing to eat, even though I have promised him the roan filly which, as you may remember, I swopped from Khvostirev.” As a matter of act, Chichikov had never in his life seen either Khvostirev or the roan filly.

“Barin, do you wish for anything to eat?” inquired the landlady as she entered.

“No, nothing at all. Ah, friend Chichikov, what times we had! Yes, give me a glass of vodka, old woman. What sort to you keep?”

“Aniseed.”

“Then bring me a glass of it,” repeated Nozdrev.

“And one for me as well,” added the flaxen-haired man.

“At the theatre,” went on Nozdrev, “there was an actress who sang like a canary. Kuvshinnikov, who happened to be sitting with me, said: ‘My boy, you had better go and gather that strawberry.’ As for the booths at the fair, they numbered, I should say, fifty.” At this point he broke off to take the glass of vodka from the landlady, who bowed low in acknowledgement of his doing so. At the same moment Porphyri—a fellow dressed like his master (that is to say, in a greasy, wadded overcoat)—entered with the puppy.

“Put the brute down here,” commanded Nozdrev, “and then fasten it up.”

Porphyri deposited the animal upon the floor; whereupon it proceeded to act after the manner of dogs.

“THERE'S a puppy for you!” cried Nozdrev, catching hold of it by the back, and lifting it up. The puppy uttered a piteous yelp.

“I can see that you haven't done what I told you to do,” he continued to Porphyri after an inspection of the animal's belly. “You have quite forgotten to brush him.”

“I DID brush him,” protested Porphyri.

“Then where did these fleas come from?”

“I cannot think. Perhaps they have leapt into his coat out of the britchka.”

“You liar! As a matter of fact, you have forgotten to brush him. Nevertheless, look at these ears, Chichikov. Just feel them.”

“Why should I? Without doing that, I can see that he is well-bred.”

“Nevertheless, catch hold of his ears and feel them.”

To humour the fellow Chichikov did as he had requested, remarking: “Yes, he seems likely to turn out well.”

“And feel the coldness of his nose! Just take it in your hand.”

Not wishing to offend his interlocutor, Chichikov felt the puppy's nose, saying: “Some day he will have an excellent scent.”

“Yes, will he not? 'Tis the right sort of muzzle for that. I must say that I have long been wanting such a puppy. Porphyri, take him away again.”

Porphyri lifted up the puppy, and bore it downstairs.

“Look here, Chichikov,” resumed Nozdrev. “You MUST come to my place. It lies only five versts away, and we can go there like the wind, and you can visit Sobakevitch afterwards.”

“Shall I, or shall I not, go to Nozdrev's?” reflected Chichikov. “Is he likely to prove any more useful than the rest? Well, at least he is as promising, even though he has lost so much at play. But he has a head on his shoulders, and therefore I must go carefully if I am to tackle him concerning my scheme.”

With that he added aloud: “Very well, I WILL come with you, but do not let us be long, for my time is very precious.”

“That's right, that's right!” cried Nozdrev. “Splendid, splendid! Let me embrace you!” And he fell upon Chichikov's neck. “All three of us will go.”

“No, no,” put in the flaxen-haired man. “You must excuse me, for I must be off home.”

“Rubbish, rubbish! I am NOT going to excuse you.”

“But my wife will be furious with me. You and Monsieur Chichikov must change into the other britchka.”

“Come, come! The thing is not to be thought of.”

The flaxen-haired man was one of those people in whose character, at first sight, there seems to lurk a certain grain of stubbornness—so much so that, almost before one has begun to speak, they are ready to dispute one's words, and to disagree with anything that may be opposed to their peculiar form of opinion. For instance, they will decline to have folly called wisdom, or any tune danced to but their own. Always, however, will there become manifest in their character a soft spot, and in the end they will accept what hitherto they have denied, and call what is foolish sensible, and even dance— yes, better than any one else will do—to a tune set by some one else. In short, they generally begin well, but always end badly.

“Rubbish!” said Nozdrev in answer to a further objection on his brotherin-law's part. And, sure enough, no sooner had Nozdrev clapped his cap upon his head than the flaxen-haired man started to follow him and his companion.

“But the gentleman has not paid for the vodka?” put in the old woman.

“All right, all right, good mother. Look here, brother-in-law. Pay her, will you, for I have not a kopeck left.”

“How much?” inquired the brother-in-law.

“What, sir? Eighty kopecks, if you please,” replied the old woman.

“A lie! Give her half a rouble. That will be quite enough.”

“No, it will NOT, barin,” protested the old woman. However, she took the money gratefully, and even ran to the door to open it for the gentlemen. As a matter of fact, she had lost nothing by the transaction, since she had demanded fully a quarter more than the vodka was worth.

The travellers then took their seats, and since Chichikov's britchka kept alongside the britchka wherein Nozdrev and his brother-in-law were seated, it was possible for all three men to converse together as they proceeded. Behind them came Nozdrev's smaller buggy, with its team of lean stage horses and Porphyri and the puppy. But inasmuch as the conversation which the travellers maintained was not of a kind likely to interest the reader, I might do worse than say something concerning Nozdrev himself, seeing that he is destined to play no small role in our story.

Nozdrev's face will be familiar to the reader, seeing that every one must have encountered many such. Fellows of the kind are known as “gay young sparks,” and, even in their boyhood and school days, earn a reputation for being bons camarades (though with it all they come in for some hard knocks) for the reason that their faces evince an element of frankness, directness, and enterprise which enables them soon to make friends, and, almost before you have had time to look around, to start addressing you in the second person singular. Yet, while cementing such friendships for all eternity, almost always they begin quarrelling the same evening, since, throughout, they are a loquacious, dissipated, high-spirited, over-showy tribe. Indeed, at thirty-five Nozdrev was just what he had been an eighteen and twenty—he was just such a lover of fast living. Nor had his marriage in any way changed him, and the less so since his wife had soon departed to another world, and left behind her two children, whom he did not want, and who were therefore placed in the charge of a good-looking nursemaid. Never at any time could he remain at home for more than a single day, for his keen scent could range over scores and scores of versts, and detect any fair which promised balls and crowds. Consequently in a trice he would be there—quarrelling, and creating disturbances over the gaming-table (like all men of his type, he had a perfect passion for cards) yet playing neither a faultless nor an over-clean game, since he was both a blunderer and able to indulge in a large number of illicit cuts and other devices. The result was that the game often ended in another kind of sport altogether. That is to say, either he received a good kicking, or he had his thick and very handsome whiskers pulled; with the result that on certain occasions he returned home with one of those appendages looking decidedly ragged. Yet his plump, healthy-looking cheeks were so robustly constituted, and contained such an abundance of recreative vigour, that a new whisker soon sprouted in place of the old one, and even surpassed its predecessor. Again (and the following is a phenomenon peculiar to Russia) a very short time would have elapsed before once more he would be consorting with the very cronies who had recently cuffed him—and consorting with them as though nothing whatsoever had happened—no reference to the subject being made by him, and they too holding their tongues.

In short, Nozdrev was, as it were, a man of incident. Never was he present at any gathering without some sort of a fracas occurring thereat. Either he would require to be expelled from the room by gendarmes, or his friends would have to kick him out into the street. At all events, should neither of those occurrences take place, at least he did something of a nature which would not otherwise have been witnessed. That is to say, should he not play the fool in a buffet to such an extent as to make very one smile, you may be sure that he was engaged in lying to a degree which at times abashed even himself. Moreover, the man lied without reason. For instance, he would begin telling a story to the effect that he possessed a blue-coated or a red-coated horse; until, in the end, his listeners would be forced to leave him with the remark, “You are giving us some fine stuff, old fellow!” Also, men like Nozdrev have a passion for insulting their neighbours without the least excuse afforded. (For that matter, even a man of good standing and of respectable exterior—a man with a star on his breast—may unexpectedly press your hand one day, and begin talking to you on subjects of a nature to give food for serious thought. Yet just as unexpectedly may that man start abusing you to your face—and do so in a manner worthy of a collegiate registrar rather than of a man who wears a star on his breast and aspires to converse on subjects which merit reflection. All that one can do in such a case is to stand shrugging one's shoulders in amazement.) Well, Nozdrev had just such a weakness. The more he became friendly with a man, the sooner would he insult him, and be ready to spread calumnies as to his reputation. Yet all the while he would consider himself the insulted one's friend, and, should he meet him again, would greet him in the most amicable style possible, and say, “You rascal, why have you given up coming to see me.” Thus, taken all round, Nozdrev was a person of many aspects and numerous potentialities. In one and the same breath would he propose to go with you whithersoever you might choose (even to the very ends of the world should you so require) or to enter upon any sort of an enterprise with you, or to exchange any commodity for any other commodity which you might care to name. Guns, horses, dogs, all were subjects for barter—though not for profit so far as YOU were concerned. Such traits are mostly the outcome of a boisterous temperament, as is additionally exemplified by the fact that if at a fair he chanced to fall in with a simpleton and to fleece him, he would then proceed to buy a quantity of the very first articles which came to hand—horse-collars, cigar-lighters, dresses for his nursemaid, foals, raisins, silver ewers, lengths of holland, wheatmeal, tobacco, revolvers, dried herrings, pictures, whetstones, crockery, boots, and so forth, until every atom of his money was exhausted. Yet seldom were these articles conveyed home, since, as a rule, the same day saw them lost to some more skilful gambler, in addition to his pipe, his tobacco-pouch, his mouthpiece, his four-horsed turn-out, and his coachman: with the result that, stripped to his very shirt, he would be forced to beg the loan of a vehicle from a friend.

Such was Nozdrev. Some may say that characters of his type have become extinct, that Nozdrevs no longer exist. Alas! such as say this will be wrong; for many a day must pass before the Nozdrevs will have disappeared from our ken. Everywhere they are to be seen in our midst—the only difference between the new and the old being a difference of garments. Persons of superficial observation are apt to consider that a man clad in a different coat is quite a different person from what he used to be.

To continue. The three vehicles bowled up to the steps of Nozdrev's house, and their occupants alighted. But no preparations whatsoever had been made for the guest's reception, for on some wooden trestles in the centre of the dining-room a couple of peasants were engaged in whitewashing the ceiling and drawling out an endless song as they splashed their stuff about the floor. Hastily bidding peasants and trestles to be gone, Nozdrev departed to another room with further instructions. Indeed, so audible was the sound of his voice as he ordered dinner that Chichikov—who was beginning to feel hungry once more—was enabled to gather that it would be at least five o'clock before a meal of any kind would be available. On his return, Nozdrev invited his companions to inspect his establishment—even though as early as two o'clock he had to announce that nothing more was to be seen.

The tour began with a view of the stables, where the party saw two mares (the one a grey, and the other a roan) and a colt; which latter animal, though far from showy, Nozdrev declared to have cost him ten thousand roubles.

“You NEVER paid ten thousand roubles for the brute!” exclaimed the brother-in-law. “He isn't worth even a thousand.”

“By God, I DID pay ten thousand!” asserted Nozdrev.

“You can swear that as much as you like,” retorted the other.

“Will you bet that I did not?” asked Nozdrev, but the brother-in-law declined the offer.

Next, Nozdrev showed his guests some empty stalls where a number of equally fine animals (so he alleged) had lately stood. Also there was on view the goat which an old belief still considers to be an indispensable adjunct to such places, even though its apparent use is to pace up and down beneath the noses of the horses as though the place belonged to it. Thereafter the host took his guests to look at a young wolf which he had got tied to a chain. “He is fed on nothing but raw meat,” he explained, “for I want him to grow up as fierce as possible.” Then the party inspected a pond in which there were “fish of such a size that it would take two men all their time to lift one of them out.”

This piece of information was received with renewed incredulity on the part of the brother-in-law.

“Now, Chichikov,” went on Nozdrev, “let me show you a truly magnificent brace of dogs. The hardness of their muscles will surprise you, and they have jowls as sharp as needles.”

So saying, he led the way to a small, but neatly-built, shed surrounded on every side with a fenced-in run. Entering this run, the visitors beheld a number of dogs of all sorts and sizes and colours. In their midst Nozdrev looked like a father lording it over his family circle. Erecting their tails—their “stems,” as dog fanciers call those members—the animals came bounding to greet the party, and fully a score of them laid their paws upon Chichikov's shoulders. Indeed, one dog was moved with such friendliness that, standing on its hind legs, it licked him on the lips, and so forced him to spit. That done, the visitors duly inspected the couple already mentioned, and expressed astonishment at their muscles. True enough, they were fine animals. Next, the party looked at a Crimean bitch which, though blind and fast nearing her end, had, two years ago, been a truly magnificent dog. At all events, so said Nozdrev. Next came another bitch—also blind; then an inspection of the water-mill, which lacked the spindle-socket wherein the upper stone ought to have been revolving—“fluttering,” to use the Russian peasant's quaint expression. “But never mind,” said Nozdrev. “Let us proceed to the blacksmith's shop.” So to the blacksmith's shop the party proceeded, and when the said shop had been viewed, Nozdrev said as he pointed to a field:

“In this field I have seen such numbers of hares as to render the ground quite invisible. Indeed, on one occasion I, with my own hands, caught a hare by the hind legs.”

“You never caught a hare by the hind legs with your hands!” remarked the brother-in-law.

“But I DID” reiterated Nozdrev. “However, let me show you the boundary where my lands come to an end.”

So saying, he started to conduct his guests across a field which consisted mostly of moleheaps, and in which the party had to pick their way between strips of ploughed land and of harrowed. Soon Chichikov began to feel weary, for the terrain was so low-lying that in many spots water could be heard squelching underfoot, and though for a while the visitors watched their feet, and stepped carefully, they soon perceived that such a course availed them nothing, and took to following their noses, without either selecting or avoiding the spots where the mire happened to be deeper or the reverse. At length, when a considerable distance had been covered, they caught sight of a boundary-post and a narrow ditch.

“That is the boundary,” said Nozdrev. “Everything that you see on this side of the post is mine, as well as the forest on the other side of it, and what lies beyond the forest.”

“WHEN did that forest become yours?” asked the brother-in-law. “It cannot be long since you purchased it, for it never USED to be yours.”

“Yes, it isn't long since I purchased it,” said Nozdrev.

“How long?”

“How long? Why, I purchased it three days ago, and gave a pretty sum for it, as the devil knows!”

“Indeed? Why, three days ago you were at the fair?”

“Wiseacre! Cannot one be at a fair and buy land at the same time? Yes, I WAS at the fair, and my steward bought the land in my absence.”

“Oh, your STEWARD bought it.” The brother-in-law seemed doubtful, and shook his head.

The guests returned by the same route as that by which they had come; whereafter, on reaching the house, Nozdrev conducted them to his study, which contained not a trace of the things usually to be found in such apartments—such things as books and papers. On the contrary, the only articles to be seen were a sword and a brace of guns—the one “of them worth three hundred roubles,” and the other “about eight hundred.” The brotherin-law inspected the articles in question, and then shook his head as before. Next, the visitors were shown some “real Turkish” daggers, of which one bore the inadvertent inscription, “Saveli Sibiriakov, Master Cutler.” Then came a barrel-organ, on which Nozdrev started to play some tune or another. For a while the sounds were not wholly unpleasing, but suddenly something seemed to go wrong, for a mazurka started, to be followed by “Marlborough has gone to the war,” and to this, again, there succeeded an antiquated waltz. Also, long after Nozdrev had ceased to turn the handle, one particularly shrill-pitched pipe which had, throughout, refused to harmonise with the rest kept up a protracted whistling on its own account. Then followed an exhibition of tobacco pipes—pipes of clay, of wood, of meerschaum, pipes smoked and non-smoked; pipes wrapped in chamois leather and not so wrapped; an amber-mounted hookah (a stake won at cards) and a tobacco pouch (worked, it was alleged, by some countess who had fallen in love with Nozdrev at a posthouse, and whose handiwork Nozdrev averred to constitute the “sublimity of superfluity”—a term which, in the Nozdrevian vocabulary, purported to signify the acme of perfection).

Finally, after some hors-d'oeuvres of sturgeon's back, they sat down to table—the time being then nearly five o'clock. But the meal did not constitute by any means the best of which Chichikov had ever partaken, seeing that some of the dishes were overcooked, and others were scarcely cooked at all. Evidently their compounder had trusted chiefly to inspiration—she had laid hold of the first thing which had happened to come to hand. For instance, had pepper represented the nearest article within reach, she had added pepper wholesale. Had a cabbage chanced to be so encountered, she had pressed it also into the service. And the same with milk, bacon, and peas. In short, her rule seemed to have been “Make a hot dish of some sort, and some sort of taste will result.” For the rest, Nozdrev drew heavily upon the wine. Even before the soup had been served, he had poured out for each guest a bumper of port and another of “haut” sauterne. (Never in provincial towns is ordinary, vulgar sauterne even procurable.) Next, he called for a bottle of madeira—“as fine a tipple as ever a field-marshall drank”; but the madeira only burnt the mouth, since the dealers, familiar with the taste of our landed gentry (who love “good” madeira) invariably doctor the stuff with copious dashes of rum and Imperial vodka, in the hope that Russian stomachs will thus be enabled to carry off the lot. After this bottle Nozdrev called for another and “a very special” brand—a brand which he declared to consist of a blend of burgundy and champagne, and of which he poured generous measures into the glasses of Chichikov and the brother-in-law as they sat to right and left of him. But since Chichikov noticed that, after doing so, he added only a scanty modicum of the mixture to his own tumbler, our hero determined to be cautious, and therefore took advantage of a moment when Nozdrev had again plunged into conversation and was yet a third time engaged in refilling his brother-inlaw's glass, to contrive to upset his (Chichikov's) glass over his plate. In time there came also to table a tart of mountain-ashberries—berries which the host declared to equal, in taste, ripe plums, but which, curiously enough, smacked more of corn brandy. Next, the company consumed a sort of pasty of which the precise name has escaped me, but which the host rendered differently even on the second occasion of its being mentioned. The meal over, and the whole tale of wines tried, the guests still retained their seats—a circumstance which embarrassed Chichikov, seeing that he had no mind to propound his pet scheme in the presence of Nozdrev's brother-in-law, who was a complete stranger to him. No, that subject called for amicable and PRIVATE conversation. Nevertheless, the brother-in-law appeared to bode little danger, seeing that he had taken on board a full cargo, and was now engaged in doing nothing of a more menacing nature than picking his nose. At length he himself noticed that he was not altogether in a responsible condition; wherefore he rose and began to make excuses for departing homewards, though in a tone so drowsy and lethargic that, to quote the Russian proverb, he might almost have been “pulling a collar on to a horse by the clasps.”

“No, no!” cried Nozdrev. “I am NOT going to let you go.”

“But I MUST go,” replied the brother-in-law. “Don't dry to hinder me. You are annoying me greatly.”

“Rubbish! We are going to play a game of banker.”

“No, no. You must play it without me, my friend. My wife is expecting me at home, and I must go and tell her all about the fair. Yes, I MUST go if I am to please her. Do not try to detain me.”

“Your wife be—! But have you REALLY an important piece of business with her?”

“No, no, my friend. The real reason is that she is a good and trustful woman, and that she does a great deal for me. The tears spring to my eyes as I think of it. Do not detain me. As an honourable man I say that I must go. Of that I do assure you in all sincerity.”

“Oh, let him go,” put in Chichikov under his breath. “What use will he be here?”

“Very well,” said Nozdrev, “though, damn it, I do not like fellows who lose their heads.” Then he added to his brother-in-law: “All right, Thetuk . Off you go to your wife and your woman's talk and may the devil go with you!”

“Do not insult me with the term Thetuk,” retorted the brother-in-law. “To her I owe my life, and she is a dear, good woman, and has shown me much affection. At the very thought of it I could weep. You see, she will be asking me what I have seen at the fair, and tell her about it I must, for she is such a dear, good woman.”

“Then off you go to her with your pack of lies. Here is your cap.”

“No, good friend, you are not to speak of her like that. By so doing you offend me greatly—I say that she is a dear, good woman.”

“Then run along home to her.”

“Yes, I am just going. Excuse me for having been unable to stay. Gladly would I have stayed, but really I cannot.”

The brother-in-law repeated his excuses again and again without noticing that he had entered the britchka, that it had passed through the gates, and that he was now in the open country. Permissibly we may suppose that his wife succeeded in gleaning from him few details of the fair.

“What a fool!” said Nozdrev as, standing by the window, he watched the departing vehicle. “Yet his off-horse is not such a bad one. For a long time past I have been wanting to get hold of it. A man like that is simply impossible. Yes, he is a Thetuk, a regular Thetuk.”

With that they repaired to the parlour, where, on Porphyri bringing candles, Chichikov perceived that his host had produced a pack of cards.

“I tell you what,” said Nozdrev, pressing the sides of the pack together, and then slightly bending them, so that the pack cracked and a card flew out. “How would it be if, to pass the time, I were to make a bank of three hundred?”

Chichikov pretended not to have heard him, but remarked with an air of having just recollected a forgotten point:

“By the way, I had omitted to say that I have a request to make of you.”

“What request?”

“First give me your word that you will grant it.”

“What is the request, I say?”

“Then you give me your word, do you?”

“Certainly.”

“Your word of honour?”

“My word of honour.”

“This, then, is my request. I presume that you have a large number of dead serfs whose names have not yet been removed from the revision list?”

“I have. But why do you ask?”

“Because I want you to make them over to me.”

“Of what use would they be to you?”

“Never mind. I have a purpose in wanting them.”

“What purpose?”

“A purpose which is strictly my own affair. In short, I need them.”

“You seem to have hatched a very fine scheme. Out with it, now! What is in the wind?”

“How could I have hatched such a scheme as you say? One could not very well hatch a scheme out of such a trifle as this.”

“Then for what purpose do you want the serfs?”

“Oh, the curiosity of the man! He wants to poke his fingers into and smell over every detail!”

“Why do you decline to say what is in your mind? At all events, until you DO say I shall not move in the matter.”

“But how would it benefit you to know what my plans are? A whim has seized me. That is all. Nor are you playing fair. You have given me your word of honour, yet now you are trying to back out of it.”

“No matter what you desire me to do, I decline to do it until you have told me your purpose.”

“What am I to say to the fellow?” thought Chichikov. He reflected for a moment, and then explained that he wanted the dead souls in order to acquire a better standing in society, since at present he possessed little landed property, and only a handful of serfs.

“You are lying,” said Nozdrev without even letting him finish. “Yes, you are lying my good friend.”

Chichikov himself perceived that his device had been a clumsy one, and his pretext weak. “I must tell him straight out,” he said to himself as he pulled his wits together.

“Should I tell you the truth,” he added aloud, “I must beg of you not to repeat it. The truth is that I am thinking of getting married. But, unfortunately, my betrothed's father and mother are very ambitious people, and do not want me to marry her, since they desire the bridegroom to own not less than three hundred souls, whereas I own but a hundred and fifty, and that number is not sufficient.”

“Again you are lying,” said Nozdrev.

“Then look here; I have been lying only to this extent.” And Chichikov marked off upon his little finger a minute portion.

“Nevertheless I will bet my head that you have been lying throughout.”

“Come, come! That is not very civil of you. Why should I have been lying?”

“Because I know you, and know that you are a regular skinflint. I say that in all friendship. If I possessed any power over you I should hang you to the nearest tree.”

This remark hurt Chichikov, for at any time he disliked expressions gross or offensive to decency, and never allowed any one—no, not even persons of the highest rank—to behave towards him with an undue measure of familiarity. Consequently his sense of umbrage on the present occasion was unbounded.

“By God, I WOULD hang you!” repeated Nozdrev. “I say this frankly, and not for the purpose of offending you, but simply to communicate to you my friendly opinion.”

“To everything there are limits,” retorted Chichikov stiffly. “If you want to indulge in speeches of that sort you had better return to the barracks.”

However, after a pause he added:

“If you do not care to give me the serfs, why not SELL them?”

“SELL them? I know you, you rascal! You wouldn't give me very much for them, WOULD you?”

“A nice fellow! Look here. What are they to you? So many diamonds, eh?”

“I thought so! I know you!”

“Pardon me, but I could wish that you were a member of the Jewish persuasion. You would give them to me fast enough then.”

“On the contrary, to show you that I am not a usurer, I will decline to ask of you a single kopeck for the serfs. All that you need do is to buy that colt of mine, and then I will throw in the serfs in addition.”

“But what should I want with your colt?” said Chichikov, genuinely astonished at the proposal.

“What should YOU want with him? Why, I have bought him for ten thousand roubles, and am ready to let you have him for four.”

“I ask you again: of what use could the colt possibly be to me? I am not the keeper of a breeding establishment.”

“Ah! I see that you fail to understand me. Let me suggest that you pay down at once three thousand roubles of the purchase money, and leave the other thousand until later.”

“But I do not mean to buy the colt, damn him!”

“Then buy the roan mare.”

“No, nor the roan mare.”

“Then you shall have both the mare and the grey horse which you have seen in my stables for two thousand roubles.”

“I require no horses at all.”

“But you would be able to sell them again. You would be able to get thrice their purchase price at the very first fair that was held.”

“Then sell them at that fair yourself, seeing that you are so certain of making a triple profit.” “Oh, I should make it fast enough, only I want YOU to benefit by the transaction.”

Chichikov duly thanked his interlocutor, but continued to decline either the grey horse or the roan mare.

“Then buy a few dogs,” said Nozdrev. “I can sell you a couple of hides a-quiver, ears well pricked, coats like quills, ribs barrel-shaped, and paws so tucked up as scarcely to graze the ground when they run.”

“Of what use would those dogs be to me? I am not a sportsman.”

“But I WANT you to have the dogs. Listen. If you won't have the dogs, then buy my barrel-organ. 'Tis a splendid instrument. As a man of honour I can tell you that, when new, it cost me fifteen hundred roubles. Well, you shall have it for nine hundred.”

“Come, come! What should I want with a barrel-organ? I am not a German, to go hauling it about the roads and begging for coppers.”

“But this is quite a different kind of organ from the one which Germans take about with them. You see, it is a REAL organ. Look at it for yourself. It is made of the best wood. I will take you to have another view of it.”

And seizing Chichikov by the hand, Nozdrev drew him towards the other room, where, in spite of the fact that Chichikov, with his feet planted firmly on the floor, assured his host, again and again, that he knew exactly what the organ was like, he was forced once more to hear how Marlborough went to the war.

“Then, since you don't care to give me any money for it,” persisted Nozdrev, “listen to the following proposal. I will give you the barrel-organ and all the dead souls which I possess, and in return you shall give me your britchka, and another three hundred roubles into the bargain.”

“Listen to the man! In that case, what should I have left to drive in?”

“Oh, I would stand you another britchka. Come to the coach-house, and I will show you the one I mean. It only needs repainting to look a perfectly splendid britchka.”

“The ramping, incorrigible devil!” thought Chichikov to himself as at all hazards he resolved to escape from britchkas, organs, and every species of dog, however marvellously barrel-ribbed and tucked up of paw.

“And in exchange, you shall have the britchka, the barrel-organ, and the dead souls,” repeated Nozdrev.

“I must decline the offer,” said Chichikov.

“And why?”

“Because I don't WANT the things—I am full up already.”

“I can see that you don't know how things should be done between good friends and comrades. Plainly you are a man of two faces.”

“What do you mean, you fool? Think for yourself. Why should I acquire articles which I don't want?”

“Say no more about it, if you please. I have quite taken your measure. But see here. Should you care to play a game of banker? I am ready to stake both the dead souls and the barrel-organ at cards.”

“No; to leave an issue to cards means to submit oneself to the unknown,” said Chichikov, covertly glancing at the pack which Nozdrev had got in his hands. Somehow the way in which his companion had cut that pack seemed to him suspicious.

“Why ‘to the unknown’?” asked Nozdrev. “There is no such thing as ‘the unknown.’ Should luck be on your side, you may win the devil knows what a haul. Oh, luck, luck!” he went on, beginning to deal, in the hope of raising a quarrel. “Here is the cursed nine upon which, the other night, I lost everything. All along I knew that I should lose my money. Said I to myself: ‘The devil take you, you false, accursed card!’”

Just as Nozdrev uttered the words Porphyri entered with a fresh bottle of liquor; but Chichikov declined either to play or to drink.

“Why do you refuse to play?” asked Nozdrev.

“Because I feel indisposed to do so. Moreover, I must confess that I am no great hand at cards.”

“WHY are you no great hand at them?”

Chichikov shrugged his shoulders. “Because I am not,” he replied.

“You are no great hand at ANYTHING, I think.”

“What does that matter? God has made me so.”

“The truth is that you are a Thetuk, and nothing else. Once upon a time I believed you to be a good fellow, but now I see that you don't understand civility. One cannot speak to you as one would to an intimate, for there is no frankness or sincerity about you. You are a regular Sobakevitch—just such another as he.”

“For what reason are you abusing me? Am I in any way at fault for declining to play cards? Sell me those souls if you are the man to hesitate over such rubbish.”

“The foul fiend take you! I was about to have given them to you for nothing, but now you shan't have them at all—not if you offer me three kingdoms in exchange. Henceforth I will have nothing to do with you, you cobbler, you dirty blacksmith! Porphyri, go and tell the ostler to give the gentleman's horses no oats, but only hay.”

This development Chichikov had hardly expected.

“And do you,” added Nozdrev to his guest, “get out of my sight.”

Yet in spite of this, host and guest took supper together—even though on this occasion the table was adorned with no wines of fictitious nomenclature, but only with a bottle which reared its solitary head beside a jug of what is usually known as vin ordinaire. When supper was over Nozdrev said to Chichikov as he conducted him to a side room where a bed had been made up:

“This is where you are to sleep. I cannot very well wish you good-night.”

Left to himself on Nozdrev's departure, Chichikov felt in a most unenviable frame of mind. Full of inward vexation, he blamed himself bitterly for having come to see this man and so wasted valuable time; but even more did he blame himself for having told him of his scheme—for having acted as carelessly as a child or a madman. Of a surety the scheme was not one which ought to have been confided to a man like Nozdrev, for he was a worthless fellow who might lie about it, and append additions to it, and spread such stories as would give rise to God knows what scandals. “This is indeed bad!” Chichikov said to himself. “I have been an absolute fool.” Consequently he spent an uneasy night—this uneasiness being increased by the fact that a number of small, but vigorous, insects so feasted upon him that he could do nothing but scratch the spots and exclaim, “The devil take you and Nozdrev alike!” Only when morning was approaching did he fall asleep. On rising, he made it his first business (after donning dressing-gown and slippers) to cross the courtyard to the stable, for the purpose of ordering Selifan to harness the britchka. Just as he was returning from his errand he encountered Nozdrev, clad in a dressing-gown, and holding a pipe between his teeth.

Host and guest greeted one another in friendly fashion, and Nozdrev inquired how Chichikov had slept.

“Fairly well,” replied Chichikov, but with a touch of dryness in his tone.

“The same with myself,” said Nozdrev. “The truth is that such a lot of nasty brutes kept crawling over me that even to speak of it gives me the shudders. Likewise, as the effect of last night's doings, a whole squadron of soldiers seemed to be camping on my chest, and giving me a flogging. Ugh! And whom also do you think I saw in a dream? You would never guess. Why, it was Staff-Captain Potsieluev and Lieutenant Kuvshinnikov!”

“Yes,” though Chichikov to himself, “and I wish that they too would give you a public thrashing!”

“I felt so ill!” went on Nozdrev. “And just after I had fallen asleep something DID come and sting me. Probably it was a party of hag fleas. Now, dress yourself, and I will be with you presently. First of all I must give that scoundrel of a bailiff a wigging.”

Chichikov departed to his own room to wash and dress; which process completed, he entered the dining-room to find the table laid with tea-things and a bottle of rum. Clearly no broom had yet touched the place, for there remained traces of the previous night's dinner and supper in the shape of crumbs thrown over the floor and tobacco ash on the tablecloth. The host himself, when he entered, was still clad in a dressing-gown exposing a hairy chest; and as he sat holding his pipe in his hand, and drinking tea from a cup, he would have made a model for the sort of painter who prefers to portray gentlemen of the less curled and scented order.

“What think you?” he asked of Chichikov after a short silence. “Are you willing NOW to play me for those souls?”

“I have told you that I never play cards. If the souls are for sale, I will buy them.”

“I decline to sell them. Such would not be the course proper between friends. But a game of banker would be quite another matter. Let us deal the cards.”

“I have told you that I decline to play.”

“And you will not agree to an exchange?”

“No.”

“Then look here. Suppose we play a game of chess. If you win, the souls shall be yours. There are lot which I should like to see crossed off the revision list. Hi, Porphyri! Bring me the chessboard.”

“You are wasting your time. I will play neither chess nor cards.”

“But chess is different from playing with a bank. In chess there can be neither luck nor cheating, for everything depends upon skill. In fact, I warn you that I cannot possibly play with you unless you allow me a move or two in advance.”

“The same with me,” thought Chichikov. “Shall I, or shall I not, play this fellow? I used not to be a bad chess-player, and it is a sport in which he would find it more difficult to be up to his tricks.”

“Very well,” he added aloud. “I WILL play you at chess.”

“And stake the souls for a hundred roubles?” asked Nozdrev. “No. Why for a hundred? Would it not be sufficient to stake them for fifty?”

“No. What would be the use of fifty? Nevertheless, for the hundred roubles I will throw in a moderately old puppy, or else a gold seal and watch-chain.”

“Very well,” assented Chichikov.

“Then how many moves are you going to allow me?”

“Is THAT to be part of the bargain? Why, none, of course.”

“At least allow me two.”

“No, none. I myself am only a poor player.”

“I know you and your poor play,” said Nozdrev, moving a chessman.

“In fact, it is a long time since last I had a chessman in my hand,” replied Chichikov, also moving a piece.

“Ah! I know you and your poor play,” repeated Nozdrev, moving a second chessman.

“I say again that it is a long time since last I had a chessman in my hand.” And Chichikov, in his turn, moved.

“Ah! I know you and your poor play,” repeated Nozdrev, for the third time as he made a third move. At the same moment the cuff of one of his sleeves happened to dislodge another chessman from its position.

“Again, I say,” said Chichikov, “that 'Tis a long time since last—But hi! look here! Put that piece back in its place!”

“What piece?”

“This one.” And almost as Chichikov spoke he saw a third chessman coming into view between the queens. God only knows whence that chessman had materialised.

“No, no!” shouted Chichikov as he rose from the table. “It is impossible to play with a man like you. People don't move three pieces at once.”

“How ‘three pieces’? All that I have done is to make a mistake—to move one of my pieces by accident. If you like, I will forfeit it to you.”

“And whence has the third piece come?”

“What third piece?”

“The one now standing between the queens?”

“'Tis one of your own pieces. Surely you are forgetting?”

“No, no, my friend. I have counted every move, and can remember each one. That piece has only just become added to the board. Put it back in its place, I say.”

“Its place? Which IS its place?” But Nozdrev had reddened a good deal. “I perceive you to be a strategist at the game.”

“No, no, good friend. YOU are the strategist—though an unsuccessful one, as it happens.”

“Then of what are you supposing me capable? Of cheating you?”

“I am not supposing you capable of anything. All that I say is that I will not play with you any more.”

“But you can't refuse to,” said Nozdrev, growing heated. “You see, the game has begun.”

“Nevertheless, I have a right not to continue it, seeing that you are not playing as an honest man should do.”

“You are lying—you cannot truthfully say that.”

“'Tis you who are lying.”

“But I have NOT cheated. Consequently you cannot refuse to play, but must continue the game to a finish.”

“You cannot force me to play,” retorted Chichikov coldly as, turning to the chessboard, he swept the pieces into confusion.

Nozdrev approached Chichikov with a manner so threatening that the other fell back a couple of paces.

“I WILL force you to play,” said Nozdrev. “It is no use you making a mess of the chessboard, for I can remember every move. We will replace the chessmen exactly as they were.”

“No, no, my friend. The game is over, and I play you no more.”

“You say that you will not?”

“Yes. Surely you can see for yourself that such a thing is impossible?”

“That cock won't fight. Say at once that you refuse to play with me.” And Nozdrev approached a step nearer.

“Very well; I DO say that,” replied Chichikov, and at the same moment raised his hands towards his face, for the dispute was growing heated. Nor was the act of caution altogether unwarranted, for Nozdrev also raised his fist, and it may be that one of her hero's plump, pleasant-looking cheeks would have sustained an indelible insult had not he (Chichikov) parried the blow and, seizing Nozdrev by his whirling arms, held them fast.

“Porphyri! Pavlushka!” shouted Nozdrev as madly he strove to free himself.

On hearing the words, Chichikov, both because he wished to avoid rendering the servants witnesses of the unedifying scene and because he felt that it would be of no avail to hold Nozdrev any longer, let go of the latter's arms; but at the same moment Porphyri and Pavlushka entered the room—a pair of stout rascals with whom it would be unwise to meddle.

“Do you, or do you not, intend to finish the game?” said Nozdrev. “Give me a direct answer.”

“No; it will not be possible to finish the game,” replied Chichikov, glancing out of the window. He could see his britchka standing ready for him, and Selifan evidently awaiting orders to draw up to the entrance steps. But from the room there was no escape, since in the doorway was posted the couple of well-built serving-men.

“Then it is as I say? You refuse to finish the game?” repeated Nozdrev, his face as red as fire.

“I would have finished it had you played like a man of honour. But, as it is, I cannot.”

“You cannot, eh, you villain? You find that you cannot as soon as you find that you are not winning? Thrash him, you fellows!” And as he spoke Nozdrev grasped the cherrywood shank of his pipe. Chichikov turned as white as a sheet. He tried to say something, but his quivering lips emitted no sound. “Thrash him!” again shouted Nozdrev as he rushed forward in a state of heat and perspiration more proper to a warrior who is attacking an impregnable fortress. “Thrash him!” again he shouted in a voice like that of some half-demented lieutenant whose desperate bravery has acquired such a reputation that orders have had to be issued that his hands shall be held lest he attempt deeds of over-presumptuous daring. Seized with the military spirit, however, the lieutenant's head begins to whirl, and before his eye there flits the image of Suvorov. He advances to the great encounter, and impulsively cries, “Forward, my sons!”—cries it without reflecting that he may be spoiling the plan of the general attack, that millions of rifles may be protruding their muzzles through the embrasures of the impregnable, towering walls of the fortress, that his own impotent assault may be destined to be dissipated like dust before the wind, and that already there may have been launched on its whistling career the bullet which is to close for ever his vociferous throat. However, if Nozdrev resembled the headstrong, desperate lieutenant whom we have just pictured as advancing upon a fortress, at least the fortress itself in no way resembled the impregnable stronghold which I have described. As a matter of fact, the fortress became seized with a panic which drove its spirit into its boots. First of all, the chair with which Chichikov (the fortress in question) sought to defend himself was wrested from his grasp by the serfs, and then—blinking and neither alive nor dead—he turned to parry the Circassian pipe-stem of his host. In fact, God only knows what would have happened had not the fates been pleased by a miracle to deliver Chichikov's elegant back and shoulders from the onslaught. Suddenly, and as unexpectedly as though the sound had come from the clouds, there made itself heard the tinkling notes of a collar-bell, and then the rumble of wheels approaching the entrance steps, and, lastly, the snorting and hard breathing of a team of horses as a vehicle came to a standstill. Involuntarily all present glanced through the window, and saw a man clad in a semi-military greatcoat leap from a buggy. After making an inquiry or two in the hall, he entered the dining-room just at the juncture when Chichikov, almost swooning with terror, had found himself placed in about as awkward a situation as could well befall a mortal man.

“Kindly tell me which of you is Monsieur Nozdrev?” said the unknown with a glance of perplexity both at the person named (who was still standing with pipe-shank upraised) and at Chichikov (who was just beginning to recover from his unpleasant predicament).

“Kindly tell ME whom I have the honour of addressing?” retorted Nozdrev as he approached the official.

“I am the Superintendent of Rural Police.”

“And what do you want?”

“I have come to fulfil a commission imposed upon me. That is to say, I have come to place you under arrest until your case shall have been decided.”

“Rubbish! What case, pray?”

“The case in which you involved yourself when, in a drunken condition, and through the instrumentality of a walking-stick, you offered grave offence to the person of Landowner Maksimov.”

“You lie! To your face I tell you that never in my life have I set eyes upon Landowner Maksimov.”

“Good sir, allow me to represent to you that I am a Government officer. Speeches like that you may address to your servants, but not to me.”

At this point Chichikov, without waiting for Nozdrev's reply, seized his cap, slipped behind the Superintendent's back, rushed out on to the verandah, sprang into his britchka, and ordered Selifan to drive like the wind.

第一部 第四章

当临近客店的时候,乞乞科夫就叫停车,这为了两种原因,一是要给马匹休息了,二是自己也要吃些东西,添一点力气。作者应该声明,这一类人物的好胃口和食欲,可实在是令人羡慕的。对于那些住在彼得堡或是莫斯科,整天的想着早上吃什么,中午吃什么,后天早上又吃什么,待到要用午膳了,就先吞一两颗丸药,然后慢慢的吃下几个蛎黄和海蟹以及别的奇妙的海味去,终于就向凯尔巴特(1)或是高加索一跑的上流先生们,倒并不觉得有什么大意思。不,这些先生们,是引不起作者的羡慕来的。然而中流的人们呢,第一个驿站上要火腿,第二个驿站上要乳猪,到第三站是一片鲟鱼或者有蒜的香肠炙一下,于是向食桌面前坐下,无论什么时候,总仿佛不算一回事似的。大口鱼的汤,鲟鳇鱼和鱼膏在他的嘴里发响,发沸,还伴着鱼肉包子或一个鲶鱼包子,使不想吃的也看得嘴馋。——这些人物,是有一种很值得羡慕的天禀的。上流的先生们里面,情愿立刻牺牲他的农奴和他那用了本国式或外国式加以现代的改良,但已经抵押或并未抵押的田地的一半,来换取这好市民式的胃口的,目下也不只一两个了。然而对不起,即使用了钱以及改良了的或没有改良的田地,也还是弄不到一个中流先生那样的胃口来。

木造的破烂的客店,把乞乞科夫招进它那熏得乌黑的屋檐下去了,屋檐被车光的柱子所支持,很像旧式的教堂烛台模样。这客店是俄国式农民小屋之一种,不过规模大一点。窗边和屋顶下,都有新木头的雕镂的垂花,给暗昏的墙壁一比,更显得出色。外层的窗户上,画着插些花卉的酒壶。

乞乞科夫走上狭窄的木梯,跨进大门去。他在这里推开那嘎嘎发响的门,就遇见一个身穿花布衣,口说“请进来”的胖胖的老婆子。一到饭堂,他又遇到那些在村市的木造小客店里,一定看见的老相好了:生锈的茶炊,刨光的松板壁,屋角上的装着茶壶茶碗的三角架,圣像面前的描金的磁器,系着红绿带子,刚刚生过孩子的一匹猫,还有一面镜,能把两只眼睛变作四只,脸孔照成好像一种蛋饼的东西,最后,是插在圣像后面的香草和石竹的花束,但早经干透,有谁高兴去嗅一下,就只好打起喷嚏来。

“您有乳猪么?”乞乞科夫转过脸去,问那胖老婆子道。

“有有!”

“用山葵腌的,还是用酸酪腌的?”

“自然有山葵也有乳酪的。”

“拿来!”

老婆子就到柜子里去寻东西,先拿来一张碟子,其次是一块硬得像干树皮样的饭单,后来一把刀,发了黄的骨柄,刀身薄得好像削笔刀,结末是一把只有两个刺的叉子和一个简直站不住的盐瓶。

我们的主角就照着他自己的习惯,立刻和她扳谈起来了。他讯问她,她自己就是这客店的主人呢,还是另外还有东家;可以赚多少钱;她的儿子们是否和她同住;大儿子是什么职业,已经结了婚呢,还是还是单身;他娶了一个怎样的女人,有嫁资呢,还是没有;他的岳父是否满足;嫁妆太少了,那儿子可曾不高兴。总而言之,他什么琐屑都不忘记。至于他要讯问近地住着怎样的地主,那是不消说得的,他明白了这里有的是勃罗辛,坡契太耶夫,米勒诺衣,大佐且泼拉可夫,梭巴开维支。“哦!你知道梭巴开维支吗?”他问那老婆子,但接着又知道她不但认识梭巴开维支,也认识玛尼罗夫,而且玛尼罗夫要比梭巴开维支“规矩”点。“他立刻要一盘烧母鸡或是烧牛肉;如果有羊肝,那么,他就也要羊肝,什么都只吃一点点。梭巴开维支却总是只要一样,还吃得一个精光。是的,钱照旧,东西还要添好许多哩。”

当乞乞科夫在这样的谈天,一面享用着他的乳猪,盘里只剩了一片了的时候,忽然听到了跑来的马车的轮声。他从窗口一望,就看见一辆驾着三头骏马的轻快的篷车,停在客店前面了。从车子里出来了两位绅士。一个身材高大,黄头发的,别一个比较的矮小些,黑头发。黄头发穿一件暗蓝的猎褂,黑头发是蒲哈拉(2)布的普通的花条的短衫。还看见远远的来了一辆空的小篷车;拉的是颈圈和麻绳络头都已破烂,毛鬣蓬松的四匹马。黄头发即刻走上扶梯来,黑头发却还在车子里寻东西,一面指着驶来的车,和仆役说话。乞乞科夫觉得这声音仿佛有些熟识似的。他正在凝视着他的时候,那黄头发已经摸着门口,把门开开了。是一个高大的汉子,长脸盘,或者如人们所惯说的失神的脸相,一撮发红的胡须。从他那苍白的脸色判断起来,他是常常卷在烟里的,如果不是硝磺烟,那就是烟草烟。他向乞乞科夫优雅的鞠躬,这边也给了一个照样的鞠躬作为回答。不到几分钟,他们就的确都想扳谈起来,结识一下模样,因为倘没有那黑头发旅客突然闯进屋里来,他们就已经做到第一步,几乎要同时说出大雨洗了尘埃,凉爽宜于旅行之类的彼此的愉快来了。那人除下帽子,摔在桌子上,使劲的搔着头发。他是一个中等身材的汉子,通红的面颊,雪白铄亮的牙齿,漆黑的胡子的好家伙。他有血乳交融一般的新鲜的颜色;他的脸上就跃动着健康。

“唷,唷,唷,”他一看见乞乞科夫,就突然张开臂膊,喊起来了,“什么引你到这里来的?”

乞乞科夫知道,这是罗士特来夫,和这先生,曾在检事家里一同吃过饭,不到几分钟,他就已经显得非常亲密,叫起你我来了,虽然从乞乞科夫这一面,对他也并没有给与什么些微的沾惹。

“你那里去的?”罗士特来夫问,并不等候回答,又立刻接下去道:“我是从市集那里来的,好朋友;你给我道喜罢。我精光了,我连最后的一文也没有了。实实在在,一生一世,就没有弄得这么精光过。我只好雇一辆街车了。在窗口望一望罢,它还在这里!”于是他把乞乞科夫的头扭转去,几乎碰在窗框上。“看看这小马,这该死的畜生好容易把我拖到这里来了——我终于只好坐上他的车。”和这话同时,罗士特来夫就用指头指一指他的同伴。

“哦——你们还没有相识哩。我的姻兄弥秀耶夫!我们讲了你一早晨。‘留心着,’我说,‘我们也许遇见乞乞科夫的。’但是,我精光到怎样,你怕不见得明白。不管你信不信,我不但失掉了我的四匹乏马,我真的什么都化光了。我也没有了表和链子。”乞乞科夫向他一看,他可真的没有带着表和链子。而且看起来,好像他一边的胡子,也比别一边少一点,薄一点似的。

“但是,如果我的袋子里还有二十卢布呢,”罗士特来夫说下去道,“只要二十个,不必多,我一定什么都赢回来,不但什么都赢回来,还要——那么,我就是一位阔绅士,我现在还有三千在袋子里面哩。”

“那是你在那边也说了的,”这时黄头发回答他说,“但到我给你五十卢布的时候,你立刻又都输掉了。”

“上帝在上,我没有输掉。真的没有。如果我那一回不发傻,那是至今还在的。如果我在那该死的七的加倍之后,不去打那角头,我可以把全场闹翻。”

“但是你没有把它闹翻呀。”黄头发说。

“自然没有,因为我在不合适的时候,打了角头了。你以为你的大佐玩得很好吗?”

“不管好不好,总之他使你输掉了。”

“那算得什么,”罗士特来夫说,“我也会使他输得这么光。他该玩一回陀勃列忒(3)来试试,那我们就知道了,这家伙能什么。但这几天却逛得真有意思哩,朋友乞乞科夫。哦,真的,这市集可真像样。商人们自己就说,向来没有过这样的热闹。从我那领地里拿来的东西,无论什么,都得了大价钱卖掉了。唉唉,朋友,我们怎样的吃喝呵!就是现在想起来,畜生……可惜你没有在一起。你想想看,离市三维尔斯他的地方扎着一队龙骑兵,你想,全体的兵官,总该有四十个,我相信全到市里来了,于是大喝了起来……骑兵二等大尉坡采路耶夫,是一个体面人;——有胡子——这么多。他把波尔陀的葡萄酒单叫作烧酒儿。‘快给我拿一瓶葡萄烧来。’他向堂倌大嚷着。中尉库夫新涅科夫……你知道,朋友,是一个很可爱的人!简直可以说,是一个真正的酒客。我们是常在一起的。还有坡诺马略夫可给我们喝了怎样的酒呵!那是一个骗子,你要知道。他这里买不得东西。鬼知道用什么混到酒里去。这家伙是用白檀,烧焦的软木,按骨木心在著色的;但如果要他从最里面的,叫作‘至圣无上’的屋子里,悄悄的取出一瓶来,那可实在,朋友,立刻要相信是在七重天上了。还有香槟,我对你说!……比起这来,那知事家的简直就是水酒。告诉你罢,还不是单单的香槟哩,是一种极品香槟,双蒸的香槟呀。我还喝了一瓶法国酒,‘蓬蓬’牌,哪,那香气——哼,就像蔷薇苞,另外呢,都有,你想什么就像什么……阿唷,我们大喝了呵!……我们之后还来了一个公爵。他要香槟。对不起,全市里一瓶也不剩了;兵官们把所有的酒都喝光了。你可以相信我,中饭的时候,我一个就灌了十七瓶!”

“喂,喂!十七瓶,你可是还没有到的。”黄头发点破道。

“我是一个很正直的人,我确是喝了的。”

“你怎么想,就怎么说罢。我对你说,你一下子是挡不住十瓶的。”

“打一个赌罢!”

“赌什么呢?”

“好,我们来赌你那市上买来的猎枪!”

“我不来。”

“唉,什么,来罢,试试看!”

“但是我一点也不想试。”

“你以为没有枪,就和没有帽子一样坏。听呀,朋友乞乞科夫,我可是真可惜你没有在那里。我知道,你一定会和库夫新涅科夫中尉分拆不开的。你们立刻会成为知己的。他不像检事和那些我们市里的乡下阔佬一样,为了每一文钱发抖。他都来:盖勒毕克(4)呀,彭吉式加(5)呀,你爱什么就玩什么。唉唉,乞乞科夫,但和你玩什么,做什么呢。真的,你是一个大滑头,你这老狐狸!和我亲一个嘴!我爱得你要死了。弥秀耶夫你瞧,运命拉拢了我们的;他来找我呢还是我在找他?一个很好的日子里,他来了,上帝才知道他从那里来的!但是我恰恰也正住在这地方……那边车子有多少呀,好朋友!多得很哩,你要知道。en gros(6)呀!我也去抽了一回签,赢了两小盒香油,一只磁杯,一张六弦琴。我再来看看我的运气的时候,又都输出去了,舞弊呵,还添上六个卢布。如果你知道库夫新涅科夫是怎样的一个花花公子,那就好。所有跳舞场,我总和他一同去;有一个,那真是好打扮,璎珞,花边,哼,什么都全有。我总在自己想:她妈的!但那库夫新涅科夫呢——就是一匹野兽,可对?——却坐近她去,用法国话去打招呼了。你可以相信我,他是连一个乡下女人也不肯放过的。他叫作‘摘野莓’。鱼也真好,尤其是鲟鱼。我带了一条来——还好,还在有钱的时候,我就想到要买它一条了。那么,你现在要到那里去呀?”

“哦,我要去找一个人。”乞乞科夫说。

“找怎样的人?唉唉,算了罢!我们还是一同到我的家里去罢!”

“不,不,这不行。我有事情呢。”

“怎么,有事情!胡说白道!喂,你,阿波兑勒杜克·伊凡诺维支(7)!”

“不行,真的,我有事情,而且很有点要紧的!”

“我来打一个赌,你撒谎!你说罢,到底找谁去?”

“唔,可以的。找梭巴开维支去。”

罗士特来夫立刻迸出一种洪大而且响亮的笑来,这种笑,是只有活泼而健康的人才有的,这时他大张了嘴巴,脸上的筋肉都在抖动,就露出一口完整的,糖一般又白又亮的牙齿来,连隔着两道门,在第三间屋子里的邻人,也会从梦中惊起,睁大了眼睛,喊起来道:“怎的这么高兴呀!”

“这有什么好笑呢?”乞乞科夫说,对于这在笑的人,他有一点懊恼了。然而罗士特来夫放大了喉咙,仍然笑,一面嚷道:“不,请不要见气;我要笑炸了!”

“这毫没有什么可笑:我和他约过的。”乞乞科夫说。

“但到他那里去,你的生活不会有意思;他完全是一个吝啬鬼,刽子手!我明白你的脾气,如果你想在那里玩彭吉式加,喝好蓬蓬酒或者别的什么,那是一个天大的错。听哪,好朋友!抛掉这妈的梭巴开维支罢!到我那里去!我请你吃鲟鱼,坡诺马略夫这畜生,是什么时候都应酬得乱七八糟的,却担保道:‘这是我特别办给你的!你就是跑遍全市集,也找不到这样的货色。’不过他是一个奸刁的流氓!我就当面对他说:‘您和我们的包做烧酒人,都是天下第一等大骗子。’我这么说了。这畜生就笑起来,摸摸自己的胡子。库夫新涅科夫和我,是每天到他店里去吃早饭的。哦,好朋友,我几乎忘记告诉你了:我知道你不会放开我,不过得声明在先,你就是出一万卢布也弄它不到手!”——“喂,坡尔菲里!”他走向窗口,去叫他的仆人。那人却一只手拿一把刀,一只手拿着面包皮和一片鲟鱼,那是趁了到车子里去取东西的机会捞来的。“喂,坡尔菲里!”罗士特来夫喊道,“拿那小狗来!一条很好的狗!哼!”他转脸向了乞乞科夫,接下去道。“自然是偷来的!那主人不肯卖。我要用那匹枣骝马和他换,你知道,就是我从式服斯替略夫换来的那一匹呀。”但乞乞科夫却从他有生以来,一向就没有见过式服斯替略夫和枣骝马。

“老爷们不要用点什么吗?”这时那老婆子走近他们来,说。

“不!不要!我告诉你,朋友!我们逛了呀!不过你可以给我们一杯烧酒!你有什么酒?”

“有亚尼斯。”老婆子回答道。

“就是,也行,一杯亚尼斯。”罗士特来夫大声说。

“那就也给我一杯!”那黄头发道。

“戏园里一个歌女上台了,唱起来简直像夜莺一样,这样的一只金丝雀!库夫新涅科夫是坐在我旁边的,对我说:‘朋友,你知道!这野莓我想摘一下了!’由我看来,就是玩乐的棚子的数目,也在五十以上。绥那尔提(8)风磨似的打着旋子,有四个钟头。”于是他从向他低低的弯着腰的老婆子的手里,接过杯子来。“拿这儿来!”一看见坡尔菲里捧着小狗,走进屋子里,他忽然大叫起来。坡尔菲里的衣服,也像他的主人一样,穿一件蒲哈拉布的短衫,不过更加脏一点。

“拿这儿来,放在这儿,地板上面!”

坡尔菲里把狗儿放在地板上,它就张开了四条腿,嗅起地板来了。

“就是这条狗!”罗士特来夫说着,一面捏住它的领子,用一只手高高的举起。那狗就迸出一种真的叫苦的声音。

“我吩咐过你的,你又没有做。”罗士特来夫对坡尔菲里说,一面留心的看着那狗的肚子。“篦篦它,你简直全不记得了。”

“没有,我篦了的。”

“那么,这些跳蚤从那儿来的呀?”

“那我不知道。也许是,它从马车上弄来的罢!”

“胡说!昏蛋!给它篦篦,你梦里也想不到;我看是就是你这驴子把自己的过给了它的。瞧呀,乞乞科夫,瞧呀,怎样的耳朵!你来呀,碰一碰看!”

“何必呢!我看见的!这种子很好。”乞乞科夫说。

“不不,碰一碰看;摸一下耳朵!”

乞乞科夫要向罗士特来夫表示好意,便摸了一下那狗的耳朵。“是的,会成功一匹好狗的。”他加添着说。

“再摸摸它那冰冷的鼻头!拿手来呀!”因为要不使他扫兴,乞乞科夫就又碰一碰那鼻子,于是说道:“不是平常的鼻子!”

“这是真正的猛狗呵!”罗士特来夫还要继续的说。“我得招认,我想找一匹猛狗,是已经很久的了。喂,坡尔菲里,拿它去。”

坡尔菲里捧着那狗的肚子,搬回马车去了。

“听哪,乞乞科夫,你现在应该无条件的同我一道去。离这里不过五维尔斯他。我们一下子就到。这之后,你可以再找梭巴开维支去的。”

“唔!”乞乞科夫想。“其实我竟不妨也去找罗士特来夫一趟。归根结蒂,他也不会比别人坏。同大家一样,是一个人!况且他又输了钱。这人什么都大意。我也许能够无须破费,从他那里抢点什么来的。”——“也好罢,可以的,不过有一层,你不能留住我;我的时间是贵的。”

“你瞧,心肝,你这么听话;乖乖。走过来,给你亲一个嘴罢!”于是罗士特来夫和乞乞科夫拥抱着,亲爱的接了吻。“很好,现在我们三个儿走罢!”

“不成,我是得请你原谅的,”黄头发说,“我该回家去了。”

“吓,胡涂,朋友!我不放你走。”

“不成,真的,我的太太也要不高兴的;况且你现在可以坐他的马车去了。”

“不行,不行,不行!你万不要想。”

那黄头发是这样的人们中的一个,起初,看他的性格是刚强的,别人刚刚张开嘴,他的话里已经带着争辩,如果和他的意见相反,他也决不赞成。他不肯称愚蠢为聪明,尤其是别人吹起笛子来,他决不跳舞。但到结末,却显出他的性质里有着一点柔弱,驯良,到底是对于他首先所反对的变了赞成,称愚蠢为聪明,而且跟着别人的笛子,做起非常出色的跳舞来了。他们以激昂始,以丢脸终。

“吓,胡涂。”对于那黄头发的抗议,罗士特来夫回答着,把帽子捺在他的头上,于是——黄头发就跟着他们出去了。

“慈善的老爷,酒钱还没有付呢。”老婆子从他们后面叫喊道。

“不错,不错,妈妈!对不起,好兄弟,你替我付一付!我的袋子里一文也没有。”

“要多少?”那亲戚问。

“有限得很,先生。不过八十戈贝克。”

“胡说!给她半卢布,已经太多了。”

“太少一点,慈善的老爷。”老婆子说。但也谢着收了钱,没命的跑去开门了。她并不折本,因为她把烧酒涨价了四倍。

旅客们走上马车,就了坐。乞乞科夫的车,和坐着罗士特来夫和他亲戚的篷车并排着走,三个人在一路上都可以彼此自由的谈天。罗士特来夫的乡下牲口拉着的小篷车,缓缓的跟着,总是慢一点,那里面坐着坡尔菲里和小狗。

我们的旅客们的热心的谈天,在读者一定是没有什么大趣味的,我们还不如趁这时候,讲几句罗士特来夫本人罢,他在我们的诗篇里,所演的恐怕也并不是很小的脚色。

罗士特来夫的相貌,读者一定已经很有些认识了。我们里面的无论谁,遇到这种典型的人物,是决不只一次的。大家称他们为快男儿;当还是儿童和在学校的时候,就被看作好脚色,但也因此得到往往很痛的鞭笞。他们的脸上,总表现着坦白,直爽,和确实的英勇。他们一看见人,别人还不及四顾,就马上成了朋友。他们还立誓要做永久的朋友,而且好像也要守住他们的誓约似的;然而这新朋友大抵就在结交的欢宴的这一晚上,发生争论,又彼此打起来了。他们爱说话,会化钱,有胆量,不改口。罗士特来夫已经三十五岁了,却还像十八二十岁一样:爱逛荡,找玩乐。结婚也没有改变他一点,况且他的太太不久就赴了安乐的地府,只留给他两个孩子,那在他是毫无用处的。他把照管孩子们的事,都托付了一个真的非常之好的保姆。在自己的家里,他停不了一整天。如果什么地方有市集,什么地方有集会,有跳舞或是祝典,即使距离有十五维尔斯他之远,他的精灵的鼻子也嗅得出;一刹时他就在那里了,在赌桌上吵起来,大捣其乱,因为他也如这一流人一样,是一个狂热的赌客。我们在第一章上已经知道,他是玩得并不十分干净的,他会耍一套做记号和弄花样,所以到后来,这玩耍就常常变成别种的玩耍:他不是挨一顿痛打,遭几脚狠踢,就是被人拔掉他那出色的茂密的络腮胡子,至于只剩了也很有限的半部胡子回家。然而他那健康丰满的面颊,是用极好的质料造成的,又贯注着很强的繁殖力,胡子立刻又生出来了,而且比先前的更出色。而且最奇特的是,这大概是只有在俄国才会出现的——不久之后,他就又和痛打了他的朋友混在一起,大家扳谈,仿佛全没有过什么事,他这一面,也好像毫未受过侮辱似的了。

在若干关系上,罗士特来夫是一位“故事的”人物。没有那一个集会,只要他有份,会不闹出一点“故事”来的。那“故事”常常是:被几个宪兵捏着臂膊,拉出客厅,或者给他自己的朋友硬推到门外去。如果不是这些,那么,就总要闹一点别人决不会闹出来的什么事,或者在食堂里喝得烂醉,只是笑个不住,或者受了亲口所说的谎话的拖累,终于自己吃亏。他无缘无故的说谎。他会突然想到,讲了起来,说自己有过一匹马,是蓝条纹毛的,或淡红条纹毛的,或者是诸如此类的胡说,一直弄到在场的人们全都走开,并且说道:“哪,兄弟,我看你是诞妄起来了!”有一些人,是有一种毫无缘故,对于身边的人,说些坏话的热情的。例如有人,身居高位,一表非凡,胸前挂着星章,亲爱的握了别一个的手,谈着令人沉思默想的极深刻的问题,但突然又当大家的眼前,说起对手的坏话来了,他就像一个平庸的十四等官,不再是胸前挂着星章,谈着令人沉思默想的极深刻的问题的人物,人们就只好痴立,出惊,至多是耸一耸肩。罗士特来夫就也有这一种奇特的嗜好的。一有谁接近他,他就弄得他非常之窘:他散布一切出乎情理之外的,几乎不能更加昏妄的谣言,拆散婚姻,破坏交易,然而并不以为对人做了坏事;倒相反,待到再和他见面,却很亲热的走过来,说道:“你真是一个平凡得很的家伙!你为什么一向不来看看我呢?”在许多事情上,罗士特来夫确是一个多方面的人物,这就是说,他无所不能。他肯马上领你们到天涯海角去,他肯一同去冒险,他肯和你们换东西。枪,狗,马,都是他的交换目的物,然而想沾便宜的隐情,却是丝毫没有的;这不过是含在他那性格里面的一种活泼性和豪爽性的关系。他在市集上,幸而碰着一个傻瓜,赌赢了,那就把先前在店铺里看中了的东西,统统买拢来:马的颈圈,发香蜡烛,保姆的头巾,一匹母马,葡萄干,一只银盆,荷兰麻布,上等面粉,淡巴菇,手枪,青鱼,画,磨石,壶,长统靴,磁器,到用完了钱为止。然而他把这些好东西带回家去的事情,是非常少有的:大抵就在这一日里,和别一个运道更好的赌客玩牌,弄得一干二净,有时还要添上自己的烟斗,烟袋,烟嘴,或者简直又是四驾马全班和一切附属品:篷车和马夫,弄得主人只好自己穿了一件短衣或者蒲哈拉布衫,跑去找寻可以许他搭车的朋友。这样的是罗士特来夫!人也许以为这是过去的典型,并且说,现在可全没有罗士特来夫们了。阿,不然!说这话的人,是不对的。罗士特来夫在这世界上,是不至于消灭得这么快的。我们之间,到处都是,而且大约不过是偶然穿了一件别样的衣服;然而人们是粗心,皮相的;一个人只要换上别样的衣服,他们也就当作完全另一个人了。

这之间,三辆马车已经到了罗士特来夫家的阶沿的前面。招待他们的设备,家里却一点也没有。食堂中央,有两个做工的站在踏台上,刷着墙壁,一面唱着永不会完的单调的歌儿,石灰洒满了一地板。罗士特来夫立刻跑向他们去,他们就得和他们的踏台一同连忙滚出,于是跑向间壁的屋子,到那里续发其次的命令去了。客人们听到,他在叫厨子备午餐;已经又觉得有点肚饿的乞乞科夫,就知道总得快到五点钟,这才可以入座。罗士特来夫又即回来了,要带客人们到他那领地上去散步,还给他们看看可看的东西。他们为了目睹这一切,大约化了两个多钟头。直到无所不看,无可再看的时候,罗士特来夫这才安静。他们最先看马房,有两匹母马,一匹是带斑的灰色的,一匹是枣红色的,还有一匹栗壳色的雄马。雄马也并不见得出色,但罗士特来夫却宣誓而且力说,这是他化了一万卢布买来的。

“一万是一定不到的,”那亲戚注意到,“这还值不到一千。”

“上帝在上!这值一万!”罗士特来夫说。

“你要起誓,随便起多少就是。”那亲戚回答着。

“那么,好罢,你肯打一个赌?”罗士特来夫说。

然而亲戚不要赌。

于是罗士特来夫把空的马房示给客人们,先前是有几匹好马在这里面的。也还有一只雄山羊,向来的迷信,以为这是马房里万不可少的东西,它和它的伙伴会立刻很要好,在肚子下往来散步,像在家里一样。之后,罗士特来夫又带了两位绅士走,要给他们看一匹锁着的小狼。“这是狼儿!”他说,“我是在用生肉喂它的!”之后又去看一个池,这池里,据罗士特来夫说,有着这么大的鱼,倘要拉它上来,至少也得用两条大汉。然而这时候,他的亲戚又怀疑了。“听哪,乞乞科夫,”罗士特来夫说,“我给你看几条出色的狗,那筋肉之强壮,是万想不到的!还有那鼻子!尖得像针!”他说着,领他们去到一间干净的小屋子,在四面围着的大院子的中央。他们一走进去,就看见一大群收罗着的狗,长毛的和浅毛的,所有毛色,所有种类,深灰色的,黑色的,黑斑的和灰斑的,浅色点的,虎斑的,灰色点的,黑耳朵的,白耳朵的,此外还不少……还有听起来简直像是无上命令似的各种狗名字,例如咬去,醒来,骂呀,发火,不要脸,上帝在此,暴徒,刺儿,箭儿,燕子,宝贝,女监督等。罗士特来夫在它们里,完全好像在他自己的家族之间的父亲:所有的狗,都高高兴兴的翘起了猎人切口之所谓“鞭”的尾巴,活泼的向客人们冲来,招呼了。至少有十条向罗士特来夫跳起来,把爪子搭在他的肩膀上。“骂呀”向乞乞科夫也表示了同样的亲爱,用后脚站起,给了一个诚恳的接吻,至于使他连忙吐一口唾沫。于是罗士特来夫用以自傲的狗的好筋肉,大家都已目睹了——诚然,狗也真的好。还去看克理米亚的母狗,已经瞎了眼,据罗士特来夫说,是就要倒毙的。两年以前,却还是一条很好的母狗。大家也来察看这母狗,看起来,它也确乎瞎了眼。从这里又走开去,因为要去看水磨,但使上面的磨石不动摇,并且转得很快的轴子,或者用俄国乡下人的怪话,为了它上上下下的跳着,就叫作“蚤子”的那轴子,却没有了。“现在是就要到铁厂了。”罗士特来夫说。走了几步,大家也的确看见了铁厂,于是又察看了一下。

“在这田坂上,”罗士特来夫指着,说,“兔子就有这么多,连地面都看不见了。新近我就亲自用手拉住了一匹的后脚。”

“哪,你要知道,用手是捉不住兔子的。”那亲戚插嘴说。

“我可是捉住了一匹!真的!”罗士特来夫回答道。“哦,现在我要带你们看我的领地的边界去了。”他向乞乞科夫转过脸来,接着说。

罗士特来夫领客人们经过田坂,到处是生苔的小土冈。客人们都得从休耕的和耕过的田里取路。乞乞科夫觉得有些疲乏了。许多地方,他的脚竟陷在烂地里:泥土应脚陷得很深。开初,他们是在留心回避着走的,但到知道了这也不中用,就不管什么地方烂泥积得最厚,单是信步的跑上去了。走过许多路之后,终于也看见了边界,是用一个木桩和一条小沟分划开来的。

“这是边界,”罗士特来夫说,“统统,所有在这边的——都是我的产业,连那个树林,那你们望去在那边蓝森森的,还有树林后面的地方,都是我的。”

“什么时候变了你的树林的?”那亲戚问。“你新近买的吗?先前可还不是你的呢。”

“唔,就是新近买进来的。”罗士特来夫说。

“怎么能买的这样快呢?”

“就是前天买好的,化了很多的钱,妈的!”

“那时你不在市集上吗?”

“唉唉,你这聪明的梭夫伦,人就不能一面逛市集,一面买田地吗?不错,我是在市集上,管家却当我不在的时候,把林子买下来了。”

“那总该是管家买的了。”那亲戚说,还是不相信,摇摇头。

客人们仍旧走着先前的不像样的路,回了家。罗士特来夫又引他们到自己的书斋里,但一间办事房里总归可以看到的东西,在这里却什么也不能发见的,这就是没有书,也没有纸,壁上只挂着一把长刀和两枝枪,一枝三百卢布,别一枝是八百卢布。那亲戚向屋子里看了一遍,尽是摇着头。罗士特来夫又给他的朋友们看了几柄土耳其的剑,其中的一柄上见有铭文道,“匠人萨惠黎·西比略科夫”(9),大概只是误刻上去的。这之后,客人们又有摇琴赏鉴了,罗士特来夫立刻奏起一个曲子来。摇琴的声音并不坏,不过里面好像发生了一点什么,因为罗士特来夫奏着的玛兹尔加,忽然变成英雄马尔巴罗(10)上阵了的歌,而这又用那很旧的华勒支曲来结了末。罗士特来夫早已不摇了,但这机器有一个极勇敢的管子,简直不肯沉默,独自还响了很久的时光。之后是大家要看烟斗了,罗士特来夫收集得很不少:木烟斗,磁烟斗,海泡石烟斗,烟熏了的和没有烟熏的,麂皮包着的和没有包着的,等等;又看见一枝琥珀嘴的长烟管,是罗士特来夫新近赢来的,还有一个刺绣的烟袋,是在什么驿站上,忘魂失魄的爱上了他的一位伯爵夫人的赠品,而且她的手儿,是“尽纤细之极致”的,这句话,大约算是把完美之至的意思,竭力表示了出来的了。大家吃过几片鲟鱼之后,将近五点钟,这才就了食桌。在罗士特来夫的生活上,中餐是没有排在大节目里面的,因为对于食品的烹调,好像并不十分看重;有的太熟,有的还生。厨子也似乎大抵只照着一种什么灵感,就用手头的一切好物事,做出肴馔来:近旁刚有胡椒瓶,他就把胡椒末撒在菜盘里——桌上有一株卷心菜,他就也加上卷心菜,还随手放进牛奶,火腿,豌豆去。——一言以蔽之:他混起来,只要这菜热,也就已经有一种味道了!但罗士特来夫对于酒类,却看得很要紧:汤还没有上桌,他就先敬了客人一大杯葡萄酒,第二杯是上等白葡萄酒。因为府署和县署所在的市里,是没有平常的白葡萄酒的。此后罗士特来夫又叫取一瓶玛兑拉酒来,“就是大元帅,也没有喝过这么好的。”的确,这玛兑拉会烧人的喉咙,因为商人们是知道他们的买主——地主——的嗜好,喜欢强有力的玛兑拉的,他就尽量的羼进蔗酒去,有时也看准了俄国人的胃脏,什么都受得下,于是放一点王水(11)在里面。临了,罗士特来夫又叫取一瓶很特别的酒来,据他说,是一种香槟和蒲尔戈浓的综合。他极热心的斟满了左右两边的杯子,给他的亲戚和乞乞科夫;但乞乞科夫觉到,他给自己却斟得很少。这使乞乞科夫有了一点戒心;当罗士特来夫正对着亲戚谈天或是斟酒之际,便乘机把自己的一杯倒在菜盘里了。接着又立刻拿出一瓶乌莓烧酒来,据罗士特来夫说,是全像奶油味道的,但奇怪的是不过发着很强的浊酒气。后来又喝了一种香醪,有一个名目,然而很不容易记,连主人自己第二回说起来也完全是另一个了。中餐早已完毕,酒也都试过了,但客人们却还不离开桌面,乞乞科夫总不愿意当着那个亲戚的面,向罗士特来夫说出他藏在心里的事情来:那亲戚究竟是外人,这事情却只能密谈的。但那亲戚也未必是一个于他有害的人,因为他已经大醉,埋在椅子里,早就抬不起头的了。后来他自己也觉得情形有些不妙,就请罗士特来夫放他回家去,而且说的很低,很倦的声音,好像——用民族的俄国的表现说起来——用钳在马头上拔马嚼子。

“不行,不行,不行,我不放你走!”罗士特来夫说。

“不要难我了,好朋友!真的,我要走!”那亲戚恳求道。“你不该这么虐待我的!”

“胡说!发昏!来,我们玩一下彭吉式加。”

“不行,好人,还是你自己玩罢!我实在不能玩了,我的太太要很不高兴我的;我也还得对她讲讲市集的情形去。真的,朋友!不给她一点小高兴,这是我的大罪过呀。求求你,不要留我了罢!”

“管她老婆什么妈……!好像顶要紧的是你们两口子在一起!”

“不不,真的,朋友!她是很好的,我的太太——能干,诚实,一个模范的贤妻!她待我好。你可以相信我,我是常常感激得至于下泪的。不不,不要想留住我了罢;我是一个正人君子——我得走了。我告诉你!老老实实!”

“放他走罢,我们要他做什么呢!”乞乞科夫悄悄的对罗士特来夫说。

“你说的对!”罗士特来夫道,“我最讨厌这样的孱头!”于是他大声的说下去道:“好罢,那就滚你的。去!尽找你的老婆去,你这吹牛皮的!”

“不是的,朋友!你不能骂我是吹牛皮的!”那亲戚回答说。“我仗她才有生活呢。真的!她是很可爱,很好,很温柔,娇小……我常常要流出眼泪来。她会问我,我在市集上看见了些什么——我得统统告诉她——她很可爱……”

“那么,去和她胡说白道去就是!”

“不,听哪,好朋友!你不能这样说她的,这也就是侮辱我呀,她是很好,很可爱的。”

“是了,快滚罢!找她去!”

“是的,的确,我要走了;原谅我不能奉陪。我是极高兴在这里的,但是我实在做不到。”那亲戚总在絮叨着一切陪罪的话,却没有留心到他已经坐上马车,拉出大门,在露天底下,田野上面了。由此知道,他的太太怕也未必会听到多少市集的情形罢。

“这么一个废物!”罗士特来夫走向窗口,目送着跑远去的马车,说。“这么跑!那旁边的马倒不坏,我早就看上了的。不过这家伙总不肯。只是一个孱头!”

大家走到隔壁的屋里去。坡尔菲里拿进烛火来,乞乞科夫忽然见有一副纸牌在主人的手里了,却不知道他是从那里取来的。

“来一下小玩艺罢,朋友!”罗士特来夫说,一面把纸牌一挤,又一松,那十字封条就断掉,落在地上了。“消遣消遣呀,你知道。我想玩一下三百卢布的彭吉式加!”

然而乞乞科夫只装作全没有听到那些话的样子,却自己突然想到了什么似的,说道:“哦,几乎忘记了,我要和你商量一点事!”

“什么事呀?”

“但你得豫先约定可以允许我!”

“那是什么事呢?”

“不,你得先和我约定的!你听真!”

“那么,好罢。可以的!”

“一言为定!”

“一言为定!”

“那么:你一定有一大批死掉的农奴,户口册上却还没有注销的罢!”

“自然!这又怎么样呢?”

“都让给我。把他们归到我的名下去!”

“你拿这有什么用呢?”

“我有用。”

“不,你说,什么用?”

“就是有用……这是我这边的事情了——一句话,我有用处。”

“里面一定还有缘故的。你一定在计画什么事。说出来罢!什么事?”

“唉唉,什么计画呵!这样的无聊东西。我能拿它计画什么呢?”

“那么,你要他们做什么呢?”

“我的上帝,你真是爱管闲事!无论什么垃圾,你也要用手去摸一下,而且简直还会嗅一下!”

“是的,但是你为什么不肯说呢?”

“就是我说了,你有什么用呢?这是很简单的,不过我想这么的干一下!”

“就是了,如果你不说,我就也不给!”

“听罢,这是你丢面子的。你说过一言为定的了,现在却想不算了!”

“很好,随你说罢。在你没有告诉我之前,我不答应!”

“我怎么告诉他才是呢?”乞乞科夫想;他略一盘算,才来说明他的要找死魂灵,为的是想在交际社会里,增加自己的名望,他没有大财产,所以原有的魂灵也不多。

“你胡说,”罗士特来夫说,打断了他的话,“你胡说,兄弟!”

乞乞科夫自己也觉到,他的谎实在撒的不聪明,这虚构的口实也的确没有力量。“那么,好,我老实告诉你罢,”他正经的说道,“我请你只放在自己的心里,不要传开去。我准备结婚了,但可恨的是我那新妇的父母是极难说话的人,总想出人头地。一对该死的东西!和这样的有了关系,我倒在懊悔了。他们一定要新郎至少也有三百个魂灵,但我可一共几乎还缺一百五十个,那么……”

“不的,兄弟,你胡说!”罗士特来夫又喊起来。

“不,真的,这回是连这样的一点谎也没有的。”乞乞科夫说着,用拇指头在小指尖上划出一块极小的地方来。

“如果不是胡说,拿我的脑袋去!”

“听哪,你侮辱我!我是何等样人呀?我为什么总要说谎呢?”

“可是我明白你了:你是一个大骗子——要知道我是看朋友交情上,这才说说的。如果我是你的上司,第一着就是在树上缢死你!”

听了这话,乞乞科夫觉得受侮了。凡有粗卤的,有伤中庸的界限的表现,是使他不舒服的。他不喜欢和不相干的别人亲昵,但如果那是上等人物,就又作别论。因此他现在觉得心里不高兴。

“上帝在上,我要缢死你!”罗士特来夫重复说,“我很坦白的说出来,而且说这也并不是为了侮辱你,倒是因为我自己相信,我是你的朋友。”

“一切事情都有一个界限,”乞乞科夫俨然的说,“倘若你爱用这样的语调,不如进兵营去。”——于是他又接下去道:“你不肯送,那么,卖给我也可以的。”

“卖!我明白你了。你是一个流氓。你不肯多出钱的。”

“哪,你也该知足了!想一想罢,你以为那是宝石似的东西吗?”

“你说的对,我明白你了。”

“不,听罢,朋友,多么小气呀。你其实是应该送给我的。”

“那就是了,我一个钱也不要,给你看看我并不是这么一个吝啬鬼。你买一匹种马去,农奴就算作添头。”

“请你想想,我要种马做什么用呢?”乞乞科夫说,对于这提议,非常诧异了。

“你做什么用?买这捣乱家伙,我化了一万卢布,你只要出四千。”

“但是我拿它去做什么呀!我并没有牧场。”

“是的,再听我说,你还没有懂呢。现在我只要三千。其余的一千你可以后来再付的。”

“是的,但是,我简直完全用不着!实实在在!”

“那就是了,那么,买我的那匹枣红的母马去罢!”

“我也用不着母马。”

“我给你母马,还添上你已经见过的那匹灰色小马,只要二千卢布。”

“我用不着马!”乞乞科夫说。

“你可以再去卖掉的。无论在那一个市集上,你都能赚三倍。”

“如果你相信可以赚这么多的钱,还是自己卖去罢。”

“这能赚钱,我是知道的,不过我愿意你也赚一点。”

乞乞科夫陈谢了他的友情,并且坚决的回绝了枣红的母马和灰色的小马。

“那么,在我这里买几匹狗去罢!有一对可以给你的小夫妻在这里;会使你乐到脊梁都抽搐起来的。刺毫毛,硬胡子;那成堆的毫毛,就像刺猬的刺一样,而且那肋骨呵——简直是铁箍。还有那又小又胖的爪子——几乎不沾地!……”

“唉唉!我用不着狗。我不是猎户。”

“但我很希望你也养几条狗。不过,你知道,如果你不要狗,那就买我的摇琴去。我告诉你,那是好东西。我自己呢,我是一个正人君子,不打谎,那时化了一千。给你却只要九百。”

“我要摇琴做什么用呀?我又不是德国人,要拿了这东西挨家的讨钱去!”

“但这并不是德国人所有的那样筒琴哩。这是一个风琴,你仔细的看去。真正玛霍戈尼树做的!来,我再给你看一下罢!”罗士特来夫就捏住乞乞科夫的手,拉到邻室去,他抵抗,两脚钉住了地板,想不动,他力辩,自己很知道那摇琴,然而都没有用,他总得再听一回马尔巴罗怎样的去上阵。

“如果你不愿意给我钱,那么,我们就这么办罢,你知道,我给你摇琴,再加上所有的死魂灵,你就留下你的篷车,还只要再付三百卢布。”

“又来了?我怎么回去呢?”

“我另外给你一辆车。在库房里,我就给你看!你只要去漆一下。那就是一辆很体面的马车了!”

“这人给冒失鬼附了体吗?”乞乞科夫想,并且下了英勇的决心,凡有罗士特来夫的马车,摇琴,以及一切平常和异常的狗,即使那是未尝前闻的,铁箍似的肋骨和又小又肥的爪子,都给他一个不要。

“但是你全都到手了呀:马车,摇琴,死魂灵。”

“但是我不要。”乞乞科夫又说了一遍。

“为什么你简直不要?”

“很简单,因为我不要,这就尽够了!”

“唉唉,你这家伙!和你打交道,是不能像和一个好朋友或是伴当的。真是一个……!人立刻明白,你是有两个舌头的人。”

“是的,我是驴子,对不对?毫无用处的东西,我为什么非买不可呢?”

“不不,不要提了!现在我明白你了。这样的一个无赖汉,的的确确。好罢,你听着,我们来玩一下彭吉式加。我押上所有的死魂灵,再加摇琴。”

“不,不,我的好人,用赌博来决输赢,是靠不住的。”乞乞科夫向对手拿着的纸牌看了一眼,说。他觉得对手很难相信。连纸牌也可疑。

“为什么靠不住?”罗士特来夫说。“这是没有什么靠不住的;如果你运气好,妈的,就什么都到手。瞧罢,你的运气多么好。”他说着,摊开几张纸牌来,要引起乞乞科夫打牌的兴趣。“哪,这样的好运气,这样的好运气!总是这样上风。你瞧,这是该死的十,我会因此输得精光的。我知道会使我输得精光。但是我闭起眼睛,心里想,妈的!请便罢,这奸细!”

罗士特来夫正在讲说的时候,坡尔菲里又拿进一瓶酒来了。但乞乞科夫都坚决的拒绝,不喝酒也不玩牌。

“你为什么不要玩?”罗士特来夫道。

“因为我不高兴。老实说,我根本就不是一个赌友。”

“为什么你不是一个赌友的呢?”

“就因为我不是一个赌友呀!”乞乞科夫说,并且耸一耸肩。

“无聊家伙,你这!”

“上帝这样的造了我了,我也没法。”

“简直是一条懒虫。先前我至少还当你是一个有些体面的人。可是你全不明白打交道。对你不能说知心话,你是连一点点的面子也不要的。全像梭巴开维支!废料一枚!”

“你说出来,为什么骂我的?不玩牌,就是我的错处吗?如果你是这么一个斤斤计较的家伙,那么,把魂灵卖给我就是了!”

“你拿恶鬼去!而且还是没有头毛的。我本要白送给你的,现在你可是拿不到手了,就是你献出一个王国来,我也不给。这样的一个扒手!这样的一个龌龊的坏货!我从此不和你来往了。坡尔菲里,告诉管马房的去,不要给他的马匹吃燕麦了。给吃干草就尽够。”

这样的结局,乞乞科夫是没有豫先想到的。

“我还是不看见你的好!”罗士特来夫说。

这吵架并没有阻碍了主人和他的客人一同吃晚饭,虽然这回在桌上不再摆出各种佳名的酒来。不过孤另另的站着一小瓶,是契沛尔酒之一种,但其实是人们大抵叫作酸的浊酒的。晚饭之后,罗士特来夫领乞乞科夫到一间旁边的屋子里,那里面铺着一张给他睡觉的床,并且说道:“你的床在这里。我不高兴对你说什么晚安。”

说完这话,他出去了,只剩下乞乞科夫一个人,心情恶劣之至。他在懊恨自己,自责他的同来这里,费了他许多要紧的时光;最难宽恕的是竟对他说出了自己的事情;真是粗心浮气,活像一个傻子;因为这一类事情,是完全不能对罗士特来夫说的。罗士特来夫是一个坏货;他会添造些谣言,不知道要散布怎样的谎话,到底还弄出一个无聊的话柄来呢……晦气,真真大晦气!“我真是一头驴子!”他对自己说。这一夜他睡得很坏。有一种很小,却很勇敢的虫,不住的来咬他,痛的挡不住,使他用五个指头搔着痛处,一面唠叨道:“恶鬼抓了你去罢,连罗士特来夫!”当他醒来的时候,还早得很。他的开首第一着,是披上睡衣,穿好长靴之后,就到院子边沿的马房去,吩咐绥里方立刻套车子。归途中遇见了罗士特来夫,他也一样的穿着睡衣,嘴里咬着烟斗,在院子里从对面走过来。

罗士特来夫很亲昵的招呼他,还问他夜里睡得怎么样。

“总是这样!”乞乞科夫冷淡的答道。

“我也是的,朋友……”罗士特来夫说。“你可知道,我给该死的鬼东西闹了一整夜,我简直说不清;昨夜嘴里还有一种味儿,好像是一整队的骑兵在那里过夜。你知道,我梦见挨了鞭子。真的!你猜是谁打的呢?我来打一个赌,你一定猜不着:是骑兵二等大尉坡采路耶夫和库夫新涅科夫打的。”

“好,好,”乞乞科夫想,“如果你真的挨一顿打,那倒实在不坏的。”

“上帝在上!这真的痛得要命!我就醒了;不错,周身都痒;该死的东西,这跳蚤!哦,回去穿起衣服来罢;我就到你那里去。我只要再去申斥一下管家这无赖子就行。”

乞乞科夫回到屋子里,洗过脸,换好了衣服。当他走进食堂去的时候,桌子上已经摆着茶具和一瓶蔗酒了。屋里却还分明的留着昨天的中餐和晚餐的遗迹;使女并没有用过扫帚。地板上散着面包末屑,连桌布上也看见躺着成堆的烟灰。那主人,也就进来了,穿的还是睡衣,下面露着不穿小衫的,生着浓毛的胸脯。一只手拿了长烟管,一只手拿一个杯,喝着,这模样,对于极讨厌理发店招牌上面那样卷起,掠光,或者剪短的头的画家,实在是一个很好的图样。

“那么,你以为怎样?”略停了一会之后,罗士特来夫说。“你不想赌一下魂灵吗?”

“我已经告诉过你了,我不赌;却买——我愿意这样。”

“我不想卖,这不像朋友。莫名其妙的事,我是不干的。赌——那可是另外一回事了。玩牌罢!”

“我已经告诉过你了,我是不赌的。”

“你也不愿意交换吗?”

“我不愿意!”

“唔,那么,听罢,我们来下象棋,好吗?你赢——就都是你的。该从户口册上注销的,我这里有一大批。喂,坡尔菲里!拿象棋盘来!”

“请你不要费神了,我可是不赌的!”

“但这并不是赌博呀;这不讲运气,也不能玩花样,什么都靠真本领的。而且我还得声明,我下得很不行;你应该饶我几著。”

“也许这倒很好的,试试看。”乞乞科夫想。“我先前象棋下得并不坏,况且他要在这里玩花样,也很难的。”

“也好!可以的。我还是和你下一盘象棋罢。”

“魂灵——对一百卢布?好吗?”

“为什么?我想,五十卢布也足够了。”

“不行,你听哪,五十,这不像一注的!还不如我加上一匹普通的猎狗,或者一个金的图章罢,你知道,那就像人们挂在表链上那样的东西。”

“那就是了!我可以来。”乞乞科夫说。

“可是你让我先几子呢?”罗士特来夫问。

“这怎么可以?自然不让先。”

“至少,开手要让我先两子的。”

“不行,我自己也下得很坏。”

“知道了,这下得很坏!”罗士特来夫说着,动了一子。

“我长久没有碰过棋子了。”乞乞科夫说着,也动了一子。

“知道了——这下得很坏。”罗士特来夫说着,又动了一子。

“我长久没有碰过棋子了。”乞乞科夫说着,又走下去。

“知道了——这下得很坏。”罗士特来夫说着,又动了一子,同时又用睡衣的袖口,把别的一子推向前去了。

“我长久没有碰过棋子了……喂,这是怎么的,好朋友?把这一子收回去!”乞乞科夫喊道。

“什么?”

“这一子是你得退回去的。”乞乞科夫说;但他忽然看见在他的鼻子跟前另外还有一子,像是想去吃帅似的。它是怎么来的呢,却只有一个上帝知道。“不行,”乞乞科夫说,“和你,是不能下的。人不能一下子就走三著!”

“怎么三著?这是弄错的。这一子是错带上来的;我退回去,如果你要这样。”

“还有这里的是怎么来的呢?”

“你说的是那一子呀?”

“这里,这一子,这想来吃帅的。”

“你怎么了呀!你好像不明白似的。”

“不,我的好人,棋子我都数过,什么都记的清清楚楚的,你刚刚把它推上来的。这里是它的原位!”

“什么——那里?”罗士特来夫红着脸,说。“你胡说白道,朋友!”

“不的,好人,恐怕正是你胡说白道,但可惜就是运气小。”

“你当我什么人?”罗士特来夫说。“莫非你以为我在玩花样吗?”

“我并没有当你什么人,不过我自己警戒,不再和你下棋了。”

“不成,现在你早不能退走了,”罗士特来夫愤激了起来,“棋已经下开了头的!”

“可是我可以不下,因为你下得不像一个规矩人!”

“你说谎!你没有说出这样话来的权利!”

“不然,我的好人,那倒是你,你说谎的!”

“我没有玩花样,你也不能退开。你得下完这一盘!”

“你强迫我不来的。”乞乞科夫冷冷的说,走近棋局去,把棋子搅乱了。

罗士特来夫怒得满脸通红,奔向乞乞科夫,至于使他倒退了两步。

“我却要强迫你,和我来下棋。你搅乱了棋局,也没有用的。我著著都记得!我们可以把这一局从新摆出来的!”

“不成,我的好人,我不和你下,这就够了!”

“你不下吗?是不?”

“你自己看就是,人是不能和你来下的!”

“不,要说明白:你下,还是不下?”罗士特来夫说着,更加走近乞乞科夫来,碰着了他的身体。

“不下。”乞乞科夫说,一面只得擎起双手,放在脸前,他看情形,已经料到要有一场剧战了。这准备很得当,因为罗士特来夫模样是就要动手的,而且很容易打过来,会使我们的主角的漂亮丰满的脸上,蒙上洗不去的耻辱;然而他把那一击往斜下里架掉了,还紧紧的捏住了罗士特来夫的两只喜欢打架的手。

“坡尔菲里,保甫路式加!”罗士特来夫发疯似的叫喊起来,一面挣脱着。

这一叫喊,乞乞科夫就放掉了他的手,因为他不愿意给仆役目睹这有趣的场面,而且同时觉得,永远扭住着罗士特来夫,也是毫无意思的。这刹那间,坡尔菲里走进屋子里来了,后面跟着保甫路式加,是一个强壮的小子,和他是尝不到好味道的。

“你总不肯下完这一局吗?”罗士特来夫说。“说出来:是,还是不。”

“要下完它,我可做不到。”乞乞科夫说着,向窗外瞥了一眼,他看见自己的马车已经套好,旁边是绥里方,好像只在等候叫他拉到门口来的命令。然而总逃不出这屋子去,因为门口站着两匹强有力的驴子,罗士特来夫的家奴。

“你总不肯下完这一局吗?”罗士特来夫再说一遍,脸上气得通红。

“如果你下得规规矩矩……但是……不下了!”

“不下?你这恶棍!你觉得自己要输了,你就会马上不下了!打他!”他突然暴怒的喊起来,一面转向坡尔菲里和保甫路式加,自己也抓起了他那樱木的长烟管。乞乞科夫白得像一块麻布。他想说些什么,但他只觉得自己的嘴唇在动,却没有发出一点声音。

“打他!”罗士特来夫大叫着,拿了他那樱木的长烟管向他奔来,发红而且流汗,恰如喊着向一个难攻的要塞冲锋一样。“打他!”罗士特来夫用了好像一个狂暴的中尉,正当猛烈的总攻击之际,对他的中队喊道“前进,儿郎们!”似的声音大叫着,这中尉,是以蛮勇获得名望的,当剧战使他无法可想的时候,就只好发这命令。然而战云已经把他弄昏,他觉得周围一切,都在打旋子了。大将斯服罗夫的影子,仿佛就在前面飘浮。重大的目标在那里,他就瞎七瞎八的冲过去。他喊着“前进呀,儿郎们!”但这事怎样的破坏了已经筹定的总攻击的计画,却并不细想,而藏在云间一般的难攻的要塞的墙壁的枪洞里,有几百万枪口,和自己带着的无力的小队,会像轻微的羽毛似的在空中纷飞,以及敌人的枪弹会呼啸着飞来,使这边的叫喊沉默下去之类的事,也并不重视了。然而,就是把罗士特来夫当作一个没头没脑的向要塞冲锋,疯里疯气的中尉似的人物罢,而这被他猛攻的要塞本身,却和那种要塞毫不相像,倒相反,这要塞是感到一种恐怖,连心脏也掉到裤子里去了。他想拿着护身的椅子,已经被家奴们从手里抢去了,他已经闭上眼睛,死比活多,准备用脊梁来挨这家的主人的乞尔开斯的长烟管,另外还要出什么事呢,那可只有上帝知道了。然而福从天降,我们的主角的胁肋,肩膀,以及所有养得很好的各处的皮肉,幸而都没有事。完全出乎意外,突然响起来了,好像天使的声音,是一个铃铛声,驶来的马车的车轮声,连屋里也听得到的三匹跑热了的马的沉重的呼吸声。大家都不禁连忙跑到窗口去。一个留了胡子,穿着军人似的衣服的人,跨下车子来。他在门口问过主人之后,就走进屋子里,其时乞乞科夫还在吓得发昏,也还在凡有垂死的人,总要尝到的可怜之至的状态里。

“我可以问,两位里面谁是罗士特来夫先生么?”那客人问,于是用了诧异的眼光,向手里拿着长烟管,站在那里的罗士特来夫看了一眼,也向刚从他那可悲的状态里开始恢复转来的乞乞科夫看了一眼。“我可以先问,光临的是谁么?”罗士特来夫走近他去,说。

“我是地方法院长!”

“您贵干呢?”

“我这来,为的是通知你一件我所收到的公文。在对于你的未决案件,有了法律的判决之前,你是被告。”

“吓,胡闹!怎样的案件?”罗士特来夫说。

“你牵涉在地主玛克西摩夫的案件里了,你在酩酊状态之际,用杖子打他,给了他人格的侮辱。”

“胡说,我根本就不认识这地主玛克西摩夫。”

“可敬的先生!您要承认我所给您的注意:我是官吏。您可以对您的仆役这么说,却不能对我。”

到这里,乞乞科夫便不再等候罗士特来夫对于这的回答,抓起自己的帽子,从地方法院长的背后溜出门外,坐上他的马车,并且命令绥里方,赶马匹用全速力跑掉了。

————————————————————

(1) Karlsbad,德国的温泉场。先前的俄国贵族是很喜欢到那里去的,但大抵只为了玩耍,并不是来养病的。——译者。

(2) Buchara,中央亚细亚的地名。——译者。

(3) Doublet,纸牌比赛的一种。——译者。

(4) Galbik,打牌之一种。——译者。

(5) Bankishka,同上。——译者。

(6) “大批”之意。——译者。

(7) 乞乞科夫的本名和父称是保甫尔·伊凡诺维支,罗士特来夫却乱叫作阿波兑勒杜克·伊凡诺维支,在那时的俄国是算很失礼的。——译者。

(8) Thenardi,那时的著名的马戏班子。——译者。

(9) Saveli Sibiriakov,这是俄国人的名姓。——译者。

(10) John Churchill Marlborough(1650—1722),英国的大将,以常胜著名。——译者。

(11) 硝强水和盐强水的混合物。——译者。

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