dead souls, imperial envoy

Chapter 13 Dead Souls (13)
That's how the deal was settled.The two decided to go to the city to make a contract the next day.Chichikov asked for a list of the serfs.Sobakevich agreed very much when he heard it, and he immediately went to the writing desk and started to write. He not only wrote down the names of the people, but also wrote down everyone's strengths.Chichikov, who had nothing to do for the time being, stood behind him and carefully looked at his burly body.His back was as broad as a Vyatka pony; his legs were as thick as iron posts on the sidewalk.Chichikov sighed in his heart: "Oh, you are really favored by heaven! It's like the saying goes: 'Even if you don't cut well, you can sew well!' You are born like a bear, or you are from the country. Life, dealing with the country people turned you into a bear, turned you into a greedy ghost? But, I think, if you get a good education, rise to the top, and live in Petersburg instead of backwaters, you It will be like this too. The only difference is: after eating a plate-sized pancake, you can still eat half a lamb rib with rice. At that time, you may only be able to eat some fried steak with mushrooms. Moreover, now your farm The serfs here: you are very friendly to them, you will not bully them, just because they are your property, doing so will harm your own interests; and at that time you have officials in your hands, because you think they are not your serfs, You will deal with them hard, or grab them clean! Once a greedy ghost has money in his hand, he will never let go! Nothing good will come of it. If he knows a little bit of fur science of any kind, when he gets to a position of importance, he will give those who know it a taste of him. He'll say:' Let me try my hand!' He will invent many clever ways to make many people suffer... Oh, if only these greedy ghosts were all dead!"

Sobakevich turned around at this moment and said, "The list is ready."

"It's finished? Let me see!" Chichikov glanced at it. The list was so clear that he was very surprised: not only did it state everyone's title, craft, age and family status, but also marked the following Everyone's drinking degree, temperament--in a word, it will be pleasant to look at. "Please pay the deposit now!"

"When I'm in town I'll pay in one lump sum. What's the given money for?"

"It's the rule, you know," Sobakevich answered.

"I don't know how to give it to you. I don't have any money with me. Oh, here's ten rubles."

"What is ten rubles? At least fifty rubles?"

Chichikov pleaded that he had no money with him; but Sobakevich insisted that he did, so he took out another bill and said: "Well, I'll give you fifteen more, so it's twenty-five in all. But I want you to make a receipt."

"Oh, what do you need a receipt for?"

"Better have a receipt. You know, . . . anything can happen these days."

"Okay, bring the money!"

"The money is in my hands! What are you going to do with it? After writing the receipt, you can get it."

"Excuse me, how can I write a receipt like this? I have to get it first."

Chichikov finally let go and gave the money to Sobakevich.Sobakevich walked back to the table, holding the banknote in his left hand, and wrote on a note in his right hand: 25 rubles as deposit in advance for selling registered serfs, according to this.After writing the receipt, he checked the banknotes again. "The notes are a bit old!" he said holding a banknote up to the light, "and a bit worn out, but since we are friends, let's not worry about that."

"Greedy, greedy!" cried Chichikov inwardly, "and a cunning greedy one!"

"Does the girl want it?"

"Thank you, no."

"My price is not high. To save face, one ruble each."

"No need for women, no."

"Well, since you don't want it, there's nothing to say. You can't force the taste to be the same. As the saying goes, some people like the priest, and some people like the priest's wife—each has his own preference."

Chichikov said at parting: "I would like to ask you one more thing: only you and I know about this transaction."

"Of course. There is no need for other people to get involved; friends and confidants should be interesting enough to do business. Farewell! Thank you for visiting in vain; and please remember in the future: If you have free time, come and have a meal together. Sit down. Maybe there's something we can do for each other."

Chichikov got into the carriage and thought to himself: "Don't do any more service! A dead serf wants two and a half rubles from me, what a bloody greed!"

He was quite dissatisfied with Sobakevich.After all, they are acquaintances. They have met twice at the governor's house and the police chief's house, but they behave like strangers, and some trash wants money!As the carriage drove out of the gate he looked back and saw Sobakevich still standing on the steps, as if watching his guests go there. "Still standing there! What a villain." He gritted his teeth and told Selifan to go behind the farmhouse first, so that Sobakevich could not see where the carriage was going.He also wanted to go to Plyushkin, because Sobakevich said that the serfs in Plyushkin's house were dying like flies, but he didn't want Sobakevich to see it.When the carriage reached the edge of the village, he saw a farmer carrying a thick log picked up on the road and pulling it home like a tireless ant. He stopped him: "Hey, if you don't go to the master's house At the gate of the compound, which way is there to get to Plyushkin's house, Beard?"

The countryman was stumped by this question.

"Do not you know?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Oh, you! You have gray hair, don't you know that miser Plyushkin who doesn't feed the serfs?"

"Ah! It's the patcher, the patcher!" cried the peasant.After the word "patched" he succeeded in adding another noun, but that word was frowned upon by polite society, so we left it out.But the reader can guess that the word is expressive, because, although the peasant has long since disappeared from view, and the carriage has traveled a long way, Chichikov is still laughing in the carriage.Russians are so expressive!As long as they give someone a nickname, then this nickname sticks to him, whether he is on the job, whether he leaves the job, whether he goes to Petersburg, or goes to the sky, he will carry it forever.No matter how hard he tries to build a good reputation for himself, even if some pens add him to the genealogy of the ancient grand duke, it will not help: it is like a crow opening its throat to shout for itself, but people hear it. Know the origin of this bird.These exact words are as inscribed, and cannot be chopped off with an axe.How accurate are these words that flow from the depths of Russia, because there is no German, Finnish or any other national influence, everything is natural, vivid Russian wisdom, want to say something without being like a chicken coop You're thinking hard over there, and you just pick up a word, and it will be stuck to you at once-like a passport that never expires, and you don't need to say what your nose and mouth look like-this one word is Write you thoroughly and vividly!

Just like the pious and holy land of Russia is covered with countless churches and monasteries with domes, steeples and crosses, there are also countless countries and nations on this planet, and they live in each side, crowded and busy.Any nation that is good at creation, has distinctive characteristics and other endowments, no matter what it wants to express, its language has its own unique features, and these unique ways of expression reflect their unique temperament.The English are polite and worldly; the French are rich and deaf; the Germans are fond of inventing esoteric words that not everyone can understand; but there is no language like that. The Russian words in one sentence are so bold and pungent, speaking from the depths of the soul, so full of passion and vividness.

The Harvest of the Six Misers

A long time ago, when I was young and never came back, if I went to a strange place, I would really like the fresh feeling of being here for the first time: whether it is a poor county, a small village or a city, Whether it is the Grange, you can always catch many new things in the unique eyes of children.All kinds of buildings and everything with distinctive features will attract me and surprise me.Whether it's the same style, half of the windows are just decorations, the stone government office standing in the middle of the log bungalows inhabited by ordinary people in the market, or the neat dome covered with tin sheet on the whitewashed new church, the market is also very popular. Well, it doesn’t matter whether it’s a playboy in the county town who goes out to hang out——these can’t escape my immature and sensitive eyes. I stick my nose out of the car and go to a clothes style that I have never seen before. The nails packed in wooden boxes, the yellowed raisins, rosin and soap, and the jars of hardened Moscow sweets are all so fresh and interesting.Looking at an infantry officer who was sent to a small county from nowhere and a businessman in a short coat pleated at the waist and rushing on the open two-wheeled horse carriage on the road-I will follow their figures to imagine them The tortuous life course.A civil servant in a county passed by me, and I wondered in my heart: Where is he going at this time?Whether to go to a party at the home of one of his colleagues, or go home directly, so that he can sit on the doorstep for half an hour, and after dark, sit with his mother, wife, sister-in-law and other families to have a unique dinner what will be the subject of conversation after a course of soup, when the maid with the copper coin collar or the house boy in the fat coat brings up the tallow candle in the durable candlestick?When approaching a landowner's estate, I always pay curious attention to the slender wooden bell tower or the simple and honest old church.The red roof and white chimney of the landlord's house are hidden among the green trees, as if expressing a secret temptation to the boy. I always wait eagerly for the trees that cover the house to flash to the sides, so that I can see the whole picture of the house, so as to soothe the anxiety. youthful feelings.Oh, and it didn't look tacky for the day.Looking at the exterior of the house, I still try to guess what kind of person the owner is inside, is he fat or thin?A son or a full six daughters?Are they always laughing and playing tricks?Isn't the youngest one a beauty?Do these six girls all have black eyes?What about the owner himself?A kindly jovial man, or a sombre late-September day, looking at a calendar all day and talking of rye and wheat that bore youth?
Now when I approach any unfamiliar village, my mood has not fluctuated at all. The appearance of those villages has already become mediocre in my heart; happy thing.Things that once animated my countenance, provoked laughter, and made me chatter, now attract no attention around me, and a cold silence is sealed on my motionless lips.Ah, the days of my youth!Ah, my vigorous youthful feelings!
While Chichikov was secretly rejoicing at the nickname Plyushkin had received from the countrymen, the carriage drove into the center of a huge village with many farmhouses and alleys.The huge bumps made him notice where he was. The carriage was walking on the road paved with logs. Compared with the log road, the velvety cobblestone road in the city definitely fits the adjective of velvet.The logs paved on the road are as eye-catching as the black and white keys of a piano. Passengers who are not careful will either hit their foreheads with bruises or a big bump on the back of their heads, or use their own teeth to bite off their own bones. Tongue.The farmhouses that Chichikov saw were all old and decayed. The log walls of the farmhouses were black and old; many houses were riddled with holes, and the roofs were more like sieves; Several rib-like purlins.It seems that the owners of the house removed the upper rafters and wooden boards. They probably think that this kind of dilapidated house does not shelter the rain in rainy days, and there is no rain leakage in sunny days. What is the trouble with women in it? In the tavern, on the road—in a word, you can stay where you like, there are places to stay everywhere.Their thinking is naturally reasonable.None of the windows in the farmhouse had glass, and some of the windows were stuffed with a rag or a rag.The balustraded balconies under the roofs of the farmhouses (for some reason farmhouses in many parts of Russia always have balconies) are also dilapidated and unbelievably dark.The back of the farmhouse is covered with rows of large grain stacks, which seem to have been stacked here for a long time.The color looks like an old brick that hasn't been burned through.The grain stacks were covered with weeds, and there was even a bush growing beside them.It seems that this is the granary of the host family.Behind the stacks of grain and the ruined roofs of the houses, there were two country churches that appeared now and then in the clear sky, close together, now on the left, now on the right, depending on which way the carriage turned. La.One of the two churches is wooden and has been abandoned, and the other is stone.On the light yellow wall of the stone building, there are also interlaced cracks and mottled stains.Part by part of the master's house is revealed.At the end of the row of farmhouses, there appeared a clearing, enclosed in low places by a broken fence, probably a vegetable garden or a cabbage patch.It is in this place that the owner's residence is revealed in its entirety.This residence looks like a strange castle, which is elongated in itself, but it is a little too long. Some places have only one floor, and some places have two floors. It looks like an old waste.Its black roof can no longer protect its aging time. There are two crumbling watchtowers symmetrically on the roof, and the paint on it has long since peeled off.Gray battens were exposed in many places on the walls of the house, showing signs of weathering.Only two of the windows were open; the rest had their shutters closed, and some were boarded up.The windows were not entirely transparent either, and to one was glued a dark triangle cut out of blue sugar wrapper.

Behind the house was a large garden that was neglected.The garden stretched beyond the village and meandered into the fields.The only thing that seemed to add life to the vast village was the garden, the only thing that, with its bleakness, afforded a spectacle.The trees stretched wantonly, and the canopy connected with the canopy, forming some irregular domes of leaves, like green clouds piled up in the sky.A white birch tree whose canopy was broken off by a storm or thunderstorm, its tall white trunk stands above the green cloud, its rounded body like a regular marble column with white light; Slanting stubble, like a black bird or a black hat.The hops, after twisting pepper, elder, and hazel bushes below, climbed over the wooden fence, and continued to climb halfway up the broken-headed birch.After climbing to the middle of the waist, it hangs down and grabs other treetops, or curls its slender and flexible beard tips into small circles and dances in the air with the wind.Some of the green leaves of the dense dome are not closed.Under the sunlight, those unclosed places were pitch-black, like deep holes.Inside the hole were thick shadows, looming: some collapsed railing, a path, a rickety gazebo, the hole-ridden trunk of an old willow, a clump of pale shrubs (its tangled choking and dead branches and leaves stretched out from behind the old willow like thick bristles); and a slender maple branch stretched out some claw-shaped green leaves from the side, and a ray of sunlight somehow got in and fell on one of the leaves. , painted this leaf with a transparent fire color, and radiated a strange brilliance in this dense shadow.On one side, on the tight edge of the garden, were some tall aspen trees, taller than the others, and some large crow's nests sat on the swaying tops of the trees.Some branches on the poplar were broken, but they didn't fall off, and they were still hanging there with dead leaves.In short, everything is beautiful, and neither art nor nature alone can accomplish these things, only the combination of the two can only be done by nature as the final embellishment on the complicated and often futile human labor, turning the cumbersome The lines become dexterous, and then fill in the unmistakable gap (which reveals the undisguised nakedness), erase the traces of the chisel, and create a kind of warmth in the indifferent symmetry and cleanliness. able to produce such beauty.

(End of this chapter)