dead souls, imperial envoy

Chapter 14 Dead Souls (14)
By one or two more turns our hero came at last to the master's house, whose melancholy was still more evident.Moss has grown on the wood of the courtyard wall and the gate.The courtyard is full of various decaying houses, including warehouses, lower rooms, and ice cellars. There are gates leading to other courtyards on the left and right sides of these houses.Everything shows how large-scale the family business here was originally, but the scene in front of them now is bleak.Nothing to animate the picture, no busy doors, no moving crowds--no lively care and busyness of our lives!Only the front door was open, and that was because a countryman, who seemed to have purposely come to liven up the dead place, was driving a matted and loaded carriage into the yard. Otherwise, even the two doors are tightly closed, which can be seen from the big lock hanging on the iron door knocker.After a while Chichikov saw a man coming out of a house and quarreling with a countryman driving a cart.He looked at it for a long time and couldn't decide whether it was a man or a woman.The man was dressed in nondescript clothes, it looked like a woman's nightgown, and on his head was a small round hat like that worn by country maids; Chichikov felt that the man's voice was hoarse, but Too much like a woman. "Oh, this is a woman!" Chichikov thought to himself, but then he thought: "Oh, no!" He looked carefully, and finally concluded: "It is a woman! Of course it is." The other party also looked carefully. with him.A visitor was probably a strange thing here, for she looked not only at him, but at the carriage and Serivan, and at the horse from beginning to end.From the bunch of keys hanging from her belt and from the rather crude words she had used to insult the countryman, Chichikov concluded that this person must be a housekeeper.

"Well, old mother, where is master?" he said, getting out of the carriage.

"Not at home," the housekeeper interrupted him without waiting for him to finish. After waiting for a while, she asked again, "What are you looking for him for?"

"Something happened."

"Then come in!" said the housekeeper, and turning away, Chichikov saw that her back was covered with flour, and her skirt had a big tear.Chichikov walked into the spacious and dark alley, feeling as cold as being in an ice cellar.Walking through the alley into a room, this room was also dim, only a little light came in through a big crack under the door, which gave the room a little light.He opened the door again, and finally stepped into the light, surprised again by the mess before him.It looks like the people in this house are going to paint the floors, so they threw all the furniture here.There was a chair with a broken leg on a table. Next to the broken chair was a clock. The pendulum of the clock had already stopped swinging, and there were even cobwebs on it.Beside the table, and flanking the wall, stood a chest of antique silver, decanters, and china.A mother-of-pearl writing desk, the mother-of-pearl has fallen off in many places, leaving some grooves showing yellow glue stains.There are various things on the desk: a stack of densely written papers—on top of which is a greenish marble paperweight with an oval handle, an ancient leather-bound book with a red spine, an old leather book that fell from an armchair. A broken armrest, a lemon that had dried up to the size of a hazelnut, a cup of some liquid with three flies floating in it, and an envelope covered in it, a piece of rag I found somewhere, a piece of sealing wax, two sticks of ink A quill pen stained and dried out like a tuberculosis, a musty toothpick—perhaps the owner picked his teeth with it before the French invaded Moscow in [-].

A few pictures were randomly hung close together on the wall: there was a long yellowed engraving of an unknown battle, with huge drums, shouting soldiers in three-cornered hats, and drowning The engraving is placed in a mahogany frame without glass, with some fine copper patterns inlaid on the frame, and copper rings at the corners.Next to it hangs a large blackened oil painting, half the size of the wall, which shows fruits, flowers, wild boar's head, cut watermelon and a duck hanging upside down.In the middle of the ceiling hung a chandelier covered in a burlap bag, dusty like a cocoon.On the floor in the corner of the room was a heap of rough things not fit to lie on a table.What is in this pile is difficult to study, because there is a thick layer of dust on it, and any hand that touches it will become like a glove; what can be seen clearly are half a log and a Old boot soles, because they stuck their heads out.If it had not been for a battered old-fashioned nightcap lying on the table, it would have been impossible to be sure that there were any living people in this room.While he was observing these grotesque decorations, the side door opened, and the housekeeper he had met in the courtyard entered.But this time he saw it clearly, this is not so much a housekeeper, but a housekeeper: the housekeeper doesn't know how to shave, but this person does shave, but it seems that he doesn't shave often, his whole body The lower parts of the chin and cheeks were like the iron brushes used for brushing horse hair in a stable.A questioning expression appeared on Chichikov's face, and he waited anxiously for the butler to speak.The butler was also waiting for Chichikov to speak first.Chichikov couldn't bear this inexplicable reception, and finally made up his mind to ask: "Where is the master? Are you in your room?"

The butler said, "The master is here."

"Where is it?" Chichikov repeated.

"Sir, are you blind or what?" said the butler. "Alas! I am the master!"

At this, our hero could not help stepping back and staring at him carefully.He has seen many people of all kinds, even people that neither I nor the reader will ever meet, but he has not seen such people.The man's face was not special, his face was the same as that of many thin old gentlemen, except that his chin was so long that he had to cover it with a handkerchief every time he spit to prevent the phlegm from falling on it.The two small eyes have not lost their luster, and they are rolling around under the high eyebrows, much like a mouse sticking its head out of a dark hole, its ears are erected vigilantly, and its beard is wiggling. A cat or a mischievous child hides there and sniffs the air for suspicious smells.The most intriguing thing is his attire: no matter how hard you try, no matter what method you use, you will never know what he put together his nightgown and blouse: the two sleeves and the front are stained with oil, black and shiny. Bright, like the finest leather for boot shafts.The back and hem of the clothes were originally divided into two pieces, but his was in four pieces, and cotton was falling out.It was also difficult to tell what it was around his neck: something like a stocking, maybe a bellyband or a garter belt, but it couldn't be a tie anyway.In short, if Chichikov met a man dressed in this way at the church door, he would give him a penny.Our gentleman has a rather commendable quality, that is, he is very soft-hearted, and he will give a beggar a copper coin anyway.But now in front of him is a landlord, not a beggar.This landlord has more than 1000 serfs. Who doesn't believe it? Try to find another person who has so many grains, flour and grain stacks, and can fill up so many cloths, woolens and raw sheepskins in warehouses, granaries and warehouses. And various dried fish and vegetables.His tool room stores all kinds of wood and so many utensils that are never used. If anyone takes a look, he will feel that he has entered the wooden market in Moscow. Follow to buy daily utensils, all kinds of utensils are tenoned, polished, woven, painted; open low wooden barrels, sealed round wooden barrels, amphora wooden barrels, wooden barrels with lids, and mouthpieces Spoutless wooden pots, baskets, baskets for mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law to put hemp balls and sundries when twisting ropes, various boxes made of thin poplar bark, small circles with wooden lids and wooden bottoms made of birch bark Containers and all kinds of utensils used by rich and poor Russians are piled up like mountains.What do people think Plyushkin needs so many things for?Even if there were two manors as big as his eyes, he would never be able to use them up in his lifetime——but he still felt that there were too few.He wanders around the village every day, keeping his eyes on the roadside and under the bridge, no matter what he sees—whether it’s old shoe soles, women’s rags, tiles, or rusty nails, he wants it all. Take it home and throw it into the junk pile in the corner where Chichikov saw it.As soon as the peasants saw him go out of the house, they said, "The scavenger is out to sweep the street again!" The street did not need to be swept after he walked by.Once a passing officer dropped a spur, and the spur went in no time to the well-known junk heap.If a woman accidentally left the bucket by the well, he would also take the bucket away.If any peasant had seen it on the spot, he'd put it down without arguing; but as soon as anything fell into his rag-heap, it was too late: he'd swear to God that it was his , who bought it from someone on a certain day in a certain year, or it was left to him by his grandfather.In his own room, he picked up whatever he saw, a piece of paper, a piece of sealing wax, or a feather, and piled them on the writing desk or the window sill.

But back then, he was just a diligent and frugal head of the family!At that time, he had a wife and children, and neighbors often came to his house to have a good meal and discuss with him how to manage the family.Everything is full of vitality and running rhythmically: the felt factory and water mill are in operation, the woolen factory, spinning mill and carpentry workshop are in production.The owner's eyes are sharp and perceptive, covering everything; he is like a hard-working spider, running around the spider web of the family property busily and swiftly.There was never a strong expression on his face, but there was wisdom in those eyes.Guests were happy to listen to his comments; he was witty and well-versed in the world.The reputation of a hospitable and chatty housewife is well known.Two lovely girls often ran out to welcome the guests, they were like two delicate roses, both with fair hair.His son—a lively kid—runs out to kiss the guest, regardless of whether the guest is happy about it.The windows of the house were all open at that time.In the attic lived a governess from France, who was good at the marksman and clean-shaven: he would often bring back a few black-bone chickens or wild ducks to accompany his lunch, and sometimes some sparrow eggs, and let the kitchen work for itself. Spread out a bird's quiche, because no one in the family will eat it anymore.In the attic lived a fellow-woman of his, who was the governess of the two girls.The owner always wears a frock coat when he eats in the restaurant. Although it is a little old, it is very tidy and there is no place for patching.Both elbows were intact: but the good housewife went to heaven; a part of the keys and the attendant chores passed to him.Plyushkin became more restless and, like all widowers, more and more miserly.He was right that he could not trust enough of his eldest daughter, Alexandra Stepanovna, because she soon eloped with a captain of a cavalry regiment who only God knows, and soon The wedding was about to take place in a village church somewhere, and she knew that her father didn't like officers—Plyushkin had a strange prejudice that all soldiers were gamblers and losers.Father did not bother to find her, but cursed her.The home seemed even more empty.The master's stinginess is also becoming more and more obvious.From the coarse black hair grows the silver thread, and the silver thread is the faithful companion of miserliness, and it encourages the growth of miserliness.The French teacher was fired because the son was old enough to work.The Frenchwoman was also turned away, because he later discovered that Alexandra Stepanovna had not been completely ignorant of the captain's abduction.As for the son, according to his father's wishes, he should go to the government office in the provincial capital to find a good job, but he joined the army. After all the procedures were completed, he wrote to his father asking for money to buy military uniforms.As the saying goes, it's perfectly normal for a son to get a little pissed off.In the end, the younger daughter who stayed with him also died, so the old man began to take on several roles, not only as a watchman guarding his property, but also as the owner and custodian of his property.A lonely life provides rich nourishment for miserliness.We all know that being stingy is like a hungry wolf, the more you eat, the bigger your appetite becomes.There was not much human emotion left in him, and now it was getting scarcer; every day the old man lost some human emotion.Just at this time, as if to test his opinion of soldiers, his son lost his whole card game again.As a father, he scolded his son with the same heart, and then he never wanted to know whether his son was still alive.The windows of his house were nailed up every year, and in the end there were only two left unnailed, one of which—as the reader has seen—was pasted with sugar paper.Major parts of his family business disappear from his eyes every year, and he has become so short-sighted that he sees only goose feathers and scraps of paper that he picks up around the house.He became less and less accommodating to the merchants who came, and the merchants talked to him about the price of agricultural products, and the same. Finally, they stopped coming altogether, saying that he was a ghost, not a human being.The hay and grain rotted, and the haystacks and crop stacks became mere dunghills on which cabbages could grow; , I can’t even touch it—it will turn into ashes once I touch it.He himself also gradually forgot how many things he had. He only remembered that there was a glass bottle somewhere in the cabinet, and there was some wine left in it, and he marked the bottle in case someone drank it secretly. Somewhere lay a goose feather or a piece of sealing wax.Of course, the amount of the rent remains the same: the farmer should pay as much as the labor rent, the weaver should pay as much as the bolts of linen, the peasant woman should pay as much as the nuts—all the collected things are piled up in the barn, In the end it was mud or rags, and he himself was a piece of human rags.Alexandra Stepanovna came back twice with her youngest son to see if she could get something back.It seems that the military career with the cavalry captain is not as attractive as it was imagined before marriage.Plyushkin probably forgave her, and gave the little grandson a button that was on the table to play with for a while, but he gave him no money.The second time, Alexandra Stepanovna brought the two children, and brought him a new pajamas and a brioche for tea--for the one on papa's It not only shamed her, it literally embarrassed her.Plyushkin loved the two grandchildren very much, took them in his arms, let one ride on the right leg and the other on the left leg, supported them with his legs, and made them look like they were riding on horses.He accepted the nightgown and the bread and butter, but he didn't give up his daughter.Alexandra Stepanovna went home empty-handed.

Such a landowner stood before Chichikov!Roughly speaking, such people are rare in Russia: Russians are more used to being extravagant.When compared with his neighbors, he stands out even more.His neighbor happened to be a landowner who liked to entertain his guests with Russian grandeur and splendor, as the saying goes.Strangers passing by will stop in surprise when they see his neighbor's mansion, wondering why there is a mansion of a prince with a fief in the heap of ignorant small farmers.Look, the palace-like white stone mansion has countless watchtowers and chimney weather vanes, surrounded by stretches of wing rooms and various houses for guests to stay in, everything that one expects to find!Large dances can be held at home, and plays can be performed; the garden is lit all night, and the joy is loud.People from half the province are playing under the trees in splendid costumes.A branch vividly protruded from the dense green shade, illuminated by an artificial light, and lost its vivid green color; the night sky above was made darker and more majestic, and the majestic crown seemed to shine below. Disturbed by the brilliant lights at its roots, it rustled its leaves and stretched out into the depths of intoxicated darkness; but no one at this time was surprised or chilled by this self-supporting brilliance.Plyushkin had stood there silently for several minutes, while Chichikov, absorbed in his master's appearance and the scene in the room, did not speak.He thought for a long time, but he couldn't think of any words to express his intention.He wanted to say that he had admired Plyushkin's kindness and virtue for a long time, and thought it necessary to come and listen to his teachings, but he immediately thought that this was too exaggerated.He took another look at the furnishings in the room and thought it would be better to replace "virtue" and "kindness" with "frugality" and "orderliness", so he changed his words, saying that he had long admired Plyushkin for his housekeeping. Well-mannered and frugal, I think it is necessary to come to ask for advice in person and express my respect.Of course there could be a better reason, but Chichikov didn't think of it for a moment.

(End of this chapter)