dead souls, imperial envoy

Chapter 17 Dead Souls (17)
But Chichikov obviously didn't care about this practice, and he simply ticked off the name. "What kind of person would you be? Grigory, who is said to be out of reach! Have you ever pulled carts for a living, bought a wagon and three horses, then wandered away from home and spent your whole life pulling merchants out?" Maybe you left your horse on the road, maybe your friends got jealous over a red-faced chubby soldier wife and got you killed, maybe it was Greenwood The good man took a fancy to your big leather thong gloves and three ponies, or you were thinking about it on the wooden bed, and suddenly your heart couldn't get over it, you went to the tavern and had a big drink, and finally fell into the ice. into the hole, and disappeared without a trace. Oh, Russian people! You don't like to die! What's the matter with you? My little ones." His eyes moved to the place where Plyushkin On the list of fugitive serfs, he continued to think, "Although you are still alive, what's the use of it! Now you are not the same as the dead. Where are your sharp legs taking you now? It is because you are in Life is not good for the Plyushkins, or is it because you are willing to hang out in the woods as green men? Maybe you found another landowner and plowed the fields? Or are you in prison, Yereme Karya Kim, fast-legged Nikita, and his son, fast-legged Anton—you can tell from their nicknames that they are good escapees. Popov is a domestic servant, and I don’t think you can pick up a knife if you are illiterate: Surely stealing by legitimate means. But you don't have a passport and the officer caught you. You stand there pleading. 'Whose family are you from?' the officer asks you, taking the opportunity to add a dirty Words. You answer confidently: "I belong to a certain landlord." "How did you get here?" The police officer continued. "Let me out to earn rent." You answered without hesitation. "Your passport is in the Where?''With my employer, Citizen Pimenov.' 'Pimenov! Are you Pimenov?' 'I'm Pimenov.' 'Did he give you his passport? ''No passport was given to me, no.' 'Why are you lying?' asked the officer again, taking the opportunity to add another dirty word. 'That's right,' you replied indifferently, 'because It was late when I got home, so I didn't give it to him, but gave it to Antip Prokhorov, the bell ringer.''Bell ringer! Did he give you the passport?''I didn't Received his passport, no.''Why are you lying again!' After the police officer finished speaking, he said another dirty word to increase the weight of his words. 'Where is your passport?' 'I originally had Passport,’ you said cleverly, ‘looks like it was lost on the way.’ The officer then asked, ‘Where did this coat come from?’ and hit you with another nasty remark.’ Why stole? Why stole the priest's money-box?" "I never stole," you asserted and denied, "I never do dirty things like stealing." Coat?''I don't know, maybe it was stolen by someone else.''Okay, you slicker, you don't want it!'The policeman put his hands on his hips and shook his headSay, 'Shackle him and send him to jail! ''As you wish!I take it at your convenience,' you replied.After speaking, you took out a snuff bottle from your pocket to show your goodwill to the two disabled soldiers who nailed your leg, asking them to smell it, and asked them friendlyly what wars they participated in and how long they had been retired.You stay in jail while your case is heard in court.At the end of the court trial you were transferred from Tsarevokokshaysk to a prison in a certain city.The court there transferred you to some Vesegonsk.So you drift from one prison to another, and every time you go to a new place, you look at your new house and say: 'The prison in Vesegonsk is still clean: there is still a place for kidnappers, and you have more friends. ! ''Brother Firov!How are you doing?Where are you wandering?Fate brought you to the Volga River, you fell in love with the romantic life there, became a tracker? . . . '" At this point Chichikov paused, lost in reverie. What was he thinking about? Was he thinking about what had happened to Firov, or was he like any Russian, regardless of his status? Humble, old and young, and how much property, just the thought of a dissolute life will make your heart fascinated? In fact, where is Firov now? He probably told the merchants on a grain wharf After finishing the wages, they are happily having fun there. The trackers probably wear hats with flowers and ribbons, saying goodbye to their tall, slender mistresses or wives with necklaces and ribbons. ;Singing and dancing made the whole pier square rejoicing. At this time, the porters, amidst the urging of yelling and insulting, carried the nine-pound heavy bags on the hooks, carrying the grain bags of rice and oats, or secretly Pour peas and wheat into the deep cabin. The grain bags on the pier square are piled up like cannonballs into pyramids, which can be seen from a long distance; Enter the cabins of big boats, and the full boats will line up in an endless fleet with the spring ice floes sailing into the distance. At that time, you trackers will have a good time! You'll be leaning together like a merry-go-round, singing tunes as vast as the land of Russia, working and sweating on the ropes.

"Oh, it's already twelve o'clock!" Chichikov finally looked at his watch and said, "Why did I take so long? If I had to do something serious, I would have made a discussion first, and then I'm thinking nonsense again. I'm so stupid!" He quickly took off his kilt, put on a European-style jacket, tightened his belt, pulled back his big belly, sprinkled some more perfume, and picked up his clothes. file, picked up the fur hat, and went out to the notary office to complete the formalities.He is so nervous because he is not afraid of being late—late, he is not afraid, because the director is his acquaintance, and he can extend or shorten the office hours of the yamen according to his wishes, just like Zeus in Homer's writing needs to let his beloved It is as if the days can be lengthened or shortened at will when the heroes stop fighting or let them win or lose.He was nervous because he wanted to get things done quickly.The matter was not finished, no matter what he said, he always felt uneasy and unreliable, and he always had this idea in his heart: these serfs were not real after all, and this burden had to be unloaded early.He was wearing a maroon wool overcoat with a bearskin lining, thinking about this question, and before he walked out on the street, he bumped into a gentleman.This gentleman also wore the same overcoat as himself, and a fur hat on his head.The gentleman yelled, it was Manilov.They embraced immediately and remained in this position for five or six minutes on the street.Both parties kissed so hard that their front teeth hurt almost all day.Manilov was so happy that only his lips and nose could be seen on his face, and his eyes were all squinted and disappeared.He held Chichikov's hand in both of his for a quarter of an hour, and it burned hot.He told in extremely polite terms how he had flown over to embrace Pavel Ivanovitch; and ended his speech with a polite remark that is usually uttered only when asking a girl to dance.Chichikov opened his mouth, but before he could think of how to express his gratitude, Manilov suddenly took out a paper scroll tied with a pink ribbon from his fur coat, and lightly touched it with two fingers. Handed over.

"what is this?"

"List of serfs."

"Oh!" He immediately opened the scroll and glanced at it. The neat and graceful handwriting surprised him. "The handwriting is really good," he said, "I don't even need to copy it anymore. There are such beautiful flower decorations on the four sides! Who painted this flower decoration?"

"Don't ask me," said Manilov.

"Is it you?"

"It's my wife."

"Oh my God! I'm deeply ashamed to have caused you trouble."

"You, Pavel Ivanovich, can't be bothered."

Chichikov bowed gratefully.When Manilov heard that he was going to the notary office to go through the contract formalities, he said he would go with him.The two friends walked up arm in arm.When encountering small ditches, uphill slopes or ridges on the road, Manilov almost lifted Chichikov up with his hands, and said with a smile on his face that he would never let Chichikov sprain his noble little foot of.Chichikov was a little embarrassed, because he knew he was a bit bulky.They just walked arm in arm to the square where the yamen is located: the yamen is a white three-story stone building, as white as chalk, probably to show the purity of hearts of the officials in the building.The other buildings on the square are simply out of proportion to this magnificent building.They were no more than a sentry-box with gunslingers, a couple of cab-boxes, and some long board walls--which were scrawled with charcoal or chalk all over with the usual dirty words and pictures.There was nothing else on this remote—or, as the Russians used to say it—beautiful square.From the windows on the third and second floors, the heads of officials who were busy working for justice occasionally appeared, but they quickly retracted: probably the boss just entered the room at this time.The two friends ran up the stairs, not up the stairs, for Chichikov quickened his pace so as not to let Manilov help him, and Manilov, in order not to tire Chichikov, They also rushed to help him, and when they walked into the dark corridor, they were all so tired that they couldn't breathe.In the corridors and in the offices, they did not see a tidy sight.At that time, people didn't care about cleanliness, so those dirty things would never be cleaned up, but left to be dirty.The Goddess of Justice receives visitors in her pajamas, unkempt.I should describe the office halls that the two friends walked through, but the author is in awe of all kinds of yamen, even when passing through the office halls with luxurious floors and tables with varnish, he is always cautious. With my head down, I just want to walk quickly, so I have no way of knowing how comfortable and gorgeous it is.Our hero sees many manuscripts (copied and drafts), high heads, broad backs, frock coats, frock coats of the provincial style, and a garish gray jacket—the His face was almost on paper, and he was writing a record of a land dispute or a lawsuit about embezzling the manor (the man who annexed the manor was a law-abiding landowner. already full of children and grandchildren); occasionally a hoarse voice said: "Fedosey Fedoseevich, please, dossier 368!"

"You're always pulling the caps off everyone's ink bottles!"

From time to time a dignified voice, no doubt from an officer, said haughtily: "Take it and copy it! Or I'll have your boots knocked off, starve you, and shut you down." You will be locked up for six days." The rustling sound of the quill pen on the paper resounded through the sky, like the sound of several carts loaded with dry firewood walking in the woods half a foot thick with dead leaves.Seeing two young officials sitting at the first desk, Chichikov and Manilov went over and asked, "Excuse me, where is the contract of sale here?"

The two officials turned around and asked, "What's the matter with you?"

"I want to go through a sales contract."

"What did you buy?"

"I want to ask first where is the sales contract, is it here or somewhere else?"

"You should first tell me what you bought and how much it cost before we can tell you where it is, otherwise there is no comment."

Chichikov could see that the two officials, like all young officials, were only curious, and wanted to add weight and significance to themselves and their work.So he said: "My dear, listen to me, I am well aware that all deeds of purchase, no matter what the price, are done in one place, so I ask you to tell us where to buy Chico, if you don't understand here If so, we'll ask someone else."

After hearing this, the two officials said nothing, and one of them pointed to a corner of the office with his hand.An old man at one of the desks there was numbering documents, and Chichikov and Manilov walked towards him across the desks.The old man was engrossed in his work.Chichikov nodded his head and asked, "Excuse me, is the transaction contract formalities here?"

The old man stared and said slowly, "It's not done here."

"Then, where do we do it?"

"Buy Checo to do it."

"Where's Buy Chico?"

"At Ivan Antonovich's."

"Where is Ivan Antonovich?"

The old man pointed to another corner of the office.Chichikov and Manilov went to Ivan Antonovitch.Ivan Antonovitch had already glanced behind him, and though he saw them, he immediately began to concentrate more on his work.Chichikov bowed and asked: "Excuse me, is the contract of sale here?"

Ivan Antonovich was still so absorbed in processing the papers that he seemed not to hear.It can be seen at a glance that this man is in his forties, and he is by no means comparable to a young man who is flamboyant and frivolous.Although Ivan Antonovich was in his late forties, his hair was still thick and black; his face, with the middle protruding forward and converging on the nose, had the face of a pig's muzzle, as the saying goes.Chichikov asked: "Excuse me, is the contract of sale here?"

"Here," said Ivan Antonovich, turning his cheeky face away again, and went on with his work.

"I have this thing: I bought some serfs from several landlords in this county, and I plan to take them away. The two parties have already written the contract, and there is only a formality left."

"Has the seller come?"

"Some have come, and some have written a power of attorney."

"Have you brought the application?"

"Here's the application. I think... I'm in a hurry... I'm going to get it done today, okay?"

Ivan Antonovich said: "Well, today? Not today. I have to review the documents to see if there is any prohibition."

"Actually, Director Ivan Grigorievich and I are best friends when it comes to speeding up..."

"But Ivan Grigorievich is not alone, there are others." Ivan Antonovich was a little angry.Chichikov understood what Ivan Antonovich meant, and said: "No one will treat you badly. I have done things myself, and I have worked as a job. Do you understand?"

"Then go to Ivan Grigorievich," Ivan Antonovich said more politely, "let him do it, we won't delay here." .”

Chichikov took a banknote from his pocket and threw it in front of Ivan Antonovitch. Ivan Antonovitch did not seem to notice it, but immediately covered it with a book.Chichikov still wanted to show him, but he shook his head to show that it was unnecessary.

"Let him take you to the chief's quarters!" said Ivan Antonovitch, pointing.A man came from among those who were engaged in the sacred service here to show our two friends the way.Here was a man who had served the Lady Justice so hard that both sleeves were obliterated and the lining was exposed at the elbows, and in time won a fourteenth rank.He led our two friends into the director's office just like Virgil served Dante back then.The director’s room is full of large armchairs. On the desk are a Fajian⑩ and two thick stacks of books. There is a big armchair behind the desk, and the director sits there alone like the sun.The new Virgil came here in such a state of trepidation that he dared not step into his legs, and turned back, exposing his back to our hero—his back worn like a broken mat. It seemed to be glowing, and there was a chicken feather stuck in one place.Our protagonist walked into the director's room and saw that the director was not alone here, and Sobakevich was also beside him. When he didn't enter the door, he was blocked by the law book.The arrival of the guests caused a burst of cheers, and the chairs creaked and moved away.Sobakevich also stood up, and his body with long arms could be seen across the room.The director hugged Chichikov, and the room resounded with passionate kisses.They expressed condolences to each other's health - it turned out that both of them had back pain, so they immediately blamed the cause of the disease on their office life.The chief had probably heard from Sobakevich that Chichikov had bought the serfs, for he had already congratulated Chichikov.This embarrasses our hero a little, especially when he sees that Sobakevich and Manilov, two of his private sellers, are now standing together.However, he thanked the director, and then asked Sobakevich, "How are you?"

"God forbid, there is nothing to regret," Sobakevich said.He really shouldn't have anything to complain about: if a piece of pig iron catches a cold and a cough, this remarkably strong landowner doesn't.

The director said: "Your body is well-known far and wide, and your father who passed away was once a strong man."

"Yes, my late father could handle a bear alone," Sobakevich replied.

"I think you could kill a bear if you wanted to fight it," said the Chief.

"No, I won't fall," said Sobakevich, "my father was stronger than me," and then sighed, "No, there are no such people now. Take my life for example. , what can this be? It seems..."

The director said: "What can be unsatisfactory in your life?"

(End of this chapter)