Gogol Nikolai Vasilievich - dead souls. Gogol Nikolai Vasilievich - dead souls Test on the poem "Dead Souls"

And Chichikov sat in a contented mood in his chaise, which had been rolling along the main road for a long time. From the previous chapter it is already clear what main subject his taste and inclinations, and therefore it is not surprising that he soon immersed himself entirely in it, body and soul. The assumptions, estimates and considerations that wandered across his face were apparently very pleasant, for every minute they left behind traces of a satisfied smile. Busy with them, he did not pay any attention to how his coachman, pleased with the reception of Manilov’s servants, made very sensible comments to the brown-haired harness horse harnessed on the right side. This brown-haired horse was very cunning and showed only for the sake of appearance that he was lucky, while the root bay and brown horse, called Assessor, because he was acquired from some assessor, worked with all his heart, so that even in their eyes there was the pleasure they get from it is noticeable. “Cunning, cunning! I'll outsmart you! - Selifan said, standing up and lashing the sloth with his whip. - Know your business, you German trouser! The bay is a respectable horse, he does his duty, I will gladly give him an extra measure, because he is a respectable horse, and the Assessor is also a good horse... Well, well! Why are you shaking your ears? You fool, listen when they say! I, ignoramus, will not teach you anything bad. Look where it’s crawling!” Here he again lashed him with a whip, saying: “Uh, barbarian! Damn you Bonaparte! Then he shouted at everyone: “Hey, my dears!” - and lashed all three of them, no longer as a form of punishment, but to show that he was pleased with them. Having given such pleasure, he again turned his speech to the dark-haired man: “You think you can hide your behavior. No, you live in truth when you want to be respected. The landowner we were with were good people. I'll talk with pleasure if the person is good; with a good person we are always our friends, subtle buddies: whether to drink tea or have a snack - with pleasure, if the person is good. Everyone will pay respect to a good person. Everyone respects our master, because, do you hear, he performed state service, he is a Skole councilor ... "

Thus reasoning, Selifan finally climbed into the most remote abstractions. If Chichikov had listened, he would have learned many details that pertained to him personally; but his thoughts were so occupied with his subject that only one strong clap of thunder made him wake up and look around him; the whole sky was completely covered with clouds, and the dusty post road was sprinkled with drops of rain. Finally, the thunderclap sounded another time, louder and closer, and rain suddenly poured out of a bucket. First, taking an oblique direction, he lashed at one side of the body of the wagon, then to the other, then, changing the pattern of attack and becoming completely straight, he drummed directly on the top of its body; the spray finally began to hit his face. This made him draw the leather curtains with two round windows designated for viewing road views, and order Selifan to drive faster. Selifan, who was also interrupted in the very middle of his speech, realized that there was definitely no need to hesitate, immediately pulled out some rubbish from gray cloth from under the box, put it on his sleeves, grabbed the reins in his hands and shouted at his troika, which She moved her feet a little, because she felt a pleasant relaxation from the instructive speeches. But Selifan could not remember whether he drove two or three turns. Having figured it out and somewhat remembered the road, he guessed that there were many turns that he had missed. Since a Russian man, in decisive moments, will find something to do without going into long-term reasoning, then, turning right onto the first cross road, he shouted: “Hey, you, dear friends!” - and set off at a gallop, thinking little about where the road he had taken would lead.

The rain, however, seemed to persist for a long time. The dust lying on the road quickly mixed into mud, and every minute it became harder for the horses to pull the chaise. Chichikov was already beginning to get very worried, having not seen Sobakevich’s village for so long. According to his calculations, it would have been time to come long ago. He looked around, but the darkness was so pitch-deep.

- Selifan! - he said finally, leaning out of the chaise.

- What, master? - Selifan answered.

- Look, can’t you see the village?

- No, master, I can’t see it anywhere! - After which Selifan, waving his whip, began to sing, not a song, but something so long that there was no end. Everything was included there: all the encouraging and motivating cries with which horses are regaled throughout Russia from one end to the other; adjectives of all kinds without further analysis, as if the first one came to mind. Thus it came to the point that he finally began to call them secretaries.

Meanwhile, Chichikov began to notice that the chaise was rocking on all sides and giving him very strong jolts; this made him feel that they had turned off the road and were probably dragging along a furrowed field. Selifan seemed to realize it himself, but did not say a word.

- What, swindler, which road are you going on? - said Chichikov.

- Well, master, what should we do? It’s time; You can’t see the whip, it’s so dark! - Having said this, he tilted the chaise so much that Chichikov was forced to hold on with both hands. It was only then that he noticed that Selifan had been playing around.

- Hold it, hold it, you’ll knock it over! - he shouted to him.

“No, master, how can I knock it over,” Selifan said. “It’s not good to overturn this, I know it myself; There’s no way I’ll knock it over. “Then he began to slightly turn the chaise, turned it, turned it, and finally turned it completely on its side. Chichikov fell into the mud with his hands and feet. Selifan stopped the horses, however, they would have stopped themselves, because they were very exhausted. Such an unforeseen event completely amazed him. Getting off the box, he stood in front of the chaise, propped himself up on his sides with both hands, while the master floundered in the mud, trying to get out of there, and said after some thought: “Look, it’s over!”

- You're drunk as a cobbler! - said Chichikov.

- No, master, how can I be drunk! I know it's not a good thing to be drunk. I talked to a friend, because you can talk to a good person, there’s no harm in that; and had a snack together. Snacks are not offensive; You can have a meal with a good person.

- What did I tell you? last time when did you get drunk? A? forgot? - said Chichikov.

- No, your honor, how can I forget? I already know my stuff. I know it's not good to be drunk. I talked to a good person because...

“As soon as I whip you, you’ll know how to talk to a good person!”

“As your mercy wishes,” Selifan answered, agreeing to everything, “if you flog, then flog; I'm not at all averse to it. Why not flog, if it’s for the cause, that’s the will of the Lord. It needs to be flogged, because the guy is playing around, order needs to be observed. If it's for the job, then flog it; why not flog?

The master was completely at a loss for an answer to such reasoning. But at this time, it seemed as if fate itself had decided to take pity on him. From a distance a dog was heard barking. The delighted Chichikov gave the order to drive the horses. The Russian driver has a good instinct instead of eyes; from this it happens that, with his eyes closed, he sometimes pumps with all his might and always arrives somewhere. Selifan, without seeing a thing, directed the horses so directly towards the village that he stopped only when the chaise hit the fence with its shafts and when there was absolutely nowhere to go. Chichikov only noticed through the thick blanket of pouring rain something similar to a roof. He sent Selifan to look for the gate, which, no doubt, would have gone on for a long time if Rus' had not had dashing dogs instead of doormen, who reported about him so loudly that he put his fingers to his ears. The light flashed in one window and, like a misty stream, reached the fence, showing our road gate. Selifan began knocking, and soon, opening the gate, a figure covered with an overcoat stuck out, and the master and servant heard a hoarse woman’s voice:

-Who's knocking? why did they disperse?

“Newcomers, mother, let them spend the night,” Chichikov said.

“Look, what a sharp-footed fellow,” said the old woman, “he arrived at what time!” This is not an inn for you: the landowner lives.

- What should we do, mother: you see, we’ve lost our way. You can’t spend the night in the steppe at this time.

“Yes, it’s a dark time, a bad time,” added Selifan.

“Be quiet, fool,” said Chichikov.

- Who are you? - said the old woman.

- Nobleman, mother.

The word “nobleman” made the old woman seem to think a little.

“Wait, I’ll tell the lady,” she said, and two minutes later she returned with a lantern in her hand.

The gate opened. A light flashed in another window. The chaise, having entered the yard, stopped in front of a small house, which was difficult to see in the darkness. Only one half of it was illuminated by the light coming from the windows; a puddle was still visible in front of the house, which was directly hit by the same light. The rain pounded loudly on the wooden roof and flowed in murmuring streams into the barrel. Meanwhile, the dogs burst into all possible voices: one, throwing his head up, walked out so drawn out and with such diligence, as if he was receiving God knows what salary for it; the other grabbed it quickly, like a sexton; between them, like a postal bell, rang the restless treble, probably of a young puppy, and all this was finally topped off by a bass, perhaps an old man, endowed with a hefty canine nature, because he wheezed, like a singing double bass wheezes when the concert is in full swing: tenors rise on tiptoe from a strong desire to strike a high note, and everything that is rushes upward, throwing back his head, and he alone, putting his unshaven chin in his tie, crouching down and sinking almost to the ground, lets out his note from there, which makes them shake and rattle glass Just from the barking of dogs composed of such musicians, one could assume that the village was decent; but our wet and chilled hero thought of nothing but bed. Before the chaise had time to stop completely, he had already jumped onto the porch, staggered and almost fell. A woman came out onto the porch again, younger than before, but very similar to her. She led him into the room. Chichikov took two quick glances: the room was hung with old striped wallpaper; paintings with some birds; between the windows there are old small mirrors with dark frames in the shape of curled leaves; Behind every mirror there was either a letter, or an old deck of cards, or a stocking; a wall clock with painted flowers on the dial... it was impossible to notice anything else. He felt that his eyes were sticky, as if someone had smeared them with honey. A minute later the hostess entered, an elderly woman, in some kind of sleeping cap, put on hastily, with a flannel around her neck, one of those mothers, small landowners who cry about crop failures, losses and keep their heads somewhat to one side, and meanwhile gain a little money in colorful bags placed on dresser drawers. All the rubles are taken into one bag, fifty rubles into another, quarters into a third, although from the outside it seems as if there is nothing in the chest of drawers except linen, night blouses, skeins of thread, and a torn cloak, which can then turn into a dress if the old one will somehow burn out while baking holiday cakes with all sorts of yarn, or it will wear out on its own. But the dress will not burn or fray on its own; the old woman is thrifty, and the cloak is destined to lie for a long time in a ripped state, and then, according to the spiritual will, go to the niece of her grand-sister along with all other rubbish.

Chichikov apologized for disturbing him with his unexpected arrival.

“Nothing, nothing,” said the hostess. - At what time did God bring you! Such chaos and blizzard... I should have eaten something on the way, but it was night time and I couldn’t cook it.

The hostess's words were interrupted by a strange hissing, so that the guest was frightened; the noise sounded like the whole room was filled with snakes; but, looking up, he calmed down, for he realized that the wall clock was about to strike. The hissing was immediately followed by wheezing, and finally, straining with all their might, they struck two o’clock with a sound as if someone were beating a broken pot with a stick, after which the pendulum began to calmly click again to the right and left.

Chichikov thanked the hostess, saying that he did not need anything, that she should not worry about anything, that he did not require anything except a bed, and was only curious to know what places he had visited and how far was the way from here to the landowner Sobakevich, on that the old woman said that she had never heard such a name and that there was no such landowner at all.

- At least you know Manilov? - said Chichikov.

-Who is Manilov?

- Landowner, mother.

- No, I haven’t heard, there is no such landowner.

– Which ones are there?

– Bobrov, Svinin, Kanapatiev, Kharpakin, Trepakin, Pleshakov.

– Rich people or not?

- No, father, there are no too rich. Some have twenty souls, some have thirty, but there are not even a hundred of them.

Chichikov noticed that he had driven into quite the wilderness.

- How far is it at least from the city?

- And it will be sixty versts. What a pity I am that you have nothing to eat! Would you like to have some tea, father?

- Thank you, mother. Nothing is needed except a bed.

– True, from such a road you really need to rest. Sit here, father, on this sofa. Hey, Fetinya, bring a feather bed, pillows and a sheet. For some time God sent: there was such thunder - I had a candle burning all night in front of the image. Eh, my father, you’re like a hog, your whole back and side are covered in mud! where did you deign to get so dirty?

“Thank God it just got greasy; I should be grateful that I didn’t break off the sides completely.”

- Saints, what passions! Shouldn't I need something to rub my back with?

- Thank you, thank you. Don’t worry, just order your girl to dry and clean my dress.

– Do you hear, Fetinya! - said the hostess, turning to the woman who was going out onto the porch with a candle, who had already managed to drag the feather bed and, fluffing it up on both sides with her hands, released a whole flood of feathers throughout the room. “You take their caftan along with their underwear and first dry them in front of the fire, as they did for the deceased master, and then grind them and beat them thoroughly.”

- I’m listening, madam! - Fetinya said, laying a sheet on top of the feather bed and placing pillows.

“Well, the bed is ready for you,” said the hostess. - Farewell, father, I wish you good night. Isn't there anything else needed? Maybe you’re used to having someone scratch your heels at night, my father? My deceased could not fall asleep without this.

But the guest also refused to scratch his heels. The mistress came out, and he immediately hurried to undress, giving Fetinya all the harness he had taken off, both upper and lower, and Fetinya, also wishing good night on her part, took away this wet armor. Left alone, he looked, not without pleasure, at his bed, which was almost up to the ceiling. Fetinya, apparently, was an expert at fluffing feather beds. When he pulled up a chair and climbed onto the bed, it sank under him almost to the floor, and the feathers he had pushed out scattered into all corners of the room. Having extinguished the candle, he covered himself with a chintz blanket and, curling up under it like a pretzel, fell asleep at that very moment. He woke up the next day quite late in the morning. The sun through the window shone straight into his eyes, and the flies that had slept peacefully yesterday on the walls and ceiling all turned to him: one sat on his lip, another on his ear, the third strove to settle on his very eye, the same one that had the imprudence to sit close to the nasal nostril, he pulled in his sleep right into his nose, which made him sneeze violently - a circumstance which was the cause his awakening. Having looked around the room, he now noticed that not all of the paintings were birds: between them hung a portrait of Kutuzov and a painted oil paints some old man with red cuffs on his uniform, like they were sewn on under Pavel Petrovich. The clock hissed again and struck ten; A woman’s face looked out the door and at that very moment hid, because Chichikov, wanting to sleep better, had thrown off completely everything. The face that looked out seemed somewhat familiar to him. He began to remember who it was, and finally remembered that it was the hostess. He put on his shirt; the dress, already dried and cleaned, lay next to him. After getting dressed, he went up to the mirror and sneezed again so loudly that an Indian rooster, who had come up to the window at that time - the window was very close to the ground - suddenly and very quickly chatted something to him in his strange language, probably “I wish you hello,” to which Chichikov told him he was a fool. Approaching the window, he began to examine the views in front of him: the window looked almost into a chicken coop; at least the narrow courtyard in front of him was filled with birds and all kinds of domestic creatures. Turkeys and chickens were countless; a rooster walked among them with measured steps, shaking its comb and turning its head to the side, as if listening to something; the pig and its family appeared right there; Immediately, while clearing away a pile of rubbish, she casually ate a chicken and, without noticing it, continued to eat the watermelon rinds in her order. This small courtyard, or chicken coop, was blocked by a plank fence, behind which stretched spacious vegetable gardens with cabbage, onions, potatoes, beets and other household vegetables. Apple trees and other fruit trees were scattered here and there throughout the garden, covered with nets to protect them from magpies and sparrows, of which the latter were carried in whole indirect clouds from one place to another. For the same reason, several scarecrows were erected on long poles, with outstretched arms; one of them was wearing the cap of the mistress herself. Following the vegetable gardens were peasant huts, which, although they were built scattered and not enclosed in regular streets, but, according to a remark made by Chichikov, showed the contentment of the inhabitants, for they were properly maintained: the worn-out planks on the roofs were replaced everywhere with new ones; the gates were not askew anywhere, and in the peasant covered sheds facing him he noticed that there was a spare almost new cart, and there were two. “Yes, her village is not small,” he said and immediately decided to start talking and get to know the hostess briefly. He looked through the crack in the door from which she was sticking her head out, and, seeing her sitting at the tea table, he entered her with a cheerful and affectionate look.

- Hello, father. How did you rest? - said the hostess, getting up from her seat. She was dressed better than yesterday - in a dark dress and no longer in a sleeping cap, but there was still something tied around her neck.

“Okay, okay,” Chichikov said, sitting down in a chair. - How are you, mother?

- It’s bad, my father.

- How so?

- Insomnia. My whole lower back hurts, and my leg, above the bone, is aching.

- It will pass, it will pass, mother. It's nothing to look at.

- God grant that it passes. I lubricated it with lard and also moistened it with turpentine. What would you like to sip your tea with? Fruit in a flask.

- Not bad, mother, let's have some bread and some fruit.

The reader, I think, has already noticed that Chichikov, despite his affectionate appearance, spoke, however, with greater freedom than with Manilov, and did not stand on ceremony at all. It must be said that in Rus', if we have not yet kept up with foreigners in some other respects, we have far surpassed them in the ability to communicate. It is impossible to count all the shades and subtleties of our appeal. A Frenchman or a German will not understand and will not understand all its features and differences; he will speak with almost the same voice and the same language both to a millionaire and to a small tobacco dealer, although, of course, in his soul he is moderately mean to the former. That’s not the case with us: we have such wise men who will speak to a landowner who has two hundred souls completely differently than to one who has three hundred, and to someone who has three hundred they will again speak differently than to the one who has five hundred of them, but the one who has five hundred of them is again not the same as the one who has eight hundred of them - in a word, even if you go up to a million, there will still be shades. Suppose, for example, there is an office, not here, but in a distant country, and in the office, let us suppose, there is a ruler of the office. I ask you to look at him when he sits among his subordinates - but you simply cannot utter a word out of fear! pride and nobility, and what does his face not express? just take a brush and paint: Prometheus, determined Prometheus! Looks out like an eagle, acts smoothly, measuredly. The same eagle, as soon as he left the room and approaches the office of his boss, is in such a hurry like a partridge with papers under his arm that there is no urine. In society and at a party, even if everyone is of low rank, Prometheus will remain Prometheus, and a little higher than him, Prometheus will undergo such a transformation that Ovid would not have imagined: a fly, less than even a fly, was destroyed into a grain of sand! “Yes, this is not Ivan Petrovich,” you say, looking at him. – Ivan Petrovich is taller, but this one is short and thin; he speaks loudly, has a deep bass voice and never laughs, but this devil knows what: he squeaks like a bird and keeps laughing.” You come closer and look - it’s like Ivan Petrovich! “Ehe-he,” you think to yourself... But, however, let’s turn to acting persons. Chichikov, as we have already seen, decided not to stand on ceremony at all and therefore, taking a cup of tea in his hands and pouring some fruit into it, he made the following speech:

- You, mother, have a good village. How many souls are there in it?

“There are almost eighty showers in it, my father,” said the hostess, “but the trouble is, times are bad, so last year There was such a bad harvest that God forbid.

“However, the peasants look hefty, the huts are strong.” Let me know your last name. I was so distracted... I arrived at night...

- Korobochka, college secretary.

- Thank you most humbly. What about your first and patronymic?

- Nastasya Petrovna.

- Nastasya Petrovna? good name Nastasya Petrovna. I have a dear aunt, my mother’s sister, Nastasya Petrovna.

– What’s your name? - asked the landowner. - After all, you, I am an assessor?

“No, mother,” Chichikov answered, grinning, “tea, not an assessor, but we’re going about our business.”

- Oh, so you are a buyer! What a pity, really, that I sold honey to merchants so cheaply, but you, my father, would probably have bought it from me.

- But I wouldn’t buy honey.

- What else? Is it hemp? Yes, I don’t even have enough hemp now: half a pound in total.

- No, mother, a different kind of merchant: tell me, did your peasants die?

- Oh, father, eighteen people! - said the old woman, sighing. “And such a glorious people, all the workers, died. After that, however, they were born, but what about them: they are all such small fry; and the assessor drove up to pay the tax, he said, to pay from the heart. The people are dead, but pay like you're alive. Last week my blacksmith burned down; he was such a skilled blacksmith and knew metalworking skills.

- Did you have a fire, mother?

“God saved us from such a disaster; a fire would have been even worse; I burned myself, my father. Somehow his insides were on fire, he drank too much, only a blue light came from him, he was all decayed, decayed and blackened like coal, and he was such a skilled blacksmith! and now I have nothing to go out with: there is no one to shoe the horses.

- Everything is God’s will, mother! - said Chichikov, sighing, - nothing can be said against the wisdom of God... Give them up to me, Nastasya Petrovna?

- Who, father?

- Yes, all these people who died.

- How can we give them up?

- Yes, it’s that simple. Or perhaps sell it. I'll give you money for them.

- How so? I really can't understand it. Do you really want to dig them out of the ground?

Chichikov saw that the old woman had gone far enough and that she needed to explain what was going on. In a few words, he explained to her that the transfer or purchase would only appear on paper and the souls would be registered as if they were alive.

- What do you need them for? - said the old woman, widening her eyes at him.

- That's my business.

- But they’re dead.

- Who says they are alive? That is why it is at your loss that they are dead: you pay for them, and now I will spare you the hassle and payment. Do you understand? Not only will I deliver you, but on top of that I will give you fifteen rubles. Well, is it clear now?

“Really, I don’t know,” the hostess said deliberately. “After all, I’ve never sold dead people before.”

- Of course! It would be more like a miracle if you sold them to someone. Or do you think they actually have any use?

- No, I don’t think so. What's the use of them, there's no use at all. The only thing that bothers me is that they are already dead.

“Well, the woman seems to be strong-minded!” - Chichikov thought to himself.

- Listen, mother. Just think carefully: after all, you are going bankrupt, paying taxes for him as if he were alive...

- Oh, my father, don’t talk about it! – the landowner picked up. – Another third week I contributed more than one and a half hundred. Yes, she buttered up the assessor.

- Well, you see, mother. Now just take into account that you no longer need to butter up the assessor, because now I’m paying for them; I, not you; I accept all responsibilities. I will even make a fortress with my own money, do you understand that?

The old woman thought about it. She saw that the business certainly seemed to be profitable, but it was just too new and unprecedented; and therefore she began to be very afraid that this buyer would somehow cheat her; He came from God knows where, and at night too.

- So, mother, deal with each other, or what? - said Chichikov.

“Really, my father, it has never happened before that dead people were sold to me.” I gave up the living ones, so I gave two girls to the archpriest for a hundred rubles each, and I thanked them very much, they turned out to be such nice workers: they weave napkins themselves.

- Well, it’s not about the living; God be with them. I ask the dead.

“Really, I’m afraid at first, lest I somehow incur a loss.” Maybe you, my father, are deceiving me, but they... they are somehow worth more.

- Listen, mother... oh, what you are! what can they cost? Consider: this is dust. Do you understand? it's just dust. You take any worthless, last thing, for example, even a simple rag, and the rag has a price: at least it will be bought for a paper factory, but this is not needed for anything. Well, tell me yourself, what is it for?

- This is definitely true. There’s absolutely no need for anything; But the only thing stopping me is that they are already dead.

“Oh, what a club-head! - Chichikov said to himself, already beginning to lose patience. - Go and have fun with her! she broke into a sweat, the damned old woman!” Here he, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket, began to wipe away the sweat that had actually appeared on his forehead. However, Chichikov was angry in vain: he is a respectable man, and even a statesman, but in reality he turns out to be a perfect Korobochka. Once you’ve got something in your head, you can’t overpower it with anything; No matter how much you present him with arguments, clear as day, everything bounces off him, like a rubber ball bounces off a wall. Having wiped off his sweat, Chichikov decided to try to see if it was possible to lead her on the path in some other way.

“You, mother,” he said, “either don’t want to understand my words, or you’re saying this on purpose just to say something... I’ll give you money: fifteen rubles in banknotes.” Do you understand? After all, it's money. You won't find them on the street. Well, admit it, how much did you sell the honey for?

- Twelve rubles a pound.

“We’ve had enough of a little sin for our souls, mother.” They didn't sell twelve.

- By God, I sold it.

- Well, do you see? But this is honey. You collected it, perhaps for about a year, with care, diligence, trouble; we drove around, starved the bees, fed them in the cellar all winter; but dead souls are not of this world. Here, on your part, you did not make any effort; it was God’s will that they leave this world, causing damage to your economy. There you received twelve rubles for your work, for your efforts, but here you take for nothing, for nothing, and not twelve, but fifteen, and not in silver, but all in blue banknotes. “After such strong convictions, Chichikov had almost no doubt that the old woman would finally succumb.

“Really,” answered the landowner, “my widow’s business is so inexperienced!” It’s better if I wait a bit, maybe merchants will come, and I’ll adjust the prices.

- Stram, stram, mother! just amazing! Well, what are you saying, think for yourself! Who will buy them? Well, what use can he make of them?

“Or maybe they’ll need it on the farm just in case…” the old woman objected, but she didn’t finish her speech, she opened her mouth and looked at him almost with fear, wanting to know what he would say to this.

- Dead people on the farm! Eh, where have you had enough! Is it possible to scare sparrows at night in your garden, or what?

– The power of the cross is with us! What passions you speak! - said the old woman, crossing herself.

– Where else did you want to place them? Yes, however, the bones and graves are all left to you, the translation is only on paper. Well, so what? How? at least answer.

The old woman thought again.

– What are you thinking about, Nastasya Petrovna?

- Really, I won’t tidy everything up, what should I do? I’d rather sell you hemp.

- What about hemp? For mercy's sake, I'm asking you for something completely different, and you're pushing me into hemp! Hemp is hemp, next time I’ll come and pick up the hemp too. So what, Nastasya Petrovna?

- By God, the product is so strange, completely unprecedented!

Here Chichikov completely went beyond the limits of all patience, slammed the chair on the floor in his heart and promised her the devil.

The landowner was incredibly frightened.

- Oh, don’t remember him, God bless him! – she screamed, turning pale. “Only three days ago I dreamed about the accursed man all night. I decided to make a wish on the cards for the night after prayer, but apparently God sent it as a punishment. I saw such an ugly one; and the horns are longer than those of a bull.

“I’m surprised you don’t dream of dozens of them.” Out of pure Christian love for mankind I wanted: I see that the poor widow is being killed, she is in need... but be lost and begone with your entire village!..

- Oh, what kind of insults you make! - said the old woman, looking at him with fear.

– Yes, I won’t find words with you! Really, it’s like some, not to say a bad word, mongrel lying in the hay: she doesn’t eat the hay herself, and she doesn’t give it to others. I wanted to buy various household products from you, because I also conduct government contracts... - Here he lied, albeit casually, and without any further thought, but unexpectedly successfully. Government contracts had a strong effect on Nastasya Petrovna, at least she said in an almost pleading voice:

- Why are you so angry? If I had known before that you were so angry, I would not have contradicted you at all.

- There is something to be angry about! It's not worth a damn, but I'll get angry because of it!

- Well, if you please, I’m ready to pay for fifteen banknotes! Just look, my father, about contracts: if you happen to take rye flour, or buckwheat, or cereals, or beaten cattle, then please don’t offend me.

“No, I won’t hurt you, mother,” he said, and meanwhile he wiped away with his hand the sweat that was rolling down his face in three streams. He asked her if she had any attorney or acquaintance in the city whom she could authorize to carry out the fortress and everything that should be done.

“Why, archpriest, Father Kiril’s son serves in the ward,” said Korobochka.

Chichikov asked her to write a letter of trust to him and, in order to save him from unnecessary difficulties, he even undertook to compose it himself.

“It would be nice,” Korobochka thought to herself, “if he took flour and cattle from my treasury. We need to appease him: there is still some dough left from last night, so go tell Fetinya to make some pancakes; It would also be good to fold an unleavened pie with an egg, I make it well, and it doesn’t take much time.” The hostess came out in order to put into execution the idea of ​​folding the pie and, probably, to supplement it with other products of home bakery and cooking; and Chichikov went out into the living room, where he had spent the night, in order to take out the necessary papers from his box. Everything in the living room had long been tidied up, the luxurious feather beds had been taken out, and there was a covered table in front of the sofa. Having placed the box on it, he rested somewhat, for he felt that he was covered in sweat, like in a river: everything he was wearing, from his shirt to his stockings, was all wet. “Ek killed me like a damn old woman!” - he said, having rested a little, and unlocked the box. The author is sure that there are readers so curious who would even want to know the plan and internal layout of the box. Perhaps, why not satisfy! Here it is, the internal arrangement: in the very middle there is a soap dish, behind the soap dish there are six or seven narrow partitions for razors; then square nooks for a sandbox and an inkwell with a boat hollowed out between them for feathers, sealing wax and everything that is longer; then all sorts of partitions with lids and without lids for something shorter, filled with business, funeral, theater and other tickets, which were folded up as souvenirs. The entire top drawer with all the partitions was removed, and under it there was a space occupied by piles of papers in a sheet, then there was a small hidden drawer for money, which pulled out unnoticed from the side of the box. It was always pulled out so hastily and retracted at the same moment by its owner that it was probably impossible to say how much money was there. Chichikov immediately got busy and, having sharpened his pen, began to write. At this time the hostess entered.

“Your box is good, my father,” she said, sitting down next to him. – Tea, did you buy it in Moscow?

“In Moscow,” Chichikov answered, continuing to write.

– I already knew it: everything is there good job. Three years ago, my sister brought warm boots for the children from there: such a durable product, they are still worn. Wow, how much stamp paper you have here! - she continued, looking into his box. And in fact, there was a lot of stamp paper there. - At least give me a piece of paper! and I have such a disadvantage; It happens that you file a request to court, but there is nothing to do.

Chichikov explained to her that this paper was not of that kind, that it was intended for making fortresses, and not for requests. However, to calm her down, he gave her some sheet worth a ruble. Having written the letter, he gave her a signature and asked for a small list of men. It turned out that the landowner did not keep any notes or lists, but knew almost everyone by heart; he forced her to dictate them on the spot. Some peasants somewhat amazed him with their surnames, and even more so with their nicknames, so that every time he heard them, he first stopped, and then began to write. He was especially struck by a certain Pyotr Savelyev Disrespect-Trough, so that he could not help but say: “What a long one!” Another had “Cow Brick” attached to the name, another turned out to be simply: Wheel Ivan. As he finished writing, he sniffed a little air and heard the enticing smell of something hot in the oil.

“Please humbly have a bite,” said the hostess.

Chichikov looked around and saw that on the table there were already mushrooms, pies, skorodumki, shanishki, pryaglas, pancakes, flatbreads with all sorts of toppings: topping with onions, topping with poppy seeds, topping with cottage cheese, topping with skimmed eggs, and who knows what.

- Unleavened egg pie! - said the hostess.

Chichikov moved towards the unleavened egg pie and, having immediately eaten about half of it, praised it. And in fact, the pie itself was delicious, and after all the fuss and tricks with the old woman, it seemed even tastier.

- And the pancakes? - said the hostess.

In response to this, Chichikov rolled three pancakes together and, dipping them in melted butter, put them in his mouth, and wiped his lips and hands with a napkin. Having repeated this three times, he asked the hostess to order the pawning of his chaise. Nastasya Petrovna immediately sent Fetinya, ordering at the same time to bring more hot pancakes.

“Your pancakes are very tasty, mother,” said Chichikov, starting to eat the hot ones that were brought.

“Yes, they bake them well here,” said the hostess, “but the trouble is: the harvest is bad, the flour is so unimportant... Why, father, are you in such a hurry?” - she said, seeing Chichikov take the cap in his hands, “after all, the chaise has not yet been laid down.”

- They will lay it down, mother, they will lay it down. I'm getting laid soon.

- So, please, don’t forget about contracts.

“I won’t forget, I won’t forget,” Chichikov said, going out into the hallway.

– Don’t you buy pork lard? - said the hostess, following him.

- Why not buy? I buy it only after.

- I’ll talk about Christmas time and lard.

“We’ll buy, we’ll buy, we’ll buy everything, and we’ll buy lard.”

“Maybe you’ll need some bird feathers.” I will also have bird feathers for Filippov's post.

“Okay, okay,” Chichikov said.

“You see, my father, your chaise is not ready yet,” said the hostess when they went out onto the porch.

- It will be, it will be ready. Just tell me how to get to the main road.

- How can we do this? - said the hostess. – It’s a tricky story to tell, there are a lot of twists and turns; Am I going to give you a girl to accompany you? After all, you, tea, have a place on the trestle where she could sit.

- How not to be.

– Perhaps I’ll give you the girl; she knows the way, just look! Don’t bring it, merchants have already brought one from me.

Chichikov assured her that he would not bring her, and Korobochka, having calmed down, began to look at everything that was in her yard; She fixed her eyes on the housekeeper, who was carrying a wooden container with honey out of the pantry, on the peasant who appeared at the gate, and little by little she was completely absorbed in economic life. But why take so long to deal with Korobochka? Whether it’s a box, whether it’s a Manilova, whether life is economic or non-economic - pass them by! It’s a wonderful thing in the world: what’s funny will instantly turn into sadness if you just stand in front of it for a long time, and then God knows what will pop into your head. Maybe you will even begin to think: come on, is Korobochka really standing so low on the endless ladder of human improvement? Is the abyss really that great that separates her from her sister, inaccessibly fenced by the walls of an aristocratic house with fragrant cast-iron staircases, shining copper, mahogany and carpets, yawning over an unread book in anticipation of a witty social visit, where she will have the opportunity to show off her mind and express her expressed thoughts? thoughts, thoughts that, according to the laws of fashion, occupy the city for a whole week, thoughts not about what is happening in her house and on her estates, confused and upset thanks to ignorance of economic affairs, but about what political revolution is being prepared in France, what direction it has taken fashionable Catholicism. But by, by! why talk about it? But why, in the midst of thoughtless, cheerful, carefree moments, will another wonderful stream suddenly rush by itself: laughter has not yet had time to completely escape from the face, but it has already become different among the same people, and the face has already been illuminated with a different light...

- Here’s a chaise, here’s a chaise! - Chichikov cried, finally seeing his chaise approaching. – Why have you been digging for so long, you idiot? Apparently, you haven’t completely worn off your drunkenness from yesterday yet.

Selifan did not answer anything to this.

- Goodbye, mother! Well, where is your girl?

- Hey, Pelageya! - the landowner said to a girl of about eleven standing near the porch, in a dress made from home dye and with bare feet, which from a distance could be mistaken for boots, they were so caked with fresh mud. - Show the master the way.

Selifan helped the girl climb onto the box, who, placing one foot on the master's step, first stained it with mud, and then climbed to the top and sat next to him. Following her, Chichikov himself raised his foot onto the step and, tilting the chaise to the right side, because he was heavy, finally sat down, saying:

- A! good now! goodbye, mother!

The horses started moving.

Selifan was stern all the way and at the same time very attentive to his work, which always happened to him after he was either guilty of something or was drunk. The horses were amazingly cleaned. The collar on one of them, which until then was almost always torn, so that tow peeked out from under the skin, was skillfully sewn up. He was silent the whole way, only lashed with his whip and did not make any instructive speech to the horses, although the brown-haired horse, of course, would have liked to listen to something instructive, for at this time the reins were always somehow lazily held in the hands of the talkative driver and the whip I walked on top of their backs just for the sake of form. But this time only monotonously unpleasant exclamations were heard from the gloomy lips: “Come on, come on, crow! yawn! yawn! - and nothing more. Even the bay man himself and the Assessor were dissatisfied, having never heard either “dear” or “respectable”. Chubary felt very unpleasant blows to his full and wide parts. “Look how it was blown apart! - he thought to himself, straightening his ears somewhat. - He probably knows where to hit! It doesn’t whip straight across the back, but instead chooses a place where it’s livelier: it’ll catch you on the ears or it’ll whip under your belly.”

- To the right, or what? – with such a dry question Selifan addressed the girl sitting next to him, showing her with his whip the road blackened by the rain between bright green, refreshed fields.

“No, no, I’ll show you,” answered the girl.

- Where to? - Selifan said when they drove closer.

“Here’s where,” the girl answered, pointing with her hand.

- Oh, you! - Selifan said. - Yes, this is the right: he doesn’t know where the right is, where the left is!

Although the day was very good, the ground became so polluted that the wheels of the chaise, catching it, soon became covered with it like felt, which significantly burdened the crew; Moreover, the soil was clayey and unusually tenacious. Both were the reasons that they could not get out of the country roads before noon. Without the girl it would have been difficult to do this too, because the roads spread out in all directions, like caught crayfish when they are poured out of a bag, and Selifan would have had to travel around through no fault of his own. Soon the girl pointed her hand at a blackened building in the distance, saying:

- There's the main road!

- And the building? – Selifan asked.

“Tavern,” said the girl.

“Well, now we’ll get there ourselves,” said Selifan, “go home.”

He stopped and helped her get off, saying through his teeth: “Oh, you black-footed one!”

Chichikov gave her a copper penny, and she wandered off, already satisfied that she had sat on the box.

Third chapter.

In a satisfied and very good mood
Our Chichikov was already rolling along the pillar.
And you learned from the previous words what the dryness is,
What is his main interest as such?

That's why it's no wonder that he was completely submerged
With soul and body, all thoughts are about one thing,
Assumptions, estimates - I worked in thought.
The wandering smiles are pleasant, mostly.

Being busy with all this, I didn’t pay attention
Where he was: how he was floating in the clouds!
How the coachman Selifan made comments out loud -
He spoke angrily to the brown haired man.

This dark-haired, crafty horse was a figure:
Often pretended to be lucky,
Whereas the native and local brown
We worked with all our hearts so that the chaise would fly!

The person who sold Kaurogo was an assessor. What was your name?
And the horse became the Assessor, to which he did not object...
And the native, bay, was called Bay,
He only heard the nickname and immediately laughed invitingly.

Selifan has quite a lot of experience and knowledge:
He saw through the cunning man long ago!
A whip along the back could stretch very painfully,
But he was still looking for a moment to deceive...

“Cunning, cunning, cunning! - noticing the game again,
It flew from the irradiation station - I’ll outwit you!”
And once again struck with a whip:
“I won’t miss it, don’t think about it! I'll take a closer look!

Look, Gnedoy is fulfilling his duty.
And the Assessor is also a good, kind horse!
I give them oats for that - let them replenish their strength
And not one - two measures! Don't you dare, don't touch it!

Do your job, German pantolonnik!
What are you spinning with your ears? They're telling you!
Am I teaching something bad? Not a fan of evil!
Uh! Damned Bonaparte" And again the whip in a row

For all three, not as a form of punishment,
And in order to show how pleased he was,
Shouting: “Oh, my dears!” multiplied their efforts.
The chaise rushes like an arrow, only dirt on all sides...

He was silent for a while and again spoke to the dark-haired man:
“You think you can hide your manners from me?
No! You live in truth: in the good way, in the old way,
To receive the nickname of a venerable horse!

For example, in that estate, now this is where we are from,
All good people, a most pleasant welcome.
I'll tell you this: I won't soon forget,
How they received you there, with respect!

To a good person I say kindly:
We have been friends with him for many years!
Should I just drink tea or have a meal -
With great pleasure! Never refuse!

Our master is considered respected
And they pay respect! Do you know why?
He performed his service as required, not just that of the sovereign!
He is Skolesskaya's advisor! A scientist by heart..."

So reasoning, the coachman climbed into the darkness, into the distance
Or, let’s say, in abstraction - I didn’t know where,
But it’s clear from everything that they weren’t expecting him there...
If Chichikov had suddenly listened, he would have known this!

But he didn’t hear all these thoughts at all,
All immersed in thoughts somewhere deep within myself,
Delighted with so many impressions,
The most pleasant calculation of your nerves...

But then suddenly there was a roar of thunder, the strongest peals,
They made me wake up and look around
To the sky in the black clouds that once appeared,
Suddenly, as it seemed, everything was surrounded.

Post road lying in dust
Sprayed and nailed... a game for droplets...
The thunder next time is louder and much closer
And then the rain poured out, as if from a bucket,

Having immediately taken an oblique direction,
He whipped the wagon from the sides, as if on the cheeks,
One by one, evil, without a trace of regret,
He completely let go and gave free rein to his “hands”...

Then suddenly he changed his attack for some reason:
He was already knocking on the roof, but with a powerful “fist”,
Sheer, straight, strong water falling from the sky!
Tell me, which of you is not familiar with something like this?

Drops often broke up and splashes scattered.
More and more often, more often, more often and now in your face...
He closed the curtains that were attached to the walls,
With transparent windows the size of a chicken egg,

Or maybe a little more so you can see something
And in bad weather too, if there was a need!
The coachman must know and foresee all this,
Since bad weather is often very bad...

Now I gave the order to go quickly,
But Selifan himself realized that
That this is certainly and hardly worth delaying!
He dashed the troika, lashing it with a whip.

Out of gray cloth has now come into the world
(it was lying under the trestles with him all the time)
The rubbish, let's say, utter, is wrapped around the sleeves,
Probably from the rain... But for what?

Carried away by thoughts, I didn’t think about the road
And no matter how hard I tried now, I couldn’t remember everything:
How many turns were there? I admitted to myself - a lot...
That's why there are so many of them, why among the roads?

How has it been done in Rus' since ancient times?
No matter what happens somewhere, talk less!
At the decisive moment there will always be a Russian:
First act somehow, then discuss everything!

You can see the exit to the right, turn right,
Shouting to the three: “Hey, you!” and for some reason: “Well!”
They started to gallop, thinking little
Where the road leads, the designated path...

And the rain, it seemed, would continue for a very long time.
The dust immediately mixed into sticky mud...
The horses' legs often suddenly separated...
They walked more and more heavily... I was waiting for them to say: “Get off!”

And the darkness hangs so high that nothing can be seen,
Even if you look at it, it’s complete blackness...
It’s a shame for anyone to be in the field at a time like this...
I wanted housing, some warmth, but no – emptiness...

And Chichikov, understandably, was very worried:
It's time to come to Sobakevich's estate!
They are still on their way... They are already completely upset
He called out to Selifan, not knowing what to do...

He turned around immediately: “What, master?” - responded.
“Can’t you see where the villages are?” “No, master, I don’t see it!”
He waved his whip and played out a song,
Or maybe not a song... How to give it a name?

They entered there and contained all the cries of approval,
Treat them to the kind of horses they loved,
And also adjectives of all genders without division,
Well, that is, indiscriminately, famous among people...

The first thing that came across was immediately sung...
The beginning was a sting - the end would come soon...
And it just got to this point:
He elevated his horses to the category of secretaries!

Meanwhile, our master of the road is deteriorating
I felt it on my sides: it was shaking oh-oh-oh...
Which was the result, of course, of omission
The same Selifan, he was to blame!

And Selifan seemed to realize what was going on:
They trudged straight across the harrowed field...
He was in charge of himself, fell silent, stunned,
I didn’t say a word, I can’t admit it...

“What are you doing, scammer? Which road are you going?"
“What should we do here, master? Can't see the whip...
The darkness has fallen so much, it’s not clever that you’ll run into...
Maybe we’ll get through... we’ll have to be patient...”

While he was talking, the chaise tilted,
That Chichikov was forced to grab the edges
With both hands! “Hold it! Do me a favor!
And only then did I notice that the coachman had been playing around...

“Hold it, you’ll knock it over!” “No, master, it’s impossible!
I already know that this is not good...
Is it really the first time? No, we can't do this
There’s no way I’ll knock it down... I just came up with another idea..."

But the chaise skidded and skidded quite well.
Lightly, little by little, he moved it as best he could.
He spit and turned - he knew the job “excellently”
And soon she did it - she lay down completely on her side...

And Chichikov, swinging his arms and legs
Immediately flew into the most disgusting mud...
And he said to the horses, “Stop!”, but they stood up on their own.
He burst into tears, saying: “Those are the times!”

I was pretty amazed by what happened...
Now he stood in front of the chaise, propping his side with his hand,
Then another... so picturesque, elegant...
I thought for a while: “Look, what a case!

It really spread!” And the master at this time
In pitch darkness, floundering in the mud,
Trying to somehow get up, he was all covered up to the top of his head...
Everything is finally up! Jumps with one leg...

He sat down again in the chaise and cursed at Selifan:
“What are you, a robber? After all, he’s drunk like a shoemaker!”
“No, master, how is it possible? I won't cheat -
I had lunch with a friend... What's the drawback here?

We talked to him... or is it not possible this way?
There’s nothing bad in that, even if it’s a snack!
With a good person, I'm tea, it's always possible
And it’s not at all offensive to ask at least someone!”

“Have you forgotten everything I said?
That was the last time you got drunk!”
“No, your honor! I remember everything and I won’t hide it,
That I know my job, that it’s a shame to be a drunkard...

It would be okay if I spoke cordially...
It's nice to talk to a good person..."
“I’ll flog you, so you’ll remember forever,
How to have conversations and can you drink!”

“And this is as good as it gets,” he answered in agreement:
If you need to flog, why not flog?
It is the Lord’s will... care every hour...
It can be done... ensure order..."

Hearing this, the master could not find an answer,
But at the same moment a little to the side
It's like someone's dog is hoarse
A gift from fate and just in time!

Delighted Chichikov ordered to send there
The exhausted threesome, without delay, quickly,
In order to put them in a pen to rest
And you yourself will be welcomed near the doors.

The Russian driver always has flair to boot.
To everyone's normal vision or instead of eyes,
Because of this, he often rules at random,
Even if it’s blind, he’ll arrive just in time!

That's how Selifan, not discriminating in any way,
Directed the horses to the village at random
And he stood up already when he landed at the fence
I got the shafts from the chaise, pulled back a little...

The roof was visible behind the veil of rain.
Having sent to look for the gate, our hero understood
The process could take too long
But he also, of course, knew something else:

The owner's dogs are more reliable than doormen,
Which, of course, will immediately inform you,
That there are strangers at the gate, they will burst into barking in all sorts of ways:
The bigger ones use bass, the smaller ones squeal...

And then something seemed to flash in one window,
A misty stream reached the fence.
The gate opened and a figure appeared:
“Why did you disagree?” - I came to ask, taking a risk...

“We are newcomers, mother. Let me spend the night!” -
Chichikov answered the demand. She answered him:
“Oh, do you want to find an inn here?
I'll tell you what: there is no such thing here!

Ay, sharp-footed one! What time did you choose...
People here are respected: the landowner lives!
Knocking at night... only anxiety... burden...
Go with God! No one is waiting for you here..."

“Yes, who are you?” - the old woman asked again.
“I am of noble birth!” “So, a nobleman?”
She was silent for a while, then said dryly:
“I’ll go tell the lady!” Wait, sir!

About two minutes later she returned to the gate.
A lantern was shining in his hand. The gate opened.
The other window lit up a little.
We drove into the yard and almost ran into a house...

The house looks small, hidden from view by darkness,
One part of him seemed to be sending greetings
Those who arrived were not invited. Kindly, openly,
His inviting light streamed from the windows.

There was a puddle in front of the house. The light struck into the depths,
It flickered, shimmered, split into lights...
The guests have no time for the unexpectedly presented picture -
They intend to quickly enter under the roof...

The rain drummed loudly on this very roof.
The placed barrel filled with brim.
The master's dogs, grouped together,
They went completely crazy with barking, showing power.

One dog, with his head thrown back,
He wrote it out in a drawn-out manner, as if he had received
More than others... did they pay, perhaps not equally?
I tried for money... otherwise I would have kept quiet...

The other one seemed to be grabbing... grabbing it quickly,
Like a church sexton, you have to compare...
About between the postal bell rang often, soon,
With a restless treble, twisting and turning...

Blocking everyone or, say, finishing,
The bass intertwined with the sound of the double bass,
Perhaps the old man, completing unity,
He wheezed like a double bass wheezes at concerts...

Imagine a choir: how the tenors try
Take a higher note, standing on tiptoes,
And everything that exists, everything rushes to the top,
As the score requires or choral regulations.

And he stands alone. Unshaved chin
He pressed him to his chest by the tie and, crouching deeply,
From there he carries out his note without adjustments
Under the rattling of glass, the shaking of even the walls...

Hearing this “choir” of so many “musicians”,
It's easy to form an opinion about the whole village,
Without using any special talents at all:
Decent in size, there are quite a few houses in it!

But our poor hero is wet and cold
I only thought about bed, comfort and warmth!
It seemed like a century had been wandering in the darkness that had declared
And there is no sun at all, having burned out, it lies in the ashes...

He was in such a hurry to end the annoying adventure,
That he jumped out of the chaise, consider it to be on the move...
For good reason, consider it an exception -
Careless actions... easy to attract trouble...

A woman came out to meet them. Similar to the first one.
“Family among themselves!” - he noted to himself.
With a lighter gait, years younger...
I followed her and there they were in the hut.

Upon entering, he cast two glances around the room:
It was hung with striped wallpaper
And there are some paintings with some birds close by,
Mirrors hung along the walls between the windows.

Behind each of the frames that resembled leaves,
Coiled cunningly, laid down long ago
A deck of old cards or stockings, or letters...
Without the principle of what or meaning - it’s all the same...

Wall clock with flowers on the dial,
And besides nothing else I can’t notice -
It’s time for him to lie in bed a long time ago...
The night blinded his eyelashes like honey...

Just a minute later the hostess appeared.
There was a cap on her head, it seemed as if she had floated...
With a flannel around my neck - something to insulate me...
She looked elderly... that's what she was...

She is one of those housewives, one of those small landowners,
Who keep crying over the meager harvest,
Unprofitability in everything, even if not, seems...
Listen carefully, don’t object in any way...

They all tilt their heads to the side for some reason,
Modest women in clothes, but for many years in a row
They collect money like vegetables from the garden beds,
They store...

Wholesales alone. Fifty dollars to others,
Quarters separately - why mix everything up?
These piggy banks lie there, stuffed, tight...
If you happen to climb into the chest of drawers, you won’t be able to find it.

Among night blouses and skeins of thread,
An unsewn cloak that is kept for this purpose,
So that later, when you need it urgently,
Concoct a skirt, a dress... even if the outfit is unsightly,

And everything is better than those that burn out from the stove
When baking flatbreads with all sorts of things to taste...
What is unlikely to happen: the hostess is not careless
And very thrifty! That material bit

Will go to the niece of her grand-sister upon death,
In the spiritual will it will be written in the line
Along with all sorts of rubbish, take my word for it!
We have met similar things before our eyes and at our fingertips...

But Chichikov now launched into explanations,
Like, an unforeseen incident bothered you,
Like, suddenly lost, due to weather constraints
And we ask for forgiveness, they say, at an inopportune hour...

“Well, so what? Nothing - the hostess answered -
At what time did the Lord bring you to me!
Turmoil and blizzard... Let's eat first...
It's time for the night... how to cook? Question…"

The owner's words were interrupted by a hiss
So suspicious that even the guest shuddered,
As if scared. And you wouldn't be afraid,
When would it seem like a handful of snakes appeared?

But, looking up, he immediately guessed:
It's time to strike the clock on the wall!
In which, behind the hissing, a wheezing sound was heard
And finally, straining, two o’clock struck,

With such a sound, as if someone took it into his head
Hit the broken pot with a stick...
“And so every time? - our Chichikov thought -
Perhaps they put too much impression into them!”

The watch, having become alienated, behaved decently:
Their pendulum was knocking again, as it should be,
Right and left along our usual path,
Until the next fight, allowing me to forget...

The clock distracted us from the topic of conversation,
What was going on between the hostess and the guest at that moment,
When she, embarrassed, said (that's the porch!),
There are no opportunities to eat here until the morning...

“Thank you humbly! Stop worrying!
I don't need anything - just a bed!
Just take care of one thing - my device is for sleeping,
Yes, here’s another thing: tell me how far away it is from here

Sobakevich's estate? “Who is this, tell me!
As far as I can tell, there are no such people in our area!”
“Oh, that’s how it is! And Manilov? “Who is this?”
“A landowner, like the first one...” “We haven’t seen it, light!

We haven’t heard anything like this in our places..."
“What kind are there?” "Svinin and Pleshakov,
There is also Kanapatiev... Did they name Trepakin?
No, or what? So, Trepakin, Kharpakin and Bobrov!”

“Are all people rich?” “I can’t say that it’s very...
Twenty souls, thirty... Up to a hundred, no more..."
Well, Chichikov noted, he climbed into the wilderness in the middle of the night...
“Is the city far away?” “Sixty versts! - in response –

Still, I’m sorry that there’s nothing to eat...
Would you like, father, to have some tea?”
“Thank you, mother, but it will be much better
Let me go to bed!” “If that’s the case, then don’t be angry!

And in truth, out of the way, I won’t fail to say,
You better get some rest now!
Fetinya! Listen, Fetinya! Bring a feather bed,
Cleaner pillows and sheets, don’t regret it...

After all, this is the time the Lord sent for something...
All night the candle burned in front of His image...
Ooh! You are my father! Yes, you are in the mud for some reason...
Like a hog, it's all greasy..."

“Also thank God it’s all just greasy!
I didn’t break off my arms or legs... that’s the problem..."
“Saints! These are the passions... The Lord, apparently, took pity...
Shouldn’t I at least rub my back with something then?”

"No no! This is not necessary! Thank you, but what exactly
Then order something to the girl, one of the servants,
Dry my dress and clean it urgently,
So that you can put it on in the morning and be ready to leave suddenly!”

“Are you listening or not, Fetinya?” the hostess asked
To that woman who came earlier with a feather bed,
And she managed to beat it so that the pen was spinning
Fountain or flood. She suddenly said: “Huh?”

“Take their caftan and underwear together
And dry it properly now in front of the fire,
Like a dead master, with diligence, honor after honor,
And then grind it and shake it out so that during the day

It was possible to get dressed!” “I’ll do it, madam!”
Fetinya answered, laying down the sheet.
“The lady was probably accommodating to the servants...”
The guest thought for some reason, defining it like this...

“Well, your bed is already ready!
Goodbye for now, father! Do you need anything?
Maybe scratch your heels or something else?
My deceased loved me, he was so eager to..."

The guest refused again. “Then – good night!”
Having said all this, the hostess left.
He hastily undressed as quickly as he could,
He gave all his harness to Fetinya. Took it away.

His eyes looked with great pleasure
To the fluffed bed, the honor...
Fetinya is a great master in this matter -
I had to move a chair to manage to lie down!

But as soon as I lay down, I immediately sank
Significantly - to the floor... almost fell...
I quickly blew out the candle, nested for a short time,
Covered himself with a blanket. In a moment I was asleep...

Woke up another day already quite late,
Probably because the sun is shining through the window
It shone unbearably stubbornly and seriously,
Yes, flies stuck around, dotting the canvas...

One of them was persistently reaching into my ear for something,
The other did not give rest to his lips,
And the third one got in, causing me to sneeze dully...
This is where I woke up, not only myself...

Having looked around the room, I was now convinced
That there are not only birds among the paintings, between them
There was a portrait of Kutuzov hanging, next to him was
Painted like oil, an unknown old man

In a uniform with cuffs, like they used to sew
Under Pavel, perhaps, Petrovich? From relatives, know...
The clock made a hissing noise (scares or teases?),
Exactly ten struck - enough, they say, to sleep!

A face looked at the door and immediately disappeared...
As if the hostess - flashed in my head.
The whole point was that when I looked, I saw:
It’s better that he undresses completely so that he can fall asleep...

But there was already a dress next to the bed,
Suitable for what you can wear.
Having completely left Morpheus' embrace,
He decided for himself: it’s time to get up!

After getting dressed, I went to the partition between the windows,
To look in the mirror: everything is fine or what,
At the same time, he sneezed again, so loudly that he
The Indian rooster jumped a step from the other side!

The window was low to the ground and even very...
Jumping high, the rooster began to mutter
In a strange language... apparently authorized:
We wish you hello from the chickens to tell him!

To which our hero answered him impolitely...
What's there? Not impolite, but downright patronizing!
Why, we don’t know, because he greeted him,
What did you hear in response? Sorry: stupid...

And then I forgot, looking at the views,
What were in front of him literally outside the window,
Which looked, would not do offense,
But for sure it’s in the chicken coop, and a very plentiful one at that!

This whole narrow courtyard is filled with all kinds of birds,
Another domestic creature... but there are no birds!
A rooster walked between them - it was fitting for them to be proud -
A luxurious measured step, a master's look and a trace!

The pig and his family were immediately busy in a pile of rubbish,
I ate some chicken, which I hardly understood...
A cloud of flies swarmed over the watermelon rinds,
And then, behind the fence, potatoes, onions, beets...

Trees were rarely seen in the garden,
Covered with nets from some birds, forty...
There were scarecrows, as is customary in the village -
Protection against weeds for a short summer period.

Where did he come up with this? Judge for yourself:
On the roofs, the worn-out planks have been replaced everywhere,
The gates are not askew, carts and sleighs are visible...
"The village is not small!" - our hero is surprised...

After thinking carefully, I decided to talk,
Get to know each other better, find trust...
And he looked through the crack in the door to make sure
That the hostess also stood up. How else can you find out?

I saw her sitting at the tea table.
He entered there himself, putting on a cheerful look,
Glowing with contentment, he was extremely affectionate...
“How did you rest, father?” - she already says.

She was dressed better, not like she was earlier at night:
In a decent dark dress and not a nightcap,
On the neck, however, it was again clearly visible
Something confused. A smile on your face.

Chichikov answered her, already sitting down in a chair:
"Wonderful! Fine! How about you, for example?”
“No way, dear father!” “Why? That's interesting..."
“Insomnia tormented me... Everything from head to toe

It hurt a lot! My lower back was aching,
Yes, here’s another leg, imagine, there’s no urine...
The kind of torment I wouldn’t even dream of in my nightmares...”
“It will pass! It will pass, however! It’s not worth looking at!”

“God grant that it passes! Already did the grinding:
And she smeared it with pork lard and turpentine too...
Yes, father, all sorts of rubbings...
What would you like to sip some tea with? With fruit? Tastes good!”

"And what? This is not bad! Now take a sip of the fruity one!”
Reader! Have you noticed with what freedom he
Can you control yourself now? In a completely new manner,
Not like Manilov’s, and from all sides!

Here we need to draw a conclusion or, let’s say, admit,
That in Rus' we have a little secret
Or even an advantage over the same foreigner:
We have no equal in the world in our ability to communicate!

How do they speak, for example, to a millionaire?
Almost with the same voice and the same language,
What about the small trader, the tobacconist, the broth maker,
A little meanness in moderation, and then in the soul, secretly...

It’s not the same with us, it’s completely different with us!
We have wise men, not a small number,
Which, if necessary, will sing and cry,
And they will overcome the sea, leaving the oar behind...

With a landowner who has two hundred souls, for example,
They will not speak as to one where there is no one,
And for those over three hundred, it’s no longer the same as with the first...
Walk along the ascending... shades: wow!

Imagine, in some distant country
There is, say, an office, and there is a ruler in it.
Among his subordinates, look: a king on a kingdom,
Condemned to rule until the end of days!

Out of fear of him, it’s impossible to say...
What nobility you will see in his face!
What's not there? It’s hard to imagine -
Pick up a brush to paint with it!

Here, Prometheus, the decisive word!
He looks out proudly - like an eagle!
He is not in a hurry in his gait, as if floating on the waves,
A significant person at a significant table...

But the same “eagle”, as soon as he is called to the authorities,
Suddenly he runs like a “partridge” to his call,
I can’t bear to look: where did the swagger go?
They never trembled before him as much as he trembles now...

At a party where everyone is of low rank,
Our “Prometheus” will remain like this all evening,
And just a little higher and you wouldn’t recognize this -
The suddenness of the transformation suddenly happens to him,

Which Ovid is not able to come up with:
The fly will become smaller, and the fly next to him will be an elephant!
He was destroyed into a grain of sand, and became like it:
“Really, Ivan Petrovich? Oh no! Not him at all!

Ivan Petrovich is taller and thicker,
He won’t smile for that, his bass voice will count like thunder...
And this one is rather short, completely devoid of power,
It squeaks like a mosquito... You come closer: it...

“Eh! - you’ll say to yourself – So this is how you’re made...”
The Lord is the judge of everyone here... there is no need to judge...
Let us now return to the abandoned heroes,
What did they have time to talk about?

We saw that Chichikov behaved differently:
Without any ceremony at all, he took the cup from the table,
I splashed some fruit on it... And what does all this mean?
The behavior was completely different...

Taking a sip from his cup, he made the following speech:
“And your village, I see, is not bad!
And how many souls are there in it?” She suddenly lifted her shoulders:
“I’ll be close to eighty... I won’t be afraid of sin

To say that these are daring times:
The previous year there was such a bad harvest,
What God forbid! Such are all the elements...
I don’t know how we crossed, the edge is so close now...”

“However, the men look quite good...
The huts are covered, not frail, but strong!
Forgive me for God's sake, I forgot to ask about the main thing,
Arrived at night, tired... out of hand...

Let me hear the name now!”
“College secretary Korobochka’s late husband was!
“What about name and country?” - in a slightly quieter voice.
“Nastasia Petrovna!” “Well, it’s necessary! - he suddenly -

My mother's sister, just imagine,
That is, your own aunt, exactly what your name is!”
“What’s your name? After all, you, tea, are an assessor?
“No, mother! - with a smile - I’m here on business!”

“You must be a buyer! How sorry I am now, really,
Cheaply to merchants, you know, I sold honey...
And you, my father, would have accomplished that task correctly -
I would have bought it at a higher price... Why didn’t you wait?”

“But I wouldn’t buy it! I don’t need honey...”
“What else then? Is it really hemp?
Yes, apparently, there’s not enough hemp... They kicked, but not together...
About half a penny... I’ll take care of the needs..."

“No, my mother, I’m selling another product...”
“What would that be?” “I’ll tell you, the time will come...
Better answer me, I’ll give you another thought,
Haven’t there been any deaths among your peasants?”

“Oh, father! But of course! It died, it was:
Eighteen people! And what a people!
It was also born, but to no avail,
Such small fry... ugh, not offspring at all...

The people are already dead - pay as if they were alive!
The assessor arrived - give the tax from the heart!
This is also a flayer... How can he not fear God?
If he doesn’t ask how you got it, just take it and count it...

Last week there was another misfortune:
Our blacksmith burned down, he even knew it at the locksmith!”
“Did you have a fire here?” “God saved me from passion,
Otherwise it would be even worse... no, it disappeared on its own...

Something inside him caught fire!
Maybe you drank too much? It was like a fire,
Everything turned black like coal, all nature decayed...
What should I do now? The second one was not found...

And there was nothing to go out with... The blacksmith was very skilled!
Who will shoe the horses? I don’t know what to do?”
“Everything here is God’s will!” he answered even sadly –
Give them to me!” “Whom should you give in to?”

“These are all those who died!” “How, speaking sensibly?”
“Just like that, for free or sell it or something!
I’ll give you money for them!” “I really don’t understand...
Are you going to dig something up? Explain if you please!”

But Chichikov already saw: there was enough eco!
And in a few words he explained in detail,
What, according to the audit fairy tale, came out alive...
Why would anyone know? Spent a lot of effort...

“What do you need them for? - the old woman asked again -
After all, they are dead...” - his eyes bulged out of fear.
“Leave this to me!” - answered very dryly.
She didn’t understand... her gaze was obscured by a tear...

“If you please, I’ll add a few more words here:
They are at your loss - pay like you are alive!
I’ll take them on myself and save them the hassle.
I'll put fifteen rubles on top for all of them!

I hope it’s clear now?” "No! Really, I don't know -
The hostess said - Forgive me, dear father,
But I haven’t had the chance... I just don’t understand...
Again you will sigh sadly - how difficult it is to be alone!

After all, I haven’t sold dead ones yet...”
“Of course! It would be amazing if that happened!
Or maybe you decided that there is a lot of sense in them?
"No! I don’t think so... What do you need them for?

After all, that’s what makes it difficult, that they don’t seem to exist...”
“Well, the woman is strong-headed! - thought to myself -
Listen, mother! Take advice
I will say with pity, in a friendly, loving way:

After all, you’re going broke – it’s no joke!
As if you were paying for a living person!” “Oh, don’t tell me, father!
Another third week the payment was completed:
I contributed more than a hundred and fifty and that’s not the end either -

Again, it was necessary to butter up the assessor...”
“And I mean the same thing, mother! And with that transfer
I'll pay for them all at once,
The responsibility is mine, and you are already beyond the line...”

The old woman became thoughtful. And throwing it this way and that way,
She seemed to understand that there was a benefit here...
But it’s a new thing... trade is wonderful...
The subject is unprecedented... no matter how much it fits in...

I was very afraid: it wouldn’t turn out that they had cheated me...
Where did this buyer suddenly come to her?
Only God knows at night, in a storm?
Why would he need the dead? Unheard of these days...

“So what? Hands down? Again, you see, it’s coming...
“Really, father, I don’t know... It never happened to me
To sell the dead... there are living ones -
Two girls to the archpriest... He thanked him

They weave the napkins themselves!” “It’s not about the living here -
I ask the dead! “There wouldn’t be any loss here...
I'm afraid that some kind of deception will come,
What if their price is higher? They'll suddenly give you more money..."

“Listen, mother! Oh, what!
What might they cost? Take a closer look: these are dust...
Take a worthless thing or some rags,
And they all have a price... How can I explain it in words?

They will even take any rag for paper
At a paper factory. Isn't it the same? Isn't it?
Where are the dead, if only you had some courage...
What are they for? How can we use their trace?”

“This is definitely true! They are not needed for anything!
That’s what worries me, that the dead ones…”
“Go and get along with her,” he strained to himself, “
Damn old woman... she gave me a fever..."

And, taking out a handkerchief, wiping the sweat from his forehead,
I was thinking about what to do, what else to tell her...
It seems like I tried everything, going through my brains,
He even dared to call him a clubhead...

But, by the way, he was probably angry in vain -
Another respectable man of state,
A box like this is perfect:
If you hit something in the head, you won’t be able to turn it off forever!

And no matter how much you provide any explanations
Or arguments, for example, that everyone is clear as day
Everything flies away like a ball against the walls,
You can’t go around, go around, like there’s a stump in the middle of the road...

And Chichichkov knew that, there were no discoveries in that...
It didn’t work out straight, so I decided to take a detour:
“You, mother,” he said, “don’t you want to understand?
I ask the air, not the inanimate people!

They are no longer among us - you yourself admit...
And I’ll give you fifteen rubles for them!
You see it in your hands! Where can you just find it?
You won’t find it on the street... Respect for the years...

Now admit it, how much did you sell the honey for?”
“Twelve rubles pood!” “Why lie now?
After all, there is no such price, they lied about that... hardly..."
“By God, I sold it!” “So let’s collect honey!

We spent six months with care and effort!
Yes, there was a lot of fuss with the bees, we fed them in the winter...
And dead souls... what is their nature?
Only God's will, and not the works of herself...

There is no effort on your part at all...
Only losses, only damage, consider...
And I’ll give you money for them... now, not later...
Fifteen in banknotes in your hand, turn over!

There was almost no doubt: the old woman would not resist!
Under the power of conviction he will finally bend...
I deluded myself in vain... She said in a dull voice:
“Really, don’t be angry! Understand me, father!

It’s better, you know, I’ll wait a little longer...
The inexperience is like a widow... Ignorance in business...
Merchants will come in large numbers... what if I sell out early...
Let it apply to prices...” “Stram, mother, and fear!

That's what you're saying? You should listen for yourself!
Who will buy them? How to use them?
“Or maybe they’ll be useful on the farm like clockwork...”
I entered with an objection, not knowing what to do...

I looked at him almost with fear,
Wanting to know his answer to that...
“On the farm? Dead people? For the spinning wheels, or something, to the spinners
Or should we scare the sparrows into the garden, onto the pole?”

“Oh, Lord, forgive me! - the old woman crossed her forehead -
What kind of passions are you talking about now..."
“Where else would I put it? And, by the way, their grave,
The coffins and the bones themselves will remain with you!

After all, all this trade will only be on paper!”
The old woman thought again. He started to get nervous.
“Nastasia Petrovna? What will remain in your thoughts?
“I won’t clean everything up - what would your demand mean?

I don’t understand what to do here... I would buy hemp, or what?”
“What do I need that hemp for? Another time, maybe..."
“Don't you want to? Well, so what? Father, I am not in bondage..."
She said thoughtfully, without raising her eyes...

“Yes, what are you doing with the hemp? Why are you bothering with it?
I ask you something else... What is your answer?
“The product is very strange, and you keep pestering me...
Completely, after all, unprecedented, unheard of, my light...”

Here Chichikov is in his hearts, grabbing a chair on the floor,
I have gone beyond all limits of patience...
And he promised her the devil, twitching his cheekbone,
Since I couldn’t find any more strength to restrain myself...

Hearing about the devil, she turned strangely white:
“Why did you remember him? It wouldn’t be necessary... God be with him!
The other night, I think I dreamed about the accursed one,
Such, my father, disgusting in his appearance -

The horns are longer than those of a bull... Apparently, it’s a punishment
The Lord sent me because I prayed at night,
I decided to start doing fortune telling with cards,
What I won’t do in the future, you’ll believe when I’m born...”

“I’ll believe it... I’m surprised at the other:
How do you not dream of dozens of them at night?
I wanted to help from the heart, feeling touched in my old age,
After all, I see how you fight... a tear rushes to your eyes...

But you and the whole village will be lost together!”
“Why are you making such fights now?”
“You can’t find the words to say honestly:
You don’t want to offend, but you will say everything...

Like a mongrel who lies in the hay anyway:
She doesn’t eat it herself, but she won’t give it to others either...
And I wanted to help with something for a change,
I would buy contracts, in part that much..."

Here he lied, of course, but it seems to be successful:
State contracts suddenly took effect
From an unexpected side, but in favor, definitely -
It looks like it will work out, closing the chain in a circle!

“Why are you so angry? Why? –
A tear was heard in Korobochkin’s voice -
If I knew that you were hot, I wouldn’t have argued a long time ago...”
“Well, now I’m still angry! We can't be angry...

And why would it be, right? The thing is, I'll tell you straight,
Not worth the eggshells at all!
Why, I don’t understand, are you so stubborn with me?
Again, no offense, but almost stupid..."

“Now I’m ready to give them away for fifteen!
But just don’t forget about contracts!
Suddenly it happens to take flour, or go to waste in cereals,
What a beast, come straight to me!

Don’t do anything offensive...” “Yes, what are you talking about? I won't offend you -
He spoke in response. I wiped off all the sweat myself,
Which flowed in three streams - I foresee in the city,
An acquaintance, what? “But what about it? Protopop!

It’s as if his son works in his ward...
I’ll write to him so that he can help
When making a fortress. I think it will be friendly! "
“This will be so nice!” - I told her this.

“Look, what a secretive guy: not a word about contracts!
It would be nice to bring something here,
So that he takes everything into the treasury at once and in a row!
You need to appease with something... just what? Trouble...

Go tell Fetinya to bake some pancakes-
There was dough left there from the previous day...
And so that the pie is bent with an egg! That's for sure
How wonderfully they bend that pie from me!”

And with this thought I went out - to give orders,
And Chichikov walked into the living room alone,
Where did you sleep the night before: start preparations.
Everything there, as it should be, has been tidied up for a long time and well.

There is a table in front of the sofa. I took out my box
Placed it on the countertop. I sat down to rest...
Tired of bickering, my heart was beating loudly...
Just get this over with and hit the road as soon as possible!

How I visited the river - from toes to ear
Covered with sticky moisture, completely wet, sweating:
“Eck, she killed me like a damned old woman...”
He turned the key that appeared in the box.

I thought from something that is among you, perhaps
Who would like to look at it now,
Then, to look at the device: is it simple or difficult?
I can help with that! So, reader, let's go!

In the center, in the middle, there was clearly a soap dish,
Five or six partitions for razors are already behind her,
Square nook: with ink inkwell,
Behind it is another one: a sandbox at the bottom...

And between them is somehow hollowed out by a boat
For feathers, sealing wax, whatever is longer.
More partitions under the lid with a bracket,
Among them are completely open with those collected in the middle of days:

With business tickets or even theater tickets,
Some other things that are stored in memory,
Notes, not very special notes...
The lists can be continued...

Her entire top drawer with everything that was called
I took it out of the groove, and underneath it was already to the bottom.
Filled with paper. Hidden in one side
A box for money that is invisible to the eye

And so she always hurriedly moved back,
What was impossible to determine at a glance
What amount of money was inside it...
A wise decision: why make people angry with wealth?

This time, however, he did not take on her -
I got the cash for the transaction in advance.
Having opened my box, I started doing something completely different:
I sat and repaired the pen, then began to write with it...

But then the hostess came in. Having noticed the box,
She exclaimed with delight: “This box is good!
Did you buy tea in Moscow?” "In Moscow!" - he answered that.
“And I knew right away what you’d find there!

This is the third year, my sister is from there
I brought fur-lined boots for the kids!
Believe me, they are so warm, don’t catch a cold!
And you can’t see the demolition, what’s below and what’s above!

Ahti, dear father! What a stamp I see!”
And in fact, it’s true: there’s a lot of it out there.
“At least give me a piece of paper! Tea, won’t I offend you with a request?”
He began to explain the meaning of the sheets,

That this paper is only good for one thing:
To complete deeds of sale, she is intended...
But then he gave me a piece of paper - no reason to be angry,
I wrote the letter myself. Then with a question to her:

“Sign here and present the list!”
The landowner, they say, didn’t keep lists as a souvenir...
I knew everyone by heart! Write what? Excuse me!
I just moved my head - your deeds are wonderful...

I wrote from dictation, but often their names
Another time they repeated, consider it syllable by syllable -
They seemed so unusual to the ear - they were,
Although they are quite common in those places...

Who wouldn't be surprised by this combination:
Disrespect-Trough - aka Savelyev Peter?
Let's leave right away the laughter, as well as the lamentations -
He's not here with us, it's sad, but he's dead...

Another had a nickname attached to his surname:
Whatever you say, provide additional weight!
And without it you won’t find understanding at all...
If you say Cow Brick, it’s clear who you’re talking about!

Having finished writing, I immediately heard,
Inhale the air with your nose, a wonderful aroma
Something hot in oil! Everything is under the roof
It’s like it’s filled with it! I wanted to eat and look...

“But I humbly ask that God sent me to taste it!”
The hostess said here, calling him to the table.
He looked around quickly: “It would be nice to have dinner!” -
It flashed in my head. He got up and went.

Lunch is already served! Plates, pots...
Mushrooms in sour cream and couscous butter,
And pies and spinning, rosy pancakes,
Skorodumki flatbreads with toppings to taste!

With baked onions, with shoots, with poppy seeds,
With baked goods, cottage cheese and everything you can't tell!
“And here is the egg pie!” - shiny, like varnish
Covered for beauty! I didn’t know what to take...

The offered pie has now moved closer to me,
I tasted half of it, “Excellent!” - praised,
I ate it with pleasure, I didn’t fail to note,
And after the pain of the deal, the pie was doubly sweet!

“Here’s more pancakes!” - the hostess approached.
In response to this, the guest rolled three pieces at once
And he put it in a bowl of butter (it pretty much melted!)
From there, straight into your mouth - there was plenty to eat!

Then I tried on the pancakes three more times:
“I’ll tell you openly, your pancakes are so delicious,
I can’t even remember where else I managed
Eat so many of them! Wonderful pancakes!”

“Yes, I already know that! They are extremely capable!
But the trouble happened that the harvest was bad...
Flour is not fancy, let the baked goods be elegant...
Where are you in such a hurry? Take a little breath..."

Having saluted the pancakes, he turned to the hostess:
“You, mother, tell them to prepare the chaise!”
She performed it right away: “Look, how in a hurry!
More hot pancakes! “It's time! It's time for me to go!

“So, dear father, remember about contracts!”
“How is it possible? I won’t forget!” - answered in the entryway.
As she accompanied, she cast glances:
“And do you buy lard?” "Certainly! In the villages!

But only much later! “It will already be about Christmas time!”
“I’ll buy it, I’ll buy it!” But what about it? And no matter how much you offer!”
“Or maybe bird feathers? The fast will continue in Filippov!”
"Wonderful! Fine!" “You see, I was in no hurry -

No chaise! Not ready! “I’ll warm up the idiot!
Tell me, how can we get out? How can I find out the way?
“It’s hard to say: there are so many turns...
Maybe give me a girl to show...

After all, you, I have tea, have a place on the trestle?”
“Well, how could it not be? You will find it - my Selifan is not fat!”
“But don’t bring it like last year
The merchants were deceived...” “Why would I be deceived?”

Believing completely, I was distracted by attention,
It’s like I’m no longer around, I’m no longer there for him...
She examined her yard with all possible diligence,
As if for the first time - everything matters:

Suddenly she fixed her eyes on the housekeeper for some reason,
She dragged her sister-in-law with honey somewhere...
Then at the man who flashed through the gate...
Little by little she struggled and re-entered the household...

But why, tell me, should I do it now?
Manilov, Korobochka... Economical or not...
It’s not a wonderful thing in the world, I must admit:
Fun will turn to sadness when you catch the trail

If you stagnate for a long time, this will happen,
Only God knows what comes into my head...
Perhaps you will think: is that landowner really
Stands so low on the ladder, whose rise

Taking humanity beyond the boundaries of perfection?
Is the gap between her really that big?
And that sister of hers, living in the midst of bliss
In the houses of the aristocracy now, between these days?

Among the fragrant stairs with shining copper,
The most valuable types of wood and many carpets,
Yawning over a book - a novel or a gum,
With capricious reasoning, how harsh the world is now...

With eager anticipation of a visit somewhere,
Where will she have a field to shine (not everyone could!)
What idea to express, seriously, not hackneyed,
Some facts that teach by heart!

Which then, as according to the laws of fashion,
The whole town will be occupied for a whole week!
But this will be a thought of a completely different kind -
Don’t expect to hear what they breathe here...

Not at all about what’s in the house and estate,
Confused matters thanks to
That they didn’t know how to run a household, but about running
From France, for example, which is far from intelligent...

What direction has Catholicism taken in fashion?
When will there be a revolution there again?
We're past them now! Why do we need a barren world?
Why discuss it, stand at those gates?

But before we go, let's add a note:
It happens so often among these empty ones,
Cheerful and carefree people will suddenly appear by chance
A wonderful stream and other qualities!

However, the laughter did not stop and did not leave
His face is completely different, but he has already become different,
Similar to their laughter, pretending to be cold,
And the light inside went out and the voice became dull...

“And here comes the britzka! - our hero cried noisily,
Seeing his carriage, it drove up to the porch -
Why are you taking so long? Did you get drunk or something mindlessly?
Have the hops worn off? But Selifan remained silent...

“Now goodbye, mother! Where is your guide?
“Hey, Pelageya! Do you hear? Come on over here!”
A girl, about ten years old, a little older, approached them.
In homemade dye, barefoot, as always...

Following her, Chichikov stood on the step with his foot,
Having now skewed the chaise onto its right side...
He fiddled around for a while, sitting down a little,
Completely ready for the road, I was able to say out loud:

"A! Well, that's good! It's time to touch it!
Farewell now, mother! There is a path before them again.
Today Selifan looked very stern,
What happened every time when the culprit was the essence...

I cleaned all three horses in advance,
The clamp of one of them, which was previously torn,
Now it is sewn up skillfully, with every diligence!
He was fairly silent and zealous in his work.

Whip the horses without a word of address
To science, as usual, although Chubary was waiting
And he was not even averse to listening to teachings,
Even if it’s abusive, because I already knew:

In a similar mood, the reins awaited caresses,
Weakly and lazily, he held them in his hands...
And the whip was hanging on top of their backs only for warning...
Now everything is different. The horse neighed out of insult...

But from gloomy lips this time everyone hears
Offensive, unpleasant, heavy words:
“Yawn, yawn, crow!” - they breathe excellent malice
All these exclamations and the whip, like a mace...

Accustomed to completely different treatment,
Bay and the Assessor still couldn’t understand
Why would this happen all of a sudden? There was indignation in them,
There was discontent. The driver should heed this...

How they replaced him: I forgot the sedate words,
Which he often awarded to the two of them.
I never said “dear”, “respected”...
The bay neighed quietly from such insult...

Chubary, in response to the blows he received,
Along the full and wide parts of your back,
I was thinking something like this:
“Eck, it blew him away! Perhaps the evil one is more evil...

Probably he won’t make a mistake, he knows exactly where it hurts.
It’s not just for the sake of warning that he accidentally whips,
Whenever this happens, it’s clear... Anyone understands that!
And he’ll go bald under his belly on purpose...”

Here the coachman stopped all these thoughts,
He asked the girl conductor a dry question:
“Will it be to the right?” - and there is no doubt about the shadow,
Whip somewhere to the right, I saw a fork...

"No no! I'll show you!" - the girl answered.
"Where? – Having approached closer, he asked her again.
“Over there now!” - flying little hand
Confirmed my doubts. I just looked at her:

“Oh, you! - he said sadly - Doesn’t distinguish him at all
Where is the right and where is the left..." And he fell silent again...
We turned right. The same dirt meets there,
Even though it was a good day, did anyone notice?

The passing rain has mixed the clay so sticky and viscous,
That there are already pounds hanging on the wheels of the chaise...
Stuck like felt, it won’t be easy to remove...
Consider that they’ve been driving around here for three hours already...

Without Pelageya you won’t be able to get out at all -
Roads in all directions are like crabs out of a bag...
But she knew the way: “Listen, uncle, get ready -
There’s a pillar over there, see?” - looking out from under the silence...

“What kind of building is there?” “The tavern, of course...”
"Well? Now we are on our own, go home!”
Stopped the horses without hassle and instantly,
He helped the girl get down, shaking his head...

And Chichikov, taking out a small change,
He handed her a copper penny: “Keep it for your hard work!”
Satisfied, she took it, bending down as she did so.
And she wandered through the mud, following her tracks home...

3.030 Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol, Dead souls

Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol (Yanovsky)
(1809-1852)

Even the most independent writer from criticism is completely dependent on it. That miraculous monument that he erected for himself during his lifetime may not be noticed, moved from place to place, or even completely broken. The worst thing that could happen to Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol (1809-52) happened - his monument was simply replaced. Announcing part creative heritage writer - “Selected Passages from Correspondence with Friends” (1847) - the delusion of a madman also emasculated his novel-poem “Dead Souls” (1835-42).

And these two works (“Dead Souls” and “Selected Places”) cannot in any way be considered in isolation from each other, much less contrasted - these are two stages of the same path of spiritual growth of the writer, and therefore literary. Moreover, the path of God-seeking forced Gogol to rethink his works and his heroes and give them a deeper, sometimes opposite, assessment.

"Dead Souls"
(1835-1842)

“God,” Gogol wrote while working on the poem, “be present with me in my work, for this you called me into the world. I believe that this very thing did not begin from my will, but I am working on it for Your glory. A lot of work and journey, and spiritual education still lies ahead! My soul must be purer than the mountain snow and brighter than the heavens, and only then will I gain the strength to begin a feat and a great endeavor.”

The writer was primarily concerned not with “exposing the morals” of feudal Russia, which was officially recognized as the main and almost the only content of “Dead Souls,” but with the living souls of its inhabitants, who die and turn to stone during life. “As if all of Russia is actually inhabited dead souls“- Gogol repeated more than once, like a pathologist searching for the reasons for their death.

He saw them primarily in human sins. After all, the heroes of the novel - Manilov, Korobochka, Sobakevich, Nozdryov, Plyushkin - became the personification of this or that sin, and Chichikov completely acted as the devil, the buyer of the dead and the collector of living souls.

No, it was not the criticism of the vulgarity of life and the vulgarity of the heroes that occupied the writer - but the creation, the “resurrection” of fallen man. Gogol's plan was grandiose. He intended, like Dante’s “Divine Comedy,” to create a poem in three parts dedicated to Hell, Purgatory and Paradise. “Dead souls” became the hell in which sinners are judged.

And it is not the writer’s fault, but his misfortune that in the center of this hell he placed not only sinners, but also Chichikov, the personified demon of money-grubbing. At first, Gogol still wanted to “resurrect” Chichikov. “And perhaps this very Chichikov... contains something that will later bring a person to dust and to his knees before the wisdom of heaven,” he reasoned and spent many years reviving the soul of someone who does not have it.

The writer belatedly realized that this “hero” cannot a priori get into Purgatory, much less into Paradise. And those representatives of the clergy who claim that “the adequacy of the perception and interpretation of “Dead Souls” cannot be achieved without taking into account the religious “component” of the poem’s intention are absolutely right, especially since for Gogol himself, as a Christian artist, this “component” was the only justified the basis for criticism of contemporary society."

And we must not forget that from his youth the writer longed to serve in the sovereign field. This is what literature became for him, which he voluntarily placed on the three pillars of the Nicholas era: Orthodoxy, Autocracy, Nationality.

In connection with the above, it makes no sense to retell the surviving five chapters of the second volume of the poem (so as not to disturb the spirit of Nikolai Vasilyevich), let us briefly outline the first.

Soon after Patriotic War 1812 in provincial town Collegiate adviser Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov came to NN, very interested in the health of the region’s population. Having made visits to officials, from the governor to the inspector of the medical board, he gained everyone's favor and made acquaintance with a number of landowners who invited him to visit.

Chichikov drove around the province, buying up dead peasants from landowners who had not yet been declared as such in the audit certificate. Then he intended to pawn them in the treasury as if they were alive, use the proceeds to buy a village somewhere in the Kherson province and live happily ever after, enjoying the sky and raising children.

Fate brought the buyer to the incompetent and dreamer, cloying to the point of stupor Manilov, to the petty, timid “club-headed” Korobochka, to the reckless boor and liar Nozdryov, to the stocky hoarder Sobakevich, to the curmudgeon and “a hole in humanity” Plyushkin. “And a person could stoop to such insignificance, pettiness, and disgusting!” - Gogol exclaims about Plyushkin, attributing this cry of his suffering soul to all the characters in the poem, including provincial and capital officials (in “The Tale of Captain Kopeikin”).

Having bought up a fair number of souls, Chichikov formalized the deal in the civil chamber and instantly became a “Kherson landowner” and an eligible bachelor. True, having not lived up to the hopes of the provincial matrons, the newly-made “landowner” soon lost their favor. In addition, the drunken Nozdryov loudly interrogated him in public about how much he had traded in the dead, and Korobochka, who rolled into the city, fearing to cheap out on souls, added fuel to the fire. This news, overgrown with the most absurd details, excited the entire city. The fantasies of ordinary people portrayed Chichikov as either a counterfeiter, a robber, or a spy; or even Napoleon and even the Antichrist. The prosecutor died from shock, which only confirmed his uselessness in a society where the worst judgment was gossip and gossip.

In conclusion, the author outlined the story of Chichikov’s life, which he foolishly devoted to acquisition alone, the crown of which was his plan to buy up dead souls. The first volume was completed by the allegory of the flying troika - Rus', in which the hero of the poem rushes, either to hell, or for new souls - into our century.

Rus', where are you going? give me the answer. Doesn't give an answer.

The history of the creation of the novel is briefly as follows. Nikolai Vasilyevich began work on it in 1835 in St. Petersburg. The plot, according to him, was suggested to him by A.S. Pushkin. Emperor Nicholas I ordered 5,000 rubles to be given for writing the essay.

At first Gogol wanted to write a picaresque novel, then “to show at least one side of all of Rus',” and ended with a plan on the scale of Dante. Gogol completed the first volume in 1841. Due to the restrictions of Moscow censorship, the poem was transferred by the writer’s friends to the St. Petersburg censors, and published in 1842 with some cuts and a changed title “The Adventures of Chichikov, or Dead Souls.”

The term “dead souls” has several meanings. First of all, this is a classic oxymoron, i.e. purely an aesthetic thing. Another superficial meaning is a “good” that one is concerned about acquiring. main character. Metaphorical, as already mentioned, these are landowners and officials. And finally, the third, spiritual meaning is the souls that have died spiritually, which can still be reborn after going through the path of trials and suffering. It was this meaning that Gogol intended to reveal in the second and third volumes of the poem.

“Dead Souls is a slightly pale threshold of that great poem that is being built in me and will finally solve the riddle of my existence,” Gogol wrote in one of his letters.

Will the characters in the poem be resurrected? - his confessor once asked him.

“If they want,” he answered with a smile.

Criticism was not long in coming and easily accused the author of slandering reality. The poem by V.G. was highly appreciated. Belinsky and K.S. Aksakov. And if the former believed that the author wrote it about Russia and only for Russia, then the latter considered it the pinnacle of world literature.

Well, Gogol at this time, having retired abroad, plunged headlong into the 2nd volume. What he wrote did not satisfy him, and he burned the manuscript twice, in a state of severe mental crisis in 1845 and 9 days before his death in 1852.

There have been several film adaptations of Dead Souls in the last century. In 1909, the film was made by director P.I. Chardynin, in 1960 - L.Z. Trauberg, in 1969 - A.A. Belinsky, in 1984 - M.A. Schweitzer.

In 1976 R.K. Shchedrin wrote the opera Dead Souls.

Reviews

Hello, Viorel Lomov!

Thank you for the most interesting essay about the writer’s novel and for the truth about the life and work of the mysterious N.V. Gogol!
What are we talking about when talking about the truth of the writer’s life and work?..
About this!..:

"...The worst thing that could happen to Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol (1809-52) happened - his monument was simply replaced. By declaring part of the writer’s creative heritage - “Selected passages from correspondence with friends” (1847) - the delusion of a madman, they emasculated and his novel-poem “Dead Souls” (1835-42).
And V.G. played a fatal role here. Belinsky, who contrasted the early, supposedly “anti-Slavophile” period of Gogol’s work with the late “Slavophile” period of the creation of “Selected Places”. In his furious “Letter to N.V. Gogol,” the great critic, being himself an atheist, accused the writer of all mortal sins, calling him “a preacher of the whip, an apostle of ignorance, a champion of obscurantism and obscurantism, a panegyrist of Tatar morals.”
For the sake of a catchphrase, the frantic Vissarion did not spare the father of Great Russian literature. While all his attacks were not worth a damn. Numerous biographical facts and confessions of Gogol himself indicate the immutability of his religious and political views, instilled in him since childhood.
And these two works (“Dead Souls” and “Selected Places”) cannot in any way be considered in isolation from each other, much less opposed - these are two stages of the same path of spiritual growth of the writer, and therefore literary. Moreover, the path of God-seeking forced Gogol to rethink his works and his heroes and give them a deeper, sometimes opposite, initial assessment..." (Viorel Lomov).

Exactly, this! I want to expand on this in a new essay about Gogol.
I will take your essay as a literary model for the essay that I have planned about Gogol.

And as the opposite of your essay and vision, there is an article by Professor I.I. Garin “The bottomless gaping crack. N.V. Gogol,” which affirms the position and point of view of the liberal camp in relation to the work and life of Gogol:

"...Gogol is not madness, Gogol is psychosis. Symptoms of manic-depressive psychosis: suspiciousness, inventing and stringing together illnesses, sexual insufficiency, escape, continuous wanderings, frantic searches for a field, attempts to reinterpret one’s own creations, burning of manuscripts, fears. Existential fear - this is the background of Gogol’s comedy, believes B. Zelinsky. Even he is a comedian from neurosis: “He cheers himself up, like a child in the dark. The stronger the fear, the louder the laughter” (Troil).
The tragedy of Nikolai Vasilyevich was that his mental illness was never diagnosed during his lifetime and doctors treated him all his life for dozens of fictitious ailments.
Our people are outraged by the attempt to understand Gogol’s work in connection with his illness, tragedy, and structure of the soul: “The indifference to Gogol’s spiritual talent is striking: he is not listened to as an interlocutor, but only as a patient or viewed as an exhibit.” But isn't separation a symptom of indifference? art world from the world of the soul? Is it possible to fully understand the torment of Pascal without his illness, the paintings of El Greco without his astigmatism, the tragedy of the second volume of Dead Souls without the irreversible extinction of creative energy and sclerosis?
By the way, the main books about Gogol’s illness were not written by foreigners - V.I. Shenrok, Z.Z. Bazhenov, V. Chizh, I.D. Ermakov, V.I. Mochulsky. If genius itself, as is now commonly believed, is a disease, then why should the topic of a genius’ illness be taboo? Why was Belinsky or Turgenev given the right to accuse the author of “Correspondence with Friends” of insanity and explain to them the writing of this book (“Something moved in the head... all of Moscow had such an opinion about him”), but not given to professional doctors? Why is it wrong to pose the problem of the dependence of creativity on the course of the disease?..” (I.I. Garin).

And here are the conclusions of Professor I. Garin:
"...Gogol was a masochist, pain seemed to spur his talents...
Gogol needed his doctor Freud or doctor Jung, but if their treatment had been successful, there would have been no Gogol’s genius...” (I.I. Garin).

An interesting psychoanalytic train of thought by Professor Garin, isn’t it?.. to destroy one’s opponent in the genius of another, to belittle and profane the very meaning of genius, but not only... Let us note that Professor Garin places all the blame for the death of Gogol on Russian society not only from the time of Gogol, but in general. Here! the tasks of a professor who himself is sick with the mania of Russophobia, being a citizen of Ukraine.

The most interesting thing is last words, which I emphasized from I. Garin’s article as “Gogol needed his doctor Freud...”.

Question: did Gogol need Dr. Freud?..
And here the question is not only psychoanalytic, but also purely literary, art, and generally cultural, which directly concerns the work of Dostoevsky and Freud’s literary criticism, based on Freud’s article “Dostoevsky and Parricide.”

It’s amazing that historiosophical paradoxes intersect here, like the connection between the works of Gogol and Dostoevsky, based on Freud’s article...

But here the topic specifically concerns Dostoevsky's novel The Brothers Karamazov.
So let’s move on to your other essay and, if possible, make some comparisons with Freud’s literary psychoanalysis.

Thank you for the truth about Gogol and with respect,

The next day Chichikov went for lunch and evening to the police chief, where from three o'clock in the afternoon they sat down to whist and played until two o'clock in the morning. There, by the way, he met the landowner Nozdryov, a man of about thirty, a broken fellow, who after three or four words began to say “you” to him. Nozdryov was also on first name terms with the police chief and the prosecutor and treated him in a friendly manner; but when we sat down to play big game, the police chief and the prosecutor examined his bribes extremely carefully and followed almost every card with which he walked. The next day Chichikov spent the evening with the chairman of the chamber, who received his guests in a dressing gown, somewhat oily, including two ladies. Then I was at an evening with the vice-governor, at a big dinner with the tax farmer, at a small dinner with the prosecutor, which, however, was worth a lot; at the after-mass snack given by the mayor, which was also worth lunch. In a word, he never had to stay at home for a single hour, and he came to the hotel only to fall asleep. The newcomer somehow knew how to find his way around everything and showed himself to be an experienced socialite. Whatever the conversation was about, he always knew how to support it: whether it was about a horse factory, he talked about a horse factory; were they talking about good dogs, and here he made very practical remarks; whether they interpreted the investigation carried out by the treasury chamber, he showed that he was not unaware of the judicial tricks; whether there was a discussion about a billiard game - and in a billiard game he did not miss; they talked about virtue, and he talked about virtue very well, even with tears in his eyes; about making hot wine, and he knew the use of hot wine; about customs overseers and officials, and he judged them as if he himself were both an official and an overseer. But it’s remarkable that he knew how to dress it all up with some kind of sedateness, he knew how to behave well. He spoke neither loudly nor quietly, but absolutely as he should. In a word, no matter where you turn, he was a very decent person. All officials were pleased with the arrival of a new person. The governor explained about him that he was a well-intentioned person; the prosecutor - that he is a sensible person; the gendarme colonel said that he was a learned man; the chairman of the chamber - that he is a knowledgeable and respectable person; the police chief - that he is a respectable and kind man; the police chief's wife - that he is the most kind and courteous person. Even Sobakevich himself, who rarely spoke kindly of anyone, arrived quite late from the city and had already completely undressed and lay down on the bed next to his thin wife, said to her: “I, darling, was at the governor’s party, and at the police chief’s. I had lunch and met the collegiate adviser Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov: a pleasant person!” To which the wife replied: “Hm!” - and pushed him with her foot.

This opinion, very flattering for the guest, was formed about him in the city, and it persisted until one strange property of the guest and the enterprise, or, as they say in the provinces, a passage about which the reader will soon learn, led almost to complete bewilderment. the whole city.

For more than a century and a half, interest in the amazing work written by N.V. Gogol has not disappeared. “Dead Souls” (a brief chapter-by-chapter retelling is given below) - a poem about contemporary writer Russia, its vices and shortcomings. Unfortunately, many things described in the first half of the 19th century by Nikolai Vasilyevich still exist, which makes the work relevant today.

Chapter 1. Meet Chichikov

A chaise drove into the provincial town of NN, in which sat a gentleman of ordinary appearance. She stopped at a tavern where she could rent a room for two rubles. Selifan, the coachman, and Petrushka, the footman, brought into the room a suitcase and a small chest, whose appearance indicated that they were often on the road. This is how you can begin a brief retelling of “Dead Souls.”

Chapter 1 introduces the reader to the visiting collegiate adviser Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov. He immediately went to the hall, where he ordered lunch and began asking the servant about local officials and landowners. And the next day the hero paid visits to all important persons of the city, including the governor. When we met, Pavel Ivanovich announced that he was looking for a new place of residence. He made a very pleasant impression, as he could flatter and show respect to everyone. As a result, Chichikov immediately received a lot of invitations: to a party with the governor and to tea with other officials.

Brief retelling The first chapter of “Dead Souls” continues with a description of the reception with the mayor. The author gives an eloquent assessment of the high society of the city of NN, comparing the governor’s guests to flies hovering over refined sugar. Gogol also notes that all men here, as well as everywhere else, were divided into “thin” and “fat” - he classified the main character as the latter. The position of the former was unstable and unstable. But the latter, if they end up somewhere, will be there forever.

For Chichikov, the evening was useful: he met wealthy landowners Manilov and Sobakevich and received an invitation from them to visit. The main question, which interested Pavel Ivanovich in a conversation with them, was about how many souls they have.

Over the next few days, the newcomer visited the officials and charmed all the noble residents of the city.

Chapter 2. At Manilov's

More than a week passed, and Chichikov finally decided to visit Manilov and Sobakevich.

A brief retelling of Chapter 2 of “Dead Souls” should begin with the hero’s servants. Petrushka was taciturn, but loved to read. He also never undressed and carried his special smell everywhere, which displeased Chichikov. This is what the author writes about him.

But let's return to the hero. He drove quite a distance before he saw Manilov's estate. The two-story manor house stood alone on a turf-decorated jug. It was surrounded by bushes, flower beds, and a pond. Particularly attractive was the gazebo with the strange inscription “Temple of Solitary Reflection.” The peasant huts looked gray and neglected.

A brief retelling of “Dead Souls” continues with a description of the meeting between host and guest. The smiling Manilov kissed Pavel Ivanovich and invited him into the house, which inside was just as unfurnished as the rest of the estate. So, one chair stood unupholstered, and on the windowsill in the office the owner laid out piles of ashes from a pipe. The landowner kept dreaming about some projects that remained unrealized. At the same time, he did not notice that his farm was increasingly falling into disrepair.

Gogol especially notes Manilov’s relationship with his wife: they cooed, trying to please each other in everything. City officials were the most wonderful people for them. And they gave their children strange ancient names and at dinner everyone tried to show off their education. In general, when talking about the landowner, the author emphasizes the following idea: the owner’s appearance radiated so much sweetness that the first impression of his attractiveness quickly changed. And by the end of the meeting it already seemed that Manilov was neither this nor that. The author gives this characterization of this hero.

But let's continue with the briefest retelling. Dead souls soon became the subject of conversation between the guest and Manilov. Chichikov asked to sell him the dead peasants, who, according to the audit documents, were still listed as alive. The owner was at first confused, and then gave them to the guest just like that. There was no way he could take money from such a good person.

Chapter 3. Box

Having said goodbye to Manilov, Chichikov went to Sobakevich. But on the way I got lost, got caught in the rain and after dark found myself in some village. He was met by the hostess herself - Nastasya Petrovna Korobochka.

The hero slept well on a soft feather bed and, waking up, noticed his cleaned dress. Through the window he saw many birds and strong peasant huts. The furnishings of the room and the behavior of the hostess testified to her thrift and economy.

During breakfast, Chichikov, without ceremony, started talking about dead peasants. At first Nastasya Petrovna did not understand how a non-existent product could be sold. Then she was afraid to sell things short, saying that the matter was new to her. The box was not as simple as it seemed at first - a brief retelling of “Dead Souls” leads to this idea. Chapter 3 ends with Chichikov promising the landowner to buy honey and hemp in the fall. After this, the guest and the hostess finally agreed on the price and concluded a deed of sale.

Chapter 4. Quarrel with Nozdrev

The rain washed out the road so much that by noon the stroller ended up on a pillar. Chichikov decided to stop by the tavern, where he met Nozdryov. They met at the prosecutor's, and now the landowner behaved as if Pavel Ivanovich was his best friend. Having no way to get rid of Nozdryov, the hero went to his estate. You will learn about the trouble that happened there if you read the further brief retelling of “Dead Souls”.

Chapter 4 introduces the reader to the landowner, who has earned the reputation of a rowdy and scandal-maker, a gambler and a money changer. "Pig" and other similar words were common in his vocabulary. Not a single meeting with this man ended peacefully, and the people who suffered the most were those who had the misfortune of getting to know him closely.

Upon arrival, Nozdryov took his son-in-law and Chichikov to look at the empty stalls, kennels, and fields. Our hero felt defeated and disappointed. But the main thing was ahead. At lunch there was a quarrel that continued the next morning. As the briefest retelling shows, dead souls became the reason for this. When Chichikov started a conversation for which he went to the landowners, Nozdryov easily promised to give him non-existent peasants. The guest was only required to buy from him a horse, a barrel organ and a dog. And in the morning the owner offered to play checkers for souls and began to cheat. Pavel Ivanovich, who discovered this, was almost beaten. It is difficult to describe how happy he was at the appearance of the police captain in the house, who had come to arrest Nozdryov.

Chapter 5. In Sobakevich’s house

On the way, another trouble happened. Selifan's unreasonableness caused Chichikov's carriage to collide with another cart, which was harnessed to six horses. Men who came running from the village took part in unraveling the horses. And the hero himself drew attention to the cute blond young lady sitting in the stroller.

A brief retelling of Gogol’s “Dead Souls” continues with a description of the meeting with Sobakevich, which finally took place. The village and house that appeared before the hero’s eyes were large. Everything was distinguished by good quality and durability. The landowner himself resembled a bear: in appearance, gait, and the color of his clothes. And all the objects in the house resembled their owner. Sobakevich was taciturn. At lunch he ate a lot, and spoke negatively about the mayors.

He took the offer to sell dead souls calmly and immediately set a rather high price (two rubles and a half), since all of his peasants were registered and each of them had some special quality. The guest did not like this very much, but he accepted the conditions.

Then Pavel Ivanovich went to Plyushkin, whom he learned about from Sobakevich. According to the latter, his peasants were dying like flies, and the hero hoped to acquire them profitably. The correctness of this decision is confirmed by a brief retelling (“Dead Souls”).

Chapter 6 Patched

This nickname was given to the master by a man from whom Chichikov asked for directions. AND appearance Plyushkina fully justified him.

Having driven through strange, dilapidated streets, which indicated that there had once been a strong economy here, the carriage stopped at an invalid man's house. A certain creature was standing in the yard and quarreling with a man. It was impossible to immediately determine his gender and position. Seeing a bunch of keys on his belt, Chichikov decided that it was the housekeeper and ordered to call the owner. Imagine his surprise when he found out: standing in front of him was one of the richest landowners in the area. In Plyushkin’s appearance, Gogol draws attention to his lively, darting eyes.

A brief retelling of “Dead Souls” chapter by chapter allows us to note only the essential features of the landowners who became the heroes of the poem. Plyushkin stands out because the author tells the story of his life. He was once an economical and hospitable host. However, after the death of his wife, Plyushkin became more and more stingy. As a result, the son shot himself because his father did not help pay off his debts. One daughter ran away and was cursed, the other died. Over the years, the landowner turned into such a miser that he picked up all the garbage on the street. He himself and his farm turned into rot. Gogol calls Plyushkin “a hole in humanity,” the reason for which, unfortunately, cannot be fully explained by a brief retelling.

Chichikov bought dead souls from the landowner at a very favorable price for himself. It was enough to tell Plyushkin that this freed him from paying duties for long-defunct peasants, and he happily agreed to everything.

Chapter 7. Paperwork

Chichikov, who returned to the city, woke up in a good mood in the morning. He immediately rushed to review the lists of purchased souls. He was especially interested in the paper compiled by Sobakevich. The landowner gave a full description of each man. Russian peasants seem to come to life in front of the hero, and therefore he embarks on discussions about their difficult fate. Everyone, as a rule, has the same fate - to pull the burden until the end of their days. Having come to his senses, Pavel Ivanovich got ready to go to the ward to fill out the documents.

A brief retelling of “Dead Souls” takes the reader into the world of officials. On the street Chichikov met Manilov, still caring and good-natured. And, fortunately for him, Sobakevich was in the ward. Pavel Ivanovich walked for a long time from one office to another and patiently explained the purpose of the visit. Finally he paid a bribe, and the matter was immediately completed. And the hero’s legend that he takes peasants for export to the Kherson province did not raise any questions among anyone. At the end of the day, everyone went to the chairman, where they drank to the health of the new landowner, wished him good luck and promised to find a bride.

Chapter 8. Things are heating up

Rumors about a large purchase of peasants soon spread throughout the city, and Chichikov began to be considered a millionaire. He received signs of attention everywhere, especially since the hero, as a brief chapter-by-chapter retelling of “Dead Souls” shows, could easily win people over. However, the unexpected soon happened.

The governor gave a ball, and the center of attention, of course, was Pavel Ivanovich. Now everyone wanted to please him. Suddenly the hero noticed the same young lady (she turned out to be the governor’s daughter) whom he had met on the way from Korobochka to Nozdryov. Even at their first meeting, she charmed Chichikov. And now all the hero’s attention was turned to the girl, which aroused the anger of the other ladies. They suddenly saw in Pavel Ivanovich a terrible enemy.

The second trouble that happened that day was that Nozdryov appeared at the ball and began to talk about how Chichikov was buying up the souls of dead peasants. And although no one attached any importance to his words, Pavel Ivanovich felt awkward all evening and returned to his room ahead of time.

After the guest left, the box kept wondering if it had sold out. Exhausted, the landowner decided to go to the city to find out how much dead peasants were being sold these days. The next chapter (its brief retelling) will tell about the consequences of this. Gogol continues “Dead Souls” with a description of how unsuccessfully events began to develop for the main character.

Chapter 9 Chichikov at the center of the scandal

The next morning, two ladies met: one was simply pleasant, the other was pleasant in all respects. They discussed latest news, the main of which was Korobochka’s story. Let us give a very brief retelling of it (this directly concerned dead souls).

According to the guest, the first lady, Nastasya Petrovna was staying at the house of her friend. It was she who told her about how an armed Pavel Ivanovich appeared at the estate at night and began to demand that the souls of the dead be sold to him. The second lady added that her husband heard about such a purchase from Nozdryov. After discussing the incident, the women decided that it was all just a cover. Chichikov's true goal is to kidnap the governor's daughter. They immediately shared their guess with the prosecutor who entered the room and went to the city. Soon all its inhabitants were divided into two halves. The ladies discussed the version of the kidnapping, and the men discussed the purchase of dead souls. The governor's wife ordered Chichikov's servants not to be allowed on the threshold. And the officials gathered at the chief of police and tried to find an explanation for what happened.

Chapter 10 The story of Kopeikin

We went through many options for who Pavel Ivanovich could be. Suddenly the postmaster exclaimed: “Captain Kopeikin!” And he told the life story of a mysterious man about whom those present knew nothing. It is with this that we will continue our brief retelling of chapter 10 of “Dead Souls.”

In 12, Kopeikin lost an arm and a leg in the war. He could not earn money himself and therefore went to the capital to ask for well-deserved help from the monarch. In St. Petersburg, he stopped at a tavern, found a commission and began to wait for the reception. The nobleman immediately noticed the disabled man and, having learned about his problem, advised him to come over in a few days. The next time, he assured that everything would be decided soon and a pension would be awarded. And at the third meeting, Kopeikin, who never received anything, made a fuss and was expelled from the city. No one knew exactly where the disabled man was taken. But when a gang of robbers appeared in the Ryazan region, everyone decided that its leader was none other than... Further, all the officials agreed that Chichikov could not be Kopeikin: he had both an arm and a leg in the right place. Someone suggested that Pavel Ivanovich is Napoleon. After some more deliberation, the officials dispersed. And the prosecutor, coming home, died of shock. With this, the brief retelling of “Dead Souls” comes to an end.

All this time, the culprit of the scandal sat in the sick room and was surprised that no one was visiting him. Feeling a little better, he decided to go on a visit. But Governor Pavel Ivanovich was not received, and the others clearly avoided the meeting. Everything was explained by Nozdryov’s arrival at the hotel. It was he who said that Chichikov was accused of preparing a kidnapping and making false banknotes. Pavel Ivanovich immediately ordered Petrushka and Selifan to prepare for departure early in the morning.

Chapter 11. Chichikov's life story

However, the hero woke up later than planned. Then Selifan said that it was necessary. Finally, we set off and on the way we met a funeral procession - they were burying the prosecutor. Chichikov hid behind the curtain and secretly examined the officials. But they didn’t even notice him. Now they were concerned about something else: what the new governor-general would be like. As a result, the hero decided that it was good to celebrate the funeral. And the carriage moved forward. And the author gives the life story of Pavel Ivanovich (we will give a brief retelling of it below). Dead souls (Chapter 11 indicates this) did not come to Chichikov’s mind by chance.

Pavlusha’s childhood can hardly be called happy. His mother died early, and his father often punished him. Then Chichikov Sr. took his son to the city school and left him to live with a relative. When parting, he gave some advice. To please teachers. Make friends only with rich classmates. Don’t treat anyone, but arrange everything so that you yourself are treated. And the main thing is to save a pretty penny. Pavlusha fulfilled all his father’s behests. He soon added his own earnings to the fifty dollars he left behind when they parted. He conquered the teachers with his diligence: no one could sit in class as well as he could. And although I received a good certificate, I started working from the very bottom. Moreover, after the death of his father, he inherited only a dilapidated house, which Chichikov sold for a thousand, and servants.

Having entered the service, Pavel Ivanovich showed incredible diligence: he worked a lot, slept in the office. At the same time, he always looked great and pleased everyone. Having learned that the boss had a daughter, he began to look after her, and things even went towards a wedding. But as soon as Chichikov was promoted, he moved away from his boss to another apartment, and soon everyone somehow forgot about the engagement. This was the most difficult step towards the goal. And the hero dreamed of great wealth and an important place in society.

When the fight against bribery began, Pavel Ivanovich made his first fortune. But he did everything through secretaries and clerks, so he himself remained clean and earned a reputation with the management. Thanks to this, I was able to get a job in construction - instead of the planned buildings, officials, including the hero, had new houses. But failure awaited Chichikov here: the arrival of a new boss deprived him of both his position and his fortune.

I started building my career from the very beginning. Miraculously I got to customs - a fertile place. Thanks to his efficiency and servility, he achieved a lot. But suddenly he quarreled with an official friend (they did business with smugglers together), and he wrote a denunciation. Pavel Ivanovich was again left with nothing. He managed to hide only ten thousand and two servants.

A way out of the situation was suggested by the secretary of the office in which Chichikov was on duty new service had to mortgage the estate. When it came to the number of peasants, the official noted: “They died, but they are still on the audit lists. Some will disappear, others will be born - everything is good.” It was then that the idea came to buy dead souls. It will be difficult to prove that there are no peasants: Chichikov purchased them for export. For this purpose, he acquired land in advance in the Kherson province. And the guardianship council will give two hundred rubles for each registered soul. This is the state now. This is how the main character’s plan and the essence of all his actions are revealed to the reader. The main thing is to be careful and everything will work out. The carriage rushed on, and Chichikov, who loved fast driving, only smiled.