have a request to make of you."

"What request?"

"First give me your word that you will grant it."

"What is the request, I say?"

"Then you give me your word, do you?"

"Certainly."

"Your word of honour?"

"My word of honour."

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

"I have. But why do you ask?"

"Because I want you to make them over to me."

"Of what use would they be to you?"

"Never mind. I have a purpose in wanting them."

"What purpose?"

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

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

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

"Then for what purpose do you want the serfs?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Again you are lying," said Nozdrev.

"Then look here; I have been lying only to this extent." And