unexpected appearance in our story, and as
suddenly, as unexpectedly, disappears. Indeed, had it not been that the
person concerned was Chichikov, and not some youth of twenty summers--a
hussar or a student or, in general, a man standing on the threshold
of life--what thoughts would not have sprung to birth, and stirred and
spoken, within him; for what a length of time would he not have stood
entranced as he stared into the distance and forgot alike his journey,
the business still to be done, the possibility of incurring loss through
lingering--himself, his vocation, the world, and everything else that
the world contains!

But in the present case the hero was a man of middle-age, and of
cautious and frigid temperament. True, he pondered over the incident,
but in more deliberate fashion than a younger man would have done. That
is to say, his reflections were not so irresponsible and unsteady. "She
was a comely damsel," he said to himself as he opened his snuff-box and
took a pinch. "But the important point is: Is she also a NICE DAMSEL?
One thing she has in her favour--and that is that she appears only just
to have left school, and not to have had time to become womanly in the
worser sense. At present, therefore, she is like a child. Everything in
her is simple, and she says just what she thinks, and laughs merely when
she feels inclined. Such a damsel might be made into anything--or she
might be turned into worthless rubbish. The latter, I surmise, for
trudging after her she will have a fond mother and a bevy of aunts,
and so forth--persons who, within a year, will have filled her with
womanishness to the point where her own father wouldn't know her. And
to that there will be added pride and affectation, and she will begin
to observe established rules, and to rack her brains as to how, and how
much, she ought to talk, and to whom, and where, and so forth. Every
moment will see her growing timorous and confused lest she be saying too
much. Finally, she will develop into a confirmed prevaricator, and end
by marrying the devil knows whom!" Chichikov paused awhile. Then he went
on: "Yet I should like to know who she is, and who her father is, and
whether he is a rich landowner of good standing, or merely a respectable
man who has acquired a fortune in the service of the Government.
Should he allow her, on marriage, a dowry of, say, two hundred thousand
roubles, she will be a very nice catch indeed. She might even, so to
spe