Plushkin to make out the receipt, and then handed
him the money. Plushkin took it in both hands, bore it to a bureau with
as much caution as though he were carrying a liquid which might at any
moment splash him in the face, and, arrived at the bureau, and glancing
round once more, carefully packed the cash in one of his money bags,
where, doubtless, it was destined to lie buried until, to the intense
joy of his daughters and his son-in-law (and, perhaps, of the captain
who claimed kinship with him), he should himself receive burial at the
hands of Fathers Carp and Polycarp, the two priests attached to his
village. Lastly, the money concealed, Plushkin re-seated himself in the
armchair, and seemed at a loss for further material for conversation.

"Are you thinking of starting?" at length he inquired, on seeing
Chichikov making a trifling movement, though the movement was only
to extract from his pocket a handkerchief. Nevertheless the question
reminded Chichikov that there was no further excuse for lingering.

"Yes, I must be going," he said as he took his hat.

"Then what about the tea?"

"Thank you, I will have some on my next visit."

"What? Even though I have just ordered the samovar to be got ready?
Well, well! I myself do not greatly care for tea, for I think it an
expensive beverage. Moreover, the price of sugar has risen terribly."

"Proshka!" he then shouted. "The samovar will not be needed. Return the
sugar to Mavra, and tell her to put it back again. But no. Bring the
sugar here, and _I_ will put it back."

"Good-bye, dear sir," finally he added to Chichikov. "May the Lord bless
you! Hand that letter to the President of the Council, and let him
read it. Yes, he is an old friend of mine. We knew one another as
schoolfellows."

With that this strange phenomenon, this withered old man, escorted his
guest to the gates of the courtyard, and, after the guest had departed,
ordered the gates to be closed, made the round of the outbuildings for
the purpose of ascertaining whether the numerous watchmen were at their
posts, peered into the kitchen (where, under the pretence of seeing
whether his servants were being properly fed, he made a light meal
of cabbage soup and gruel), rated the said servants soundly for their
thievishness and general bad behaviour, and then returned to his room.
Meditating in solitude, he fell to thinking how best he could contrive
to recompense his guest for the latter's measureless ben