eman also made searching
inquiries concerning the hygienic condition of the countryside. Was
there, he asked, much sickness about--whether sporadic fever, fatal
forms of ague, smallpox, or what not? Yet, though his solicitude
concerning these matters showed more than ordinary curiosity, his
bearing retained its gravity unimpaired, and from time to time he
blew his nose with portentous fervour. Indeed, the manner in which he
accomplished this latter feat was marvellous in the extreme, for, though
that member emitted sounds equal to those of a trumpet in intensity,
he could yet, with his accompanying air of guileless dignity, evoke the
waiter's undivided respect--so much so that, whenever the sounds of
the nose reached that menial's ears, he would shake back his locks,
straighten himself into a posture of marked solicitude, and inquire
afresh, with head slightly inclined, whether the gentleman happened
to require anything further. After dinner the guest consumed a cup of
coffee, and then, seating himself upon the sofa, with, behind him,
one of those wool-covered cushions which, in Russian taverns,
resemble nothing so much as a cobblestone or a brick, fell to snoring;
whereafter, returning with a start to consciousness, he ordered himself
to be conducted to his room, flung himself at full length upon the bed,
and once more slept soundly for a couple of hours. Aroused, eventually,
by the waiter, he, at the latter's request, inscribed a fragment of
paper with his name, his surname, and his rank (for communication, in
accordance with the law, to the police): and on that paper the waiter,
leaning forward from the corridor, read, syllable by syllable: "Paul
Ivanovitch Chichikov, Collegiate Councillor--Landowner--Travelling
on Private Affairs." The waiter had just time to accomplish this
feat before Paul Ivanovitch Chichikov set forth to inspect the town.
Apparently the place succeeded in satisfying him, and, to tell the
truth, it was at least up to the usual standard of our provincial
capitals. Where the staring yellow of stone edifices did not greet his
eye he found himself confronted with the more modest grey of wooden
ones; which, consisting, for the most part, of one or two storeys (added
to the range of attics which provincial architects love so well), looked
almost lost amid the expanses of street and intervening medleys of
broken or half-finished partition-walls. At other points evidence of
more life and movement was to b