v's eyes with an expression of
profound satisfaction. Then he said:

"Well done, Paul Ivanovitch! You have indeed made a nice haul!"

"That is so," replied Chichikov.

"Excellent business! Yes, excellent business!"

"I, too, conceive that I could not well have done better. The truth is
that never until a man has driven home the piles of his life's structure
upon a lasting bottom, instead of upon the wayward chimeras of youth,
will his aims in life assume a definite end." And, that said, Chichikov
went on to deliver himself of a very telling indictment of Liberalism
and our modern young men. Yet in his words there seemed to lurk a
certain lack of conviction. Somehow he seemed secretly to be saying to
himself, "My good sir, you are talking the most absolute rubbish, and
nothing but rubbish." Nor did he even throw a glance at Sobakevitch and
Manilov. It was as though he were uncertain what he might not encounter
in their expression. Yet he need not have been afraid. Never once did
Sobakevitch's face move a muscle, and, as for Manilov, he was too much
under the spell of Chichikov's eloquence to do aught beyond nod his
approval at intervals, and strike the kind of attitude which is assumed
by lovers of music when a lady singer has, in rivalry of an accompanying
violin, produced a note whereof the shrillness would exceed even the
capacity of a bird's throstle.

"But why not tell Ivan Grigorievitch precisely what you have bought?"
inquired Sobakevitch of Chichikov. "And why, Ivan Grigorievitch, do YOU
not ask Monsieur Chichikov precisely what his purchases have consisted
of? What a splendid lot of serfs, to be sure! I myself have sold him my
wheelwright, Michiev."

"What? You have sold him Michiev?" exclaimed the President. "I know the
man well. He is a splendid craftsman, and, on one occasion, made me a
drozhki [32]. Only, only--well, lately didn't you tell me that he is
dead?"

"That Michiev is dead?" re-echoed Sobakevitch, coming perilously near
to laughing. "Oh dear no! That was his brother. Michiev himself is very
much alive, and in even better health than he used to be. Any day he
could knock you up a britchka such as you could not procure even in
Moscow. However, he is now bound to work for only one master."

"Indeed a splendid craftsman!" repeated the President. "My only wonder
is that you can have brought yourself to part with him."

"Then think you that Michiev is the ONLY serf with whom I have parted?
Nay