reflected, "I had better
not linger here--I had better be off at once."

Getting rid of Nozdrev as soon as he could, he sent for Selifan, and
ordered him to be up at daybreak, in order to clean the britchka and to
have everything ready for a start at six o'clock. Yet, though Selifan
replied, "Very well, Paul Ivanovitch," he hesitated awhile by the door.
Next, Chichikov bid Petrushka get out the dusty portmanteau from under
the bed, and then set to work to cram into it, pell-mell, socks, shirts,
collars (both clean and dirty), boot trees, a calendar, and a variety of
other articles. Everything went into the receptacle just as it came
to hand, since his one object was to obviate any possible delay in
the morning's departure. Meanwhile the reluctant Selifan slowly, very
slowly, left the room, as slowly descended the staircase (on each
separate step of which he left a muddy foot-print), and, finally, halted
to scratch his head. What that scratching may have meant no one could
say; for, with the Russian populace, such a scratching may mean any one
of a hundred things.

CHAPTER XI

Nevertheless events did not turn out as Chichikov had intended they
should. In the first place, he overslept himself. That was check number
one. In the second place, on his rising and inquiring whether the
britchka had been harnessed and everything got ready, he was informed
that neither of those two things had been done. That was check number
two. Beside himself with rage, he prepared to give Selifan the wigging
of his life, and, meanwhile, waited impatiently to hear what the
delinquent had got to say in his defence. It goes without saying that
when Selifan made his appearance in the doorway he had only the usual
excuses to offer--the sort of excuses usually offered by servants when a
hasty departure has become imperatively necessary.

"Paul Ivanovitch," he said, "the horses require shoeing."

"Blockhead!" exclaimed Chichikov. "Why did you not tell me of that
before, you damned fool? Was there not time enough for them to be shod?"

"Yes, I suppose there was," agreed Selifan. "Also one of the wheels is
in want of a new tyre, for the roads are so rough that the old tyre is
worn through. Also, the body of the britchka is so rickety that probably
it will not last more than a couple of stages."

"Rascal!" shouted Chichikov, clenching his fists and approaching Selifan
in such a manner that, fearing to receive a blow, the man backed and
dodg