en one's dinner has to be eaten. Next, before one has even
had a chance to utter a snore, there enters once again the cook, and one
has to order supper; and when she has departed, behold, back she comes
with a request for the following day's dinner! What time does THAT leave
one to be weary of things?"

Throughout this conversation, Chichikov had been taking stock of
the newcomer, who astonished him with his good looks, his upright,
picturesque figure, his appearance of fresh, unwasted youthfulness,
and the boyish purity, innocence, and clarity of his features. Neither
passion nor care nor aught of the nature of agitation or anxiety of mind
had ventured to touch his unsullied face, or to lay a single wrinkle
thereon. Yet the touch of life which those emotions might have imparted
was wanting. The face was, as it were, dreaming, even though from time
to time an ironical smile disturbed it.

"I, too, cannot understand," remarked Chichikov, "how a man of your
appearance can find things wearisome. Of course, if a man is hard
pressed for money, or if he has enemies who are lying in wait for his
life (as have certain folk of whom I know), well, then--"

"Believe me when I say," interrupted the handsome guest, "that, for the
sake of a diversion, I should be glad of ANY sort of an anxiety. Would
that some enemy would conceive a grudge against me! But no one does so.
Everything remains eternally dull."

"But perhaps you lack a sufficiency of land or souls?"

"Not at all. I and my brother own ten thousand desiatins [44] of land,
and over a thousand souls."

"Curious! I do not understand it. But perhaps the harvest has failed,
or you have sickness about, and many of your male peasants have died of
it?"

"On the contrary, everything is in splendid order, for my brother is the
best of managers."

"Then to find things wearisome!" exclaimed Chichikov. "It passes my
comprehension." And he shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, we will soon put weariness to flight," interrupted the host.
"Aleksasha, do you run helter-skelter to the kitchen, and there tell
the cook to serve the fish pasties. Yes, and where have that gawk of an
Emelian and that thief of an Antoshka got to? Why have they not handed
round the zakuski?"

At this moment the door opened, and the "gawk" and the "thief" in
question made their appearance with napkins and a tray--the latter
bearing six decanters of variously-coloured beverages. These they placed
upon the tabl