in to you his many expedients. Folk call him a wizard,
for he produces so much. Nevertheless, personally I find what he does
uninteresting."

"Truly an astonishing fellow!" reflected Chichikov with a glance at his
companion. "It is sad indeed to see a man so superficial as to be unable
to explain matters of this kind."

At length the manor appeared in sight--an establishment looking almost
like a town, so numerous were the huts where they stood arranged in
three tiers, crowned with three churches, and surrounded with huge ricks
and barns. "Yes," thought Chichikov to himself, "one can see what a
jewel of a landowner lives here." The huts in question were stoutly
built and the intervening alleys well laid-out; while, wherever a waggon
was visible, it looked serviceable and more or less new. Also, the local
peasants bore an intelligent look on their faces, the cattle were of the
best possible breed, and even the peasants' pigs belonged to the porcine
aristocracy. Clearly there dwelt here peasants who, to quote the
song, were accustomed to "pick up silver by the shovelful." Nor were
Englishified gardens and parterres and other conceits in evidence, but,
on the contrary, there ran an open view from the manor house to the
farm buildings and the workmen's cots, so that, after the old Russian
fashion, the barin should be able to keep an eye upon all that was going
on around him. For the same purpose, the mansion was topped with a tall
lantern and a superstructure--a device designed, not for ornament,
nor for a vantage-spot for the contemplation of the view, but for
supervision of the labourers engaged in distant fields. Lastly, the
brisk, active servants who received the visitors on the verandah were
very different menials from the drunken Petrushka, even though they did
not wear swallow-tailed coats, but only Cossack tchekmenu [47] of blue
homespun cloth.

The lady of the house also issued on to the verandah. With her face of
the freshness of "blood and milk" and the brightness of God's daylight,
she as nearly resembled Platon as one pea resembles another, save that,
whereas he was languid, she was cheerful and full of talk.

"Good day, brother!" she cried. "How glad I am to see you! Constantine
is not at home, but will be back presently."

"Where is he?"

"Doing business in the village with a party of factors," replied the
lady as she conducted her guests to the drawing-room.

With no little curiosity did Chichikov ga