that you
are really likely to profit thereby--well, in that case you would find
me ready to lend you all that you might ask without interest at all."

"That is a thing which it is well to know," reflected Chichikov.

"Yes," repeated Kostanzhoglo, "under those circumstances I should never
refuse you my assistance. But I do object to throwing my money to the
winds. Pardon me for expressing myself so plainly. To think of lending
money to a man who is merely devising a dinner for his mistress, or
planning to furnish his house like a lunatic, or thinking of taking his
paramour to a masked ball or a jubilee in honour of some one who had
better never have been born!"

And, spitting, he came near to venting some expression which would
scarcely have been becoming in the presence of his wife. Over his face
the dark shadow of hypochondria had cast a cloud, and furrows had formed
on his brow and temples, and his every gesture bespoke the influence of
a hot, nervous rancour.

"But allow me once more to direct your attention to the subject of our
recently interrupted conversation," persisted Chichikov as he sipped a
glass of excellent raspberry wine. "That is to say, supposing I were
to acquire the property which you have been good enough to bring to my
notice, how long would it take me to grow rich?"

"That would depend on yourself," replied Kostanzhoglo with grim
abruptness and evident ill-humour. "You might either grow rich quickly
or you might never grow rich at all. If you made up your mind to grow
rich, sooner or later you would find yourself a wealthy man."

"Indeed?" ejaculated Chichikov.

"Yes," replied Kostanzhoglo, as sharply as though he were angry with
Chichikov. "You would merely need to be fond of work: otherwise you
would effect nothing. The main thing is to like looking after your
property. Believe me, you would never grow weary of doing so. People
would have it that life in the country is dull; whereas, if I were to
spend a single day as it is spent by some folk, with their stupid clubs
and their restaurants and their theatres, I should die of ennui. The
fools, the idiots, the generations of blind dullards! But a landowner
never finds the days wearisome--he has not the time. In his life not a
moment remains unoccupied; it is full to the brim. And with it all goes
an endless variety of occupations. And what occupations! Occupations
which genuinely uplift the soul, seeing that the landowner walks with
nature a