" replied Chichikov. "I am an insignificant
individual, and, beyond that, nothing."

"Oh, Paul Ivanovitch!" cried the other. "Permit me to be frank, and to
say that I would give half my property to possess even a PORTION of the
talents which you possess."

"On the contrary, I should consider it the highest honour in the world
if--"

The lengths to which this mutual outpouring of soul would have proceeded
had not a servant entered to announce luncheon must remain a mystery.

"I humbly invite you to join us at table," said Manilov. "Also, you will
pardon us for the fact that we cannot provide a banquet such as is to
be obtained in our metropolitan cities? We partake of simple fare,
according to Russian custom--we confine ourselves to shtchi [10], but we
do so with a single heart. Come, I humbly beg of you."

After another contest for the honour of yielding precedence, Chichikov
succeeded in making his way (in zigzag fashion) to the dining-room,
where they found awaiting them a couple of youngsters. These were
Manilov's sons, and boys of the age which admits of their presence at
table, but necessitates the continued use of high chairs. Beside them
was their tutor, who bowed politely and smiled; after which the hostess
took her seat before her soup plate, and the guest of honour found
himself esconsed between her and the master of the house, while the
servant tied up the boys' necks in bibs.

"What charming children!" said Chichikov as he gazed at the pair. "And
how old are they?"

"The eldest is eight," replied Manilov, "and the younger one attained
the age of six yesterday."

"Themistocleus," went on the father, turning to his first-born, who was
engaged in striving to free his chin from the bib with which the footman
had encircled it. On hearing this distinctly Greek name (to which, for
some unknown reason, Manilov always appended the termination "eus"),
Chichikov raised his eyebrows a little, but hastened, the next moment,
to restore his face to a more befitting expression.

"Themistocleus," repeated the father, "tell me which is the finest city
in France."

Upon this the tutor concentrated his attention upon Themistocleus, and
appeared to be trying hard to catch his eye. Only when Themistocleus had
muttered "Paris" did the preceptor grow calmer, and nod his head.

"And which is the finest city in Russia?" continued Manilov.

Again the tutor's attitude became wholly one of concentration.

"St. Petersburg