'Hm,' thought Chichikov, 'just as if it were a handkerchief!'
A moment later Kostanzhoglo appeared in the doorway of the drawing room.
'Hah, brother, you're here!' he said, seeing Platonov. They embraced and kissed each other. Platonov introduced Chichikov. Chichikov reverently approached the host, planted a kiss on his cheek, and received from him the impression of a kiss.
Kostanzhoglo's face was very remarkable. It betrayed its southern origin. His hair and eyebrows were dark and thick, his eyes eloquent, brightly gleaming. Intelligence shone in every expression of his face, and there was nothing sleepy in it. One could notice, however, an admixture of something bilious and embittered. What, in fact, was his nationality? There are many Russians in Russia who are of non-Russian origin but are nevertheless Russians in their souls. Kostanzhoglo was not interested in his origins, finding the question beside the point and quite useless for the household. Besides, he knew no other language than Russian.
'Do you know what has occurred to me, Konstantin?' said Platonov.
'What?'
'It has occurred to me to take a trip over various provinces; maybe it will cure my spleen.'
'Why not? It's quite possible.'
'Together with Pavel Ivanovich here.'
'Wonderful! And to what parts,' Kostanzhoglo asked, addressing Chichikov affably, 'do you now purpose to travel?'
'I confess,' said Chichikov, inclining his head to one side and grasping the armrest of the chair with his hand, 'I am traveling, for the moment, not so much on my own necessity as on another's. General Betrishchev, a close friend and, one might say, benefactor, asked me to visit his relatives. Relatives are relatives, of course, but it is partly, so to speak, for my own self as well; because, indeed, to say nothing of the good that may come from it in the hemorrhoidal respect, the fact alone that one sees the world, the circulation of people . . . whatever they may say, it is, so to speak, a living book, the same as learning.'
'Yes, it does no harm to peek into certain corners.'
'An excellent observation, if you please,' Chichikov adverted, 'indeed, it does no harm. You see things you wouldn't see otherwise; you meet people you wouldn't meet otherwise. Conversing with some people is as good as gold. Teach me, my most esteemed Konstantin Fyodorovich, teach me, I appeal to you. I wait for your sweet words as for manna.'
Kostanzhoglo was embarrassed.
'What, though? . . . teach you what? I have only a pennyworth of education myself.'
'Wisdom, my most esteemed sir, wisdom! the wisdom for managing an estate as you do; for obtaining an assured income as you have; for acquiring property as you do, not dreamlike, but substantial, and thereby fulfilling the duty of a citizen and earning the respect of one's compatriots.'
'You know what?' said Kostanzhoglo, 'stay with me for a day. I'll show you all my management and tell you about everything. There isn't any wisdom involved, as you'll see.'
'Stay for this one day, brother,' the hostess said, turning to Platonov.
'Why not, it makes no difference to me,' the man said indifferently, 'what about Pavel Ivanovich?'
'I, too, with the greatest pleasure . . . But there's this one circumstance—I must visit General Betrishchev's relative. There's a certain Colonel Koshkarev...'
'But he's . . . don't you know? He's a fool and quite mad.'
'That I've heard already. I have no business with him myself. But since General Betrishchev is my close friend and even, so to speak, benefactor . . . it's somehow awkward.'
'In that case, I tell you what,' said Kostanzhoglo, 'go to him right now. I have a droshky standing ready. It's even less than six miles away, you'll fly there and back in no time. You'll even get back before supper.'
Chichikov gladly took advantage of the suggestion. The droshky was brought, and he drove off at once to see the colonel, who amazed him as he had never been amazed before. Everything at his place was extraordinary. The village was scattered all over: construction sites, reconstruction sites, piles of lime, brick, and logs everywhere in the streets. There were some houses built that looked like institutions. On one there was written in gold letters: Farm Implement Depot, on another: Main Accounting Office, on a third: Village Affairs Commitee; School of Normal Education of Settlers—in short, devil knows what was not there! He thought he might have entered a provincial capital. The colonel himself was somehow stiff. His face was somehow formal, shaped like a triangle. His side- whiskers stretched in a line down his cheeks; his hair, hairstyling, nose, lips, chin— everything was as if it had just been taken from a press. He began speaking as if he were a sensible man. From the very beginning he began to complain of the lack of learning among the surrounding landowners, of the great labors that lay ahead of him. He received Chichikov with the utmost kindness and cordiality, took him entirely into his confidence, and with self- delight told him what labor, oh, what labor it had cost him to raise his estate to its present prosperity; how hard it was to make a simple muzhik understand the lofty impulses that enlightened luxury and the fine arts give a man; how necessary it was to combat the Russian muzhik's ignorance, so as to get him to dress in German trousers and make him feel, at least to some extent, man's lofty dignity; that, despite all his efforts, he had so far been unable to make the peasant women put on corsets, whereas in Germany, where his regiment had been stationed in the year 'fourteen, a miller's daughter could even play the piano, speak French, and curtsy. Regretfully, he told how great was the lack of learning among the neighboring landowners; how little they thought of their subjects; how they even laughed when he tried to explain how necessary it was for good management to set up a record office, commission offices, and even committees, so as to prevent all theft, so that every object would be known, so that the scrivener, the steward, and the bookkeeper would not be just educated somehow, but finish their studies at the university; how, despite all persuasions, he was unable to convince the landowners of how profitable it would be for their estates if every peasant were so well educated that, while following the plough, he could at the same time read a book about lightning rods.
At this Chichikov thought: 'Well, it's unlikely that such a time will ever come. Here I am a literate man, and I've yet to read
'Terrible ignorance!' said Colonel Koshkarev in conclusion. 'The darkness of the Middle Ages, and no way to remedy it. . . Believe me, there is none! And I could remedy it all; I know of one way, the surest way.'
'What is it?'
'To dress every last man in Russia the way they go about in Germany. Nothing more than that, and I promise you everything will go swimmingly: learning will rise, trade will develop, a golden age will come to Russia.'
Chichikov was looking at him intently, thinking: 'Well, it seems there's no point in standing on ceremony with this one.' Not leaving matters in the bottom drawer, he straightaway explained to the colonel thus and so: there was a need for such and such souls, with the drawing up of such and such deeds.
'As far as I can see from your words,' said the colonel, not embarrassed in the least, 'this is a request—is that so?'
'Exactly so.'
'In that case, put it in writing. It will go to the commission for divers petitions. The commission for divers petitions, having made note of it, will forward it to me. From me it will go on to the village affairs committee, where all sorts of decisions and revisions will be made concerning the matter. The steward-in-chief together with the whole office will give his resolution in the soon-most time, and the matter will be settled.'
Chichikov was dumbstruck.
'Excuse me,' he said, 'things will take too long that way.'
'Ah!' the colonel said with a smile, 'there's the benefit of paperwork! It will indeed take longer, but nothing will escape: every little detail will be in view.'
'But, excuse me . . . How can one present it in writing? It's the sort of matter that. . . The souls are in a certain sense . . . dead.'
'Very well. So you write that the souls are in a certain sense dead.'
'But how can I—dead? It's impossible to write that. They're dead, but it must seem as if they're alive.'
'Well, then, you write: 'But it must seem or it is required that they seem as if alive.''
What was to be done with the colonel? Chichikov decided to go and see for himself what these commissions and committees were; and what he found there was not only amazing, but decidedly exceeded all understanding. The commission for divers petitions existed only on a signboard. Its chairman, a former valet, had been transferred
