"I desire to make an application."
"In connection with a purchase?"
"Yes. But, as I say, I should like first to know where I can find the desk devoted to such business. Is it here or elsewhere?""You must state what it is you have bought, and for how much. THENwe shall be happy to give you the information."Chichikov perceived that the officials' motive was merely one of curiosity, as often happens when young tchinovniks desire to cut a more important and imposing figure than is rightfully theirs.
"Look here, young sirs," he said. "I know for a fact that all serf business, no matter to what value, is transacted at one desk alone.
Consequently I again request you to direct me to that desk. Of course, if you do not know your business I can easily ask some one else."To this the tchinovniks made no reply beyond pointing towards a corner of the room where an elderly man appeared to be engaged in sorting some papers. Accordingly Chichikov and Manilov threaded their way in his direction through the desks; whereupon the elderly man became violently busy.
"Would you mind telling me," said Chichikov, bowing, "whether this is the desk for serf affairs?"The elderly man raised his eyes, and said stiffly:
"This is NOT the desk for serf affairs."
"Where is it, then?"
"In the Serf Department."
"And where might the Serf Department be?"
"In charge of Ivan Antonovitch."
"And where is Ivan Antonovitch?"
The elderly man pointed to another corner of the room; whither Chichikov and Manilov next directed their steps. As they advanced, Ivan Antonovitch cast an eye backwards and viewed them askance. Then, with renewed ardour, he resumed his work of writing.
"Would you mind telling me," said Chichikov, bowing, "whether this is the desk for serf affairs?"It appeared as though Ivan Antonovitch had not heard, so completely did he bury himself in his papers and return no reply. Instantly it became plain that HE at least was of an age of discretion, and not one of your jejune chatterboxes and harum-scarums; for, although his hair was still thick and black, he had long ago passed his fortieth year. His whole face tended towards the nose--it was what, in common parlance, is known as a "pitcher-mug.""Would you mind telling me," repeated Chichikov, "whether this is the desk for serf affairs?""It is that," said Ivan Antonovitch, again lowering his jug-shaped jowl, and resuming his writing.
"Then I should like to transact the following business. From various landowners in this canton I have purchased a number of peasants for transfer. Here is the purchase list, and it needs but to be registered.""Have you also the vendors here?"
"Some of them, and from the rest I have obtained powers of attorney.""And have you your statement of application?""Yes. I desire--indeed, it is necessary for me so to do--to hasten matters a little. Could the affair, therefore, be carried through to-day?""To-day? Oh, dear no!" said Ivan Antonovitch. "Before that can be done you must furnish me with further proofs that no impediments exist.""Then, to expedite matters, let me say that Ivan Grigorievitch, the President of the Council, is a very intimate friend of mine.""Possibly," said Ivan Antonovitch without enthusiasm. "But Ivan Grigorievitch alone will not do--it is customary to have others as well.""Yes, but the absence of others will not altogether invalidate the transaction. I too have been in the service, and know how things can be done.""You had better go and see Ivan Grigorievitch," said Ivan Antonovitch more mildly. "Should he give you an order addressed to whom it may concern, we shall soon be able to settle the matter."Upon that Chichikov pulled from his pocket a paper, and laid it before Ivan Antonovitch. At once the latter covered it with a book. Chichikov again attempted to show it to him, but, with a movement of his head, Ivan Antonovitch signified that that was unnecessary.
"A clerk," he added, "will now conduct you to Ivan Grigorievitch's room."Upon that one of the toilers in the service of Themis--a zealot who had offered her such heartfelt sacrifice that his coat had burst at the elbows and lacked a lining--escorted our friends (even as Virgil had once escorted Dante) to the apartment of the Presence. In this sanctum were some massive armchairs, a table laden with two or three fat books, and a large looking-glass. Lastly, in (apparently) sunlike isolation, there was seated at the table the President. On arriving at the door of the apartment, our modern Virgil seemed to have become so overwhelmed with awe that, without daring even to intrude a foot, he turned back, and, in so doing, once more exhibited a back as shiny as a mat, and having adhering to it, in one spot, a chicken's feather. As soon as the two friends had entered the hall of the Presence they perceived that the President was NOT alone, but, on the contrary, had seated by his side Sobakevitch, whose form had hitherto been concealed by the intervening mirror. The newcomers' entry evoked sundry exclamations and the pushing back of a pair of Government chairs as the voluminous-sleeved Sobakevitch rose into view from behind the looking-glass. Chichikov the President received with an embrace, and for a while the hall of the Presence resounded with osculatory salutations as mutually the pair inquired after one another's health. It seemed that both had lately had a touch of that pain under the waistband which comes of a sedentary life. Also, it seemed that the President had just been conversing with Sobakevitch on the subject of sales of souls, since he now proceeded to congratulate Chichikov on the same--a proceeding which rather embarrassed our hero, seeing that Manilov and Sobakevitch, two of the vendors, and persons with whom he had bargained in the strictest privacy, were now confronting one another direct. However, Chichikov duly thanked the President, and then, turning to Sobakevitch, inquired after HIS health.
