Just after we had left Pnomarev’s place, some prince or another arrived in the town, and sent out for some champagne; but not a bottle was there left, for the officers had drunk every one!
Why, I myself got through seventeen bottles at a sitting.” 18 A liquor distilled from fermented bread crusts or sour fruit.
“Come, come! You CAN’T have got through seventeen,” remarked the flaxen-haired man.
“But I did, I give my word of honour,” retorted Nozdrev.
“Imagine what you like, but you didn’t drink even TEN bottles at a sitting.”
“Will you bet that I did not?”
“No; for what would be the use of betting about it?”
“Then at least wager the gun which you have bought.”
“No, I am not going to do anything of the kind.”
“Just as an experiment?”
“No.”
“It is as well for you that you don’t, since, otherwise, you would have found yourself minus both gun and cap.
However, friend Chichikov, it is a pity you were not there.
Had you been there, I feel sure you would have found yourself unable to part with Lieutenant Kuvshinnikov.
You and he would have hit it off splendidly.
You know, he is quite a different sort from the Public Prosecutor and our other provincial skinflints — fellows who shiver in their shoes before they will spend a single kopeck. HE will play faro, or anything else, and at any time.
Why did you not come with us, instead of wasting your time on cattle breeding or something of the sort? But never mind. Embrace me. I like you immensely.
Mizhuev, see how curiously things have turned out. Chichikov has nothing to do with me, or I with him, yet here is he come from God knows where, and landed in the very spot where I happen to be living!
I may tell you that, no matter how many carriages I possessed, I should gamble the lot away.
Recently I went in for a turn at billiards, and lost two jars of pomade, a china teapot, and a guitar. Then I staked some more things, and, like a fool, lost them all, and six roubles in addition.
What a dog is that Kuvshinnikov!
He and I attended nearly every ball in the place.
In particular, there was a woman — decolletee, and such a swell! I merely thought to myself, ‘The devil take her!’ but Kuvshinnikov is such a wag that he sat down beside her, and began paying her strings of compliments in French.
However, I did not neglect the damsels altogether — although HE calls that sort of thing ‘going in for strawberries.’
By the way, I have a splendid piece of fish and some caviare with me. ’Tis all I HAVE brought back!
In fact it is a lucky chance that I happened to buy the stuff before my money was gone.
Where are you for?”
“I am about to call on a friend.”
“On what friend? Let him go to the devil, and come to my place instead.”
“I cannot, I cannot. I have business to do.”
“Oh, business again! I thought so!”
“But I HAVE business to do — and pressing business at that.”
“I wager that you’re lying.
If not, tell me whom you’re going to call upon.”
“Upon Sobakevitch.”
Instantly Nozdrev burst into a laugh compassable only by a healthy man in whose head every tooth still remains as white as sugar. By this I mean the laugh of quivering cheeks, the laugh which causes a neighbour who is sleeping behind double doors three rooms away to leap from his bed and exclaim with distended eyes,
“Hullo! Something HAS upset him!”
“What is there to laugh at?” asked Chichikov, a trifle nettled; but Nozdrev laughed more unrestrainedly than ever, ejaculating:
“Oh, spare us all! The thing is so amusing that I shall die of it!”
“I say that there is nothing to laugh at,” repeated Chichikov. “It is in fulfilment of a promise that I am on my way to Sobakevitch’s.”
“Then you will scarcely be glad to be alive when you’ve got there, for he is the veriest miser in the countryside.
Oh, I know you. However, if you think to find there either faro or a bottle of ‘Bonbon’ you are mistaken.
Look here, my good friend. Let Sobakevitch go to the devil, and come to MY place, where at least I shall have a piece of sturgeon to offer you for dinner.
Ponomarev said to me on parting: ‘This piece is just the thing for you. Even if you were to search the whole market, you would never find a better one.’
But of course he is a terrible rogue.
I said to him outright:
‘You and the Collector of Taxes are the two greatest skinflints in the town.’
But he only stroked his beard and smiled.
Every day I used to breakfast with Kuvshinnikov in his restaurant.
Well, what I was nearly forgetting is this: that, though I am aware that you can’t forgo your engagement, I am not going to give you up — no, not for ten thousand roubles of money. I tell you that in advance.”