Мёртвые души / Dead Souls

”

“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, 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,” replied Themistocleus.

“And what other city?”

“Moscow,” responded the boy.

“Clever little dear!” burst out Chichikov, turning with an air of surprise to the father.