had retired with the washbasin, he exclaimed, “Your excellency, since you are so kind and attentive to everyone, I have a great favour to ask of you.”

“What is it?”

“I have an aged, invalid uncle, your excellency,” said Tchitchikoff, glancing about him. “He has three hundred souls, and no heir except myself. He is not able to manage his estate himself, on account of his infirmities; and he will not allow me to manage it either. And he alleges a queer reason for this. ‘I do not know my nephew,’ says he. ‘Perhaps he is a spendthrift. Let him prove to me that he is a trustworthy man: let him acquire three hundred souls for himself, and then I will give him my three hundred.’ ”

“Why, what does he mean? He’s certainly a perfect fool,” said the general.

“If he were only a fool, one might get along. But think of my position, your excellency. The old man has taken a housekeeper, and she has some children of her own. Before I know it, they will get hold of everything.”

“The old fellow must have lost his senses,” said the general. “Only I do not see how I can help you,” he added, looking at Tchitchikoff in surprise.

“Well, this is what I have thought of. If your excellency would make over to me all the dead souls in your village, just as though they were alive, with a regular bill of sale, then I could show the bill of sale to the old man, and he would leave me his fortune.”

Here the general burst into such a laugh as man can never have given vent to before. He flung himself into an arm-chair, threw his head back, and almost choked. The whole house was alarmed. The valet hurried in, and then came the daughter in affright.

“Father, what has happened to you?” she asked, in terror and amazement.

But it was a long while before the general uttered a sound. “It’s nothing, my dear. Go to your own room. We will come to dinner directly. Be at ease. Ha, ha, ha!”

Then, after giving vent to several fresh sighs, the general’s laughter burst forth with fresh violence, and re-echoed from the vestibule to the most remote room in the house.

Tchitchikoff felt disturbed.

“Uncle, uncle! how finely fooled you will be!” said the general. “Ha, ha, ha! To receive dead souls instead of live ones! Ha, ha, ha!”

“Dear me, how ticklish his nerves are!” thought Tchitchikoff to himself.

“Ha, ha, ha!” went on the general. “What an ass! The idea of demanding such a thing! Let him make three hundred souls out of nothing in my presence, and then I’ll give him three hundred souls of mine! He’s an ass, of course!”

“Yes, your excellency, he’s an ass.”

“Well, that’s a good trick of yours, to treat the old fellow to dead souls. Ha, ha, ha! I’d give, God knows what, to see him when you present that bill of sale to him. But what is he What’s he like? Is he very old?”

“Eighty years.”

“But he moves about? He’s alert? He must be pretty strong if that housekeeper lives with him.”