Indeed Tchitchikoff went everywhere. He talked and discussed things with the overseer, with the peasants, and with the miller. He knew everybody and all about everything, the how and the why; in what fashion the affairs of the estate were progressing, and how much the grain sold for, how much of it was sent to be ground in the autumn, and how much in the spring, together with the names of all the moujiks, and where this one had purchased his cow, and what that one fed his pigs on—in short, everything. He also learned how many peasants had died, and it appeared that they were not numerous. Being a man of discernment, he perceived that, so far as his pet scheme went, matters would not progress well with Andrei Ivanovitch. On the other hand, ignorance, neglect, thieving, and intoxication prevailed everywhere. And he said to himself, in his own mind, “What a fool that Tentyotnikoff is! Such an estate, and to neglect it so! He might have an income of fifty thousand roubles a year!”
More than once it occurred to him, in the course of his walks, that he would some time—that is to say, not now, but later on, when his principal business had been settled, and he had the means on hand—become the peaceful owner of some such estate as this one. Then, naturally, there presented itself to his imagination the figure of a rosy, fair-haired young girl, from the merchant or some other wealthy social class, and who would even understand music. A younger generation, destined to perpetuate the name of Tchitchikoff, also presented itself to him—a frolicsome little boy and a beautiful daughter, or two small urchins and two, or even three, little maidens, so that it might be known to all men that he had actually lived and existed, and had not merely passed over the earth like a shadow or a ghost.
Then he began to fancy that it would not be a bad idea to make some additions to his rank: “councillor of state,” for instance, is an honourable title, and one deserving of respect. How many things enter a man’s mind in the course of his walks! They frequently divert him from the wearisome present, mock him, torment him, excite his imagination, and remain dear to him even when he himself feels convinced that they will never be realised!
The village also pleased Pavel Ivanovitch’s servants. They, like himself, had become accustomed to it. Petrushka speedily struck up a friendship with the butler, Grigoriy, although at first both of them assumed a great deal of dignity, and put on some intolerable airs in speaking to each other. Petrushka tried to lord it over Grigoriy on the strength of having seen so many places; but Grigoriy promptly quenched him with Petersburg, where Petrushka had never been. The latter then attempted to recover his position, and launched into details as to the distance of the places which he had visited; but Grigoriy mentioned a place which is not to be found on any map, and reckoned up over thirty thousand versts, so that Pavel Ivanovitch’s servitor remained dumbfounded, dropped his jaw, and was then and there held up to the ridicule of all the domestics. The matter ended, however, in a close friendship springing up between the valet and the butler. Bald Pimen, a peasant, kept a drinking-shop at the end of the village, and here the two cronies were to be seen at all hours of the day. They became perfectly at home there, or, as the peasants expressed it, “fixtures.”
Selifan, on his side, found a different sort of attraction. As soon as evening came, the village maids sang songs, and wove and broke the chain of the spring khorovods.3 The girls, finely formed creatures of good race, such as are not now to be found in the large villages, kept him playing at “raven” for hours together. It was hard to tell which of them was the prettiest: they all had white necks, white bosoms, and bright, rolling eyes; they walked like peacocks, and wore plaits of hair hanging to their waists. When, taking their white hands in both of his, he moved slowly with them in the choral dance, or left them and stationed himself with the other lads in a line opposite them, all the gallants stepping forward in rank to meet the maidens, while the latter, laughing loudly, sang, “Lords, show the bridegroom!”—then, while the fading light of evening vanished, and the shades descended all around, the mournful echo of their song ringing back from far beyond the river, he himself did not know what was going on within him. Morning and evening, sleeping or waking, thereafter, all things danced before his eyes, and he seemed to hold white hands in his own, and to be ever moving through the choral dance.
Tchitchikoff’s horses also were content with their new abode. The oats were excellent, and the arrangements of the stable were remarkably comfortable. From each stall, although it was divided off, it was possible