"Yes, and I hope you will agree with me in that opinion?"
"He is the greatest scoundrel on the face of the earth."
"What did you say? the Governor-General the greatest scoundrel?" exclaimed Tchichikoff, perfectly incapable of comprehending how the Lord-Lieutenant of the government of Smolensk could possibly have entered the ranks of scoundrels.
"I must confess, I should never have believed that," he continued. "However, allow me to observe, his actions do not at all seem such, on the contrary, I should rather say that I believe him a man who possesses many pleasant weaknesses." Here he also alluded to the knitting and embroidery talents of his Excellency the Lord-Lieutenant of the province, as an authority for his opinion of him, and expressed himself in the highest terms of the winning expression of the Governor-General's countenance.
"And his face even, is that of a scoundrel!" said Sobakevitch. "Only place a knife in his hands, and let him free upon the high road, he will cut your throat, he will murder you even for a copek! He and the Vice-Governor, also, are of the same cast, they both are Gog and Magog."
"No, I cannot be mistaken, he is not on good terms with them," thought Tchichikoff to himself. "And I think I shall do better to speak to him about the Chief of the Police force, he seems to be his friend."
"However, as far as I am personally concerned," he said, "I must confess that I like the Chief Commissioner of the Police force better than any other dignitary in Smolensk. He is such a straightforward and candid man, his face speaks in his favour, and proclaims his kindness of heart."
"He is a rogue," said Sobakevitch very coolly, "he will sell you, betray you, and then even dine with you! I know them all but too well; they are all great rogues, the whole town of Smolensk is inhabited by such men; a rogue sitting on a rogue, and driving on a batch of rogues. All are Christian sellers. To my knowledge, there is but one honest man among them, and that man is the Imperial Procurator; but even he, if we were to judge him strictly, even he is a pig."
After such laudatory, though rather short biographies, Tchichikoff perceived that it would be useless to mention any other of the dignitaries of Smolensk, and then only he recollected that Sobakevitch was not in the habit of having a good opinion of any one.
"Come, my darling, let us now go to dinner," said the worthy spouse, Lady Sobakevitch, to her husband.