"Just look here," he used to say, whilst stroking it gently with his hand, "behold what a chin I have got—perfectly round and smooth!"
But this time, he examined neither his chin nor his face, but directly, such as he was, he got into his red morocco-leather morning boots, richly embroidered with silk of a variety of colours, for the manufacture of which the ancient Tartar town of Kazan is so justly celebrated; and thanks to his Russian constitution, that heeds no temperature, just as he was, with nothing but his night-shirt on, in the real Scotch fashion, he forgot for a moment his sedate character and middle age, and executed two regular jumps round his room, touching himself, very cleverly indeed, twice with the soles of his feet.
The very next moment, he immediately sat down to attend to his business: as he was thus seated before his dressing-case, he rubbed his hands cheerfully for a moment—just as they would be rubbed by a honest and incorruptible judge when he is about to sit down to a luncheon before pronouncing his judgment in court; after having done this, Tchichikoff produced at once his papers and documents.
He was anxious to settle his affairs in Smolensk as speedily as possible, and leave nothing undone which could be attended to on that very day. He determined upon drawing up the contracts of sale himself; to write down and copy everything with his own hand, so as not to have to pay a copek to any of the government employés. He was perfectly familiar with the particular style and lawful forms of such documents; and he, therefore, with a bold hand wrote down in large characters, one thousand eight hundred and forty such a year, then immediately lower, but in much smaller characters, councillor of state, gentleman, so and so; in fact, all was done and written as it ought to be, and in two hours later his work was accomplished.
When he once more cast a glance over the various documents with the names of the serfs on them, who had at one time been real slaves, working, tilling, drinking, cheating their master, and perhaps also simply honest serfs, it was then that he felt a strange and incomprehensible sensation suddenly overcome him.
Each of the lists possessed, as it were, a distinct character, and through that fact, it seemed again that each serf named upon them assumed also an individual character. The serfs who formerly belonged to the widow-lady, Korobotchka, had nearly all nicknames attached to them. The note of old Pluschkin distinguished itself by its brevity of construction; many of the names were only indicated by the first two letters of the Christian and family name, and then followed two points, or rather blots.
Sobakevitch's list attracted his special attention by its unusual fullness and minuteness; not one of the various qualifications of any one of his serfs had been omitted; one of them had been noted down as a "clever joiner," to the name of another the following was appended, "a sharp fellow, eats no tallow." Particular nota benes were also made who their father, and who their mother had been; only one individual of the name of Phedot was distinguished thus, "father unknown, but was born of a girl in the house, of the name of Capitolina, good principles and no thief."
All these particulars had a peculiar appearance of reality; it seemed to Tchichikoff himself, as if these poor dead serfs were alive yesterday. He kept looking for a long time at their names, until he felt his heart melting, as it were, to a feeling of pity, and heaving a deep sigh, he exclaimed:
"Good heavens, how many there are of you, to be sure! Poor fellows, I wish you could tell me, what you have been doing during your existence! How have you been battling your way through this world of woe?"
And his eyes rested involuntarily upon the, to us, already familiar name of Peter Savelieff Neuvaschaikorito, who once had been the property of Lady Korobotchka. And again he could not forbear making the observation: