"But allow me to ask you," continued Maniloff, "on what condition do you wish to purchase peasants, is it together with the land they live upon, or do you want them for colonisation elsewhere, that is to say, without the land they live upon?"
"No, that is not exactly what I mean," replied Tchichikoff, after a moment's hesitation, "what I wish to purchase, are dead serfs."
"What? pardon me—I am rather deaf in one ear, but it seemed to me as if I had heard the strangest words that could possibly be spoken."
"Strange, perhaps," added Tchichikoff, more coolly than might have been expected after his first agitation; "yes, my dear sir, I have a wish to make the acquisition of the dead—who, however, must stand booked as existing or living in the columns of the last governmental census."
[CHAPTER XII.]
When Maniloff was convinced that he had rightly heard and understood what his friend had just spoken, he could not prevent his Turkish pipe dropping upon the floor and opening his mouth and eyes as widely as they would allow themselves to be opened; he remained passively thus for a few seconds. Both friends, who, but shortly before, had been familiarly discoursing on the pleasures of friendly life and intercourse, were now sitting opposite one another immoveably, gazing into each others eyes as if mesmerized, or like those portraits which in olden times were hung on either side of the looking-glass.
At last Maniloff mustered animation again, picked up his pipe, and, while doing this, he looked up seriously into the face of his companion, striving to catch, if possible, a smile upon his lips, as if to convince himself that all was but a jest; however, he could discover nothing to confirm him in this hope; on the contrary, Tchichikoff's face looked, if possible, more serious and composed than usual; at last he thought it likely his guest might have become the victim of a fit of insanity, and as this idea occurred to him he looked with the utmost terror fixedly at him.
But no, Tchichikoff's eyes were perfectly calm and bright, there was no wildness nor uneasiness in his glance, such as there would be in the gaze of a madman; all his mental faculties seemed to enjoy perfect health. Maniloff was at a loss what to imagine next, in order to account for the strange words and intention he had heard; but he could hit upon nothing to relieve him of his anxiety, except, letting the tobacco smoke, which the sudden surprise had made him swallow, unconsciously escape in thin wreaths.
"And thus then should I like to know if you would agree to part with such of your serfs as are actually dead; that is to say, not actually living, but nevertheless existing in a point of law; I am ready to make such arrangements about them as would be most agreeable to you."