"Well, all those that are dead."
"But how am I to let you have them?"
"My good lady, that is quite simple. Or, if you like it better, sell them to me. I am even willing to pay you some money for them." "But how is this? I really cannot understand you. Could you really intend to dig them up again out of their graves?"
Tchichikoff now perceived that the matron had gone too far, and that it became necessary to explain to her in what his proposal and business were to consist. In a few words, he made her understand, that the transfer, or sale, would only exist upon paper, and that her dead serfs would be noted down in that document as existing, or, more properly speaking, living.
"But pray, what do you want them for?" said the old lady, in opening her eyes as wide as surprise would allow it.
"That is my business," replied Tchichikoff, drily.
"But they are positively dead, my good Sir!"
"And who says that they are living? Your loss consists in their being dead; you have still to pay the capitation tax for them as regularly as before, is it not so? Very well, then; I am ready to deliver you from all further trouble and payment on their account. Do you comprehend me now? I offer, not only to take them off your hands, but I am even willing to pay you the amount of fifteen roubles. Now, I hope the matter will be dear to you?"
"Really, I don't know," the old lady said, hesitatingly. "Because, I never in my life sold any dead serfs before."
"What next, pray! This would be rather a wonder if you had sold any to anybody before. Or do you imagine, perhaps, that there is really any advantage to be derived from dead serfs?"