"But why should you then tell me you want to have them?"
"Oh, what a curious fellow you are! you wish to touch everything, or rather thrash with your own hands, and smell at it besides!"
"But why don't you tell me?"
"And where would be the advantage if you knew it? well then if you must know it, it is a sudden fancy I have."
"Well then, look here, my dear fellow: unless you tell me the truth, you shall not have my dead serfs!"
"And now I must confess, that this is not honourable on your part: you gave me your word of honour, and now you try to back out of it."
"As you like, my dear fellow, but you shall not have them unless you tell me of what use they could be to you, dead as they are."
"What shall I tell him," said Tchichikoff to himself, and after a moment's reflection, stated, that he wanted those dead serfs for the purpose of gaining a greater influence in society, that he did not possess a large property, and that until his fortunes changed these dead serfs would be a consolation to him.
"Stuff, nonsense!" said Nosdrieff, not giving him even proper time to finish his phrase, "bosh, my dear fellow!"
Tchichikoff could not help making the observation to himself, that his invention was far from being clever, and that the pretence was a very weak one indeed.