Dead Souls

Having said this, the old man left. Chichikov fell to thinking. The meaning of life again seemed of no small importance. "Murazov is right," he said, "it's time for a different path!" Having said this, he left the prison. One sentry lugged the chest, another the suitcase with linen. Selifan and Petrushka were as glad of their master's deliverance as of God knows what.

"Well, my gentles," said Chichikov, addressing them benignly, "we must pack up and go."

"We'll get rolling, Pavel Ivanovich," said Selifan. "The road must have settled: there's been enough snow. It's time, truly, that we quit this town. I'm so sick of it I don't even want to look at it."

"Go to the carriage maker and have the carriage put on ru

Chichikov did try the tailcoat on, however. It was fine, the same as the previous one. But, alas! he noticed some smooth patches showing pale on his head and remarked ruefully: "Why did I give myself over to such contrition? And, what's more, tear my hair out!" Having paid the tailor, he finally drove out of town in some strange disposition. This was not the old Chichikov. This was some wreckage of the old Chichikov. The i

In the great hall of the Governor-general's house, all the official ranks of the town assembled, from governor down to titular councillor: the heads of offices and departments, councillors, assessors, Kisloyedov, Krasnonosov, Samosvistov, those who took bribes, those who did not take bribes, those who were false, those who were half false, and those who were not false at all— all waited with a certain not entirely calm expectancy for the Governor-general to appear. The prince came out neither gloomy nor bright: his look was firm, as was his step . . . The whole official assembly bowed—many quite low. Responding with a slight bow, the prince began:

"As I am leaving for Petersburg, I considered it proper to meet with all of you and even partly to explain the reason to you. A very tempting affair sprang up among us. I suppose that many of those present know to what I am referring. This affair led to the uncovering of other no less dishonest affairs, which finally involved such people as I had hitherto considered honest. I am also informed of a hidden aim to get everything so tangled that it would prove utterly impossible to resolve it with any formal propriety. I even know who is the mainspring and through whose hidden ... [The phrase is unfinished in the manuscript.—Trans.] though he concealed his participation very skillfully.

But the point is that I intend to deal with it not through a formal investigation of documents, but through a speedy court-martial, as in time of war, and I hope that the soverign will give me this right, once I have explained the affair to him. On those occasions when it is not possible to conduct a case in civil fashion, when whole shelves of documents get burned, and when, finally, by a superfluity of false and unrelated evidence, and false denunciations, people try to obscure a case that is obscure to begin with— I consider court-martial the sole method, and I should like to know your opinion."

The prince paused, as if awaiting a response. All stood staring at the ground. Many were pale.

"Still another affair is known to me, though those who did it are quite sure that it ca

Some one among the officials gave a start; certain of the more timorous ones were also disconcerted.

"It goes without saying that the main instigators will be stripped of rank and property; the rest will be removed from their posts. Naturally, many i

A shudder involuntarily passed over all faces.

The prince was calm. His face expressed neither wrath nor i

"Now the same man in whose hands the fate of so many lies, and whom no entreaties can sway, this same man now throws himself at your feet, he pleads with you all. Everything will be forgotten, smoothed over, forgiven; I myself will intercede for you, if you fulfill my request. And my request is this. I know that no methods, no fears, no punishments can eradicate falsity: it is too deeply rooted. The dishonest practice of accepting bribes has become a need and a necessity even for people who were not born to dishonesty. I know that for many it is even no longer possible to go against the general current. But now, as at a decisive and sacred moment, when there is need to save the fatherland, when every citizen brings everything and sacrifices everything—I must call out at least to those in whose breast there beats a Russian heart, and to whom the word 'nobility' still means something. Why talk about which of us is more to blame! I am perhaps more to blame than anyone; perhaps I received you too sternly in the begi