you to swear that I have asked too much of you and won't meet you halfway, suppose, for friendship's sake, that you pay me seventy-five roubles in assignats?"
"Good heavens!" thought Chichikov to himself. "Does the man take me for a fool?" Then he added aloud: "The situation seems to me a strange one, for it is as though we were performing a stage comedy. No other explanation would meet the case. Yet you appear to be a man of sense, and possessed of some education. The matter is a very simple one. The question is: what is a dead soul worth, and is it of any use to any one?"
"It is of use to YOU, or you would not be buying such articles."
Chichikov bit his lip, and stood at a loss for a retort. He tried to saying something about "family and domestic circumstances," but Sobakevitch cut him short with:
"I don't want to know your private affairs, for I never poke my nose into such things. You need the souls, and I am ready to sell them. Should you not buy them, I think you will repent it."
"Two roubles is my price," repeated Chichikov.
"Come, come! As you have named that sum, I can understand your not liking to go back upon it; but quote me a bona fide figure."
"The devil fly away with him!" mused Chichikov. "However, I will add another half-rouble." And he did so.
"Indeed?" said Sobakevitch. "Well, my last word upon it is—fifty roubles in assignats. That will mean a sheer loss to me, for nowhere else in the world could you buy better souls than mine."
"The old skinflint!" muttered Chichikov. Then he added aloud, with irritation in his tone: "See here. This is a serious matter. Any one but you would be thankful to get rid of the souls. Only a fool would stick to them, and continue to pay the tax."
"Yes, but remember (and I say it wholly in a friendly way) that transactions of this kind are not generally allowed, and that any one would say that a man who engages in them must have some rather doubtful advantage in view."
"Have it your own away," said Chichikov, with assumed indifference. "As a matter of fact, I am not purchasing for profit, as you suppose, but to humour a certain whim of mine. Two and a half roubles is the most that I can offer."
"Bless your heart!" retorted the host. "At least give me thirty roubles in assignats, and take the lot."
"No, for I see that you are unwilling to sell. I must say good-day to you."
"Hold on, hold on!" exclaimed Sobakevitch, retaining his guest's hand, and at the same moment treading heavily upon his toes—so heavily, indeed, that Chichikov gasped and danced with the pain.
"I BEG your pardon!" said Sobakevitch hastily. "Evidently I have hurt you. Pray sit down again."
"No," retorted Chichikov. "I am merely wasting my time, and must be off."
"Oh, sit down just for a moment. I have something more agreeable to say." And, drawing closer to his guest, Sobakevitch whispered in his ear, as though communicating to him a secret: "How about twenty-five roubles?"
"No, no, no!" exclaimed Chichikov. "I won't give you even a QUARTER of that. I won't advance another kopeck."
For a while Sobakevitch remained silent, and Chichikov did the same. This lasted for a couple of minutes, and, meanwhile, the aquiline-nosed Bagration gazed from the wall as though much interested in the bargaining.
"What is your outside price?" at length said Sobakevitch.
"Two and a half roubles."
"Then you seem to rate a human soul at about the same value as a boiled turnip. At least give me THREE roubles."
"No, I cannot."
"Pardon me, but you are an impossible man to deal with. However, even though it will mean a dead loss to me, and you have not shown a very nice spirit about it, I cannot well refuse to please a friend. I suppose a purchase deed had better be made out in order to have everything in order?"
"Of course."
"Then for that purpose let us repair to the town."
The affair ended in their deciding to do this on the morrow, and to arrange for the signing of a deed of purchase. Next, Chichikov requested a list of the peasants; to which Sobakevitch readily agreed. Indeed, he went to his writing-desk then and there, and started to indite a list which gave not only the peasants' names, but also their late qualifications.
Meanwhile Chichikov, having nothing else to do, stood looking at the spacious form