to carry him away; after which he continued with a gesture: "What I mean is that, were that sort of thing possible, I, for one, should find the country and an isolated life possessed of great attractions. But, as matters stand, such a thing is not possible. All that I can manage to do is, occasionally, to read a little of A Son of the Fatherland.
With these sentiments Chichikov expressed entire agreement: adding that nothing could be more delightful than to lead a solitary life in which there should be comprised only the sweet contemplation of nature and the intermittent perusal of a book.
"Nay, but even that were worth nothing had not one a friend with whom to share one's life," remarked Manilov.
"True, true," agreed Chichikov. "Without a friend, what are all the treasures in the world? 'Possess not money,' a wise man has said, 'but rather good friends to whom to turn in case of need.'"
"Yes, Paul Ivanovitch," said Manilov with a glance not merely sweet, but positively luscious—a glance akin to the mixture which even clever physicians have to render palatable before they can induce a hesitant patient to take it. "Consequently you may imagine what happiness—what perfect happiness, so to speak—the present occasion has brought me, seeing that I am permitted to converse with you and to enjoy your conversation."
"But what of my conversation?" replied Chichikov. "I am an insignificant individual, and, beyond that, nothing."
"Oh, Paul Ivanovitch!" cried the other. "Permit me to be frank, and to say that I would give half my property to possess even a portion of the talents which you possess."
"On the contrary, I should consider it the highest honour in the world if---"
The lengths to which this mutual outpouring of soul would have proceeded had not a servant entered to announce luncheon must remain a mystery.
"I humbly invite you to join us at table," said Manilov.
"Also, you will pardon us for the fact that we cannot provide a banquet such as is to be obtained in our metropolitan cities? We partake of simple fare, according to the Russian custom—we confine ourselves to shtchi[1] but we do so with a single heart. Come, I humbly beg of you."
After another contest for the honour of yielding precedence,
- ↑ Cabbage soup.
