Page:Dead Souls - A Poem by Nikolay Gogol - vol1.djvu/123

countess who had fallen head over ears in love with him somewhere at a posting station, and whose hands were in his words, subtilement superflues, words that apparently to him suggested the acme of perfection. After a preliminary snack of salt sturgeon they sat down to dinner about five o'clock. Dinner evidently was not the chief interest in Nozdryov's life; the dishes did not make a very fine show, some were burnt, others quite uncooked. It was evident the cook was guided by inspiration and put in the first ingredient he laid his hand on: if the pepper happened to stand by him he put in pepper, if cabbage turned up, in it went, he flung in milk, ham, peas—in short he pitched in everything pell-mell so long as it was hot, thinking it would be sure to have some sort of taste. On the other hand Nozdryov was strong on wines: even before the soup was handed round he had already poured out for each of his guests a big glass of port and another of Haut Sauterne, for in provincial towns there is no such thing as simple Sauterne. Then Nozdryov sent for a bottle of Madeira, 'no field-marshal ever drank better,' he said. The Madeira certainly did burn their mouths, for the wine merchants know the tastes of country gentlemen who are fond of good Madeira, and doctor it mercilessly with rum and sometimes put plain vodka in it, confidently relying on the fortitude of the Russian stomach. Then Nozdryov ordered a special bottle to be fetched of a wine which, according to him, was a mixture of Burgundy and champagne. He poured