could not make out the sex of the figure, whether it was a man or a woman. Its clothes were quite indefinite and very much like a woman's dressing-gown; on the head was a cap such as women wear in the country; only the voice struck him as rather husky for a woman's. 'Oh, a female!' he thought, and at once added, 'Oh no!' 'Of course it's a woman,' he said at last after looking more closely. The figure on its side stared intently at him too. It seemed as though a visitor were a strange marvel, for she scrutinised not only him, but Selifan and the horses from their tails to their heads. From the fact that there were keys hanging from her belt, and that she scolded the peasant in rather abusive language, Tchitchikov concluded that this was probably the housekeeper.
'I say, my good woman,' he said, getting out of the chaise, 'is the master …?'
'Not at home,' answered the housekeeper, without waiting for him to finish his question, and then a moment later, added: 'What do you want?'
'I have business.'
'Go indoors,' said the housekeeper, turning round and showing him her back, dusty with flour, and a big slit in her skirt.
He stepped into a wide, dark hall, which struck as chill as a cellar. From the hall he went into a room, which was also dark, with a faint light coming from a big crack at the bottom of the door. Opening this door he found himself in
