good-for-nothing lot, not worth half that.' Ivan Antonovitch saw that he was a man of strong character and would not give more.
'And what made you buy souls from Plyushkin?' Sobakevitch whispered in his other ear.
'And why did you stick in Vorobey?' Tchitchikov retorted.
'What Vorobey?' said Sobakevitch.
'Why a woman, Elizaveta Vorobey, and you left out the a at the end of her name, too.'
'No, I did not stick in any Vorobey,' said Sobakevitch, and he walked off to rejoin the others.
The visitors arrived all together at the police-master's door. The police-master certainly was a wonder-worker: as soon as he heard what was wanted he called a policeman, a smart fellow in polished high boots, and seemed to whisper only a couple of words in his ear, merely adding: 'understand?' and at once, while the guests were playing whist, on the table in the next room there appeared a great sturgeon, dried salmon, pressed caviare and fresh caviare, herrings, star sturgeon, cheese, smoked tongue and dried sturgeon, all this came from the direction of the fish market. Then came various supplementary dishes created in the kitchen: a pie, made of the head and trimmings of a giant sturgeon, another pie made of mushrooms, tarts, buttercakes, fritters. The police-master was in a sense the father and benefactor of the town. Among the people of the town, he was as though in the
