take the peasant off the land for any consideration; all my hands are men who come for the sake of bread in a famine year. I have lots of such factory workers. Only look carefully after the management and you'll see that every rag may be turned to account, every bit of refuse may yield a profit, so that at last you can only reject it and say, I want no more.'
'That's amazing,' said Tchitchikov, full of interest: 'amazing! amazing! What's most amazing is that every bit of refuse yields a profit.'
'H'm, but that's not all.' Skudronzhoglo did not finish his sentence; his spleen was rising, and he wanted to abuse the neighbouring landowners. 'There's another clever fellow, what do you suppose he has started? Almshouses, brick buildings in the village. An act of Christian charity! … If you want to help, help every peasant to do his duty, and don't turn him away from his Christian duty. Help the son to keep his father comfortable in his own home, and don't help him to throw off his responsibility. Give him the possibility of sheltering his brother or his neighbour in his own house, give him money to do that, help him as much as you can, but don't separate him, or he will throw off every Christian duty. There are Don Quixotes simply in every direction. … Every man in the almshouses costs two hundred roubles a year! … Why, I could keep ten men in the village for that.' Skudronzhoglo spat with anger.
Tchitchikov was not interested in almshouses:
