-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Николай Гоголь
-
- Мертвые души
-
- Стр. 177/232
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
With
no
little
curiosity
did
Chichikov
gaze
at
the
interior
of
the
mansion
inhabited
by
the
man
who
received
an
annual
income
of
two
hundred
thousand
roubles
;
for
he
thought
to
discern
therefrom
the
nature
of
its
proprietor
,
even
as
from
a
shell
one
may
deduce
the
species
of
oyster
or
snail
which
has
been
its
tenant
,
and
has
left
therein
its
impression
.
But
no
such
conclusions
were
to
be
drawn
.
The
rooms
were
simple
,
and
even
bare
.
Not
a
fresco
nor
a
picture
nor
a
bronze
nor
a
flower
nor
a
china
what-not
nor
a
book
was
there
to
be
seen
.
In
short
,
everything
appeared
to
show
that
the
proprietor
of
this
abode
spent
the
greater
part
of
his
time
,
not
between
four
walls
,
but
in
the
field
,
and
that
he
thought
out
his
plans
,
not
in
sybaritic
fashion
by
the
fireside
,
nor
in
an
easy
chair
beside
the
stove
,
but
on
the
spot
where
work
was
actually
in
progress
--
that
,
in
a
word
,
where
those
plans
were
conceived
,
there
they
were
put
into
execution
.
Nor
in
these
rooms
could
Chichikov
detect
the
least
trace
of
a
feminine
hand
,
beyond
the
fact
that
certain
tables
and
chairs
bore
drying-boards
whereon
were
arranged
some
sprinklings
of
flower
petals
.
"
What
is
all
this
rubbish
for
?
"
asked
Platon
.
"
It
is
not
rubbish
,
"
replied
the
lady
of
the
house
.
"
On
the
contrary
,
it
is
the
best
possible
remedy
for
fever
.
Last
year
we
cured
every
one
of
our
sick
peasants
with
it
.
Some
of
the
petals
I
am
going
to
make
into
an
ointment
,
and
some
into
an
infusion
.
You
may
laugh
as
much
as
you
like
at
my
potting
and
preserving
,
yet
you
yourself
will
be
glad
of
things
of
the
kind
when
you
set
out
on
your
travels
.
"
Platon
moved
to
the
piano
,
and
began
to
pick
out
a
note
or
two
.
"
Good
Lord
,
what
an
ancient
instrument
!
"
he
exclaimed
.
"
Are
you
not
ashamed
of
it
,
sister
?
"
"
Well
,
the
truth
is
that
I
get
no
time
to
practice
my
music
.
You
see
,
"
she
added
to
Chichikov
,
"
I
have
an
eight-year-old
daughter
to
educate
;
and
to
hand
her
over
to
a
foreign
governess
in
order
that
I
may
have
leisure
for
my
own
piano-playing
--
well
,
that
is
a
thing
which
I
could
never
bring
myself
to
do
.
"
"
You
have
become
a
wearisome
sort
of
person
,
"
commented
Platon
,
and
walked
away
to
the
window
.
"
Ah
,
here
comes
Constantine
,
"
presently
he
added
.
Chichikov
also
glanced
out
of
the
window
,
and
saw
approaching
the
verandah
a
brisk
,
swarthy-complexioned
man
of
about
forty
,
a
man
clad
in
a
rough
cloth
jacket
and
a
velveteen
cap
.
Evidently
he
was
one
of
those
who
care
little
for
the
niceties
of
dress
.
With
him
,
bareheaded
,
there
came
a
couple
of
men
of
a
somewhat
lower
station
in
life
,
and
all
three
were
engaged
in
an
animated
discussion
.
One
of
the
barin
's
two
companions
was
a
plain
peasant
,
and
the
other
(
clad
in
a
blue
Siberian
smock
)
a
travelling
factor
.
The
fact
that
the
party
halted
awhile
by
the
entrance
steps
made
it
possible
to
overhear
a
portion
of
their
conversation
from
within
.
"
This
is
what
you
peasants
had
better
do
,
"
the
barin
was
saying
.
"
Purchase
your
release
from
your
present
master
.
I
will
lend
you
the
necessary
money
,
and
afterwards
you
can
work
for
me
.
"
