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- Николай Гоголь
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- Мертвые души
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"
Here
,
Pelagea
!
"
called
the
hostess
to
a
wench
of
about
eleven
who
was
dressed
in
home-dyed
garments
and
could
boast
of
a
pair
of
bare
feet
which
,
from
a
distance
,
might
almost
have
been
mistaken
for
boots
,
so
encrusted
were
they
with
fresh
mire
.
"
Here
,
Pelagea
!
Come
and
show
this
gentleman
the
way
.
"
Selifan
helped
the
girl
to
ascend
to
the
box-seat
.
Placing
one
foot
upon
the
step
by
which
the
gentry
mounted
,
she
covered
the
said
step
with
mud
,
and
then
,
ascending
higher
,
attained
the
desired
position
beside
the
coachman
.
Chichikov
followed
in
her
wake
(
causing
the
britchka
to
heel
over
with
his
weight
as
he
did
so
)
,
and
then
settled
himself
back
into
his
place
with
an
"
All
right
!
Good-bye
,
madam
!
"
as
the
horses
moved
away
at
a
trot
.
Selifan
looked
gloomy
as
he
drove
,
but
also
very
attentive
to
his
business
.
This
was
invariably
his
custom
when
he
had
committed
the
fault
of
getting
drunk
.
Also
,
the
horses
looked
unusually
well-groomed
.
In
particular
,
the
collar
on
one
of
them
had
been
neatly
mended
,
although
hitherto
its
state
of
dilapidation
had
been
such
as
perennially
to
allow
the
stuffing
to
protrude
through
the
leather
.
The
silence
preserved
was
well-nigh
complete
.
Merely
flourishing
his
whip
,
Selifan
spoke
to
the
team
no
word
of
instruction
,
although
the
skewbald
was
as
ready
as
usual
to
listen
to
conversation
of
a
didactic
nature
,
seeing
that
at
such
times
the
reins
hung
loosely
in
the
hands
of
the
loquacious
driver
,
and
the
whip
wandered
merely
as
a
matter
of
form
over
the
backs
of
the
troika
.
This
time
,
however
,
there
could
be
heard
issuing
from
Selifan
's
sullen
lips
only
the
uniformly
unpleasant
exclamation
,
"
Now
then
,
you
brutes
!
Get
on
with
you
,
get
on
with
you
!
"
The
bay
and
the
Assessor
too
felt
put
out
at
not
hearing
themselves
called
"
my
pets
"
or
"
good
lads
"
;
while
,
in
addition
,
the
skewbald
came
in
for
some
nasty
cuts
across
his
sleek
and
ample
quarters
.
"
What
has
put
master
out
like
this
?
"
thought
the
animal
as
it
shook
its
head
.
"
Heaven
knows
where
he
does
not
keep
beating
me
--
across
the
back
,
and
even
where
I
am
tenderer
still
.
Yes
,
he
keeps
catching
the
whip
in
my
ears
,
and
lashing
me
under
the
belly
.
"
"
To
the
right
,
eh
?
"
snapped
Selifan
to
the
girl
beside
him
as
he
pointed
to
a
rain-soaked
road
which
trended
away
through
fresh
green
fields
.
"
No
,
no
,
"
she
replied
.
"
I
will
show
you
the
road
when
the
time
comes
.
"
"
Which
way
,
then
?
"
he
asked
again
when
they
had
proceeded
a
little
further
.
"
This
way
.
"
And
she
pointed
to
the
road
just
mentioned
.
"
Get
along
with
you
!
"
retorted
the
coachman
.
"
That
DOES
go
to
the
right
.
You
do
n't
know
your
right
hand
from
your
left
"
