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Pray hand them
over to me, Nastasia Petrovna."

"Hand over whom?"

"The dead peasants."

"But how could I do that?"

"Quite simply. Sell them to me, and I will give you some money in
exchange."

"But how am I to sell them to you? I scarcely understand what you
mean. Am I to dig them up again from the ground?"

Chichikov perceived that the old lady was altogether at sea, and that
he must explain the matter; wherefore in a few words he informed her
that the transfer or purchase of the souls in question would take
place merely on paper--that the said souls would be listed as still
alive.

"And what good would they be to you?" asked his hostess, staring at
him with her eyes distended.

"That is MY affair."

"But they are DEAD souls."

"Who said they were not? The mere fact of their being dead entails
upon you a loss as dead as the souls, for you have to continue paying
tax upon them, whereas MY plan is to relieve you both of the tax and
of the resultant trouble. NOW do you understand? And I will not only
do as I say, but also hand you over fifteen roubles per soul. Is that
clear enough?"

"Yes--but I do not know," said his hostess diffidently. "You see,
never before have I sold dead souls."

"Quite so. It would be a surprising thing if you had. But surely you
do not think that these dead souls are in the least worth keeping?"

"Oh, no, indeed! Why should they be worth keeping? I am sure they are
not so. The only thing which troubles me is the fact that they are
DEAD."

"She seems a truly obstinate old woman!" was Chichikov's inward
comment. "Look here, madam," he added aloud. "You reason well, but you
are simply ruining yourself by continuing to pay the tax upon dead
souls as though they were still alive."

"Oh, good sir, do not speak of it!" the lady exclaimed. "Three weeks
ago I took a hundred and fifty roubles to that Assessor, and buttered
him up, and--"

"Then you see how it is, do you not? Remember that, according to my
plan, you will never again have to butter up the Assessor, seeing that
it will be I who will be paying for those peasants--_I_, not YOU,
for I shall have taken over the dues upon them, and have transferred
them to myself as so many bona fide serfs. Do you understand AT
LAST?"

However, the old lady still communed with herself. She could see that
the transaction would be to her advantage, yet it was one of such a
novel and unPreviousd nature that she was beginning to fear lest
this purchaser of souls intended to cheat her. Certainly he had come
from God only knew where, and at the dead of night, too!

"But, sir, I have never in my life sold dead folk--only living ones.
Three years ago I transferred two wenches to Protopopov for a hundred
roubles apiece, and he thanked me kindly, for they turned out splendid
workers--able to make napkins or anything else.

"Yes, but with the living we have nothing to do, damn it! I am asking
you only about DEAD folk."

"Yes, yes, of course. But at first sight I felt afraid lest I should

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