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bottle from what he calls his 'special cellar,' and you will fancy
yourself in the seventh heaven of delight. And what quantities of
champagne we drank! Compared with it, provincial stuff is kvass[1].
Try to imagine not merely Clicquot, but a sort of blend of Clicquot
and Matradura--Clicquot of double strength. Also Ponomarev produced a
bottle of French stuff which he calls 'Bonbon.' Had it a bouquet, ask
you? Why, it had the bouquet of a rose garden, of anything else you
like. What times we had, to be sure! Just after we had left Pnomarev's
place, some prince or another arrived in the town, and sent out for
some champagne; but not a bottle was there left, for the officers had
drunk every one! Why, I myself got through seventeen bottles at a sitting."
[1] A liquor distilled from fermented bread crusts or sour fruit.
"Come, come! You CAN'T have got through seventeen," remarked the
flaxen-haired man.
"But I did, I give my word of honour," retorted Nozdrev.
"Imagine what you like, but you didn't drink even TEN bottles at a sitting."
"Will you bet that I did not?"
"No; for what would be the use of betting about it?"
"Then at least wager the gun which you have bought."
"No, I am not going to do anything of the kind."
"Just as an experiment?"
"No."
"It is as well for you that you don't, since, otherwise, you would
have found yourself minus both gun and cap. However, friend Chichikov,
it is a pity you were not there. Had you been there, I feel sure you
would have found yourself unable to part with Lieutenant Kuvshinnikov.
You and he would have hit it off splendidly. You know, he is quite a
different sort from the Public Prosecutor and our other provincial
skinflints--fellows who shiver in their shoes before they will spend a
single kopeck. HE will play faro, or anything else, and at any time.
Why did you not come with us, instead of wasting your time on cattle
breeding or something of the sort? But never mind. Embrace me. I like
you immensely. Mizhuev, see how curiously things have turned out.
Chichikov has nothing to do with me, or I with him, yet here is he
come from God knows where, and landed in the very spot where I happen
to be living! I may tell you that, no matter how many carriages I
possessed, I should gamble the lot away. Recently I went in for a turn
at billiards, and lost two jars of pomade, a china teapot, and a
guitar. Then I staked some more things, and, like a fool, lost them
all, and six roubles in addition. What a dog is that Kuvshinnikov! He
and I attended nearly every ball in the place. In particular, there
was a woman--decolletee, and such a swell! I merely thought to myself,
'The devil take her!' but Kuvshinnikov is such a wag that he sat down
beside her, and began paying her strings of compliments in French.
However, I did not neglect the damsels altogether--although HE calls
that sort of thing 'going in for strawberries.' By the way, I have a
splendid piece of fish and some caviare with me. 'Tis all I HAVE
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