this earnest money of three thousand roubles.
And the man drew from his
breast pocket a dirty roll of bank-noteswhichcarelessly receiving
Kostanzhoglo thrustuncountedinto the back pocket of his overcoat.
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thought Chichikov. "For all he caresthe notes might have been a
handkerchief."
When Kostanzhoglo appeared at closer quarters--that is to sayin the
doorway of the drawing-room--he struck Chichikov more than ever with
the swarthiness of his complexionthe dishevelment of his blackslightly
grizzled locksthe alertness of his eyeand the impression of fiery
southern origin which his whole personality diffused. For he was not
wholly a Russiannor could he himself say precisely who his forefathers
had been. Yetinasmuch as he accounted genealogical research no part of
the science of estate-managementbut a mere superfluityhe looked upon
himself asto all intents and purposesa native of Russiaand the more so
since the Russian language was the only tongue he knew.
Platon presented Chichikovand the pair exchanged greetings. "To get
rid of my depressionConstantine continued Platon
I am thinking of
accompanying our guest on a tour through a few of the provinces."
An excellent idyilai：
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