'Four miles!' exclaimed Tchitchikov, and was even aware of a slight palpitation of the heart. 'But when one drives out of your gate, is it to the right or to the left?'
'I don't advise you even to learn the road to that cur's,' said Sobakevitch. 'There is more excuse for visiting the lowest haunt than visiting him.'
'Oh, I did not ask for any special … but simply because I am interested in knowing all about the locality,' Tchitchikov replied.
The saddle of mutton was followed by curd cheese-cakes, each one of which was much larger than a plate, then a turkey as big as a calf, stuffed with all sorts of good things: eggs, rice, kidneys, and goodness knows what. With this the dinner ended, but when they had risen from the table Tchitchikov felt as though he were two or three stones heavier. They went into the drawing-room where they found a saucer of jam already awaiting them—not a pear, nor a plum, nor any kind of berry—and neither of the gentlemen touched it. The lady of the house went out of the room to put out some more on other saucers.
Taking advantage of her absence, Tchitchikov turned to Sobakevitch, who lying in an easy-chair was merely gasping after his ample repast and emitting from his throat undefinable sounds while he crossed himself and continually put his hand before his mouth.
Tchitchikov addressed him as follows: 'I should like to have a few words with you about a little matter of business.'
