Proshka's. 'He is as stupid as a block of wood, but try putting anything down, he'll steal it in a minute! Well, what have you come for, fool, tell me what?' Here he paused for a space, and Proshka responded with equal silence.
'Set the samovar, do you hear—and here, take the key and give it to Mavra for her to go to the storeroom: on the shelf there is a piece of the cake Alexandra Stepanovna brought, it can be served for tea. … Stay, where are you off to, stupid fool, tut, tut, stupid fool. … Is the devil tickling your feet or what? … You should listen first. The cake may be a little mouldy on the top, so let her scrape it with a knife, but don't throw away the crumbs; take them to the hens, and mind now, you are not to go into the storeroom, my boy; if you do—I'll give it you with a birch, you know, to give you an appetite! You've a fine appetite as it is, so that would improve it! You just try to go into the storeroom! I shall be looking out of window all the time. … You can't trust them with anything,' he went on, addressing Tchitchikov, after Proshka had taken himself off with his boots. Then he began looking suspiciously at Tchitchikov, too. Such extraordinary generosity struck him as incredible, and he thought to himself:
'The devil only knows what he is up to; maybe he is only boasting, like all these spendthrifts. He goes on lying and lying, just to talk, and get a drink of tea, and then he will go off!'
And therefore as a precaution and at the same
