ardent on both sides that their front teeth ached all the rest of the day. Manilov's delight was so great that only his nose and his lips remained in his face, his eyes completely disappeared. For a quarter of an hour he held Tchitchikov's hand clasped in both of his and made it terribly hot. In the most refined and agreeable phrases, he described how he had flown to embrace Pavel Ivanovitch; his speech wound up with a compliment only suitable for a young lady at a dance. Tchitchikov opened his mouth without knowing how to thank him, when Manilov took from under his fur coat a roll of paper tied up with pink ribbon.
'What is that?'
'The peasants.'
'Ah!' He immediately unfolded it, ran his eyes over it, and admired the neatness and beauty of the handwriting. 'It's well written,' he said, 'there's no need to copy it. And a margin ruled all round it! Who made that margin so artistically?'
'You mustn't ask,' said Manilov.
'You?'
'My wife.'
'Oh, dear, I am really ashamed to have given so much trouble.'
'Nothing is a trouble for Pavel Ivanovitch!'
Tchitchikov bowed his acknowledgment. Learning that he was going to the government offices to complete the purchase, Manilov expressed his readiness to accompany him. The friends
