off the cork of the office inkpot!' From time to time a more majestic voice, doubtless that of one of the chiefs, rang out peremptorily: 'Copy it out again, or they shall take your boots away, and you shall stay here for six days and nights with nothing to eat.' There was a great scratching of pens, which sounded like a cartful of brushwood driving through a copse a quarter of a yard deep in dead leaves.
Tchitchikov and Manilov went up to the first table, where two clerks of tender years were sitting, and inquired: 'Allow me to ask where is the business of deeds of sale transacted here?'
'Why, what do you want?' asked both the clerks, turning round.
'I want to make an application.'
'Why, what have you bought?'
'I want first to know where is the table for matters relating to sales—here or in some other office?'
'Why, tell me first what you are buying, and at what price, and then we can tell you where; but we can't tell without.'
Tchitchikov saw at once that the clerks were inquisitive, like all young clerks, and trying to give more importance and consequence to their duties.
'Look here, gentlemen,' he said, 'I know perfectly well that all business relating to the purchase of serfs, irrespective of the price paid, is transacted in the same office, and so I beg you to point out which is the table, and, if you don't know
