stopped. 'Surely you don't imagine I am going to take money for souls which in a certain sense have ended their existence? Since you have conceived this, so to speak, fantastic desire, I am ready for my part to give them to you gratis, and will undertake the legal expenses myself.'
The historian of the foregoing events would be greatly to blame if he omitted to state that the visitor was overcome with delight at the words uttered by Manilov. Sober and dignified as he was, yet he could hardly refrain from executing a caper like a goat's, which, as we all know, is a demonstration confined to moments of acute delight. He wriggled about so violently in his chair that he slit the woollen material that covered the cushion; Manilov himself looked at him in some perplexity. Stirred by gratitude he poured out such a flood of thanks that Manilov was embarrassed, flushed crimson, made a deprecating movement with his head, and at last declared that it was really nothing, that he certainly would be glad to show in some way the heartfelt attraction, the magnetism of soul of which he was sensible; but that dead souls were in a sense utterly worthless.
'Not worthless at all,' said Tchitchikov, pressing his hand.
At this point a very deep sigh escaped him. It seemed that he was inclined to pour out his heart; not without feeling and expression, he uttered at last the following words:
'If only you knew the service that with those apparently worthless souls you are doing to a man
