these words which aroused laughter in one and sadness in the other. For what is the significance of the fact that even in his degradation, a man besmirched and going to his ruin claims still to be loved? Is it an animal instinct or the faint cry of a soul stifled under the heavy burden of base passions, still breaking through the hardening crust of vileness, still wailing: 'Brother, save me!' There was no fourth for whom the ruin of a brother's soul was bitterest of all.
'I don't know,' said Ulinka, taking her hands from her face, 'all I can say is that it makes me angry.'
'Only please don't be angry with us,' said the general. 'We are not to blame for it. Give me a kiss and run away, for I am just going to dress for dinner. You'll dine with me of course,' said the general, suddenly addressing Tchitchikov.
'If only, your Excellency …'
'No ceremony. There will be cabbage soup.'
Tchitchikov bowed his head affably, and when he raised it again he did not see Ulinka, she had vanished. A gigantic valet with thick whiskers was standing in her place, holding a silver ewer and basin in his hands.
'You'll allow me to dress before you, won't you?' said the general, flinging off his dressing-gown, and tucking up his shirt sleeves over his heroic arms.
'Upon my word, your Excellency, you may do whatever you like before me,' said Tchitchikov.
