'Ah, Pavel Ivanovitch, Pavel Ivanovitch!' said Murazov, looking mournfully at him and shaking his head. 'I keep thinking what a man you might have made if with the same energy and patience you had applied yourself to honest labour and for a better object! If only any one of those who care for what is good had used as much energy in its service as you have to gain your kopecks! … And had been capable of sacrificing personal vanity and pride, without sparing himself, for a good cause as you have done to gain your kopecks!'
'Afanasy Vassilyevitch!' said poor Tchitchikov, and he clutched the old man's hands in both of his. 'Oh, if I could but be set free and could regain my property! I swear to you that I would lead a very different life from this hour! Save me, benefactor, save me!'
'What can I do? I should have to fight against the law. Even supposing I brought myself to do that, the prince is a just man, nothing would induce him to transgress it.'
'Benefactor! you can do anything. It is not the law that terrifies me—I can find means for outwitting the law—but the fact that … I have been flung into prison, that I am lying here abandoned like a dog, while my property, my papers, my case … save me!'
He embraced the old man's feet and watered them with his tears.
'Ah, Pavel Ivanovitch, Pavel Ivanovitch!' said the old man, shaking his head. 'That property
