goes Tchitchikov, there's Tchitchikov!' And then like a child, forgetting all decorum befitting your age and position, you will run behind him, mimicking and repeating: 'Tchitchikov! Tchitchikov! Tchitchikov!'
But we have begun talking too loudly, forgetting that our hero who was asleep all the while we have been telling his story, is by now awake and might easily hear his name so frequently repeated. He easily takes offence, and will be annoyed if any one speaks disrespectfully about him. It is no great matter to the reader whether Tchitchikov is angry with him or not, but an author ought never under any circumstances to fall out with his hero—they have still to go a long way hand in hand together; two long parts are to come, that is no trifling matter.
'Hey, hey! what are you about?' said Tchitchikov to Selifan.
'What's the matter?' said Selifan in a deliberate voice.
'What's the matter indeed, are you a goose! How are you driving? Come, get on!'
And, indeed, Selifan had for a long time been driving with closed eyes, only occasionally shaking the reins about the sides of the horses who were also dozing; and Petrushka's cap had fallen off long ago, and he had sunk back with his head poking Tchitchikov's legs so that the latter was obliged to give him a nudge. Selifan pulled himself together, and giving the dappled grey a few switches on the back, after which the latter
