Мертвые души

Chapter 8

           Yes,weallknowwhybribesareaccepted,andwhymenbecomecrookedinsoul.Itisalldonetoprovidewivesyes,maythepitswallowthemup!withfal-lals.Andforwhatpurpose?Thatsomewomanmaynothavetoreproachherhusbandwiththefactthat,say,thePostmaster’swifeiswearingabetterdressthansheisadresswhichhascostathousandroubles!‘Ballsandgaiety,ballsandgaiety’istheconstantcry.Yetwhatfollyballsare!TheydonotconsortwiththeRussianspiritandgenius,andthedevilonlyknowswhywehavethem.Agrown,middle-agedmanamandressedinblack,andlookingasstiffasapokersuddenlytakesthefloorandbeginsshufflinghisfeetabout,whileanotherman,eventhoughconversingwithacompaniononimportantbusiness,will,thewhile,keepcaperingtorightandleftlikeabilly-goat!Mimicry,sheermimicry!ThefactthattheFrenchmanisatfortypreciselywhathewasatfifteenleadsustoimaginethatwetoo,forsooth,oughttobethesame.No;aballleavesonefeelingthatonehasdoneawrongthingsomuchsothatonedoesnotcareeventothinkofit.Italsoleavesone’sheadperfectlyempty,evenasdoestheexertionoftalkingtoamanoftheworld.Amanofthatkindchattersaway,andtoucheslightlyuponeveryconceivablesubject,andtalksinsmooth,fluentphraseswhichhehasculledfrombookswithoutgrazingtheirsubstance;whereasgoandhaveachatwithatradesmanwhoknowsatleastONEthingthoroughly,andthroughthemediumofexperience,andseewhetherhisconversationwillnotbeworthmorethantheprattleofathousandchatterboxes.

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