Мертвые души

           Healmostburstintotearsashebeheldhisoldmaster,andtheroomseemedtoswimbeforehiseyes,andthetchinovniksandthedeskstobecomeablur,andhissighttogrowdim.Thenhethoughttohimselfwithaneffort:“No,no!IWILLapplymyselftomywork,howeverpettyitbeatfirst.”Andhardeninghisheartandrecoveringhisspirit,hedeterminedthenandtheretoperformhisdutiesinsuchamannerasshouldbeanexampletotherest.

           Butwherearecompensationstobefound?EveninSt.Petersburg,despiteitsgrimandmurkyexterior,theyexist.Yes,eventhoughthirtydegreesofkeen,crackingfrostmayhaveboundthestreets,andthefamilyoftheNorthWindbewailingthere,andtheSnowstormWitchhaveheapedhighthepavements,andbeblindingtheeyes,andpowderingbeardsandfurcollarsandtheshaggymanesofhorses—evenTHENtherewillbeshininghospitablythroughtheswirlingsnowflakesafourth-floorwindowwhere,inacosyroom,andbythelightofmodestcandles,andtothehissofthesamovar,therewillbeinprogressadiscussionwhichwarmstheheartandsoul,orelseareadingaloudofabrilliantpageofoneofthoseinspiredRussianpoetswithwhomGodhasdoweredus,whilethebreastofeachmemberofthecompanyisheavingwitharaptureunknownunderanoontidesky.

           Gradually,therefore,TientietnikovgrewmoreathomeintheService.Yetneverdiditbecome,forhim,themainpursuit,themainobjectinlife,whichhehadexpected.No,itremainedbutoneofasecondarykind.