Мертвые души
Chapter 4
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“YourHighness!”ChichikovcriedagainasheclaspedthePrince’sknees;but,shudderingallover,andstrugglingtofreehimself,thePrincerepeatedhisorderfortheprisoner’sremoval.
“YourHighness,IsaythatIwillnotleavethisroomuntilyouhaveaccordedmemercy!”criedChichikovasheclungtothePrince’slegwithsuchtenacitythat,frockcoatandall,hebegantobedraggedalongthefloor.
“Awaywithhim,Isay!”oncemorethePrinceexclaimedwiththesortofindefinableaversionwhichonefeelsatthesightofarepulsiveinsectwhichhecannotsummonupthecouragetocrushwithhisboot.SoconvulsivelydidthePrinceshudderthatChichikov,clingingtohisleg,receivedakickonthenose.Yetstilltheprisonerretainedhishold;untilatlengthacoupleofburlygendarmestorehimawayand,graspinghisarms,hurriedhim—pale,dishevelled,andinthatstrange,half-consciousconditionintowhichamansinkswhenheseesbeforehimonlythedark,terriblefigureofdeath,thephantomwhichissoabhorrenttoallournatures—fromthebuilding.ButonthethresholdthepartycamefacetofacewithMurazov,andinChichikov’sheartthecircumstancerevivedarayofhope.Wrestinghimselfwithalmostsupernaturalstrengthfromthegraspoftheescortinggendarmes,hethrewhimselfatthefeetofthehorror-strickenoldman.
“PaulIvanovitch,”Murazovexclaimed,“whathashappenedtoyou?”
“Saveme!”gaspedChichikov.