a hundred there are none."

Chichikov reflected that he had indeed fallen into an aristocratic
wilderness!

"At all events, is the town far away?" he inquired.

"About sixty versts. How sorry I am that I have nothing for you to eat!
Should you care to drink some tea?"

"I thank you, good mother, but I require nothing beyond a bed."

"Well, after such a journey you must indeed be needing rest, so you
shall lie upon this sofa. Fetinia, bring a quilt and some pillows and
sheets. What weather God has sent us! And what dreadful thunder! Ever
since sunset I have had a candle burning before the ikon in my bedroom.
My God! Why, your back and sides are as muddy as a boar's! However have
you managed to get into such a state?"

"That I am nothing worse than muddy is indeed fortunate, since, but for
the Almighty, I should have had my ribs broken."

"Dear, dear! To think of all that you must have been through. Had I not
better wipe your back?"

"I thank you, I thank you, but you need not trouble. Merely be so good
as to tell your maid to dry my clothes."

"Do you hear that, Fetinia?" said the hostess, turning to a woman who
was engaged in dragging in a feather bed and deluging the room with
feathers. "Take this coat and this vest, and, after drying them before
the fire--just as we used to do for your late master--give them a good
rub, and fold them up neatly."

"Very well, mistress," said Fetinia, spreading some sheets over the bed,
and arranging the pillows.

"Now your bed is ready for you," said the hostess to Chichikov.
"Good-night, dear sir. I wish you good-night. Is there anything else
that you require? Perhaps you would like to have your heels tickled
before retiring to rest? Never could my late husband get to sleep
without that having been done."

But the guest declined the proffered heel-tickling, and, on his hostess
taking her departure, hastened to divest himself of his clothing, both
upper and under, and to hand the garments to Fetinia. She wished him
good-night, and removed the wet trappings; after which he found himself
alone. Not without satisfaction did he eye his bed, which reached
almost to the ceiling. Clearly Fetinia was a past mistress in the art of
beating up such a couch, and, as the result, he had no sooner mounted
it with the aid of a chair than it sank well-nigh to the floor, and the
feathers, squeezed out of their proper confines, flew hither and thither
into every corner of the apartment. Ne