, familiar with the taste
of our landed gentry (who love "good" madeira) invariably doctor the
stuff with copious dashes of rum and Imperial vodka, in the hope that
Russian stomachs will thus be enabled to carry off the lot. After this
bottle Nozdrev called for another and "a very special" brand--a brand
which he declared to consist of a blend of burgundy and champagne, and
of which he poured generous measures into the glasses of Chichikov
and the brother-in-law as they sat to right and left of him. But since
Chichikov noticed that, after doing so, he added only a scanty modicum
of the mixture to his own tumbler, our hero determined to be cautious,
and therefore took advantage of a moment when Nozdrev had again plunged
into conversation and was yet a third time engaged in refilling his
brother-in-law's glass, to contrive to upset his (Chichikov's)
glass over his plate. In time there came also to table a tart of
mountain-ashberries--berries which the host declared to equal, in taste,
ripe plums, but which, curiously enough, smacked more of corn brandy.
Next, the company consumed a sort of pasty of which the precise name has
escaped me, but which the host rendered differently even on the second
occasion of its being mentioned. The meal over, and the whole tale of
wines tried, the guests still retained their seats--a circumstance which
embarrassed Chichikov, seeing that he had no mind to propound his pet
scheme in the presence of Nozdrev's brother-in-law, who was a complete
stranger to him. No, that subject called for amicable and PRIVATE
conversation. Nevertheless, the brother-in-law appeared to bode little
danger, seeing that he had taken on board a full cargo, and was now
engaged in doing nothing of a more menacing nature than picking his
nose. At length he himself noticed that he was not altogether in a
responsible condition; wherefore he rose and began to make excuses for
departing homewards, though in a tone so drowsy and lethargic that, to
quote the Russian proverb, he might almost have been "pulling a collar
on to a horse by the clasps."

"No, no!" cried Nozdrev. "I am NOT going to let you go."

"But I MUST go," replied the brother-in-law. "Don't dry to hinder me.
You are annoying me greatly."

"Rubbish! We are going to play a game of banker."

"No, no. You must play it without me, my friend. My wife is expecting me
at home, and I must go and tell her all about the fair. Yes, I MUST go
if I am to please her. Do