Page:Dead Souls - A Poem by Nikolay Gogol - vol2.djvu/223

Rh Tchitchikov gazed into Skudronzhoglo's face with his mouth open and his eyes starting out of his head as though he were moonstruck. He held his breath.

'Inconceivable,' he said, when he had recovered himself a little, 'the mind is petrified with awe. People are amazed at the wisdom of Providence as they scrutinise a beetle; to my mind it is even more overwhelming that such vast sums can find their way into a mortal's hands! Allow me to put a question to you in regard to one point: tell me, all this was surely not obtained in the first place quite honestly, was it?'

'Absolutely irreproachably and by the most straightforward means!'

'I can't believe you, most honoured friend, I really can't believe you. If it were a case of thousands perhaps, but millions … no, pardon me, but I can't believe it.'

'On the contrary, it is difficult to get thousands honestly, but millions are easily piled up. A millionaire has no need to resort to crooked ways. The road is straight, you have but to go along it and take whatever lies before you. Another man would not pick it up, not every one has the capacity.'

'It's incredible! And what is most incredible is, that it all started from a farthing.'

'That's how it always is. That's the natural order of things,' said Skudronzhoglo. 'A man who has been brought up on thousands will never make money; he will have already formed