Indeed, it was not long before he had succeeded in fairly enchanting his new friends.

In particular did Manilov--a man still in his prime, and possessed of a pair of eyes which, sweet as sugar, blinked whenever he laughed--find himself unable to make enough of his enchanter.

Clasping Chichikov long and fervently by the hand, he besought him to do him, Manilov, the honour of visiting his country house (which he declared to lie at a distance of not more than fifteen versts from the boundaries of the town); and in return Chichikov averred (with an exceedingly affable bow and a most sincere handshake) that he was prepared not only to fulfil his friend's behest, but also to look upon the fulfilling of it as a sacred duty.

In the same way Sobakevitch said to him laconically: "And do you pay ME a visit," and then proceeded to shuffle a pair of boots of such dimensions that to find a pair to correspond with them would have been indeed difficult--more especially at the present day, when the race of epic heroes is beginning to die out in Russia.
Next day Chichikov dined and spent the evening at the house of the Chief of Police--a residence where, three hours after dinner, every one sat down to whist, and remained so seated until two o'clock in the morning.
On this occasion Chichikov made the acquaintance of, among others, a landowner named Nozdrev--a dissipated little fellow of thirty who had no sooner exchanged three or four words with his new acquaintance than he began to address him in the second person singular.

Yet although he did the same to the Chief of Police and the Public Prosecutor, the company had no sooner seated themselves at the card-table than both the one and the other of these functionaries started to keep a careful eye upon Nozdrev's tricks, and to watch practically every card which he played.
The following evening Chichikov spent with the President of the Local Council, who received his guests--even though the latter included two ladies--in a greasy dressing-gown.