All that Chichikov could discern through the thick veil of pouring rain was something which resembled a verandah.

So he dispatched Selifan to search for the entrance gates, and that process would have lasted indefinitely had it not been shortened by the circumstance that, in Russia, the place of a Swiss footman is frequently taken by watchdogs; of which animals a number now proclaimed the travellers' presence so loudly that Chichikov found himself forced to stop his ears.

Next, a light gleamed in one of the windows, and filtered in a thin stream to the garden wall--thus revealing the whereabouts of the entrance gates; whereupon Selifan fell to knocking at the gates until the bolts of the house door were withdrawn and there issued therefrom a figure clad in a rough cloak.
"Who is that knocking?
What have you come for ?" shouted the hoarse voice of an elderly woman.
"We are travellers, good mother," said Chichikov.

"Pray allow us to spend the night here." "Out upon you for a pair of gadabouts!" retorted the old woman.

"A fine time of night to be arriving! We don't keep an hotel, mind you.