Indeed, had any one, on a slushy winter's morning, glanced from a window into the said courtyard, he would have seen Plushkin's servitors performing saltatory feats worthy of the most vigorous of stage-dancers.
"Look at that boy's face!" said Plushkin to Chichikov as he pointed to Proshka.

"It is stupid enough, yet, lay anything aside, and in a trice he will have stolen it.

Well, my lad, what do you want ?" He paused a moment or two, but Proshka made no reply.
"Come, come!" went on the old man.

"Set out the samovar, and then give Mavra the key of the store-room--here it is--and tell her to get out some loaf sugar for tea.

Here! Wait another moment, fool! Is the devil in your legs that they itch so to be off?
Listen to what more I have to tell you.