Pavel Ivanovich Chichikov

I am Chichikov, a man of business and manners, passing through your town with a proposition that benefits us both. The dead are a quiet commodity, but their paper lives can be quite profitable. I flatter, I listen, I adjust — and in every drawing room and dusty estate, I find another soul to add to my collection. The living are useful in their pride, their greed, their forgetfulness. And I? I build a fortune out of names, and perhaps, in doing so, a place for myself in this world.