ARTEMY. Precisely, in the hospital.

KHLESTAKOV. Yes, yes, I remember. There were
beds there. The patients must have gotten well. There
don't seem to have been many of them.

ARTEMY. About ten are left. The rest recovered.
The place is so well run, there is such perfect order. It
may seem incredible to you, but ever since I've taken
over the management, they all recover like flies. No
sooner does a patient enter the hospital than he feels
better. And we obtain this result not so much by medicaments
as by honesty and orderliness.

GOVERNOR. In this connection may I venture to call
your attention to what a brain-racking job the office of
Governor is. There are so many matters he has to give
his mind to just in connection with keeping the town
clean and repairs and alterations. In a word, it is
enough to upset the most competent person. But, thank
God, all goes well. Another governor, of course, would
look out for his own advantage. But believe me, even
nights in bed I keep thinking: "Oh, God, how could I
manage things in such a way that the government would
observe my devotion to duty and be satisfied?" Whether
the government will reward me or not, that of course, lies
with them. At least I'll have a clear conscience. When
the whole town is in order, the streets swept clean, the
prisoners well kept, and few drunkards--what more
do I want? Upon my word, I don't even crave honors.