Gogol's "Вий," one of the four stories in his 1835 collection Mirgorod, is a piece of misogynist tripe; Nabokov is actually being (uncharacteristically) kind to it when he calls it "a gooseflesh story, not particularly effective." The opening section, describing Kiev seminary life, is pretty much taken straight from Narezhny's novel Бурсак (The seminary student—see this post); it goes on to a bunch of ooga-booga nonsense involving the protagonist Khoma being terrified in a church late at night, ultimately by the titular Vii, some sort of Ukrainian hobgoblin. But there's one sequence that's pure essence of Gogol, and I will translate it here (Russian below the cut). The local yokels are telling the protagonist about the antics of the witch whose corpse he's supposed to be performing memorial rites for (she was the beloved daughter of the local landowner), and one of them brings up the late huntsman Mikita:
"Stop! I'll tell him about the huntsman Mikita," said Dorosh.The irrelevant details, the pleasure taken in storytelling for its own sake, the joyous insults—this is the seed from which Gogol's later masterpieces will grow. And now you've read all you need to of the story."I'll tell him about Mikita," replied the herdsman, "because he was kin to me."
"I'll tell him about Mikita," said Spirid.
"Yes, let Spirid tell him!" cried the crowd.
Spirid began:
"You, philosopher-student Khoma, didn't know Mikita. What a rare man he was! He used to know every dog like his own father. Mikola, who's the huntsman now—he's sitting two back from me—can't hold a candle to him. He may know his job, but next to Mikita he's trash, slops."
"You're telling it well!" said Dorosh, nodding approvingly.
Spirid continued, "He'd see a hare quicker than you can wipe snuff off your nose. He used to whistle: 'Come on, Robber! come on, Speedy!' and off he'd go on his horse at full gallop, and you couldn't say who'd outrun who, him or the dogs. He'd down a quart of raw vodka like nothing. A terrific huntsman! But not long ago he started staring at the landowner's daughter, couldn't take his eyes off her. Whether he was really stuck on her or she bewitched him, I couldn't say, but the fellow was a goner, he turned completely into a woman; he became the devil knows what; pfuh! it's indecent even to say.
"Good!" said Dorosh.