The Twelve Chairs (19 page)

"That's right," said Ostap, "and now on the neck. Twice.
That's it. Can't be helped.  Sometimes the eggs have to teach  a lesson
to a chicken who gets out of hand. Once more, that's it. Don't be shy. Don't
hit him any more on the head, it's his weakest point."
If  the Stargorod conspirators had seen the master-mind  and  father of
Russian democracy at  that crucial moment, it can be  taken for certain that
the  secret  alliance of  the Sword  and Ploughshare would  have  ended  its
existence.
"That's enough, I think," said Nicky, hiding his hand in his pocket.
"Just once more," implored Ostap.
"To hell with him. He'll know next time."
Nicky went  away.  Ostap went upstairs to Ivanopulo's  and looked down.
Ippolit  Matveyevich stood sideways to  the  house, leaning against the iron
railing of the embassy.
"Citizen  Michelson,"  he called.  "Konrad  Karlovich.  Come inside.  I
permit you."
Ippolit  Matveyevich entered  the  room  in  slightly  better  spirits.
"Unheard-of  impudence,"  he  exclaimed  angrily. "I  could  hardly  control
myself."
"Dear, dear," sympathized  Ostap. "What has  the modern youth  come to?
Terrible  young people!  Chase  after  other  people's  wives.  Spend  other
people's money. Complete decadence. But  tell  me, does it really  hurt when
they hit you on the head? "
"I'll challenge him to a duel!"
"Fine! I  can recommend  a good  friend of  mine. He knows the duelling
code by heart and has two brooms quite suitable for a struggle to the death.
You can have Ivanopulo and his  neighbour  on the right as  seconds. He's an
ex-honorary citizen of  the city  of Kologriv and still even brags about the
title. Or you can have  a duel with mincing-machines-it's more elegant. Each
wound is  definitely  fatal. The  wounded adversary is  automatically turned
into a meat ball. How do you like the idea, Marshal?"
At that moment there was a whistle from  the street and Ostap went down
to receive the* reports from his young agents.
The waifs had coped splendidly with their mission. Four chairs had gone
to  the Columbus Theatre. The  waif explained in detail  how the chairs were
transported in a  wheelbarrow, unloaded and carted into the building through
the stage-door. Ostap already knew the location of the theatre.
Another young  pathfinder said that two chairs had been taken away in a
taxi. The boy did not seem  to be very bright. He knew the  street where the
chairs had  been taken and even remembered  the number of  the apartment was
17, but could not remember the number of the house.
152
"I ran too quick," said the waif. "It flew out me head."
"You won't get any money," declared the boss.
"But, mister! I'll show you the place."
"All right, stay here. We'll go there together."
The citizen with the  bleat turned out  to live  on Sadovaya Spasskaya.
Ostap jotted down the exact address in a notebook.
The eighth chair had been  taken to  the House of the Peoples. The  boy
who had followed  this chair proved to have initiative. Overcoming  barriers
in the form of the commandant's office and numerous messengers, he had found
his way into  the building and discovered  the chair had been  bought by the
editor of the Lathe newspaper.
Two  boys had not  yet come back. They  arrived almost  simultaneously,
panting and tired.
"Barrack Street in the Clear Lakes district."
"Number?"
"Nine. And the apartment is nine. There were  Tatars living in the yard
next door. I carried the chair the last part of the way. We went on foot."
The final messenger  brought sad  tidings. At first everything had been
all right, but then everything had gone all wrong.  The purchaser  had taken
his  chair into  the goods  yard of  October  Station and  it had  not  been
possible to  slip in after him, as there were armed guards from the Ministry
of Transport standing at the gates.
"He left by train, most likely," said the waif, concluding his report.
This  greatly disconcerted Ostap.  Rewarding  the  waifs  royally,  one
rouble each  (except for  the  herald  from  Varsonofefsky Street,  who  had
forgotten the number and was told to come back the next  day), the technical
adviser went back inside and, ignoring the many questions put  to him by the
disgraced chairman of the board, began to scheme.
"Nothing's lost yet.  We have the addresses and  there are many old and
reliable tricks for getting the  chairs:  simple friendship;  a love affair;
friendship plus  housebreaking; barter; and  money. The  last  is  the  most
reliable. But we haven't much money."
Ostap  glanced ironically  at  Ippolit Matveyevich. The smooth operator
had regained his usual  clarity of thought and mental  balance. It would, of
course,  be possible to  get the  money. Their  reserve included the picture
"Chamberlain Answers the Bolsheviks", the tea-strainer, and full opportunity
for continuing a career of polygamy.
The only trouble was the tenth chair. There was a trail  to follow, but
only a diffuse and vague one.
"Well, anyway," Ostap decided aloud,  "we can easily bet on those odds.
I'll  stake nine  to  one. The hearing is  continued. Do you  hear? Hey you,
member of the jury? "

William Shakespeare's vocabulary  has been estimated by  the experts at
twelve thousand words.  The vocabulary of a Negro from the Mumbo Jumbo tribe
amounts to three hundred words.
Ellochka Shukin managed easily and fluently on thirty.
Here  are  the words, phrases and interjections  which she fastidiously
picked from the great, rich and expressive Russian language:
1. You're being vulgar.
2. Ho-ho (expresses irony, surprise,  delight, loathing, joy,  contempt
and satisfaction, according to the circumstances).
3. Great!
4.  Dismal   (applied  to  everything-for  example:  "dismal  Pete  has
arrived", "dismal weather", or a "dismal cat").
5. Gloom.
6. Ghastly (for example:  when meeting a close female  acquaintance, "a
ghastly meeting").
7. Kid (applied to all male acquaintances,  regardless of age or social
position).
8. Don't tell me how to live!
9. Like  a babe ("I whacked him like a babe" when playing cards,  or "I
brought him down like a babe," evidently when talking to a legal tenant).
10.Ter-r-rific!
11. Fat  and good-looking (used to describe both animate and  inanimate
objects).
12. Let's go by horse-cab (said to her husband).
13. Let's go by taxi (said to male acquaintances).
14. You're all white at the back! (joke).
15. Just imagine!
16.  Ula  (added  to a name to  denote  affection-for example: Mishula,
Zinula).
17.  Oho!  (irony,  surprise,  delight,  loathing,  joy,  contempt  and
satisfaction).
The  extraordinary  small  number  of  words  remaining  were  used  as
connecting links between Ellochka and department-store assistants.
If you looked at the photographs of  Ellochka Shukin which her husband,
engineer Ernest Pavlovich Shukin, had hanging over  his bed (one profile and
the other  full-face),  you would easily see her pleasantly high  and curved
forehead, big  liquid  eyes,  the  cutest little  nose in the  whole of  the
province of Moscow, and a chin with a small beauty spot.
Men found Ellochka's  height nattering. She was  petite, and  even  the
puniest little men looked hefty he-men beside her.
She had  no particular distinguishing features; she did not need  them.
She was pretty.
The  two hundred  roubles  which her  husband earned each month  at the
Electrolustre  works was an insult to Ellochka. It was of  no help at all in
the  tremendous  battle  which she had  been waging for the past four years,
from  the  moment  she acquired the social  status of housewife and Shukin's
spouse.  The  battle  was  waged  at  full  pressure. It  absorbed  all  her
resources. Ernest Pavlovich took home work  to do in the evening, refused to
have  servants, lit the primus himself, put out  the refuse, and even cooked
meat balls.
But it was all useless.  A dangerous  enemy was  ruining the  household
more and more every year. Four years earlier Ellochka  had noticed she had a
rival  across  the ocean.  The misfortune had  come upon Ellochka one  happy
evening while she was trying on a very pretty crepe de Chine blouse. It made
her look almost a goddess.
"Ho-ho!" she exclaimed, summing up by  that cannibal cry  the amazingly
complex emotions which had overcome her.
More simply, the emotions could have been expressed  by the  following:
men will become  excited when they see me like this. They will tremble. They
will follow me to the edge of the  world,  hiccupping with love. But I shall
be cold. Are you  really worthy of me? I am still the prettiest girl of all.
No one in the world has such an elegant blouse as this.
But  there  were  only  thirty  words, so Ellochka  selected  the  most
expressive one-"Ho-ho!"
It  was at this hour of greatness that Fimka Sobak came to see her. She
brought with her the icy breath of January  and a  French fashion  magazine.
Ellochka got no further than the first page. A glossy  photograph showed the
daughter of  the  American billionaire, Vanderbilt, in an evening  dress. It
showed  furs  and  plumes,  silks and pearls, an unusually simple  cut and a
stunning hair-do. That settled  everything. "Oho!" said Ellochka to herself.
That   meant  "she  or  me".   The  next  morning  found  Ellochka  at   the
hairdresser's, where she  relinquished her beautiful black plait and had her
hair dyed red. Then she was able to climb another step up the ladder leading
her to  the  glittering  paradise frequented by billionaires' daughters, who
were no match for housewife Shukin. A dog skin made to look like muskrat was
bought with a loan and added the finishing touch to the evening dress.
Mister  Shukin, who  had long cherished  the  dream  of  buying  a  new
drawing-board, became rather depressed.
The dog-trimmed dress was the first well-aimed blow at Miss Vanderbilt.
The snooty American girl  was then  dealt three more in succession. Ellochka
bought  a chinchilla  tippet (Russian rabbit caught in  Tula Province)  from
Fimka Sobak,  a private  furrier, acquired a hat made of dove-grey Argentine
felt, and  converted  her  husband's new  jacket into a  stylish  tunic. The
billionaire's  daughter was shaken, but  the affectionate  Daddy  Vanderbilt
evidently came to the rescue.
The latest  number of  the magazine  contained a portrait of the cursed
rival in four different styles: (1) in  black-brown fox; (2) with a  diamond
star on her forehead; (3) in a flying  suit (high  boots, a very  thin green
coat  and  gauntlets,  the  tops  of  which were encrusted  with medium-size
emeralds); and (4) in a ball gown (cascades of jewellery and a little silk).
Ellochka mustered  her  forces.  Daddy Shukin obtained a loan from  the
mutual-assistance fund, but they  would only give  him thirty  roubles. This
desperate  new effort radically undermined  the  household economy,  but the
battle had to be  waged on all fronts. Not long before some snapshots of the
Miss in her new castle in Florida had been  received. Ellochka,  too, had to
acquire  new  furniture. She bought two  upholstered chairs at  an  auction.
(Successful buy! Wouldn't have missed it for  the world.) Without asking her
husband, Ellochka took the money  from the dinner  fund. There were ten days
and four roubles left to the fifteenth.
Ellochka transported the chairs down Varsonofefsky Street in style. Her
husband was not at home, but arrived soon after, carrying a brief-case.
"The dismal husband has arrived," said Ellochka clearly and distinctly.
All her  words were pronounced distinctly and popped out as  smartly as
peas from a pod.
"Hello, Ellochka, what's all this? Where did the chairs come from?"
"Ho-ho!"
"No, really?"
"Ter-r-rific!"
"Yes, they're nice chairs."
"Great!"
"A present from someone?"
"Oho!"
"What? Do you mean you bought them?  Where did the money come from? The
housekeeping money? But I've told you a thousand times . . ."
"Ernestula, you're being vulgar!"
"How could you do a thing like that? We won't have anything to eat!"
"Just imagine!"
"But it's outrageous! You're living beyond your means."
"You're kidding."
"No, no. You're living beyond your means."
"Don't tell me how to live!"
"No, let's have a serious talk. I get two hundred roubles. . ."
"Gloom!"
"I  don't  take  bribes, don't  steal  money,  and  don't know  how  to
counterfeit it. . . ."
"Ghastly!"
Ernest Pavlovich dried up.
"The point is this," he said after a while; "we can't go on this way."
"Ho-ho!" said Ellochka, sitting down on the new chair.
"We will have to get a divorce."
"Just imagine!"
"We're not compatible. I. . ."
"You're a fat and good-looking kid."
"How many times have I told you not to call me a kid."
"You're kidding!"
"And where did you get that idiotic jargon from?"
"Don't tell me how to live!"
"Oh, hell!" cried the engineer.
"You're being vulgar, Ernestula!"
"Let's get divorced peaceably."
"Oho!"
"You won't prove anything to me. This argument. . ."
"I'll whack you like a babe."
"No, this is absolutely intolerable. Your  arguments cannot  prevent me
from taking the step forced upon me. I'm going to get the removal van."
"You're kidding!"
"We'll divide up the furniture equally."
"Ghastly!"
"You'll get a hundred  roubles a month. Even a hundred and  twenty. The
room will be yours. Live how you like, I can't go on this way."
"Great!" said Ellochka with contempt.
"I'll move in with Ivan Alexeyvich."
"Oho!"
"He's  gone to the country and left me  his apartment for the summer. I
have the key. . . . Only there's no furniture."
"Ter-r-rific!"
Five minutes later Ernest Pavlovich came back with the caretaker.
"I'll leave the wardrobe. You need  it more. But I'll have the desk, if
you don't mind. And take this chair, caretaker. I'll take one of the chairs.
I think I have the right to, don't I?"
Ernest Pavlovich gathered  his  things into a large bundle, wrapped his
boots up in paper, and turned towards the door.
"You're all white at the back," said Ellochka in a phonographic voice.
"Good-bye, Ella."
He  hoped that this time at least his wife would refrain from her usual
metallic  vocables. Ellochka also felt  the seriousness of the occasion. She
strained herself, searching for  suitable words for  the parting.  They soon
came to mind.
"Going by taxi? Ter-r-rific!"
The engineer hurtled downstairs like an avalanche.
Ellochka  spent  the  evening   with  Fimka  Sobak.  They  discussed  a
singularly important event which threatened to upset world economy.
"It seems  they will  be worn  long and wide," said Fimka, sinking  her
head into her shoulders like a hen.
"Gloom!"
Ellochka looked admiringly at Fimka Sobak. Mile Sobak was reputed to be
a  cultured girl  and her vocabulary  contained about  a  hundred and eighty
words. One of the  words was one  that Ellochka would not even  have dreamed
of. It was the meaningful word "homosexuality".
Fimka Sobak was undoubtedly a cultured girl.
Their animated conversation lasted well into the night.
At ten  the next morning the smooth  operator arrived  at Varsonofefsky
Street. In front of him ran the waif from the day before. He pointed out the
house.
"You're not telling stories?"
"Of course not, mister. In there, through the front door."
Bender gave the boy an honestly earned rouble.
"That's not enough," said the boy, like a taxi-driver.
"The  ears  of  a  dead donkey. Get  them  from Pushkin.  On  your way,
defective one!"
Ostap knocked at  the door without the least idea what  excuse he would
use  for  his  visit.  In  conversations  with  young  ladies  he  preferred
inspiration.
"Oho?" asked a voice behind the door.
"On business," replied Ostap.
The door opened and Ostap  went into a room that could  only  have been
furnished  by someone with  the imagination of a woodpecker. The walls  were
covered with picture postcards of film stars, dolls  and Tambov  tapestries.
Against  this dazzling background  it  was difficult to make out the  little
occupant  of the room.  She was wearing  a  gown  made  from one  of  Ernest
Pavlovich's shirts, trimmed with some mysterious fur.
Ostap knew at once how he should behave in such high society. He closed
his eyes and took a step backwards. "A beautiful fur!" he exclaimed.
"You're kidding," said Ellochka tenderly. "It's Mexican jerboa."
"It can't be. They made  a  mistake. You were given a much better  fur.
It's  Shanghai leopard. Yes, leopard. I recognize  it by the shade.  You see
how it reflects the sun. Just like emerald!"
Ellochka  had  dyed the Mexican jerboa with green water-colour herself,
so the morning visitor's praise was particularly pleasing.
Without  giving  her time to recover,  the smooth  operator poured  out
everything he had ever heard about furs. After that they discussed silk, and
Ostap promised to  make his charming hostess  a present of several  thousand
silkworms which he claimed the Chairman  of the Central  Executive Committee
of Uzbekistan had brought him.
"You're the right kind of kid," observed Ellochka  as a  result of  the
first few minutes of friendship.
"You're surprised, of course, by this early visit from a stranger."
"Ho-ho!"
"But I've come on a delicate matter."
"You're kidding."
"You were  at the auction yesterday and made a remarkable impression on
me."
"You're being vulgar!"
"Heavens! To be vulgar to such a charming woman would be inhuman."
"Ghastly!" .
The  conversation continued along these lines,  now and  then producing
splendid results.
But all the time Ostap's compliments became briefer and more watery. He
had noticed that the second chair was not there. It was up to him to find  a
clue. Interspersing  his questions  with flowery Eastern  flattery, he found
out all about the events of the day before in Ellochka's life.
"Something  new," he thought, "the chairs are  crawling  all  over  the
place, like cockroaches."
"Sell me  the  chair,  dear lady," said Ostap  unexpectedly. "I like it
very much. Only  with  your female  intuition could you have chosen such  an
artistic  object. Sell it to  me,  young  lady,  and  I'll  give  you  seven
roubles."
"You're being vulgar, kid," said Ellochka slyly.
"Ho-ho!" said Ostap, trying to make her understand. I must approach her
differently, he decided. Let's suggest an exchange.
"You know that  in Europe now and  in the best  homes  in  Philadelphia
they've reintroduced  the ancient custom of pouring  tea through a strainer?
It's remarkably effective and elegant."
Ellochka pricked up her ears.
"A diplomat I know has just arrived back from Vienna and brought me one
as a present. It's an amusing thing."
"It must be great," said Ellochka with interest.
"Oho!  Ho-ho! Let's  make  an exchange. You give me the chair and  I'll
give you the tea-strainer. Would you like that? "
The sun rolled about in the strainer like an egg. Spots of light danced
on  the ceiling. A dark corner of the room was suddenly lit up. The strainer
made the same overwhelming impression on Ellochka as an old tin can makes on
a Mumbo Jumbo cannibal. In such circumstances the cannibal shouts at the top
of his voice. Ellochka, however, merely uttered a quiet "Ho-ho."
Without giving her time to  recover, Ostap put the strainer down on the
table,  took the chair, and having  found  out the address  of the  charming
lady's husband, courteously bowed his way out.