# Diamonds To Sit On/Chapter 7

Contents
CHAPTER VII
TRACES OF THE 'TITANIC'
HIPPOLYTE woke up as usual at half-past seven. He mumbled 'Guten Morgen' to himself and then went off to wash. He thoroughly enjoyed himself as he splashed about and shook his head trying to get the water out of his ears. He always enjoyed drying himself, but this time, as he looked at the towel, he suddenly noticed that it was smeared with the black stuff he had used on his moustache. His heart sank; he took out his pocket mirror and looked into it. He saw a large nose and the left side of a moustache which was as green as grass. He hastily shifted the mirror so that he could see the right side of his moustache. It was the same disgusting colour. He lowered his head as he if were going to butt at the mirror and saw that the centre of his hair was black while the edges were bright green.
Hippolyte groaned so loudly that Bender heard him and opened his clear blue eyes.
'You've gone mad!' he exclaimed, and promptly closed his eyes again.
'Comrade Bender!' whispered the 'Titanic's' victim.
Bender woke up after many prods and digs in his ribs. He sat up, looked at Hippolyte attentively, and then burst out laughing.
'You're a heartless beast!' said Hippolyte as his moustache trembled nervously.
This only made Bender more hilarious, and he went into fits of laughter which lasted for at least ten minutes. Then growing more serious he said: 'What are you looking at me like that for? You and your green moustache! You're looking at me as if I were a louse. Just you look at yourself!' ​TRACES OF THE ‘ TITANIC ’
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‘ But the chemist swore it was a fast dye and would neither wash off in hot or cold water, soap water, nor even in petrol. And he said it was contraband. ‘ Contraband ! Anything contraband comes out of Odessa. Show me the bottle. I thought so. Look at that. Did you read that ? ’ ‘ Yes.’ ‘ No, I mean this—these words in small letters. It says quite distinctly that after washing the hair in hot or cold water, soapy water, or even in petrol that you ought never to rub the hair with a towel, but it in the sun or before a “ Primus ” stove. Why didn’t you do what it told you ? Now where can you go with such a lime-tree ? ’ . Hippolyte was crestfallen. The porter came m and on seeing his master’s moustache got such a shock that he immediately crossed himself. Then he asked his master for some money for a drink so that he might clear his head. , ‘ Give him a rouble,’ said Bender. After aU, he s a hero of toil. Only don’t put it down to my account. It’s a personal matter between you and your former servant.’ And then turning to the porter he con­ tinued : ' Hi! wait a minute, uncle ; we’ve got some­ thing to say to you.’ . Bender drew the porter into conversation about tne furniture, and in five minutes the partners knew every­ thing. In 1919 all the furniture had been removed to the House Department with the exception of one drawing-room chair, which had stood in the porter s room at first, but later it had been confiscated by the superintendent of the workhouse.
* Oh ! so it’s in this house ? ’
* Yes it’s here.’
‘Then tell me,’ said Hippolyte, almost bursting with excitement, ‘ when you had the chair did you mend it at aU ? ” ‘ Mend it ? No, it didn’t need mending. Work was ​40
DIAMONDS TO SIT ON
done well in the old days. Why, such a chair would have lasted another thirty years.’ ‘ Well, my friend, here’s a rouble for you. Mind you don’t tell any one that I’ve come back to the town.’ ‘ I’ll be as silent as the grave. Citizen Vorobianinov.’ The porter went out and Bender again turned to the subject of Hippolyte’s moustache. ‘ You’ll have to dye it again. Give me some money and I’ll go to the chemist. That “ Titanic ” of yours isn’t any earthly use. It wouldn’t even dye a poodle.' Bender soon returned with a fresh bottle of dye. ' I’ve brought you some “ Naiad ”. Perhaps that will be better than your “ Titanic ”. Take off your waistcoat.’ The business of re-dyeing began, but the blending of the new auburn dye and the remains of the ‘ Titanic ’ only resulted in a mixture of all the colours of the rainbow. Hippolyte, who had not had any breakfast, stormed up and down the room and raged against aU manufac­ turers of hair dyes, both Government and contraband. ‘ You can’t walk round Soviet Russia with an ultra­ violet moustache. You’ll have to shave it off.’ ‘ I can’t,’ said Hippolyte. ‘ It’s impossible ! ’ ' What ? Is your moustache such a treasure ? ’ ‘ I can’t ! ’ repeated Hippolyte, in a dejected voice. ' Oh ! well, you can stop here for the rest of your days and rU go and find the chairs. By the way, the first chair is just over our heads.’ ‘ All right. Shave it off ! ’ Bender looked round the room for the scissors, found them, and chpped off the ends of the moustache, which fell noiselessly to the floor. Taking the last razor blade from his pocket-book he began to shave Hippolyte’s head. Hippolyte was almost weeping. ‘ I’m wasting my last razor blade on you,’ said Bender. ' Don’t forget to put it down to my credit. Two roubles, please, for a cut and a shave.’ ​TRACES OF THE ‘ TITANIC ’
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Hippolyte was trembling with emotion. ‘ such a price ? It only costs forty copecks anywhere else.’
A man suffers incredible torture when his head is being shaved with a safety razor. Hippolyte knew this from the start, but he had to go through with it. ‘ Now, now,’ said Bender, ‘ that’s aU right. It s aU Hippolyte shook the bits of green hair from his shoulders and looked at himself in the mirror. He was agreeably surprised. A face distorted with suffering looked out at him. It was the face of a fairly young actor who had no engagement. . ‘ Now then, advance, quick march 1 said Bender, ‘ the trumpet calls. I’ll go to the House Department, or rather to the place where it used to be. Meanwhile, you go and see the old women. . ‘ I can’t! ’ said Hippolyte. ‘ It’U be too painful. It’ll be too much for me to go into my old home
Ah ! yes. I forgot. It would be upsetting. baron returns from abroad. All right, you can the House Department and I shall work here. rallying point: the porter’s room. Now then, march ! ’
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