# Diamonds To Sit On/Chapter 11

Contents
CHAPTER XI
THE ALPHABET OF 'THE MIRROR OF LIFE'
The next day the two conspirators were quite convinced that it would not be wise for them to stay any longer in the porter's room. The porter had begun to grumble and was quite bewildered at having seen his master first with a black moustache, then a green one, and finally without any moustache at all. There was no bed to sleep in, and there was such a stench in the room from the porter's new felt boots that Hippolyte and Bender decided to leave.
'It is high time for this evening of reminiscences to come to an end,' said Bender. 'We must move over to an hotel.'
Hippolyte jumped.
'That's impossible!'
'Why?'
'We shall have to sign our names in the hotel register.'
'Isn't your passport in order?' 'My passport is in order, but my name is well known in the town, and there'll be talk.'
"Do you like the name of Michaelson?' asked the resourceful Bender.
'Which Michaelson? The senator?'
'No, a member of the union,'
'I don't understand you.'
'Oh! that's only because you've not had sufficient experience. Don't be such a fool!'
Bender took his professional union book out of his breast pocket and handed it to Hippolyte.
'Konrad Karlovich Michaelson, aged forty-eight, non-party, bachelor, member of the union since 1921, a highly dependable person, my good friend, and I ​66
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believe a friend of children. . . . But you don’t need to be friendly with children. The pohce will not expect that of you.’ Hippolyte blushed scarlet. ‘ But how can I ? ’ ‘ In comparison with our scheme this action, even though it is dealt with by the criminal code, is mere child’s play.’ But Hippolyte was nervous. ‘ You’re an idealist, Konrad Karlovich. You’re reaUy lucky, for how would you like to be called Papa Khristozopulo or Zlovunov ? ’ Hippolyte rapidly agreed and they both went out without saying anything to the porter. They stopped at the ‘ Sorbonne ’ furnished rooms, where Bender created a commotion by insisting on seeing all the rooms. He examined the seven-rouble rooms, but he did not like the furniture ; he liked the five-rouble rooms a little better, but the carpet was shabby and the rooms were stuffy; the three-rouble rooms were all right with the exception of the pictures. ‘ I can’t live in a room with landscapes,’ said Bender. At last they settled in a room costing one rouble and eighty copecks. There were no landscapes or carpets in it and the furniture was strictly modest : two beds and a night-table. ' In the style of the Stone Age,’ said Bender approv­ ingly. ‘ Are there any prehistoric animals in your mattresses ? ’ ‘ That depends on the season,’ said the servant. ‘ If there is some provincial conference being held, then of course there aren’t any, for so many visitors are expected that everything is thoroughly spring-cleaned before they arrive. But at other times there may be a few. They run in from the “ Livadia ” next door.’ That same day the two conspirators went to the Administrative Department, where they received the ​ALPHABET OF ‘ THE MIRROR OF LIFE ’ 67 necessary information. It turned out that the House Department had been closed down in 1921 and that all the archives had been added to the archives of the present Administrative Department. Bender set to work alone, and by the evening he knew the home address of the former superintendent of the archives, Bartholomew Korobeynikov, who had been a Government official in pre-revolutionary Russia. Bender put his waistcoat on, shook the dust from his coat, demanded one rouble and twenty copecks from Hippolyte, and set off to see the superintendent of the archives. Hippolyte was left alone in the ‘ Sorbonne ’. He walked up and down the room in great agitation. The fate of their whole enterprise was being decided that evening. If they succeeded in getting hold of the copies of the orders by which the confiscated furniture from his house had been distri­ buted, then the matter could be considered as half accomplished. Of course there would be difficulties ahead, perhaps incredible difficulties, but the thread would be in their hands. ‘ If only we could get hold of those orders,’ he thought as he tossed about on his bed. He was not at all clear what they would do after getting hold of the orders, but he was confident that everything would go quite smoothly. Meanwhile Bender had to go right across the town, for Korobeynikov lived on the outskirts of Stargorod in a district mainly inhabited by railway employees. At last he stopped outside a door, rang the bell, and after a number of lengthy questions of why and where­ fore, he was asked to come in. He found himself in a dark entrance hall crowded with cupboards. Some one was breathing heavily on to him in the darkness. ‘ Does Citizen Korobeynikov live here ? ’ he asked. The man who was breathing so heavily took Bender by the hand and led him into a brightly-lit dining-room. Bender saw before him a little old man who was very ​68
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clean and who had an unusually flexible spine. There was no doubt whatever that this was Citizen Koro­ beynikov himself. Without waiting to be asked. Bender took a chair and sat down. The old man looked at Bender without saying a word, and Bender was the first to begin an amiable conversation. ‘ I have come to see you on a matter of business. You work, I understand, in the archives of the Adminis­ trative Department ? ’ The old man nodded. ‘ And before that you worked in the House Depart­ ment ? ’ ' I’ve worked everywhere,’ said the old man cheer­ fully. ‘ Perhaps in a Government office before the revolu­ tion ? ’ And Bender smiled amiably. The old man’s expression showed that he considered his pre-revolutionary services belonged to the past and were not to be spoken of now. ‘ But allow me to ask why you have come to see me ?' said the old man, looking at his guest with interest. ‘ Certainly. Certainly,’ answered the guest. ‘ I am Vorobianinov’s son.’ ‘ Now which one might that be ? The marshal of nobility ? ’ ‘ Exactly ! ’ ‘ Where is he ? Is he stiU alive ? ’ ‘No, he is dead,’ said Bender in a sorrowful voice. ‘ He has departed this hfe.’ ‘ Ah ! well,’ said the old man, without showing any particular signs of grief, ‘ it is sad news. But I didn’t know he had any children ? ’ ‘ He hadn’t,’ Bender confirmed amiably. ‘ But then----- ’ Oh 1 that’s nothing. I’m the son of a morganatic marriage.’ Perhaps you are Elena Bauer’s son ? ’ ‘ Yes, that’s it 1 ’ ​ALPHABET OF ‘ THE MIRROR OF LIFE ’ 69
‘ And is she in good health ? ’ ‘ Oh ! Mamma passed away some time ago.’ ‘ Oh ! really ? How very sad ! ’ The old man looked at Bender and tears came into his eyes in spite of the fact that he had seen Elena Bauer buying meat in the market earlier on in the day. ' They aU die,’ he said mournfully. ‘ Now my grandmother is taking a long time to die. But perhaps you’ll allow me to know what your business is, dear----Excuse me, I don’t know your name.’ ‘ Vladimir,’ said Bender quickly. ‘ Vladimir Hippolytovich ? Well, I’m ready for what you have to say to me, Vladimir Hippolytovich.’ The old man sat down at the table, which was covered with a patterned American oilcloth, and then he looked Bender straight in the eyes. Bender picked his words carefully and expressed his sorrow for the loss of his parents. He apologized for disturbing Korobeynikov at such a late hour, and hoped that he would be forgiven when he told him what feelings had prompted him to visit him. ' I should hke to find some of papa’s furniture,’ said Bender with the utmost filial devotion, ‘ so as to preserve his memory. Do you happen to know who received the confiscated furniture from papa’s house ? ’ ‘ That’s a complicated matter,’ answered the old man after thinking for a minute. ‘ It’s only possible for a man of means to find that out'—•— But, excuse me, what is your occupation ? ’ ‘ I am a freelance. I own a slaughter-house and a frozen-meat store run on communist hues down in Samara.’ The old man looked at young Vorobianinov sus­ piciously, but he did not contradict him. ‘ This is a smart young man,’ he thought. But Bender, who had been looking closely at Korobeynikov, decided that the old man was a beast. ‘ Well ? ’ asked Bender. ​•JO
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‘ Well, then,’ said the old man, ‘ it is difficult, but possible.’ ‘ Will it entail much expense ? ’ asked the frozenmeat expert. ‘ A small sum'—■—’ ‘ Then let’s talk business,’ said Bender. ‘ Your information shall be paid for.’ ‘ Say seventy roubles.’ ‘ Why so much ? Is wheat so expensive ? ’ The old man laughed : ‘ You’re joking.’ ‘ Perhaps I am. I’ll pay, and you’ll give me the orders. When may I come for them ? ’ ‘ Have you got the money with you ? ’ Bender tapped his breast pocket confidently. ' Then you can have them now, if you like,’ said Korobeynikov. He lit a candle and led Bender into the room next door, where apart from a bed, on which he evidently slept, there was a writing-desk with piles of ledgers on it. There were some long, open shelves along one wall and the printed letters of the alphabet were glued to the edges of the shelves. Bundles of order forms tied up with string were lying on the shelves. ' Oho 1 ’ exclaimed Bender delightedly, ‘ the com­ plete archives in your own home ! ’ ' Absolutely complete,’ answered the superintendent modestly. ‘ You see, I have done this in case of emergency. The Administrative Department does not require them, whereas they may be useful to me one day in my old age. As you know, we live on the brink of a volcano. . . . Anything may happen. . . . People win then rush about trying to find their furniture. And where is their furniture ? That is where it is ! ’ ^d he pointed dramatically towards the shelves. And who has preserved their furniture ? Who has saved it ? Korobeynikov ! And then the people will thank the old man and help him in his old age. . . . I shall not ask for much. Ten roubles for each order. ​ALPHABET OF ‘THE MIRROR OF LIFE’ 71 and m be grateful to get even that. And that’s all I want in return for my services. And how can they find their furniture without me ? They can’t ! ’ Bender looked at the old man with admiration. ‘ A wonderful office,’ he said. ‘ Complete mechani­ zation. You really are a demon for work.’ The flattered archivist began to explain to his guest the details of his pet hobby. He opened the fat volumes of confiscation and distribution records and began to read one of them. ‘ Now here,’ he said, ‘ is the whole of Stargorod. All the furniture, when it was taken and from whom, and when and to whom it was given. This is the index book. I call it “ The Mirror of Life ”. Now about whose furniture would you hke to know ? The merchant Angelov ? Here you are ! Turn up the letter A. Letter A, Ak, Am, An, Angelov. Number ? Here it is : Number 82742. Now let us look at the confiscation records. Page 142. Where is Angelov ? Here he is. “ Taken from Angelov on the i8th December 1918 : one Becker piano. No. 07012 ; an upholstered piano-stool, two writing-desks, four ward­ robes (two of mahogany), one chest of drawers given to the barracks, three wardrobes sent to the children’s home called ‘ The Lark ’, and a fourth wardrobe for the personal use of the secretary of the Starprodkomgub.” And where did the piano go ? Ah ! yes, the piano went to the home for the aged, and it is there to this very day.’ ‘ I don’t seem to remember having seen a piano there,’ thought Bender. ‘ Or take the name of Murin,’ said the archivist. ‘ Letter M. Here you are. Everything is here. The whole town. The pianos, arm-chairs, divans, chandehers, even the dinner-services.’ ‘ Well,’ said Bender, ‘ I consider you ought to have a monument put up to you. But let’s get to work. What about the letter V ? ’ ​72
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‘ Letter V ? ’ said Korobeynikov. ' Certainly. Here it is. Vm, Vn, Vo. Here we are. No. 48238. Vorobianinov, Hippolyte Matveyevich. Your father, God rest his soul, for he was a good man. ..." One Becker piano. No. 5480009 ; Chinese vases, four Sevres vases, Aubusson carpets; two Gobelin tapestries, * A Shepherd ’ and ‘ A Shepherdess ' ; two Persian rugs, one Indian carpet, a stuffed bear holding a dish, a bedroom suite of twelve pieces, a dining-room suite of sixteen pieces, a drawing-room suite of fourteen pieces, walnut and the work of Gambs'——” ’ ‘ And to whom has it been distributed ? ’ asked Bender impatiently. ‘ We’ll come to that aU in good time. “ The stuffed bear to the police ; one Gobelin—‘ A Shepherd ’—to the Fund of Artistic Valuables ; the other Gobelin—* A Shepherdess ’—to the Workers’ Club ; the carpets to the Chamber of Commerce ; the bedroom suite to the Hunters’ Union ; the dining-room suite to the Central Stargorod Office ; the walnut drawing-room suite to various people and institutions ; the round table and one chair to the home for the aged ; the divan to the House Department ” (where, by the way, it stands in the hall to this day and the dirty pigs have made it all greasy) ; " one chair to Comrade Gritsatsuev, disabled solffier of the Imperialistic War ; ten chairs sent to Moscow to the Museum of Furniture, on the instructions of the circular letter received from the Commissariat of Public Instruction. Chinese vases to^----- ” ’ ‘Splendid!’ interrupted Bender. 'That's excel­ lent I I’d like to have a look at the confiscation orders.’ ‘ Now, now,’ said the old man. ‘ Wait a bit. Wait a bit. We U come to the confiscation orders in due time. Now, what letter was it ? Ah yes, letter V. Number 48238.’ The archivist went slowly up to the shelf, stood on ​ALPHABET OF ' THE MIRROR OF LIFE ’ 73 tiptoe, and brought down the necessary bundle of papers. ‘ Here we are ! All your dear papa’s furniture is here. Do you want to see aU the orders ? ’ ' No. What should I do with them ? Memories of childhood, you know. . . . The drawing-room furni­ ture. . . . How well I remember playing on that Persian rug in the drawing-room and looking up at that Gobelin, that “ Shepherdess Ah ! those were good days, happy days ! The golden age of childhood ! I think I shall limit myself to dear papa’s drawing-room suite.’ The archivist began to take the orders from the bundle. He took out five orders ; one for ten chairs, two for one chair, one for the round table, and one for the ‘ Shepherdess ’ Gobelin. ‘ Look at these ! ’ he said proudly. ‘ Every one of them in order. All the addresses neatly entered, together with the signature of each recipient. No one can deny such facts. Perhaps you would like to see the furniture belonging to Madam Popov, the general’s wife ? It’s very fine and is also Gambs’ work.’ But Bender, moved solely by filial love, pocketed the five orders, and refused to be interested in anybody else’s furniture. ‘ Perhaps you will give me a receipt for the orders ? ’ said the archivist. ' Certainly,’ said Bender readily. They went into the other room again. Korobey­ nikov wrote out a receipt in his best handwriting and handed it over to his guest. Bender took the paper with the utmost courtesy and put it into the same pocket as the orders. ‘ Well,’ he said, ‘ I think I have troubled you a great deal. I dare not burden you any longer with my presence. May I shake you by the hand, sir ? ’ The amazed archivist limply shook the outstretched hand. ​'Good-bye,' said Bender as he moved towards the door.
Korobeynikov did not know what to think. He looked at the table to see if his guest had left any money, but there was no money there. The archivist then said in a quiet voice: 'And the money?'
'What money?' said Bender as he opened the door.
'For the furniture! For the orders!'
'My dear friend,' said Bender, 'I swear by the honour of my late father I would willingly pay you for the orders, but very foolishly I forgot to get any money from the bank and I haven't any with me at present.'
The old man began to tremble and he stretched out his hand to keep his visitor from leaving.
'Be quiet, you old fool!' said Bender threateningly. 'I'll let you have it to-morrow, and when I say to-morrow I mean to-morrow. Good night!'
Bender went out and slammed the door.
Korobeynikov opened the door again and ran out into the street, but Bender had disappeared. The old man cursed loudly and went back into his room. He stood in the middle of the room and in a towering rage began to kick his writing-table. Never before had Bartholomew Korobeynikov been so basely deceived. He could cheat any one, but here he had been cheated with such marvellous simplicity that he had to confess he had much to learn before he died. In the past when people came to him in distress and asked for help they used to pledge their things with him, and he always charged an exorbitant commission. He had done this for years and had never been found out, and now he had been plucked like a chicken.
'Why was I such a fool? Fancy giving that walnut furniture away with my own hands! Why, the Gobelin alone is priceless!'
The bell had been ringing for some time now, and ​Korobeynikov scarcely had time to realize he had left the front door open when he heard a voice in the hall.
'May I come in?'
Korobeynikov went out into the hall, felt some one's coat, tugged at it, and pulled the person into his dining-room.
'Pray, excuse me,' said Father Theodore.
After a series of hints and suggestions which lasted about ten minutes, Korobeynikov understood that he was supposed to have some information about Vorobianinov's furniture and that Father Theodore was willing to pay for this information. Also, to Korobeynikov's amazement, it turned out that Father Theodore was the brother of the former marshal of nobility, that he was ardently longing to preserve his brother's memory and to find his brother's walnut suite. The warmest memories of his youth were associated with this furniture. Korobeynikov asked for a hundred roubles. The visitor valued his brother's memory at a lower figure and said he was only willing to pay thirty. In the end they agreed to fifty roubles.
'I must ask for the money to be paid in advance,' said the archivist. 'That is my customary practice.'
'Certainly. Certainly,' replied Father Theodore. 'Will it be all right if I pay you in gold?' He was in such a hurry to get the money out of his pocket that he tore the fining. He shook five yellow coins out of a little bundle, added two and a half roubles in silver to it, and pushed the pile of money over the table towards the archivist.
Korobeynikov counted the money twice, shovelled it into his hand, asked his visitor to wait a minute, and then went to fetch the orders. He did not waste any time in his private office. He went straight to 'The Mirror of Life', opened it at the letter P, found the necessary number, took out the packet referring to the furniture belonging to General Popov's wife, took out an order given to Comrade Bruns, Number ​34 Vinogradsky Street: twelve walnut chairs made by Gambs. Surprised at his own ingenuity, the old man smiled to himself and took the confiscation order to Father Theodore.
'All in one place?' asked Father Theodore surprised.
'Yes, they are all in the same place. You'll be delighted. It's a wonderful suite. But then why should I describe it to you? You know what it's like, don't you?'
Father Theodore shook the archivist's hand warmly for a long time, and after stumbling a number of times against the cupboards in the hall he ran out into the darkness.
Korobeynikov chuckled over the customer he had managed to fool so easily. He put the gold coins down on the table and stared sleepily at them.
'What's made them all go mad on the Vorobianinov furniture?' he thought.
He undressed, said his prayers absent-mindedly, got into his narrow bed, and fell asleep with a worried look on his face.