# Diamonds To Sit On/Chapter 37

Contents
CHAPTER XXXVII
THE ENGINEER BRUNS
THE engineer Bruns was sitting on the veranda a of his country house. The leaves of a large palm-tree cast sharp and narrow shadows on to is closely shaved head, on to his white shirt, and on to the Gambs chair belonging to the suite that had formerly belonged to General Popov's widow. He was sitting on the Gambs chair, waiting for dinner.
'Darling!' he called in a baby voice. The house was silent.
Tropical flora surrounded the engineer. There were prickly cactus leaves, banana and sago palms, and roses were growing over the veranda, but all this beauty was wasted on the engineer: he wanted his dinner. Feeling irritated, he called again to his wife, but there was no answer. He began to think of a large, well roasted goose with a crackling fat skin, and unable to contain himself any longer he shouted: 'Darling! Isn't that goose ready yet?'
'Andrey Mikhaylovich!' a woman's voice shouted back, 'don't bother me!'
The engineer curled his lips and rapped back:
'Aren't you sorry for me?'
'Be quiet, you glutton!'
But the engineer did not want to be quiet, and he was just thinking of a suitable retort when an unexpected rustle at his side made him turn his head. A man in a ragged blue shirt and shabby trousers came from behind a palm-tree. He was carrying a coat over his arm.
'Can you tell me where I can find the engineer Bruns?' asked the stranger in a pleasant voice.
'I am the engineer Bruns. What can I do for you?' ​246
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The stranger fell on to his knees in silence. It was Father Theodore. ‘ What on earth are you doing that for ? ’ asked the engineer jumping up. ‘ Get up ! ’ I shan t get up, said Father Theodore, staring up at the engineer with crystal clear eyes. ‘ Get up ! ’ repeated the engineer. ‘ I shan’t get up.’ And Father Theodore, careful not to hurt himself, began to knock his head against the ground.
slightly alarmed, come and see what’s happening.’ And then turning to Father Theodore he continued : ‘ Do get up. I implore you.’ ‘ I shall not get up.’ Darling ran out on to the veranda. She knew by the sound of her husband’s voice that he was serious. The moment Father Theodore saw the lady, he crawled towards her on his knees, bowed to her, and said imploringly ; ‘ All my hopes, my dear lady’ are centred in you.’ The engineer flushed with rage. He seized the stranger under the arms and tried to lift him up, but Father Theodore was cunning. He had his knees tucked firmly under his body and was an absolutely dead weight. Bruns was so indignant that he dragged his strange guest into a corner and forced him on to a chair. It was a Gambs chair, not one of Hippolyte’s, but one from the Popov drawing-room. ‘ I daren’t,’ muttered Father Theodore. ‘ I simply dare not sit in the presence of such exalted personages,’ and he ma,de another attempt to fall on his knees. With a quick move the engineer caught him by the shoulders and stopped him in time. Darling,’ he said to his wife, ' do speak to the citizen. There must be some misunderstanding ’ Speaking in a matter-of-fact voice, Darhng turned ​THE ENGINEER BRUNS
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to Father Theodore : ‘ I must ask you not to fall on your knees in my home.’ ‘ Oh ! my dear lady, my dear lady,’ said Father Theodore plaintively. ‘ Look here ! ’ said Darling indignantly. ‘ I’m not your dear lady. What is it you want ? ’ Father Theodore mumbled something unintelligible, and it was only after many questions that they managed to extract from him that he was asking them, as a special favour, to sell him the suite of twelve chairs on one of which he was sitting at that moment. The engineer was so surprised that he let go of Father Theodore’s shoulders. Father Theodore imme­ diately flopped down on his knees again and began to crawl round the engineer’s feet like a tortoise. ‘ Why should I ? ’ said the engineer as he tried to escape Father Theodore’s clutching hand. ‘ Why should I sell my chairs to you ? You can go down on your knees as often as you like, but that won’t help matters.’ ‘ But they are my chairs,’ Father Theodore groaned. ‘ What d’you mean, they are your chairs ? How do you make that out ? ’ The engineer turned to his wife : ‘ This man is mad, darling ! ’ ‘ They are mine ! ’ said Father Theodore quietly. ‘ Do you mean to tell me that I’ve stolen them from you ? ’ said the engineer angrily. ‘ Well, have I stolen them from you ? Do you hear what the fellow says ? It’s positively disgusting ! ’ ‘ No ! No ! ’ whispered Father Theodore. ' If I’ve stolen them from you, why don’t you go to court about it instead of creating a disturbance here ? What cheek ! A man can’t even have his dinner in peace ! ’ But Father Theodore did not want to take the matter to court : he certainly did not. He knew that the engineer Bruns would not dream of doing such a thing as steal his chairs. Oh, no ! Such a thought had never entered his head. But those chairs had ​248
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betonged to Father Theodore before the revolution, and they had been a most precious possession of his wife, who at this moment was dying in Voronezh. He was merely fulfilling her wish in discovering where the chairs were. He was not asking engineer Bruns for charity. Dear me, no! He was sufficiently well provided for. He had a candle factory in Samara, but he wanted to sweeten the last moments of his dear wife s life by buying the chairs. He was no miser. He was ready to pay twenty roubles for the set of twelve chairs. ‘ What ? ’ shouted the engineer, going purple in the race. twenty roubles for that magnificent drawing­ room suite ? Do you hear what he says ? Whv he’s mad ! ’ ’ ' I am not mad,’ said Father Theodore. ' I’m onlv trying to fulfil my wife’s last wish.’
his knees again. ' Please state your price,’ groaned Father Theodore as he knocked his head against a palm-tree. ‘ Now then, don’t damage that tree,’ said the engi­ neer, and then turned to his wife : ' Of course the man IS mad. He s gone mad as the result of his wife’s illness. What do you think ? Shall we sell the chairs to him - At least we’ll get rid of him ; he’s a perfect menace 1 « what shall we sit on ? ’ asked the wife. Oh, we can buy others.’ ' For twenty roubles ? ’ ‘No, not for twenty. I don’t know that I’d sell i5’^ two hundred. But I might accept two hundred and fifty.’ There was no response from Father Theodore. He was banging his head against the tree. fip walked up to Father Theodore and theissued engineer, and­ he an ulti
matum .
First of aU, come away from that palm-tree. ​THE ENGINEER BRUNS
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Three paces. Secondly, you must stand up at once. Thirdly, I’ll sell you the furniture for two hundred and fifty roubles ; not less than two hundred and fifty.’ ‘ It is not out of avarice,’ wailed Father Theodore. ' I’ve simply come to fulfil my wife’s dying wish. She is very dangerously ill.’ ‘ Well, my wife is also ill. Isn’t it true, darling, that your lungs are weak ? But that’s no reason why you should sell your shirt, say, for thirty copecks.’ ‘ Please, take it for nothing ! ’ exclaimed Father Theodore. The engineer waved the suggestion aside and said coldly : ‘ Stop joking ! I refuse to discuss the question any further. I have valued the chairs at two hundred and fifty roubles, and I won’t be beaten down.’ ‘ Fifty roubles,’ offered Father Theodore. ‘ Call Bagration,’ said the engineer to his wife. ‘ He’ll soon escort the citizen to the gate.’ ' I’m not a miser----- ’ ‘ Bagration ! ’ Father Theodore bolted in terror, and the engineer went into the house to enjoy his goose. It was his favourite dish and he began to calm down. He had just wrapped a piece of tissue paper round the end of a drumstick, and was about to gnaw it, when Father Theodore’s pathetic face appeared at the window. ‘ I’m not a miser,’ he said in a gentle voice. ‘ Fiftyfive roubles ! ’ With his back turned to the window the engineer growled and Father Theodore disappeared. All day long Father Theodore’s figure kept appearing in various parts of the garden. It would run out of the copse; a few minutes later it would come out of the orange grove, cross the back-yard, and rapidly disappear again into the garden. The engineer coniplained to his wife about the madman and about his own headache. Towards evening Father Theodore’s ​250
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voice was heard shouting : ' One hundred and thirty­ eight. A minute later his voice was heard coming rom somewhere near to the house : ‘ One hundred and forty-one. I’m not a miser, Mr. Bruns, but ’ At last the engineer could stand it no longer. He went on to the veranda, looked out into the darkness, and shcmted m a loud, angry voice ; ‘ The devil take you! Two hundred roubles, and take yourself off! ’ There was a rustle among the bamboo trees, a quiet groan, and the sound of retreating footsteps. Silence, lhe stars came out and glow-worms seemed to be pursuing Father Theodore. He had taken the last motor-bus along the coast to Batum, and that evening he dispatched the following telegram to his wife Katerina Alexandrovna : ‘Goods found. Wire two hundred and thirty roubles. Sell what you can.—Theodore.’ For two days he wandered round the engineer’s house with a radiant face, bowing to them from a distance, and from time to time calling out: ‘I’m not a miser. I’m only doing what my poor wife has asked me to do. On the third day he received the money, together with a desperate telegram ; Sold everything. Left without a single copeck. Kisses. Waiting. Evstigneyev still dines here.— Katya.
Father Theodore counted the money, crossed himself devoutly hired a lorry, and set out for the Bruns’ + wait and then went in to get the chairs. money,’ he said ; ‘ but I do wish you d reduce the price a little.’ ‘ longer,’ said the engineer. I ve brought you the money,’ said Father Theodore rapidly. ‘ You said two hundred roubles.’ ​THE ENGINEER BRUNS
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‘ Darling, take the money and give him the chairs. And be as quick as you can. My head is simply splitting ! ’ Father Theodore had reached the goal of his whole life. The Samara candle factory was within his grasp, and the diamonds would pour into his pockets like sunflower seeds. One after the other, the twelve chairs were taken out of the house and piled on to the lorry. They were very like the Vorobianinov chairs, but with this difference, they were not upholstered in flowered chintz, but in blue repp with a pink stripe. Father Theodore was possessed with impatience. He had tucked a small axe into his belt under his coat, and from his seat next to the driver, he turned round every few minutes to take a look at the chairs. They were going towards Batum. There was a strong wind, and Father Theodore noticed that the sea was rough. As they approached Makhindzhauri, Father Theodore shouted to the driver and told him to stop. Trembling with excitement he began to take the chairs from the lorry and put them down on a deserted part of the beach. The driver was not at all interested. He took his fare, whipped up his horses, and drove away. Father Theodore looked round to make sure that no one was watching him. Then he dragged the chairs on to a narrow strip of dry sand and pulled out the axe. For a moment he was in doubt. He did not know on which chair to begin, and then like a lunatic he rushed up to the third chair and struck it a heavy blow. The chair fell over. ‘ Aha ! ’ shouted Father Theodore. ‘ I’ll show you ! ’ And he fell upon the chair as though it were alive. In a trice the chair was reduced to splinters, but Father Theodore could not hear the blows of the axe against the repp or woodwork, for the roar of the sea and wind muffled them. ‘ Aha ! ’ he kept saying as he hacked at the chairs. ​252
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One by one the chairs were demolished and Father Theodore’s feverish excitement grew to an alarming degree. The storm was growing and huge waves were beginning to lap Father Theodore’s feet. The sea was raging and foaming. The Black Sea was in a turmoil, and Father Theodore stood bathed in sweat, hacking the last chair to pieces. A minute later all was over. Father Theodore was seized with despair. He looked with horror at the mound of legs, backs, and springs. He stepped back, but his feet were in water. He ran forward and on to the road. A large wave dashed over the place on which he had been standing, and as it rolled back it took with it the wreckage of General Popov’s suite of furniture. But Father Theodore did not realize this ; his back was bent, and as he stumbled down the road, he kept beating his breast with his fist. He found himself in Batum without knowing how he had got there. He was in a terrible position : five thousand kilometres away from home, twenty roubles in his pocket, and absolutely no way of getting back to his native town. He wandered through the Turkish bazaar, where merchants tried to persuade him to buy face powder, silk stockings, and contraband tobacco, until at last he dragged himself to the railway station and was soon lost in the crowd of porters and passengers.