# Diamonds To Sit On/Chapter 29

Contents
CHAPTER XXIX
THE COLUMBUS THEATRE
IT was so hot in Ivanopulo's room that Hippolyte's chairs were beginning to crack like logs in a fire.
The great schemer was resting, and the pale blue waistcoat was serving as a pillow under his head. Hippolyte was standing by the window looking out into the street.
'I say,' said Bender suddenly,' what did they call you when you were a boy?'
'What do you want to know for?' asked Hippolyte.
'Oh, just so. I don't know what to call you. I'm tired of calling you Hippolyte, and Hippolyte Matveyevich is far too long. What did they call you? Did they call you Hippo?'
'No! They called me Pussy,' said Hippolyte, smiling.
'Most appropriate!' said Bender. 'Well, Pussy, just have a look at my back. I've got a pain in my ribs.'
Bender pulled his shirt over his head and Hippolyte saw a strong, brawny back. It was a very well-shaped back, but rather dirty.
'It's slightly red,' said Hippolyte, and then he realized that there were purple and rainbow-coloured patches in the middle of the back, bruises of strange shape and outline.
'Why, there's a figure eight on your back!' exclaimed Hippolyte. 'I've never seen a bruise like that before.'
'Can't you see any other number?' asked Bender
'There's something that looks like the letter P.'
'I don't need to ask anything else. I understand. It's ​192
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that cursed pen I You see, Pussy, how I suffer because of your damned chairs. What risks I have to take ! That huge pen with a Number 86 nib in the editor’s office fell on my back just as I was plunging my hand into the stuffing of the editor’s chair, and that’s how those figures got on to my back. And you ? You can’t do anything sensibly ! Who was it made a hash of that Iznurenkov business so that I had to go for the chair and put matters right ? And the auction ? And then the time you went courting a girl ? A nice time to choose, not to speak of the fact that it is dangerous at your time of fife. Really, Pussy, you must take greater care of your health. Now, I’m quite different: I got the widow’s chair; I got the two Shchukin chairs, and in the end I had to get hold of Iznurenkov’s chair. I went to the newspaper office and I got the chair from Lyapis. And you ? You have only brought one chair to a triumphant end, and that with the aid of our holy enemy, the priest.’ As he walked up and down the room barefoot. Bender was trying to knock some sense into the sub­ missive Pussy. The chair that had disappeared into the goods yard of the October railway station was still a black spot on their horizon. There were four chairs in the Columbus Theatre, but they seemed to be an easy haul. The theatre company was going on tour into the Volga district and were to travel on the steamer Scriabin. On this particular evening they were going to present Gogol’s Marriage, which was to be their last performance before leaving the town, and would be the last night of the season. Bender and Hippolyte had to decide whether they should stay in Moscow and follow up the chair that had disappeared into the railway station, or join up with the theatrical company and go on tour with them. Bender wanted to join the actors. ‘ Or shall we separate ? ’ said Bender. ‘ I’ll follow ​THE COLUMBUS THEATRE
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the actors and you can look for the chair that went into the goods yard.’ But Pussy looked so disconsolate that Bender did not press the suggestion. ‘ When there are two rabbits to choose from, always take the fatter one of the two,’ said Bender. ‘ Let us keep together. The Volga seems to be more promising, but our expenses will be heavy and we shall need money. I have sixty roubles left. How much have you ? Of course, I forgot, your courting was an expensive affair. I suggest that we go to-night to see Gogol’s Marriage, and don’t forget to wear evening dress. If the chairs are still there and have not been sold, then we shall leave to-morrow. Remember, Pussy, this is the beginning of the last act of the comedy entitled “ My Mother-in-Law’s Treasure ”. La comedia e finita! Hold your breath. Pussy, my old friend ! Hold your breath. Oh, the smell of grease paint ! The wings ! What memories ! What intrigues ! What a Hamlet I made ! Let the good work go on ! ’
Out of economy they walked to the theatre. It was still quite light, but the lamps were already lit in the streets. It was the end of spring. Young women were walking up and down in Theatre Square ; cyclists were racing along, and an ice-cream man was pushing his barrow, glancing furtively every now and then at the militiamen. The two friends pushed their way through the crowd. There were temptations on aU sides — res­ taurants and public-houses and a huge cinema called ' The Great Dumb One ’—but they had to hurry, and at last they walked into the noisy vestibule of the Columbus Theatre. Hippolyte went up to the box office and began to read the prices of the seats. ' It’s very expensive,’ he said. ' Three roubles for the sixteenth row.’ 13 ​194
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remarked Bender. ‘ What do you think you’re doing ? ’ ‘ What else am I to do ? They won’t let us in with­ out a ticket.’ ‘ Pussy, you’re a fool! Don’t you know that in every well-arranged theatre there are two windows— one for lovers and people with money and one for the rest of us who want a word with the manager ? ’ There were a few people standing before the first window, but there was quite a long queue in front of the other. Young men were in the queue holding notes from members of the caste, producers, newspaper offices, theatrical costiuniers, the head of the district militia, and from people closely associated with the theatre, such as film critics and various educational authorities. Bender forced his way into the queue by pushing people to one side and shouting : ‘ I only want to make an inquiry. You see, I haven’t even taken my goloshes off yet.’ He managed to get up to the window and pushed his head in through the opening. The manager was working like a steam engine, and beads of perspira­ tion were running down his fat face. The telephone was persistently ringing. ' Be quick ! ’ he shouted to Bender. ‘ Where’s your slip ? ’ ' Two seats,’ said Bender quietly. ' Stalls.’ ‘ For whom ? ’ ‘ For me.’ ‘ But who are you ? Why should I give you seats ? ’ ‘ You know me, don’t you ? ’ ‘No, I don’t seem to recognize you,’ said the manager. But the stranger’s eyes were so honest and clear that the manager wrote out a slip for two seats in the seventh row of the stalls. All sorts of people come here,’ said the manager to himself, and goodness knows where they come from. ​THE COLUMBUS THEATRE
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Perhaps he is from the Narkompros. I seem to remem­ ber having seen him there.’ As he went on handing out slips to the rest of the queue the manager tried to remember where he had seen those clear eyes before, but it was only when all the passes had been handed out and the lights in the theatre had been lowered that the manager suddenly remembered where he had seen that confident look before. It was in 1922 in the Taganka prison, when he was sitting in there himself for some very trifling offence. There was laughter in the seventh row of the stalls. Bender was enjoying the overture, which was being executed by the orchestra on bottles, saxophones and large regimental drums. There was a shrill whistle from a flute and the curtains blowing a slight draught on to the audience were drawn aside. Hippolyte, who had been accustomed to a classical interpretation of Gogol’s Marriage, was surprised that the central character, Podkolesin, was nowhere to be seen. He looked for him everywhere, but all he could see were triangles dangling from the ceiling and painted in all colours of the rainbow. There were no doors or windows. Ladies in large black hats cut out of cardboard were dancing under the triangles. Suddenly Podkolesin appeared, riding on his servant’s back. He was dressed in the uniform of a court chamberlain, and after chasing away the ladies he yelled : ‘ Stepan ! ’ and at the same moment he leaped off his servant’s back to one side of the stage, where he stood stiU in a difficult pose. ‘ Stepan ! ’ he repeated as he made another leap into the air. But as Stepan, who was standing next to him dressed in a leopard-skin, did not trouble to answer him, Podkolesin asked him in a tragic voice : ‘ Why are you as dumb as the League of Nations ? ’ ‘ Because Austen Chamberlain has frightened me so ! ’ answered Stepan as he scratched his leopard-skin. ​196
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It looked as though Stepan were going to push Podkolesin into the background, while he became the central character of the play. Is that tailor getting the suit ready for me ? ’ Podkolesin asked, and gave another leap into the air. The orchestra thundered a few bars of music and Stepan struck a curious pose and answered: ‘ Yes, he is getting it ready.’ The orchestra then played a potpourri while Stepan stood on his hands until the blood rushed to his head. Did the tailor ask you why your master had ordered such good cloth ? ’ said Podkolesin. Stepan jumped over the footlights and down into the orchestra. He put his arms round the conductor and replied : ' No. He’s not an English M.P. ! ’ And did he ask you if your master intended getting married ? ’ He did not. He asked whether you would pay up.’ At this the hghts went out and the audience began to stamp their feet. They went on stamping their feet until Podkolesin’s voice was to be heard from the stage ; ' Don’t worry, friends,’ he shouted, ‘ the lights have been put out on purpose. It is aU part of the play. It is necessary.’ The au^ence understood what he meant and became quiet again, but the lights did not go up again until the end of the act. The drums thundered away in pitch darkness, and a number of soldiers dressed like hotel ^rters walked across the stage carrying lanterns. Then Kochkorey arrived on a camel. This was deduced from the following dialogue : ‘ Good heavens! What a fright you gave me! hancy arriving like that on a camel! ’ T in spite of the darkness ? wanted to give you a surprise/ Then came Uie interval during which Hippolyte and Bender read the programme. ​THE COLUMBUS THEATRE
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THE MARRIAGE
Text by N. V. Gogol Lyrics by M. Cherchezlafemmev. Music: Ivanov. Producer: Nikolas Sestrin. Lighting: P. Plashchuk. Noises: Malkin, Galkin, Palkin, Chalkin, and Zalkind. Wigs: Thomas Kochur. Furniture from the Workshops of Fortinbras. Instructress in Acrobatics: Georgette TirasPOLSKIKH.
The Hydraulic Press is under the direction of
Mechnikov. The Programme has been set up and printed in the F.Z.U.K.R.U.L.T. School. ‘ How do you like it ? ’ asked Hippolyte timidly. ‘ How do you ? ’ said Bender. ' I think it’s very interesting, but Stepan is rather odd, don’t you think ? ’ ‘ I don’t like it at all,’ said Bender, ‘ especially as it says the furniture comes from some Fortinbras workshop. How do we know they haven’t been break­ ing up our chairs ? ’ His fears turned out to be unnecessary, for at the beginning of the second act all four chairs were brought on to the stage by niggers wearing top-hats. The courting scene aroused the greatest interest in the audience. Agafiya Tikhonovna began to shde down a wire which was stretched from the top of the back of the theatre over the heads of the audience and orchestra and down on to the stage. At that moment Ivanov’s rowdy orchestra struck up such a hideous noise that it was enough to make Agafiya Tikhonovna fall off the ​198
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wire, but she did not fall. Dressed in a flesh-coloured bathing suit and wearing a man’s bowler, she was balancing herself beautifully with the aid of a green umbrella on which was written : ‘ I want Podkolesin ! ’ She jumped lightly from the wire straight on to a chair, and simultaneously with this the niggers, Pod­ kolesin, Kochkorev, who were dressed in ballet costume, together with the matchmaker all turned head over heels backwards. Then they all rested for five minutes, and again the lights went out, and after a lot of horse­ play the curtain fell.
‘ The chairs are intact, but we have no time to waste. If Agafiya Tikhonovna is going to jump on to them hke that every day they won’t last out very much longer.’ And then he added ; ‘ Well, Pussy, it’s time to go to bye-bye, for we’ll have to stand in the queue at the railway station to-morrow. The company are leaving by the seven o’clock express for NizhniNovgorod and we’ll have to reserve two seats. It’ll be pretty uncomfortable, but we can manage. After all, it’s only one night in the train.’ The next day the whole of the Columbus Theatre company were sitting in the refreshment room of the Kursk railway station. Agafiya Tikhonovna was sitting at a separate table, and Malkin, Galkin, Palkin, Chaikin, and Zalkind were bustling round her. The producer was walking up and down the platform with his wife, while Bender and Hippolyte, who had come to the station two hours before the train was due to leave, were walking round the station square for the fifth time, so that Hippolyte was feeling quite dizzy. The chase for the chairs was in its final stages. The station was buzzing with people. ‘ We must be going,’ said Bender. Hippolyte turned round and was about to follow ​THE COLUMBUS THEATRE
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Bender when he suddenly came face to face with the undertaker Bezenchuk. ‘ Bezenchuk ! ’ he said in a surprised voice, ‘ wher­ ever have you sprung from ?’ Bezenchuk took off his hat and was delighted. ‘ Mr. Vorobianinov ! ’ he exclaimed. ‘ What a pleasant meeting ! ’ ‘ Well, and how’s business ? ’ ‘ Business is bad,’ answered the coffin-maker. ‘ Really ? How’s that ? ’ ‘ Looking for chents, but the clients don’t come.’ ‘ Why ? Are the Nymphs getting them all ? ’ ‘ Of course not, but there’s absolutely nothing happening. Apart from your dear mother-in-law there’s only been “ Pierre and Constantine ” to turn up his toes.’ ‘ You don’t mean to say he’s dead ? ’ ‘ Yes, Mr. Vorobianinov, he’s turned up his toes aU right. He was just shaving the chemist, Leopold, when suddenly he fell over and died. Folk say there was some internal combustion, but I think the poor fellow must have breathed the fumes coming from the chemist and was gassed.’ ‘ That’s bad,’ said Hippolyte. ‘ Did you bury him ? ’ ‘ Of course I buried him. Who else ? You know yourself that the Nymphs don’t provide fringes.’ ‘ So you won, eh ? ’ ‘ Yes, I won ; but I also got a beating and they would have killed me if it had not been for the mihtia. I was in bed for two days.’ ‘ What are you doing here ? ’ ‘ I’ve brought some goods.’ ‘ What sort of goods ? ’ ‘ My own goods.’ Hippolyte then noticed that there was a number of coffins on the ground. ‘ Eight of them,’ said Bezenchuk proudly. ​200
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' But who do you think wants your coffins here ? There are quite enough undertakers in Moscow without you.’ ‘ But what about the epidemic ? ’ ' Epidemic ? What epidemic ? ’ ' I was told that there was an epidemic in Moscow and that there weren’t enough coffins to go round. So I thought I might mend matters.’ Bender, who had been hstening attentively to this conversation, now interrupted : ‘ Listen, old man,’ he said. ‘ You’ve made a mistake. There isn’t an epidemic here^—it’s in Paris.’ ‘ In Paris ? ’ ' Yes. You must go to Paris. You’U find masses of work to be done there. There are hundreds of undertakers in Moscow without you adding to the number.’ Bezenchuk looked round, saw that people were quite hale and hearty and that some of them were even laughing. Long after the train had carried away Hippolyte, Bender, the Columbus Theatre company and various other passengers, Bezenchuk was still standing on the platform gazing hopelessly down at his coffins.