CHAPTER XIX
FROM PILLAR TO POST
AND where was Father Theodore all this time? We left him intending to go and see Citizen Bruns at Number 34 Vinogradny Street. Greed had taken possession of him. He had been overcome with a desire for wealth, and now he was travelling about Russia in search of the chairs and writing letters to his wife.
A Letter from Father Theodore to his Wife written on the Kharkov Railway Station.
'My Darling Katerina Alexandrovna,
'I feel very guilty towards you. I have deserted you, my poor Katerina, and left you alone at such a difficult time.
'I must tell you everything. You will understand everything, and I hope you will approve.
'Of course I have not joined the Living Church. May the Lord preserve me from it! Now read this letter carefully. You and I will soon begin a new life. Do you remember I once spoke to you about a candle factory? Well, we shall have one, and perhaps something else besides. Yes, we shall have a factory and you won't need to cook dinners for strangers any more. We shall go to Samara and keep a servant.
'Now I shall tell you what I am doing, but you must keep it a dead secret. Don't tell any one, not even Marie Ivanovna. I am looking for treasure. Do you remember the late Claudia Ivanovna Petukhov, Hippolyte's mother-in-law? Well, just before she died she revealed to me that she had hidden her diamonds in one of her drawing-room chairs (there were twelve chairs in all in their Stargorod home). 124
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‘ You mustn’t think, Katinka, that I am a thief, for she left these diamonds to me and instructed me to keep them away from Hippolyte, her old tormentor. And that is why, you poor dear, I had to leave you so suddenly. ‘ Don’t be angry with me. ' I arrived at Stargorod, and who do you think should turn up ? That lascivious old fool, Hippolyte Vorobianinov ; he must have discovered about the diamonds somehow or other. He must have dragged it out of the old woman before she died. An awful man I And he has got some dreadful criminal to travel about with him. I think he has hired a bandit. Both of them fell upon me and wanted to push me into the next world, but I’m not so easy to get rid of. I’m not going to be sat on by any one. ‘ At first I got on to the wrong track. I found only one chair in Vorobianinov’s house (it is a home for the aged now). I was just carrying it to my room in The Sorbonne ” when suddenly from round a corner a man fell upon me, and, roaring like a lion, he seized the chair. I looked at him closely and saw that it was Vorobianinov. He had shaved himself, and, just imagine it, his head was shaved as well. The swindler! Fancy a man disgracing himself like that at his time of hfe ! We broke the chair between us, but there was nothing in it. At the time I was very disappointed, but I realized later on that I had been on the wrong track. I was disgusted with Vorobianinov, and I told the old wretch what I thought of him. ° What a disgrace !” said I. “ A nice disgrace for your old age ! Such hooliganism, and in Russia Sir? thing,” I said, “ a marshal of nobihty attacking a servant of the Church ! ” And I reproached him for being a non-party man. “ You Tvln I said; " a wicked man and Clavdia Ivanovna s tormentor. A hunter after other people’s FROM PILLAR TO POST
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goods which never belonged to you and now belong to the Government.” ‘ He was quite ashamed of himself and soon slunk away. I went back to my rooms in “ The Sorbonne ” and began to think out my future plans. And I thought of something that would never even enter the head of such a shaved old fool. I decided to find the man who had distributed the confiscated furniture. And what do you think, Katinka, my studies in the Faculty of Law are after aU proving to be quite useful: I found the man. I found him the very next day. He was a very decent old man and he gave me all the documents. Of course I had to give him something for his trouble, so I am left without any money, but we’ll speak of that later. It turns out that the twelve chairs from Vorobianinov’s drawing room were handed over to an engineer called Bruns, who lives at Number 34 Vinogradny Street. All the twelve chairs were sent to one man, which I had never anticipated. I was afraid they would have been scattered. I was very pleased about this. Then I suddenly came across that wretch again. This time it was in “ The Sorbonne”. I gave him a piece of my mind, and I did not spare his friend, the bandit. I was very much afraid they would discover my secret so I stayed in my room until they left. ‘ I hear that Bruns left Stargorod in 1923, because he was appointed to a better position in Kharkov. I discovered from the porter that he had taken all his furniture with him and that he looks after it very carefully. I am told he is a very respectable man. ‘ I am now sitting on the Kharkov railway station, and this is why I am writing to you : (i) Because I love you very much and often think of you, and (2) to tell you that Bruns has left Kharkov. But don’t be sad, Bruns is now working in Rostov. I have only just enough money for the journey. I am leaving 126
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in an hour’s time by the goods train, and you, my darling, please go to your relation and ask him for the fifty roubles (he owes them to me and promised to pay me back) and send them poste restante. General Post Office, Rostov. ‘ What is going on at home ? Has anything ex citing been happening ? Did Kondratievna come to see you ? Tell Father Cyril that I shall soon be home again, and tell him that I have gone to see a dying aunt in Voronezh. Do be economical. Does Evstigneyev still come in for dinner ? Remember me to him and tell him I have gone to see my aunt. ' What sort of weather are you having ? It is just like June in Kharkov. It is a busy town, a great centre in the Ukranian Repubhc. After the provinces this feels hke being abroad. Please do this for me : (i) Send my summer cassock to be cleaned (better pay three roubles to have it cleaned than spend money on a new one), (2) take care of your health, and (3) when you write to Gulenka, mention casually that I have gone to visit an aunt in Voronezh. ‘ Give everybody my love. Tell them I shall be home soon. I kiss you tenderly and send you my blessing. ‘ Your husband
' Theodore’ Nota Bene: Where is Hippolyte Vorobianinov chasing about now I wonder ? ’
But Hippolyte was not doing what Father Theodore thought. ■ He had fallen in love and was beginning to lose his appetite. He left Bender and the student Ivanopulo eating their dinner in a cheap restaurant while he found his way back to the hostel and took up his position by the safe in the corridor. His heart was thumping wildly, and it was very cold in the corridor. FROM PILLAR TO POST
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Gramophones were screeching in the various pencil boxes. The numerous ‘ Primus ’ stoves were hissing. Hippolyte had fallen head over heels in love with Liza Kalachev. A number of people smelling of tobacco or cabbage soup groped their way past Hippolyte, but they could only be distinguished by the way they walked. Liza had not passed him. He was certain of that, because she neither smoked nor drank vodka, and she did not wear hobnailed boots. At last he heard light, uncertain steps. Some one was coming towards him down the corridor. ‘ Is that you, Elizaveta Petrovna ? ’ asked Hippolyte in an excited whisper. ‘ Can you tell me whether the Peppercorns live here ? I can’t see anything in this darkness.’ Hippolyte did not answer. The visitor was sur prised not to receive any reply and passed him. It was nearly nine o’clock by the time Liza joined him, and they went out into the street. ' Well, where are we going to ? ’ said Liza. Hippolyte looked at her face, and instead of immediately declaring his love he began a long and boring tirade about Moscow, which he had not visited for some time, and about Paris which was a far more beautiful city. ‘ I remember Moscow when it was quite different from what it is now. You know we never spared money in those days. It reminds me of a song, “You only live once ’’.’ They walked through the streets and Liza took his arm. She confided all her worries to him ; about the quarrel with her husband, the difficult life they led in the hostel, and about the monotonous vegetarian food. As he listened to her talk he began to dream of a wonderful supper. At last, he came to the conclusion that such a young woman should be entertained in some way. 128
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‘ Would you like to go to the theatre ? ’ he suggested. ‘ I think we’d better go to a cinema,’ said Liza ; ‘ it’s cheaper.’ ‘ What’s money got to do with it ? Such an evening, and here you are thinking of money ! ’ The demon of extravagance had taken possession of him. Without bargaining with the driver, he bundled Liza into a cab and told the driver to take them to the best cinema. Hippolyte was generous and Liza had to follow him into the most expensive seats. But they did not wait for the end of the programme, for Liza, who was accustomed to sit in the cheap seats close to the screen, was not able to see anything from the expensive thirty-fourth row. Half the money that had been collected from the Stargorod conspirators was lying in Hippolyte’s pockets It was unusual for him to have so much money, he had forgotten long ago what it felt like to be rich. But now he was longing to impress Liza and dazzle her by his lavishness. He remembered with pride how he had conquered the heart of the beautiful Elena Bauer, for he used to spend his money freely in those days and had become famous in Stargorod for his ability to converse with women. Bender had told him that ‘ The Prague ’ was the best restaurant in Moscow, so he took Liza there and she was immensely impressed by the number of mirrors, electric lights, and flower-pots, for she had never been in an expensive restaurant before. The mirror hall made a curious impression on Hippolyte. He had lost the habit of going to good restaurants, and as he looked at his own reflection, he was ashamed of his square-toed boots, pre-war trousers and silver-grey waistcoat. They were both embarrassed, and stood still at the sight of so many people. Let us go over there to that comer table,’ FROM PILLAR TO POST
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suggested Hippolyte, although there was an unoccu pied table close to the orchestra. Liza felt that every one was staring at her, so she rapidly agreed. The one-time social lion and ladykiller of Stargorod shyly followed her, sat down at the table and began to polish his glasses to try and over come his embarrassment. The waiters ignored them. Hippolyte had not ex pected this, and instead of conversing gallantly with his companion he was silent and wretched. He rattled the ash-tray on the table and kept clearing his throat. Liza looked round the room. The silence was becoming unnatural, but Hippolyte could not think of anything to say, nor could he remember what was usually said on such occasions. He was oppressed because the waiters paid no attention to their table. ‘ Be so kind ! ’ he kept calling to the waiters as they hurried past them.
- Just a minute ! Just a minute ! ’ they called as
they ran on. At last the menu was brought to them. Hippolyte sighed gratefully and began to study the card. ‘ Good gracious ! ’ he exclaimed. ‘ A veal cutlet, two roubles twenty-five ! A fillet of steak, two roubles twenty-five ! Vodka, five roubles ! ’ ‘ It’s a large bottle for five roubles,’ said the waiter, looking round impatiently. ‘ What am I doing ? ’ thought Hippolyte, beginning to feel ridiculous. ‘ Don’t you think we’d better choose something ? ’ asked Liza politely. ‘ What are you going to have ? ’ Liza was ashamed of Hippolyte’s behaviour. She could see the haughty way in which the waiter was looking down at him, and she was made to feel that he was not doing the right thing. ‘ I’m not in the least hungry,’ she said in a trembhng voice, and then turned to the waiter : ‘ Have you any vegetarian dishes here ? ’ 9 130
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The waiter began to shufHe his feet impatiently. ‘ We don’t have vegetarian dishes here. Perhaps you’d like a ham omelet ? ’ ‘ Bring us some sausages,’ said Hippolyte, having just made up his mind. ‘ You’ll eat sausages, won’t you, Elizaveta Petrovna ? ’ ‘ Yes, thank you, I will.’ ‘ Well then, this dish—one rouble twenty-five—and a bottle of vodka ’ The waiter looked at Liza. ‘ Anything with the vodka ? Fresh caviare ? Smoked salmon ? Fish or meat patties ? ’ But Hippolyte interrupted him with a curt refusal. ‘ How much do you charge for pickled cucumbers ? Very well, bring us two.’ The waiter hurried away, and again there was silence. Liza was the first to begin talking. ' I’ve never been here before. Isn’t it nice ? ’ ‘ Ye-e-es,’ drawled Hippolyte, as he calculated how much the food would cost. ' Oh ! it doesn’t matter,’ he thought to himself. ‘ I’ll have some vodka and then perhaps I’ll cheer up. It’s rather dull as it is.’ But even after drinking the vodka and eating the cucumber he did not feel at all cheerful. Indeed he was more depressed than ever, for Liza would not drink anything. The tension between them did not diminish, and matters were made worse by the appearance of a man who came up to the table and began to cast amorous glances at Liza. He was selling flowers, and suggested to Hippolyte that he should buy a bunch for the lady. Hippolyte pretended that he had not heard, but the man would not niove away from their table. It was absolutely impossible to talk confidentially with Liza so long as the stranger was standing there. For a time the concert programme saved the situa tion. A man came on to the platform and announced FROM PILLAR TO POST
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that the next item would be folk-songs rendered by a famous Russian singer, Varvara Ivanova Godlevskaya. Hippolyte drank vodka and was silent, and as Liza was not drinking anything and was obviously longing to go home, he began to hurry so as to get to the end of the bottle. By the time the famous singer had finished the folk songs Hippolyte was slightly light-headed. He tried to beat time to the music as the accompanist began to play a few passages at the beginning of the next item on the programme. Other people in the restaurant were beginning to notice Hippolyte. With great determination Liza got up from the table. ‘ I’m going,’ she said. ' You can stay here if you like, but I’m going home. I can find my way back.’ ‘ Oh, no ! ’ said Hippolyte. ‘ After all, I’m a gentle man. I can’t allow that. Waiter ! The bill, please.’ Hippolyte examined the bill for a long time as he swayed in his chair. ‘ Nine roubles and twenty copecks ! ’ he said incredu lously. ‘ Perhaps you’d like me to give you the key of the room where I keep my money ? ’ he remarked, using Bender’s favourite expression. In the end Hippolyte had to be led out of the restaurant. Liza could not run away, because the Stargorod lion had the cloak-room ticket in his pocket. As they turned into a side-street, Hippolyte leaned heavily against Liza and tried to kiss her. Liza avoided his embrace, and without saying a word punched the lady-killer’s nose with her fist. Hippolyte’s glasses fell to the ground and were smashed to pieces. Liza, swallowing her angry tears, ran home down the side-street, while Hippolyte ran in the opposite direc tion shouting : ‘ Stop thief ! ’ But no one stopped, so he burst into tears and bought the entire contents of 132
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an old woman’s basket of cracknels. He wandered into the Market Square, and walking up and down he kept scattering the cracknels like a sower sowing his seed. As he did this he began to sing in a loud voice. After that he made friends with a cabman. He opened his heart to him and told him a very muddled story about diamonds. ' What a merry gentleman ! ’ thought the cabman. Hippolyte actually was ‘ merry and his good humour took such a form that by eleven o’clock the following morning he woke up and found himself in the cells. He had only twelve roubles left of the two hundred with which he had begun the previous dis astrous evening. He thought he was dying. His back was breaking, his liver ached, and he felt as though he had a bowler hat made of lead pressing down on to his temples. The worst part of the whole business was that he could not remember how or where he had spent such an enormous sum of money. As soon as they released him from the cells, he went to the nearest optician bought himself fresh lenses for his pince-nez, and then he went home. Bender stared at Hippolyte in astonishment, but did not say a word. He was cold and distant.