Sasha finished unwrapping the object and placed it triumphantly on the table. ltwas a small, finely modelled old bronzecandelabrum. On its pedestal two female figures were standing in a state of nature and in poses that I am neither bold nor hot-blooded enough to describe. The figures were smiling coquenishly, and altogether seemed to suggest that but for the need to go on supporting the candlestick, they would leap off the pedestal and turn the room into a scene of such wild debauch that the mere thought of it, gentle reader, would bring a blush t0 your cheek.
After glancing at the present, the doctor slowly scratched the back
of his ear, cleared his throat and blew his nose uncertainly.
'Yes, it's a beautiful object all right,' he mumbled, 'but, well, how shall I put it? ... You couldn't say it was exactly tasteful ... I mean, decollete's one thing, but this is really going too far . . .'
'How do you mean, going too far?'
'The Arch-Tempter himself couldn't have thought up anything more vile. Why, if I were to put a fandangle like that on the table, I'd feel I was polluting the whole house!'
'Whata strange view ofart you have, Doctor!' said Sasha, sound- ing hurt. 'Why, this is a work of inspiration! Look at all that beauty and elegance -docsn't it fill you with awe and bring a lump to your throat? You forget all about worldly things when you contemplate beauty like that . . . Why, look at the movement there, Doctor, look at all the air and expression!'
'I appreciatc thatonly too well, my friend,' interruptcd the doctor, 'but you're forgening, I'm a family man - think of my small children running about, think of the ladies.'
'Of course, if you're going to look at it through the eyes of the masses,' said Sasha, 'then of course this highly artistic creation docs appear in a different light . . . But you must raise yourself above the masses, Doctor, especially as Mum and me'll be deeply offended if you refuse. I'm a mother's only son - you saved my life . . . We're giving you our most treasured possession . . . and my only regret is that we don't have another one to make the pair . . .'
'Thank you, dear boy, I'm very grateful . . . Give Mum my regards, but just put yourself in my place - think of the children running about, think of the ladies . . . Oh, all right then, let it stay! I can see I'm not going to convince you.'
'There's nothing to convince me of,' Sasha replied joyfully. 'You must stand the candelabrum here, next to this vase. What a pity there isn't the pair! What a pity! Goodbye, then, Doctor!'
When Sasha had left, the doctor spent a long time gazing at the candelabrum, scratching the back of his ear and pondering.
'lt's a superb thing, no two ways about that,' he thought, 'and it's a shame to let it go ... But there's no question of keeping it here . . . Hmm, quite a problem! Who can I give it to or unload it on?'
After lengthy consideration he thought of his good friend Harkin the solicitor, to whom he was indebted for professional services.
'Yes, that's the answer,' the doctor decided. 'As a friend it's awkward for him to accept money from me, but if I make him a present of this object, that'll be very comme il faut. Yes, I'll take this diabolical creation round to him - after all, he's a bachelor, doesn't take life seriously . . .'
Without further ado, the doctor put on his coat, picked up the candelabrum and set off for Harkin's.
'Greetings!' he said, finding the solicitor at home. Tve come to thank you, old man, for all that help you gave me - I know you don't like taking money, but perhaps you'd be willing to accept this little trifle . . . here you are, my dear chap - it's really rather special!'
When hc saw the little trifle, thc solicitor went into transports of delight.
'Oh, my word, yes!' he roared. 'How do they think such things up? Supcrb! Entrancing! Wherever did you get hold of such a gem?'
Having exhausted his expressions of delight, the solicitor glanced round nervously at the door and said:
'Only be a good chap and take it back, will you? I can't accept it . . .'
'Why ever not?' said the doctor in alarm.
'Obvious reasons . . . Think of my mothercoming in, think of my clients . . . And how could I look the servants in the face?'
'No, no, no, don't you dare refuse!' said the doctor, waving his arms at him. 'You're being a boor! This is a work of inspiration — look at the movement there . . . the expression . . . Any more fuss and I shall be offended!'
'If only it was daubed over or had some fig leaves stuck on . . .'
But the doctor waved his arms at him even more vigorously, nipped smartly out of the apartment and returned home, highly pleased that he'd managed to get the present off his hands . ..
When his friend had gone, Harkin studied the candelabrum closely, kept touching it all over, and like the doctor, racked his brains for a long time wondering what was to be done with it.
'It's a fine piece of work,' he reflected, 'and it'd be a shame to let it go, but keepmg it here would be most improper. The best thing would be to give it to someone . .. Yes, I know - there's a benefit performance tonight for Shashkin, the comic actor. I'll take the candelabrum round to him as a present -after all, the old rascal loves that kind of thing . . .'
No sooner said than done. That evening the candelabrum, pains- takingly wrapped, was presented to the comic actor Shashkin. The whole evening the actor's dressing-room was besieged by male vis- itors coming to admire the present; all evening the dressing-room was filled with a hubbub of rapturous exclamationsand laughter like the whinnying of a horse. Whenever one of the actresses knocked on the door and asked if she could come in, the actor's husky voice would immediately reply:
'Not just now, darling, I'm changing.'
After the show the actor hunched his shoulders, threw up his hands in perplexity and said:
'Where the hell can I put this obscenity? After all, I live in a private apartment - think ofthe actresses who come to see me! It's not like a photograph, you can't shove it into a desk drawer!'
'Why notsell it, sir?' advised the wig-maker who was helping him offwith his costume. 'There's an old woman in thisarea whobuysup bronzes like that . : . Just ask for Mrs Smirnoff — everyone knows her.'
The comic actor took his advice . . .
Two days later Doctor Florinsky was sitting in his consulting- room with one finger pressed to his forehead, and was thinking about the acids of the bile. Suddenly the door flew open and in rushed Sasha Smirnoff. He was smiling, beaming, and his whole figure radiated happiness . . . In his hands he was holding something wrapped up in newspaper.
'Doctor!' he began, gasping for breath. 'I'm so delighted! You won't believe your luck - we've managed to find another candelab- rum to make your pair! . .. Mum's thrilled to bits . . . I'm a mother's only son - you saved my life .. .'
And Sasha, all aquiver with gratitude, placed the candelabrum in front of the doctor. The doctor's mouth dropped, he tried to say something but nothing came out: he was speechless.
The Chorus-Girl
Once, when she was youngc:r and prettier and still had a good voice, she: was entertaining an admirer of hers, Nikolay Petrovich Kol- pakov, at her summc:r datcha. They were sitting at the back in the entresol.The weather was unbearably hot and sultry. Kolpakov had just finished his meal. He had drunk a whole bottle ofcheap pon and was feeling bad-tempered and out of sorts. Both of them were bored; they were w.iiting for the heat to die down before taking a walk.
Suddc:nly there was a ring at the front door. They were not expecting anyone and Kolpakov, who was in shirtsleeves and slip- pers, jumped up and looked at Pasha.
'Must be the postman, or maybe one of the girls,' said the singer.
Kolpakov was nm afraid of being seen by postmen or Pasha's girl friends, but to be on the safe side he gathered up his clothes and went ino the connecting room, while Pasha ran to open the door. To her great astonishment, instead of the postman or one of her friends, an unknown woman was standing there, young, beautiful, dressed like a ladv and judging by her appearance highly respectable.