The Twelve Chairs / Двенадцать стульев. Книга для чтения на английском языке

Ippolit Matveyevich hurried up to him. The director was gaily crooning the shimmy:

В«The camels used to do it,

The barracudas used to dance it,

Now the whole world's doing the shimmyВ».

В«Well, how was the housing division?В» he asked in a businesslike way, and immediately added:

В«Wait a moment. Don't tell me now; you're too excited. Cool down a littleВ».

Giving the shoeshiner seven kopeks, Ostap took Vorobyaninov by the arm and led him down the street. He listened very carefully to everything the agitated Ippolit Matveyevich told him.

В«Aha! A small black beard? Right! A coat with a sheepskin collar? I see. That's the chair from the pensioner's home. It was bought today for three roublesВ».

«But wait a moment…».

And Ippolit Matveyevich told the chief concessionaire all about Father Theodore's low tricks.

Ostap's face clouded.

В«Too badВ», he said. В«Just like a detective story. We have a mysterious rival. We must steal a march on him.

As the friends were having a snack in the Stenka Razin beer-hall and Ostap was asking questions about the past and present state of the housing division, the day came to an end.

The golden carthorses became brown again. The diamond drops grew cold in mid-air and plopped on to the ground. In the beer-halls and Phoenix restaurant the price of beer went up. Evening had come; the street lights on Greater Pushkin Street lit up and a detachment of Pioneers went by, stamping their feet, on the way home from their first spring outing.

The tigers, figures of victory, and cobras on top of the province-planning administration shone mysteriously in the light of the advancing moon.

As he made his way home with Ostap, who was now suddenly silent, Ippolit Matveyevich gazed at the tigers and cobras. In his time, the building had housed the Provincial Government and the citizens had been proud of their cobras, considering them one of the sights of Stargorod.

В«I'll find themВ», thought Ippolit Matveyevich, looking at one of the plaster figures of victory.

The tigers swished their tails lovingly, the cobras contracted with delight, and Ippolit Matveyevich's heart filled with determination.

Chapter Ten. The Mechanic, the Parrot, and the Fortune-teller

No. 7 Pereleshinsky Street was not one of Stargorod's best buildings.