Eugene Petrov - The Twelve Chairs

"Stop him!" cried the outraged chess players.

Ostap began running down the steps leading down to the quay. He had

four hundred steps to go. Two enthusiasts, who had taken a short cut down

the hillside, were waiting for him at the bottom of the sixth flight. Ostap

looked over his shoulder. The advocates of Philidor's defence were pouring

down the steps like a pack of wolves. There was no way back, so he kept on

going.

"Just wait till I get you, you bastards!" he shouted at the two-man

advance party, hurtling down from the sixth flight.

The frightened troopers gasped, fell over the balustrade, and rolled

down into the darkness of mounds and slopes. The path was clear.

"Stop the Grossmeister !" echoed shouts from above.

The pursuers clattered down the wooden steps with a noise like falling

skittle balls.

Reaching the river bank, Ostap made to the right, searching with his

eyes for the boat containing his faithful manager.

Ippolit Matveyevich was sitting serenely in the boat. Ostap dropped

heavily into a seat and began rowing for all he was worth. A minute later a

shower of stones flew in the direction of the boat, one of them hitting

Ippolit Matveyevich. A yellow bruise appeared on the side of his face just

above the volcanic pimple. Ippolit Matveyevich hunched his shoulders and

began whimpering.

"You are a softie! They practically lynched me, but I'm still happy and

cheerful. And if you take the fifty roubles net profit into account, one

bump on the head isn't such an unreasonable price to pay."

In the meantime, the pursuers, who had only just realized that their

plans to turn Vasyuki into New Moscow had collapsed and that the

Grossmeister was absconding with fifty vital Vasyukian roubles, piled into a

barge and, with loud shouts, rowed out into midstream. Thirty people were

crammed into the boat, all of whom were anxious to take a personal part in

settling the score with the Grossmeister. The expedition was commanded by

one-eye, whose single peeper shone in the night like a lighthouse.

"Stop the Grossmeister!" came shouts from the overloaded barge.

"We must step on it, Pussy!" said Ostap. "If they catch up with us, I

won't be responsible for the state of your pince-nez."

Both boats were moving downstream. The gap between them was narrowing.

Ostap was going all out.

"You won't escape, you rats!" people were shouting from the barge.

Ostap had no time to answer. His oars flashed in and out of the water,

churning it up so that it came down in floods in the boat.

Keep going! whispered Ostap to himself.

Ippolit Matveyevich had given up hope. The larger boat was gaining on

them and its long hull was already flanking them to port in an attempt to

force the Grossmeister over to the bank. A sorry fate awaited the

concessionaires. The jubilance of the chess players in the barge was so

great that they all moved across to the sides to be in a better position to

attack the villainous Grossmeister in superior forces as soon as they drew

alongside the smaller boat.

"Watch out for your pince-nez, Pussy," shouted Ostap in despair,

throwing aside the oars. "The fun is about to begin."

"Gentlemen!" cried Ippolit Matveyevich in a croaking voice, "you

wouldn't hit us, would you? "

"You'll see!" roared the enthusiasts, getting ready to leap into the

boat.

But at that moment something happened which will outrage all honest

chess players throughout the world. The barge listed heavily and took in

water on the starboard side.

"Careful!" squealed the one-eyed captain.

But it was too late. There were too many enthusiasts on one side of the

Vasyuki dreadnought. As the centre of gravity shifted, the boat stopped

rocking, and, in full conformity with the laws of physics, capsized.

A concerted wailing disturbed the tranquillity of the river.

"Ooooooh!" groaned the chess players.

All thirty enthusiasts disappeared under the water. They quickly came

up one by one and seized hold of the upturned boat. The last to surface was

one-eye.

"You jerks!" cried Ostap in delight. "Why don't you come and get your

Grossmeister? If I'm not mistaken, you intended to trounce me, didn't you? "

Ostap made a circle around the shipwrecked mariners.

"You realize, individuals of Vasyuki, that I could drown you all one by

one, don't you? But I'm going to spare your lives.

Live on, citizens! Only don't play chess any more, for God's sake.

You're just no good at it, you jerks! Come on, Ippolit Matveyevich, let's

go. Good-bye, you one-eyed amateurs! I'm afraid Vasyuki will never become a

world centre. I doubt whether the masters of chess would ever visit fools

like you, even if I asked them to. Good-bye, lovers of chess thrills! Long

live the 'Four Knights Chess Club'!"

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

ET ALIA

Morning found the concessionaires in sight of Chebokary. Ostap was

dozing at the rudder while Ippolit Matveyevich sleepily moved the oars

through the water. Both were shivering from the chilliness of the night.

Pink buds blossomed in the east. Ippolit Matveyevich's pince-nez was all of

a glitter. The oval lenses caught the light and alternately reflected one

bank and then the other. A signal beacon from the left bank arched in the

biconcave glass. The blue domes of Chebokary sailed past like ships. The

garden in the east grew larger, and the buds changed into volcanoes, pouring

out lava of the best sweetshop colours. Birds on the bank were causing a

noisy scene. The gold nosepiece of the pince-nez flashed and dazzled the

Grossmeister. The sun rose. Ostap opened his eyes and stretched himself,

tilting the boat and cracking his joints.

"Good morning, Pussy," he said, suppressing a yawn. "I come to bring

greetings and to tell you the sun is up and is making something over there

glitter with a bright, burning light. . ." "The pier. . . ." reported

Ippolit Matveyevich. Ostap took out the guide-book and consulted it. "From

all accounts it's Chebokary. I see: 'Let us note the pleasantly situated

town of Chebokary.' "Do you really think it's pleasantly situated, Pussy?

'At the present time Chebokary has 7,702 inhabitants' "Pussy! Let's give up

our hunt for the jewels and increase the population to 7,704. What about it?

It would be very effective. We'll open a 'Petits Chevaux' gaming-house and

from the 'Petits Chevaux' we'll have une grande income. Anyway, to continue:

'Founded in 1555, the town has preserved some very interesting

churches. Besides the administrative institutions of the Chuvash Republic,

Chebokary also has a workers' school, a Party school, a teachers' institute,

two middle-grade schools, a museum, a scientific society, and a library. On

the quayside and in the bazaar it is possible to see Chuvash and Cheremis

nationals, distinguishable by their dress. . . .'"

But before the friends were able to reach the quay, where the Chuvash

and Cheremis nationals were to be seen, their attention was caught by an

object floating downstream ahead of the boat.

"The chair!" cried Ostap. "Manager! It's our chair!"

The partners rowed over to the chair. It bobbed up and down, turned

over, went under, and came up farther away from the boat. Water poured

freely into its slashed belly.

It was the chair opened aboard the Scriabin, and it was now floating

slowly towards the Caspian Sea.

"Hi there, friend!" called Ostap. "Long time no see. You know,