“Bonnng!” the clock struck for the fourth time.
The pavilion was already empty.
And only the assistant in light-blue pants, whose jacket pocket had gotten snagged on the bronze handle, fluttered in the doorway, squealed pitifully, and stamped the marble floor with his little hoofs.
The workday was over.
The crowing of a rooster came from the fishing village by the sea.
After the Antelopeans’ coffers were replenished with cinematic cash, the captain’s standing, which had been somewhat shaky ever since Koreiko had escaped, was restored.
Panikovsky received a small allowance to buy kefir and a promise of golden dentures.
For Balaganov, Ostap bought a jacket and a leather wallet, which was squeaky like a new saddle.
Even though the wallet was empty, Shura kept taking it out and looking inside.
Kozlevich received fifty rubles for fuel.
The Antelopeans were leading a clean, moral, almost pastoral, life.
They helped the hostel manager keep order and became well-versed in the prices of barley and sour cream.
At times, Panikovsky would go out to the courtyard, busily open the mouth of the nearest horse, glance at its teeth, and mutter,
“That’s a fine stallion,” even though he was looking at a fine mare.
Only the captain was gone all day long, and when he finally showed up at the hostel, he was cheerful and distracted.
He would sit down with his friends, who were drinking tea on a dirty glass porch, cross his strong legs, that were clad in red shoes, and say amicably:
“Panikovsky, is life really wonderful, or is it just me?”
“Where are you having such a swell time?” the violator of the pact would ask jealously.
“Come on, old man!
This girl is not in your league,” Ostap would say.
Balaganov laughed loudly and sympathetically, examining his new wallet, while Kozlevich chortled into his train conductor’s mustache.
He had already driven the captain and Zosya along the Coastal Highway on more than one occasion.
The weather was right for love.
The Pique Vests claimed that there hadn’t been an August like this since the days of the porto franco.
Night presented a clear sky, perfect for astronomic observations, while day rolled refreshing sea waves toward the city.
Doormen were selling white-striped watermelons by their doorways, and the citizens strained themselves, squeezing the watermelons at both poles and lowering their ear in order to hear the desired crunch.
In the evening, players returned from the soccer fields, sweaty and happy.
Boys ran after them, kicking up dust.
They pointed out the famous goal keeper, and sometimes even raised him onto their shoulders and carried him respectfully.
One evening, the captain advised the crew of the Antelope that they would be going on a big outing in the country the next day. Gifts would be distributed.
“Since a certain young lady will be joining our morning festivities,” said Ostap significantly, “I would urge the esteemed cadets to wash their faces, clean up, and most importantly, not to use rude language during the trip.”
Panikovsky became very excited, wheedled three rubles out of the captain, ran to the bathhouse, and then cleaned and scrubbed himself all night, like a soldier before a parade.
He was the first to get up, and he kept hurrying Kozlevich.
The Antelopeans looked at Panikovsky with amazement.
He was clean-shaven and covered in so much powder that he looked like a retired MC.
He kept pulling his jacket down and could barely turn his neck in his Oscar-Wilde collar.
During the outing, Panikovsky conducted himself quite ceremoniously.
As he was being introduced to Zosya, he bowed graciously, but blushed so hard that even the powder on his cheeks turned red.
Sitting in the car, he tucked his left foot under the seat, trying to hide the hole in his shoe where his big toe was showing.
Zosya was wearing a white dress hemmed in red stitches.
She really liked the Antelopeans.
She was amused by the rough-edged Balaganov, who kept grooming his hair with a Sobinoff comb.
At times, he cleaned his nose with his finger, after which he always took out his handkerchief and fanned himself pretentiously.
Adam was teaching Zosya to drive the Antelope, which earned him her favor, too.
She was a little anxious about Panikovsky, though.
She thought he wasn’t talking to her out of pride.
But most often, her eyes rested on the captain’s minted profile.
At sunset, Ostap distributed the promised gifts.
Kozlevich received a keychain with a compass, which matched his thick silver pocket watch perfectly.
Balaganov was presented with a leatherette-bound basic reader, while Panikovsky got a pink tie with dark-blue flowers.