But your Adam and Eve were Marxists, so maybe they talked about world revolution.
Be that as it may, it just so happened that, after a stroll, they sat down on the grass under a tree in the former Neskuchny Gardens. I don’t know what kind of a tree it was.
Maybe it was the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.
But Marxists, as you know, don’t care for mysticism.
So they most likely thought it was an ordinary mountain ash.
While they were talking, Eve broke a small branch off the tree and presented it to Adam.
And then a man appeared. Lacking imagination, the young Marxists took him for a groundskeeper.
Most likely, however, it was an angel with a flaming sword.
Griping and grumbling, the angel escorted Adam and Eve to the park office, in order to file a report on the damage they had inflicted on garden property.
This insignificant and mundane incident distracted the young people from their discussion of high politics. Adam suddenly noticed the lovely woman in front of him, and Eve saw the strong man in front of her.
And so they fell in love with each other.
Three years later, they already had two sons.”
At this point, Mr. Heinrich suddenly stopped and began tucking his soft striped cuffs into his sleeves.
“So what’s the point?” asked Lavoisian.
“The point is,” answered Heinrich emphatically, “that one son was named Cain, the other Abel, and that in due course Cain would kill Abel, Abraham would beget Isaac, Isaac would beget Jacob, and the whole story would start anew, and neither Marxism nor anything else will ever be able to change that.
Everything will repeat itself.
There will be a flood, there will be Noah with his three sons, and Ham will insult Noah. There will be the Tower of Babel, gentlemen, which will never be completed.
And on and on and on.
There won’t be anything new in the world.
So don’t get too excited about your new life.”
Heinrich leaned back with satisfaction, squashing the kind, portly writer with his narrow, spiny body.
“All this would have been great,” remarked Palamidov, “had it been supported by evidence.
But you can’t prove anything.
You just wish it were true.
There’s no point in trying to stop you from believing in miracles.
Go on believing and praying.”
“Can you prove that it will be different?” exclaimed the representative of the liberal newspaper.
“Yes,” replied Palamidov, “we can. You will see proof of it the day after tomorrow at the joining of the Eastern Line.”
“Here you go again,” grumbled Heinrich.
“Construction!
Factories!
The Five-Year Plan!
Don’t wave your steel in my face.
It’s the spirit that counts!
Everything will repeat itself!
There will be the Thirty Years War, and the Hundred Years War, and those with the audacity to claim that the Earth is round will be burned at the stake again.
They’ll fool poor Jacob again, make him work seven years for nothing and then slip him the ugly, near-sighted Leah for a wife instead of the full-breasted Rachel.
Everything, everything will repeat itself!
And the Wandering Jew will continue to wander the earth . . .”
“The Wandering Jew will never wander again!” said the grand strategist suddenly, looking at the others with a playful smile.
“Are you saying you can prove this in two days as well?” protested Heinrich.
“I can do it right now,” said Ostap graciously.
“If present company permits me, I will tell you what happened to the so-called Wandering Jew.”
The company gladly granted their permission.
Everyone settled in to listen to the new passenger’s story, and even Ukhudshansky muttered,
“Telling stories?
Well, well . . .”
And so the grand strategist began.
THE STORY OF THE WANDERING JEW AS TOLD BY OSTAP BENDER
“I’m not going to recount the long and boring story of the Wandering Hebrew.