I mailed it, now I want it back.
You see, I forgot to put in a jar of preserves.
Crabapple preserves.
Please, do me a big favor.
My uncle will be so mad.
You see . . .”
“Comrade, we do not give parcels back.”
Ostap glanced back, looking for help.
Behind him was the line, silent and stern, well aware of all the rules, including the one which said that parcels cannot be given back to the sender.
“Just one jar,” murmured Ostap, “crabapples . . .”
“Send the jar in a separate parcel, comrade,” said the clerk, softening. “Your uncle will survive.”
“You don’t know my uncle!” said Ostap excitedly. “Besides, I’m a poor student, I don’t have any money.
Please, I’m asking you as a civic-minded citizen.”
“See what you’ve done, comrade,” said the clerk plaintively. “How am I supposed to find it?
We have three tons of parcels over there.”
But then the grand strategist launched into such a pitiful and nonsensical spiel that the clerk went to the other room to look for the poor student’s parcel.
The hitherto silent line promptly started raising hell.
They scolded the grand strategist for his ignorance of the postal regulations, and one woman even pinched him angrily.
“Don’t ever do this again,” exhorted the clerk, tossing the suitcase back to Bender.
“Never again!” swore the captain. “Student’s word of honor!”
The roofs clattered in the wind, the streetlights swayed, shadows darted over the ground, and rain crisscrossed the headlight-beams of the automobiles.
“Enough of these psychological excesses,” said Bender with great relief, “enough anguish and navel-gazing.
Time to start living the life of the hard-working rich.
On to Rio de Janeiro!
I’ll buy a plantation and bring in Balaganov to serve as a monkey.
He’ll fetch me bananas from the trees!”
CHAPTER 36 A KNIGHT OF THE ORDER OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE
An odd-looking man was walking at night through the marshy delta of the Dniester.
He was enormous and shapelessly fat.
He was tightly enveloped in an oilcloth cloak with its hood raised.
The odd man carefully tiptoed past stands of cattails and under gnarled fruit trees as if he were walking through a bedroom.
At times, he would stop and sigh.
Then a clunking sound, the kind produced by metal objects that were striking against each other, came from under the cloak.
And each time after that, a particularly fine high-pitched jingle would hang in the air.
Once, the odd man stumbled over a wet root and fell on his stomach.
That produced a very loud bang, as if a set of body armor had collapsed onto a hardwood floor.
The odd man stayed on the ground for a while, peering into the darkness.
The March night was full of sound.
Large, well-shaped drops were falling from the trees and plopping onto the ground.
“That goddamn platter!” whispered the man.
He got up and walked all the way to the Dniester without further incident.
Then the man lifted the hem of his cloak, skidded down the bank, and, struggling to maintain his balance on the wet ice, ran toward Romania.
The grand strategist had spent the whole winter preparing.
He had purchased American dollars, that featured portraits of presidents with white curly hair, gold watches and cigarette cases, wedding rings, diamonds, and other valuable toys.
He was carrying seventeen massive cigarette cases with monograms, eagles, and engraved inscriptions like:
TO EVSEY RUDOLFOVICH CUSTOMEIR, DIRECTOR OF THE RUSSO-CARPATHIAN BANK AND OUR BENEFACTOR, ON THE DAY OF HIS SILVER WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, FROM HIS GRATEFUL CO-WORKERS. TO HIS EXCELLENCY M. I. INDIGNATYEV UPON COMPLETION OF THE SENATORIAL AUDIT, FROM THE STAFF OF THE CHERNOMORSK MAYORAL OFFICE.
But the heaviest of all was a case with the dedication: TO MR. CHIEF OF THE ALEXEEVSKY POLICE PRECINCT FROM THE GRATEFUL JEWISH MEMBERS OF THE MERCHANT CLASS.
Below the dedication was a blazing enamel heart pierced with an arrow; it was clearly supposed to symbolize the love of the Jewish members of the merchant class for Mr. Chief.
His pockets were stuffed with rings and bracelets that had been strung into necklaces.
Twenty gold pocket watches, suspended from sturdy twine, formed three layers on his back.