Two hundred rubles in five minutes.
And not only did I not break the law, I even did some good.
I provided the crew of the Antelope with financial backing.
The elderly mother is getting her son the interpreter back.
And finally, I quenched the spiritual thirst of the citizens of a country that does, after all, maintain trade relations with us.”
It was almost time for lunch.
Ostap immersed himself in the rally map that he had torn out of an automotive magazine and announced the upcoming town of Luchansk.
“The town is very small,” said Bender, “that’s not good.
The smaller the town, the longer the welcoming speeches.
So let’s ask our amiable hosts to give us lunch for starters and speeches for the second course.
In the intermission, I will equip you with more appropriate gear.
Panikovsky!
You are beginning to neglect your duties.
Return the banner to its original position.”
Kozlevich, who had become an expert in spectacular finales, brought the car to a dramatic halt right in front of the reviewing stand.
Bender kept his remarks very short.
They arranged to postpone the ceremonies for two hours.
Fortified by a free lunch, the motorists were in high spirits, and they headed for a clothing store.
They were surrounded by the curious.
The Antelopeans carried the sweet burden of their new-found fame with dignity.
They walked in the middle of the street, holding hands and swaying like sailors in a foreign port.
The red-headed Balaganov, looking every inch the young boatswain, broke into a seaman’s song.
The store that sold clothing “For men, ladies, and children” was located under an enormous sign that covered the entire facade of the two-story building.
The sign showed dozens of figures: yellow-faced men with pencil mustaches wearing winter coats whose open flaps revealed fitch-fur lining, women with muffs in their hands, short-legged children in little sailors’ suits, Young Communist League girls in red kerchiefs, and gloomy industrial managers sinking up to their hips in large felt boots.
All this splendor was ruined by a small hand-made sign on the front door:
“Ugh, how vulgar,” said Ostap, entering the store. “I can see that I’m in the provinces.
Why don’t they say, ‘Out of trousers,’ like they do in Moscow? That would be proper and decent.
The customers would go home satisfied.”
They didn’t spend much time in the store.
For Balaganov, they found a canary yellow cowboy shirt with large checks and a Stetson hat with vent holes.
Kozlevich got his calfskin cap, as promised, but had to settle for a black calfskin jacket, which shined like pressed caviar.
Outfitting Panikovsky took much longer.
They had to forget about the long pastor’s coat and the fedora, which Bender thought would give the violator of the pact a more refined look.
The store’s only alternative was a fireman’s dress uniform: a jacket with golden pumps on its collar patches, fuzzy wool-blend pants, and a cap with a blue strap.
Panikovsky jumped around in front of the wavy mirror for a long time.
“I don’t understand why you don’t like the fireman’s uniform,” said Ostap.
“It’s certainly better than the exiled king outfit that you’re wearing now.
Come now, turn around, my boy!
Excellent!
Let me tell you, this suits you much better than the coat and hat that I had in mind for you.”
They went outside in their new outfits.
“Me, I need a tuxedo,” said Ostap, “but they didn’t have any.
Oh well, some other time.”
Ostap opened the ceremonies in a great mood, unaware of the storm that was gathering over the Antelopeans’ heads.
He was witty; he told funny driving stories and Jewish jokes. The public loved him.
The final portion of his speech was devoted to the analysis of pressing automobile-related issues.
“The car,” he boomed, “is not a luxury but . . .”
At that point he noticed a boy run up to the chairman of the welcoming committee and hand him a telegram.
While still uttering the words “not a luxury but a means of transportation,” Ostap leaned to the left and glanced at the telegram over the chairman’s shoulder.
What he read startled him.