A totally harmless man.
One should feel for him.
He even thinks that one might be able to love him.
He’s not a show-off, like some, and he means what he says.
So why shouldn’t a certain young lady marry him?
Having expressed his feelings in such a timid way, Alexander Ivanovich gave Zosya an angry look.
“So they really might purge Lapidus Jr.?” asked the puzzle-maker’s granddaughter.
And without waiting for an answer, she delved into the subject at hand.
She understands everything perfectly well.
Time really does fly.
She was nineteen just recently, and now she’s already twenty.
And in a year, she’ll be twenty-one.
She never thought that Alexander Ivanovich was something like, you know . . .
On the contrary, she’s always been convinced that he is a good man.
Better than many.
And, of course, he deserves a lot.
But right now she is seeking something, she doesn’t yet know what.
In other words, she can’t get married at the moment.
Plus, what kind of life would they have?
She is seeking.
And he, in all honesty, only makes forty-six rubles a month.
And besides, she doesn’t love him yet, which, frankly speaking, is rather important.
“Forget the forty-six rubles!” exploded Alexander Ivanovich, rising to his feet. “I . . . me . . .”
But that was all he said.
He chickened out.
The role of the millionaire would only lead to disaster.
He was so scared he even mumbled something to the effect that money can’t buy happiness.
At this very moment, a puffing sound came from behind the door.
Zosya rushed out into the hallway.
Her grandfather stood there in his huge hat, its straw crystals sparkling.
He couldn’t bring himself to come in.
His grief had caused his beard to open up like a broom.
“Why so fast?” cried Zosya. “What happened?”
The old man slowly raised his eyes to her. They were filled with tears.
Worried, Zosya grabbed her grandfather’s prickly shoulders and pulled him into the room.
For half an hour Sinitsky just lay on the couch and shivered.
After a good amount of cajoling, the old man finally told his story.
At first, everything was wonderful.
He made it to the office of The Youth Courier without incident.
The head of the Exercise Your Brain section was exceptionally nice to him.
“He shook my hand, Zosya dear,” sighed the old man.
“Comrade Sinitsky, he said, have a seat.
And that’s when he hit me with it.
Our section, he said, is closing.
The new editor-in-chief has arrived, and he announced that our readers don’t need brain teasers anymore. What they need, Zosya dear, is a special section on the game of checkers.
So what’s going to happen? I asked.
Nothing, he said, it’s just that we can’t accept your material, that’s all.
He praised my riddle, though.
Sounds like Pushkin’s verse, he said, especially this:
“The second is the finest dirt that every maid expunges duly.”