I decree that we go together to the premiere of The Marriage.
Don't forget to wear tails.
If the chairs are still there and haven't been sold to pay social-security debts, we can leave tomorrow.
Remember, Vorobyaninov, we've now reached the final act of the comedy My Mother-in-Low's Treasure.
The Finita la Comedia is fast approaching, Vorobyaninov.
Don't gasp, my old friend.
The call of the footlights!
Oh, my younger days!
Oh, the smell of the wings!
So many memories!
So many intrigues and affairs I How talented I was in my time in the role of Hamlet!
In short, the hearing is continued."
For the sake of economy they went to the theatre on foot.
It was still quite light, but the street lamps were already casting their lemon light.
Spring was dying before everyone's eyes.
Dust chased it from the squares, and a warm breeze drove it from the side streets.
Old women fondled the beauty and drank tea with it at little round tables in the yards.
But spring's span of life had ended and it could not reach the people.
And it so much wanted to be at the Pushkin monument where the young men were already strolling about in their jazzy caps, drainpipe trousers, "dog's-delight" bow ties, and boots.
Mauve-powdered girls circulated between the holy of holies of the Moscow Consumers' Union and the 'Commune' cooperative.
The girls were swearing audibly.
This was the hour when pedestrians slowed down their pace, though not because Tverskaya Street was becoming crowded.
Moscow horses were no better than the Stargorod ones. They stamped their hooves just as much on the edges of the roadway.
Cyclists rode noiselessly by from their first large international match at the Young Pioneer stadium.
The ice-cream man trundled along his green trolley full of May Thunder ice-cream, and squinted timorously at the militiaman; but the latter was chained to the spot by the flashing signal with which he regulated the traffic, and was not dangerous.
The two friends made their way through the hustle and bustle.
Temptation lay in wait for them at every step.
Different types of meat on skewers were being roasted in full view of the street in the tiny eating plates.
Hot, appetizing fumes rose up to the bright sky.
The sound of string music was wafted from beer halls, small restaurants, and the 'Great Silent Film' cinema.
A loud-speaker raved away at a tram-stop.
It was time to put a spurt on.
The friends reached the foyer of the Columbus Theatre.
Vorobyaninov rushed to the box office and read the list of seat prices.
"Rather expensive, I'm afraid," he said.
"Three roubles for the sixteenth row."
"How I dislike these provincial philistines," Ostap observed.
"Where are you going?
Can't you see that's the box office?"
"Where else? We won't get in without tickets."
"Pussy, you're vulgar.
In every well-built theatre there are two windows.
Only courting couples and wealthy heirs go to the box-office window.
The other citizens (they make up the majority, you may observe) go straight to the manager's window."
And, indeed, at the box-office window were only about five modestly dressed people.
They may have been wealthy heirs or courting couples.
At the manager's window, however, there was great activity.
A colourful line had formed.
Young men in fashioned jackets and trousers of the same cut (which a provincial could never have dreamed of owning) were confidently waving notes from friendly directors, actors, editors, theatrical costumiers, the district militia chief, and other persons closely connected with the theatre, such as members of the theatre and film critics' association, the
'Poor Mothers' Tears' society, the school council of the Experimental Circus Workshop, and some extraordinary name, like Fortinbras at Umslopogas. About eight people had notes from Espere Eclairovich.