The walls of the room melted away.
The rotting walls of the stud-farm collapsed and in their place a thirty-storey building towered into the sky.
Every hall, every room, and even the lightning-fast lifts were full of people thoughtfully playing chess on malachite encrusted boards.
Marble steps led down to the blue Volga.
Ocean-going steamers were moored on the river.
Cablecars communicating with the town centre carried up heavy-faced foreigners, chess-playing ladies, Australian advocates of the Indian defence, Hindus in turbans, devotees of the Spanish gambit, Germans, Frenchmen, New Zealanders, inhabitants of the Amazon basin, and finally Muscovites, citizens of Leningrad and Kiev, Siberians and natives of Odessa, all envious of the citizens of Vasyuki.
Lines of cars moved in between the marble hotels.
Then suddenly everything stopped.
From out of the fashionable Pass Pawn Hotel came the world champion Capablanca.
He was surrounded by women.
A militiaman dressed in special chess uniform (check breeches and bishops in his lapels) saluted smartly.
The one-eyed president of the "Four Knights Club" of Vasyuki approached the champion in a dignified manner.
The conversation between the two luminaries, conducted in English, was interrupted by the arrival by air of Dr. Grigoryev and the future world champion, Alekhine.
Cries of welcome shook the town.
Capablanca glowered.
At a wave of one-eye's hand, a set of marble steps was run up to the plane.
Dr. Grigoryev came down, waving his hat and commenting, as he went, on a possible mistake by Capablanca in his forthcoming match with Alekhine.
Suddenly a black dot was noticed on the horizon.
It approached rapidly, growing larger and larger until it finally turned into a large emerald parachute.
A man with an attache case was hanging from the harness, like a huge radish.
"Here he is!" shouted one-eye. "Hooray, hooray, I recognize the great philosopher and chess player Dr. Lasker.
He is the only person in the world who wears those green socks."
Capablanca glowered again.
The marble steps were quickly brought up for Lasker to alight on, and the cheerful ex-champion, blowing from his sleeve a speck of dust which had settled on him over Silesia f ell into the arms of one-eye.
The latter put his arm around Lasker's waist and walked him over to the champion, saying:
"Make up your quarrel!
On behalf of the popular masses of Vasyuki, I urge you to make up your quarrel."
Capablanca sighed loudly and, shaking hands with the veteran, said:
"I always admired your idea of moving QK5 to QB3 in the Spanish gambit."
"Hooray!" exclaimed one-eye. "Simple and convincing in the style of a champion."
And the incredible crowd joined in with:
"Hooray!
Vivat!
Banzai!
Simple and convincing in the style of a champion!"
Express trains sped into the twelve Vasyuki stations, depositing ever greater crowds of chess enthusiasts.
Hardly had the sky begun to glow from the brightly lit advertisements, when a white horse was led through the streets of the town.
It was the only horse left after the mechanization of the town's transportation.
By special decree it had been renamed a stallion, although it had actually been a mare the whole of its life.
The lovers of chess acclaimed it with palm leaves and chessboards.
"Don't worry," continued Ostap, "my scheme will guarantee the town an unprecedented boom in your production forces.
Just think what will happen when the tournament is over and the visitors have left.
The citizens of Moscow, crowded together on account of the housing shortage, will come flocking to your beautiful town.
The capital will be automatically transferred to Vasyuki.
The government will move here.
Vasyuki will be renamed New Moscow, and Moscow will become Old Vasyuki.
The people of Leningrad and Kharkov will gnash their teeth in fury but won't be able to do a thing about it.
New Moscow will soon become the most elegant city in Europe and, soon afterwards, in the whole world."
"The whole world!!
I" gasped the citizens of Vasyuki in a daze.