The sound of Ostap's voice brought the excited Ippolit Matveyevich back to earth.
"Not a bad choice.
The stones have been tastefully selected, I see.
How much did all this jazz cost?"
"Seventy to seventy-five thousand."
"Hm . . . Then it's worth a hundred and fifty thousand now."
"Really as much as that?" asked Ippolit Matveyevich jubilantly.
"Not less than that.
However, if I were you, dear friend from Paris, I wouldn't give a damn about it."
"What do you mean, not give a damn?"
"Just that. Like they used to before the advent of historical materialism."
"Why?"
"I'll tell you.
How many chairs were there?"
"A dozen.
It was a drawing-room suite."
"Your drawing-room suite was probably used for firewood long ago."
Ippolit Matveyevich was so alarmed that he actually stood up.
"Take it easy.
I'll take charge.
The hearing is continued.
Incidentally, you and I will have to conclude a little deal."
Breathing heavily, Ippolit Matveyevich nodded his assent.
Ostap Bender then began stating his terms.
"In the event of acquisition of the treasure, as a direct partner in the concession and as technical adviser, I receive sixty per cent. You needn't pay my national health; I don't care about that."
Ippolit Matveyevich turned grey.
"That's daylight robbery!"
"And how much did you intend offering me? "
"Well. . . er . . . five per cent, or maybe even ten per cent.
You realize, don't you, that's fifteen thousand roubles!"
"And that's all?"
"Yes
"Maybe you'd like me to work for nothing and also give you the key of the apartment where the money is? "
"In that case, I'm sorry," said Vorobyaninov through his nose. "I have every reason to believe I can manage the business by myself."
"Aha!
In that case, I'm sorry," retorted the splendid Ostap. "I have just as much reason to believe, as Andy Tucker used to say, that I can also manage your business by myself."
"You villain!' cried Ippolit Matveyevich, beginning to shake.
Ostap remained unmoved.
"Listen, gentleman from Paris, do you know your jewels are practically in my pocket?
And I'm only interested in you as long as I wish to prolong your old age."
Ippolit Matveyevich realized at this point that iron hands had gripped his throat.
"Twenty per cent," he said morosely.
"And my grub?" asked Ostap with a sneer.
"Twenty-five."
"And the key of the apartment?"
"But that's thirty-seven and a half thousand!"
"Why be so precise?
Well, all right, I'll settle for fifty per cent.
We'll go halves."
The haggling continued, and Ostap made a further concession.