The only thing that saved Treukhov was that he had no time to read the papers and usually managed to miss Comrade Flywheel's jottings.
On one occasion Treukhov could not restrain himself, and he wrote a carefully worded and malicious reply.
"Of course [he wrote], you can call a bolt a transmission, but people who do so know nothing about building.
And I would like to point out to Comrade Flywheel that the only time rafters creak is when the building is about to fall down.
To speak of rafters in this way is much the same as claiming that a 'cello can give birth to children.
"Yours, [etc.]"
After that the indefatigable prince stopped visiting the building site, but his reports continued to grace the third column, standing out sharply against a background of such prosaic headlines as
"15,000 Roubles Growing Rusty",
"Housing Hitches",
"Materials Are Weeping", and
"Curiosities and Tears".
The construction was nearing its end.
Rails were welded by the thermite method, and they stretched, without gaps, from the station to the slaughterhouse, and from the market to the cemetery.
In the beginning it was intended to time the opening of the tramway for the Ninth Anniversary of the October Revolution, but the car-building plant was unable to supply the cars by the promised date and made some excuse about "fittings".
The opening had to be postponed until May Day.
By this date everything was definitely ready.
Wandering about, the concessionaires reached Gusishe at the same time as the processions.
The whole of Stargorod was there.
The new depot was decorated with garlands of evergreen; the flags flapped, and the wind rippled the banners.
A mounted militiaman galloped after an ice-cream seller who had somehow got into the circular space cordoned off by railway workers.
A rickety platform, as yet empty, with a public-address system, towered between the two gates of the depot.
Delegates began mounting the platform.
A combined band of communal-service workers and ropemakers was trying out its lungs.
The drum lay on the ground.
A Moscow correspondent in a shaggy cap wandered around inside the depot, which contained ten light-green trams numbered 701 to 710.
He was looking for the chief engineer in order to ask him a few questions on the subject of tramlines.
Although the correspondent had already prepared in his mind the report on the opening, with a summary of the speeches, he conscientiously continued his search, his only complaint being the absence of a bar.
The crowds sang, yelled, and chewed sunflower seeds while waiting for the railway to be opened.
The presidium of the province executive committee mounted the platform.
The Prince of Denmark stammered out a few phrases to his fellow writer.
Newsreel cameramen from Moscow were expected any moment.
"Comrades," said Gavrilin, "I declare the official meeting to celebrate the opening of the Stargorod tramway open."
The brass trumpets sprang into action, sighed, and played the International right through three times.
"Comrade Gavrilin will now give a report," cried Comrade Gavrilin.
The Prince of Denmark (Flywheel) and the visitor from Moscow both wrote in their notebooks, without collusion:
"The ceremony opened with a report by Comrade Gavrilin, Chairman of the Stargorod Communal Services.
The crowd listened attentively."
The two correspondents were people of completely different types.
The Muscovite was young and single, while Flywheel was burdened with a large family and had passed his forties some time ago.
One had lived in Moscow all his life, while the other had never been there.
The Muscovite liked beer, while Flywheel never let anything but vodka pass his lips.
Despite this difference in character, age, habits and upbringing, however, the impressions of both the journalists were cast in the same hackneyed, second-hand, dust-covered phrases.
Their pencils began scratching and another observation was recorded in the notebooks:
"On this day of festivity it is as though the streets of Stargorod have grown wider. . . ."
Gavrilin began his speech in a good and simple fashion.
"Building a tramway is not like buying a donkey."
A loud guffaw was suddenly heard from Ostap Bender in the crowd; he had appreciated the remark.
Heartened by the response, Gavrilin, without knowing why himself, suddenly switched to the international situation.
Several times he attempted to bring his speech back on to the rails, but, to his horror, found he was unable to.
The international words just flowed out by themselves, against the speaker's will.