"Hello, Comrade Bender.
I'm glad I've found you.
It's boring by myself.
Let's look at everything together."
The concessionaires exchanged glances.
Ippolit Matveyevich assumed a dignified air, although the idea that Liza might delay their important search for the chair with the jewels was not a pleasant one.
"We are typical provincials," said Bender impatiently. "But how did you get here, Miss Moscow?"
"Quite by accident.
I had a row with Nicky."
"Really?" Ippolit Matveyevich observed.
"Well, let's leave this room," said Ostap.
"But I haven't looked at it yet.
It's so nice."
"That's done it!" Ostap whispered to Vorobyaninov.
And, turning to Liza, he added: "There's absolutely nothing to see here.
The style is decadent.
The Kerensky period."
"I'm told there's some Hambs furniture somewhere here," Ippolit Matveyevich declared. "Maybe we should see that."
Liza agreed and, taking Vorobyaninov's arm (she thought him a remarkably nice representative of science), went towards the exit.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, at this decisive moment in the treasure hunt, Bender laughed good-humouredly as he walked behind the couple.
He was amused at the chief of the Comanche in the role of a cavalier.
Liza was a great hindrance to the concessionaires.
Whereas they could determine at a glance whether or not the room contained the furniture they were after, and if not, automatically make for the next, Liza browsed at length in each section.
She read all the printed tags, made cutting remarks about the other visitors, and dallied at each exhibit.
Completely without realizing it, she was mentally adapting all the furniture she saw to her own room and requirements.
She did not like the Gothic bed at all.
It was too big.
Even if Nicky in some miraculous way acquired a room six yards square, the mediaeval couch would still not fit into it.
Liza walked round and round the bed, measuring its true area in paces.
She was very happy.
She did not notice the sour faces of her companions, whose chivalrous natures prevented them from heading for the Hambs room at full pelt.
"Let's be patient," Ostap whispered. "The furniture won't run away. And don't squeeze the girl, Marshal, I'm jealous!"
Vorobyaninov laughed smugly.
The rooms went on and on.
There was no end to them.
The furniture of the Alexander period was displayed in batches.
Its relatively small size delighted Liza.
"Look, look!" she cried, seizing Ippolit Matveyevich by the sleeve. "You see that bureau?
That would suit our room wonderfully, wouldn't it?"
"Charming furniture," said Ostap testily. "But decadent."
"I've been in here already," said Liza as she entered the red drawing-room. "I don't think it's worth stopping here."
To her astonishment, the indifferent companions were standing stock-still by the door like sentries.
"Why have you stopped?
Let's go on.
I'm tired."
"Wait," said Ippolit Matveyevich, freeing his arm. "One moment."
The large room was crammed with furniture.
Hambs chairs were arranged along the wall and around a table.
The couch in the corner was also encircled by chairs.
Their curved legs and comfortable backs were excitingly familiar to Ippolit Matveyevich.