Ellochka also felt the seriousness of the occasion.
She strained herself, searching for suitable words for the parting.
They soon came to mind.
"Going by taxi?
Ter-r-rific!"
The engineer hurtled downstairs like an avalanche.
Ellochka spent the evening with Fimka Sobak.
They discussed a singularly important event which threatened to upset world economy.
"It seems they will be worn long and wide," said Fimka, sinking her head into her shoulders like a hen.
"Gloom!"
Ellochka looked admiringly at Fimka Sobak.
Mile Sobak was reputed to be a cultured girl and her vocabulary contained about a hundred and eighty words.
One of the words was one that Ellochka would not even have dreamed of.
It was the meaningful word "homosexuality".
Fimka Sobak was undoubtedly a cultured girl.
Their animated conversation lasted well into the night.
At ten the next morning the smooth operator arrived at Varsonofefsky Street.
In front of him ran the waif from the day before.
He pointed out the house.
"You're not telling stories?"
"Of course not, mister. In there, through the front door."
Bender gave the boy an honestly earned rouble.
"That's not enough," said the boy, like a taxi-driver.
"The ears of a dead donkey.
Get them from Pushkin.
On your way, defective one!"
Ostap knocked at the door without the least idea what excuse he would use for his visit.
In conversations with young ladies he preferred inspiration.
"Oho?" asked a voice behind the door.
"On business," replied Ostap.
The door opened and Ostap went into a room that could only have been furnished by someone with the imagination of a woodpecker.
The walls were covered with picture postcards of film stars, dolls and Tambov tapestries.
Against this dazzling background it was difficult to make out the little occupant of the room.
She was wearing a gown made from one of Ernest Pavlovich's shirts, trimmed with some mysterious fur.
Ostap knew at once how he should behave in such high society.
He closed his eyes and took a step backwards.
"A beautiful fur!" he exclaimed.
"You're kidding," said Ellochka tenderly. "It's Mexican jerboa."
"It can't be.
They made a mistake.
You were given a much better fur.
It's Shanghai leopard.
Yes, leopard.
I recognize it by the shade.
You see how it reflects the sun.
Just like emerald!"
Ellochka had dyed the Mexican jerboa with green water-colour herself, so the morning visitor's praise was particularly pleasing.
Without giving her time to recover, the smooth operator poured out everything he had ever heard about furs.
After that they discussed silk, and Ostap promised to make his charming hostess a present of several thousand silkworms which he claimed the Chairman of the Central Executive Committee of Uzbekistan had brought him.
"You're the right kind of kid," observed Ellochka as a result of the first few minutes of friendship.