The Twelve Chairs / Двенадцать стульев. Книга для чтения на английском языке

They looked under the beds and under the trunks; for some reason or other they moved back the harmonium; they questioned the old women, who kept looking at Pasha Emilevich timidly, but the chair was just not there. Pasha Emilevich himself showed great enthusiasm in the search. When all had calmed down, Pasha still kept wandering from room to room, looking under decanters, shifting iron teaspoons, and muttering:

В«Where can it be? I saw it myself this morning. It's ridiculous!В»

В«It's depressing, girlsВ», said Ostap in an icy voice.

В«It's absolutely ridiculous!В» repeated Pasha Emilevich impudently.

At this point, however, the Eclair fire extinguisher, which had been hissing the whole time, took a high F, which only the People's Artist, Nezhdanova, can do, stopped for a second and then emitted its first stream of foam, which soaked the ceiling and knocked the cook's cap off. The first stream of foam was followed by another, mouse-grey in colour, which bowled over young Isidor Yakovlevich.

After that the extinguisher began working smoothly. Pasha Emilevich, Alchen and all the surviving brothers raced to the spot.

В«Well doneВ», said Ostap. В«An idiotic invention!В»

As soon as the old women were left alone with Ostap and without the boss, they at once began complaining:

В«He's brought his family into the home. They eat up everythingВ».

В«The piglets get milk and we get porridgeВ».

В«He's taken everything out of the houseВ».

В«Take it easy, girlsВ», said Ostap, retreating.

«You need someone from the labour-inspection department. The Senate hasn't empowered me …»

The old women were not listening.

В«And that Pasha Melentevich. He went and sold a chair today. I saw him myselfВ».

В«Who did he sell it to?В» asked Ostap quickly.

«He sold it… that's all. He was going to steal my blanket…»

A fierce struggle was going on in the corridor. But mind finally triumphed over matter and the extinguisher, trampled under Pasha Emilevich's feet of iron, gave a last dribble and was silent for ever.

The old women were sent to clean the floor. Lowering his head and waddling slightly, the fire inspector went up to Pasha Emilevich.

В«A friend of mineВ», began Ostap importantly, В«also used to sell government property. He now lives a monastic life in the penitentiaryВ».

В«I find your groundless accusations strangeВ», said Pasha, who smelled strongly of foam.