“And so I took with Sarochka a little dowry. What do I mean, a little dowry? Such money that Rothschild would not even want to look at it are in my hands a whole capital already. But it must be said that there are some savings by me, too. The firms I know will give me credit. If God grant it, we shall still eat a piece of bread and a little butter—and on the Sabbaths the tasty GEFILTEH FISCH.” “That’s fine fish: pike the way the sheenies make it!” said the gasping land-owner. “We shall open up for ourselves the firm of ‘Horizon and Son.’ Isn’t that true, Sarochka—‘and Son?’ And you, I hope, will honour me with your esteemed orders? When you see the sign, ‘Horizon and Son,’ then straight off recollect that you once rode in a car together with a young man, who had grown as foolish as hell from love and from happiness.” “Ab-solutely!” said the land-owner. And Simon Yakovlevich at once turned to him: “But I also work by commission broking. To sell an estate, to buy an estate, to arrange a second mortgage—you won’t find a better specialist than me, and such a cheap one at that. I can be of service to you, should the need arise,” and he extended his visiting card to the land-owner with a bow, and, by the way, handed a card each to his two neighbours as well. The land-owner dived into a side pocket and also dragged out a card. “Joseph Ivanovich Vengjenovski,” Simon Yakovlevich read out loud. “Very, very pleased! And so, should you need me ...” “Why not? It’s possible ...” said the land-owner meditatively. “Why, yes: perhaps, indeed, a favourable chance has brought us together! Why, I’m just journeying to K——about the sale of a certain forest country house. Suppose you do that, then,—drop in to see me. I always stop at the Grand Hotel. Perhaps we may be able to strike up a deal.” “Oh, I’m already almost sure, my dearest Joseph Ivanovich!” exclaimed the rejoicing Horizon, and slightly, with the very tips of his fingers, patted Vengjenovski’s kneecap carefully. “You just rest assured; if Horizon has undertaken anything, then you’ll be thanking him like your own father, no more, no less.” Half an hour later Simon Yakovlevich and the smooth-faced sub-lieutenant were standing on the platform of the car and smoking. “Do you often visit K——, mister sub-lieutenant?” asked Horizon. “Only for the first time—just imagine! Our regiment is stationed at Chernobob. I was born in Moscow, myself.” “AI, AI, AI! How’d you come to get into such a faraway place?” “Well, it just fell out so. There was no other vacancy when I was let out.” “But then—Chernobob is a hole! The worst little town in all Podolia.” “That’s true, but it just fell out so.” “That means, then, that the young officer gent is going to K——to divert himself a little?”