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than admit it he gave a shocked cry of Brazen hussy! and suddenly found himself in the kitchen. It was empty. In the gloom a silent row of ten or so Primuses stood clare tomlinson sky sports on a marble slab. A single ray of moonlight, struggling through a dirty window that had not been cleaned for years, cast a dim light into one corner where there hung a forgotten ikon, the stubs of clare tomlinson sky sports two candles still stuck in its frame. Beneath the big ikon was another made of paper and fastened to the wall with tin-tacks. Nobody knows what came over Ivan but before letting himself out by the back clare tomlinson sky sports staircase he stole one of the candles and the little paper ikon. Clutching these objects he left the strange apartment, muttering, embarrassed clare tomlinson sky sports by his recent experience in the bathroom. He could not help wondering who the shameless Kiryushka might be and whether he was the owner of the nasty fur cap with dangling ear-flaps. In the clare tomlinson sky sports deserted, cheerless alleyway Bezdomny looked round for the fugitive but there was no sign of him. Ivan said firmly to himself: Of course! Hes on the Moscow River! Come on! Somebody should of clare tomlinson sky sports course have asked Ivan Nikolayich why he imagined the professor would be on the Moscow River of all places, but unfortunately there was no one to ask him--the nasty little alley was completely empty. In no clare tomlinson sky sports time at all Ivan Nikolayich was to be seen on the granite steps of the Moscow lido. Taking off his clothes, Ivan entrusted them to a kindly old man with a beard, dressed in a clare tomlinson sky sports torn white Russian blouse and patched, unlaced boots. Waving him aside, Ivan took a swallow-dive into the water. The water was so cold that it took his breath away and for a moment he even clare tomlinson sky sports doubted whether he would reach the surface again. But reach it he did, and puffing and snorting, his eyes round with terror, Ivan Nikolayich began swimming in the black, oily-smelling water towards clare tomlinson sky sports the shimmering zig-zags of the embankment lights reflected in the water. When Ivan clambered damply up the steps at the place where he had left his clothes in the care of the bearded man, not only clare tomlinson sky sports his clothes but their venerable guardian had apparently been spirited away. On the very spot where the heap of clothes had been there was now a pair of check underpants, a torn Russian blouse, a clare tomlinson sky sports candle, a paper ikon and a box of matches. Shaking his fist into space with impotent rage, Ivan clambered into what was left. As he did so two thoughts worried him. To begin with he clare tomlinson sky sports had now lost his MASSOLIT membership card; normally he never went anywhere without it. Secondly it occurred to him that he might be arrested for walking around Moscow in this state. After clare tomlinson sky sports all, he had practically nothing on but a pair of underpants. . . . Ivan tore the buttons off the long underpants where they were fastened at the ankles, in the hope that people might clare tomlinson sky sports think they were a pair of lightweight summer trousers. He then picked up the ikon, the candle and matches and set off, saying to himself: I must go to Griboyedov! Hes bound clare tomlinson sky sports to be there. Ivan Nikolayichs fears were completely justified--passers-by noticed him and turned round to stare, so he decided to leave the main streets and make Us way through the side-roads where people were not clare tomlinson sky sports so inquisitive, where there was less chance of them stopping a barefoot man and badgering him with questions about his underpants--which obstinately refused to look like trousers. Ivan plunged into a maze of sidestreets round the clare tomlinson sky sports Arbat and began to sidle along the walls, blinking fearfully, glancing round, occasionally hiding in doorways, avoiding crossroads with traffic lights and the elegant porticos of embassy mansions. 5. The Affair at Griboyedov clare tomlinson sky sports It was an old two-storied house, painted cream, that stood on the ring boulevard behind a ragged garden, fenced off from the pavement by wrought-iron railings. In clare tomlinson sky sports winter the paved front courtyard was usually full of shovelled snow, whilst in summer, shaded by a canvas awning, it became a delightful outdoor extension to the club restaurant. The house was called Griboyedov House clare tomlinson sky sports because it might once have belonged to an aunt of the famous playwright Alexander Sergeyevich Griboyedov. Nobody really knows for sure whether she ever owned it or clare tomlinson sky sports not. People even say that Griboyedov never had an aunt who owned any such property. . . . Still, that was its name. What is more, a dubious tale used clare tomlinson sky sports to circulate in Moscow of how in the round, colonnaded salon on the second floor the famous writer had once read extracts from Woe From Wit to that same aunt as she reclined on clare tomlinson sky sports a sofa. Perhaps he did ; in any case it doesnt matter. It matters much more that this house now belonged to MASSOLIT, which until his excursion to Patriarchs Ponds was headed by clare tomlinson sky sports the unfortunate Mikhail Alexandrovich Berlioz. No one, least of all the members of MASSOLIT, called the place Griboyedov House . Everyone simply called it Griboyedov : I spent a couple of hours lobbying at Griboyedov yesterday. clare tomlinson sky sports


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