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DIAMONDS TO SIT ON
Hippolyte fingered the stuffing mechanically, and with his legs still gripping the chair he continued to repeat: ‘ Why aren’t they here ? Why aren’t they here ? ’ It was almost daylight when Hippolyte left the chair, and forgetting the pincers and his cap he climbed slowly and wearily out of the window and dropped into the street. ‘ I can’t understand it! I can’t understand it ! ’ He began to walk up and down in front of the building and his lips were saying : ‘ I can’t understand it ! I can’t understand it ! ’ Now and again he would shake his head and exclaim that he did not understand. The excitement had been too much for him. He had grown old in the space of five minutes. ‘ AU sorts of people come here,’ he suddenly heard a voice say. Hippolyte looked round and saw a watchman standing at his side. The watchman was an old man and had a kind face. ‘ Yes, they come and come,’ said the old man communicatively, for he was tired of his night watch. ' And I see that you’re interested too, comrade. Our club, I may say, is a most unusual one.’ Hippolyte looked agonizingly at the old man. ‘Yes,’ said the watchman, ‘ it is a most unusual club. There isn’t another club like it.’ ‘ What is there so unusual about it ? ’ asked Hippo lyte, trying to coUect his thoughts. The old man was delighted to be asked such a question, for it was obvious that he was fond of teUing the story about the unusual club. ‘ Well,’ began the old man, ‘ I’ve been a watchman here for ten years, and just you listen to what happened. You see, there was a club here—an ordinary kind of club—and I was the watchman. It was a poor sort of club. . . . We heated it and heated it, but we could never get it warm. One day Comrade Krasilnikov
