Chapter 14 14. Mask

A certain social club, for the purpose of raising money for charity, held a masquerade ball, or as the local ladies call it, a masquerade ball. It was twelve o'clock at midnight.A few non-dancing and maskless intellectuals (there were five of them in total) were sitting around a large table in the reading room, hiding their noses and beards in the newspaper, reading and taking a nap, and, according to the Kyoto newspaper The local reporter, a gentleman with a liberal tendency, is "thinking". From the hall came the quadrille "Spinning Wheel."Outside the door, servants ran past from time to time, and there was the sound of footsteps and the clink of cups and plates.It was very quiet in the reading room.

"It seems to be more comfortable here!" Suddenly a low and hoarse voice sounded, which seemed to come from the stove, "Everyone come here! Come on, friends!" The door flew open, and a stocky, broad-shouldered man in a coachman's livery, with peacock feathers in a wide-brimmed hat, and a masked face entered the reading room.Behind him came two masked women and a servant with a tray.On the tray were a well-bellied carafe full of liqueur, three bottles of claret, and glasses. "Come up here! It's cooler here," said the man. "Put your trays on the table. . . . Sit down, ladies! Hot... Wu... Ah... La... Tremont Lang, and you, gentlemen, all Move away... don't stay here!"

The man shook his body, waved his hand, and wiped several magazines on the table to the ground. "Put the tray here! And you, gentlemen who read the newspapers, make room. This is not the time to read papers and study politics. . . Throw away the papers!" "I ask you to be quiet," said an intellectual, looking at the man's mask through his glasses, "this is the reading room, not the snack bar...this is not a place for drinking." "Why not? Could it be that the table is shaking, or the ceiling is going to fall in? It's strange! But... I don't have time to chat with you now! You throw away the newspaper... You read it for a long time, and that's enough. If you don't read the newspaper, you've already That's smart enough, besides reading newspapers hurts your eyes. The most important thing is, I don't want you to read newspapers, that's all!"

The servant put the tray on the table, put his hands on his arms, and stood by the door.The two women immediately grabbed the red wine. "How can there be such a smart person in the world who thinks newspapers are better than fine wine," said the man with peacock feathers, pouring himself a glass of liqueur, "in my opinion, the reason why you honorable gentlemen Like to read newspapers because you don't have money to buy wine. Am I right? Haha! They read newspapers all the time! Hey, what's in that? Mr. Glasses! What events did you read? Haha! Come on, don't read It's gone! Stop pretending, why don't you come and have a drink!"

The man with peacock feathers straightened up a little, and snatched the newspaper from Mr. Glasses.The other party blushed first, then blushed again, looked at the other intellectuals in surprise, and those people also looked at him in surprise. "You're getting carried away, sir!" said Mr. Glasses indignantly. "You're treating the reading room like a tavern, and you're so presumptuous that you take the newspaper from me! I won't allow it! You don't know who you're dealing with, sir." ! I am Restyakov, the bank manager! . . . " "I spit on you, Restyakov! As for your newspaper, it deserves the honor..."

The man picked up the newspaper and tore it to pieces. "Gentlemen, what's the matter?" murmured Restyakov, stunned, "it's incomprehensible, it's . . . it's unreasonable!" "The old man is angry." The man laughed. "Oh, I was scared to death! Even my legs were shaking. That's the way, honorable gentlemen! Seriously, I don't bother to tell you Nonsense... Because I want to be here alone with these two girls, I want to have some fun here, so please don't get in our way, let me out... You are welcome! Gentlemen! Mr. Perebkhin, go away Get out! Why are you frowning? I tell you to go out, so you just go out obediently! Hurry up! Otherwise, be careful and I will beat you up."

"What kind of talk is that?" said Berebukhin, the accountant of the orphanage, blushing and shrugging. "I just don't understand . . . a scoundrel came in here . "What's a rascal?" The man with peacock feathers yelled. He was so angry that he slammed his fist on the table, causing the cups on the tray to jump up. "Are you talking to Zhun? Do you think you can talk nonsense and scold me if I put on a mask? What a sharp-tongued guy! I tell you to go out, you go out, and no bastard is allowed to stay here! Hurry up , Get the hell out of here!" "We'll see the result soon!" said Restyakov, sweating through his glasses. "I want to show you something amazing! Hey, go and call the supervisor on duty!"

After a while, a director with short stature and brown red hair came in, with a small blue cloth strip pinned to the lapel of his jacket, dancing and panting. "Get out, please!" he began. "This is not a place for drinking! Please go to the snack bar!" "Where did you jump out of here?" said the masked man. "Could it be that I called you?" "Please don't you you yours, please get out!" "Listen to me sweetie: I'll give you a minute... since you're the director and the big guy, please take these actors by the arm and get them out. My girls don't like outsiders here... …they're shy, and since I've spent the money, I want them to show their natural selves."

"Obviously the savage doesn't understand that he's not in the pigsty!" cried Restyakov. "Call Yevstrat Spiridonitch!" "Evstrat Spiridonitch!" cried the club. "Where is Evstrat Spiridonitch?" Yevstrat Spiridonitch, an old man in a police uniform, arrived at once. "Please get out of here!" He said hoarsely, with wide-eyed and terrifying eyes and a dyed mustache. "Oh, it's scary!" The man laughed happily, "Really, it's scary! There is such a scary person, your mustache looks like a cat's tentacles, and your eyes are staring out... Hehehe... "

"Stop talking nonsense!" cried Yevstrat Spiridonitch, trembling with rage, "get out! Or I'll send you away!" There was an unimaginable noise in the reading room.Yevstrat Spiridonitch, blushing like a boiled shrimp, kept shouting and stamping his feet.Restyakov was also shouting.Berebkhin was also shouting.All intellectuals are shouting.However, their voices were suppressed by the deep and hoarse voice of the Masked Man.The dance was interrupted by chaos, and the crowd poured from the hall to the reading room. Yevstrat Spilinitch, to show his dignity, called all the policemen in the club.He sat down and began to write the police record.

"Write, write," said the Masked Man, poking his finger at the nib of his pen. "Oh, why do you call me a poor man now? I am a poor man! Why do you want to destroy me, a helpless man?" Ya! Haha! Well, now I'll show you! One... two... three!" The man stood up, puffed out his chest and belly, and took off his mask abruptly.He showed his drunken face, looked at everyone, admired the effect, and then collapsed in the armchair, laughing with joy.The repercussions he evoked were truly extraordinary.All the intellectuals looked flustered, looked at each other, turned pale with fright, and some scratched the back of their heads.Yevstrat Spilinitch cleared his throat anxiously, like a man who has done something stupid by accident. Everyone recognized the troublemaker as Pyatigolov, a local millionaire, factory owner, and hereditary honorary citizen, who had always been famous in the village for his love of nonsense and his enthusiasm for public welfare. He was also "full of love for the cause of education," as stated in the book. "Well, are you going or not?" Pyatigorov asked after a moment of silence. The intellectuals were all speechless, and walked out of the reading room on tiptoe without a sound.After they left, Pyatigolov immediately locked the door. "You must have known he was Pyatigolov!" Evstrat Spilinich whispered hoarsely after a while, shaking the shoulder of the footman who brought the drink into the reading-room, "Why are you silent?" "He's not allowed to say that, sir!" "Don't say it... When I lock you up, you damn bastard, and squat in the prison for a month, then you will know the power of 'don't say it'! Go away! But you are fine, gentlemen," he turned and said to The intellectuals said, "Rebellion! You can't leave the reading room for ten minutes! Well, now you go clean up this mess. Well, gentlemen, gentlemen... I don't like this, really!" Intellectuals walked around the club, dejected, anxious, ashamed, muttering to themselves, as if they had a premonition of impending doom... Their wives and daughters heard that Pyatigolov "I was wronged", lost my temper, was too scared to speak out, and went home early.The dance is over. Pyatigolov did not come out of the reading room until two o'clock at night.He was drunk and staggered around.He came to the hall, sat down by the orchestra, dozed off during the music, then hung his head sadly, and immediately snored loudly. "Don't play!" the directors shook their hands at the musicians. "Hush! . . . Yegor Nyrech fell asleep . . . " "May I ask you to take you home, Yegor Nyrech?" Berebkhin asked, bending over the millionaire's ear. Pyatigolov nuzzled his lips as if trying to blow a fly off his face. "Excuse me, do you want to take you back to your residence?" Berebkhin asked again, "Or order the carriage to be ready?" "Ah? Who? You... What's the matter with you?" "It's time to take you home, sir...it's bed time..." "I want to go... go home... you send me... go back!" Berebkhin beamed with joy, and hurriedly helped Pyatigolov up.Immediately the rest of the intellectuals came to help, and smiling cheerfully, they lifted the hereditary honorary citizen up and carefully carried him to the carriage. "Only an actor, only a genius, can fool such a large crowd," said Restyakov cheerfully, helping him to a seat. "I was really shocked, Yegor Nyrech! Even now I want to laugh... ...haha... But we are still angry and tossing around! Haha! Believe it or not, I have never laughed like this before watching a play... It was so funny! I will remember this unforgettable night for the rest of my life! " After sending Pyatigolov away, the intellectuals beamed and began to feel at ease. "He held out his hand to me before leaving," said the very proud Restyakov. "So everything is all right, he's not angry anymore..." "God bless!" said Evstrat Spiridonitch with relief, "a scoundrel, a scoundrel, and a philanthropist, you know! . . .

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