Chapter 43 Section 12

"First," Hagen said, returning to the living room with Pnin, "I think we'll have one last drink." "Great. Great!" cried Pnin. "Let's just drink up my cruchon." The two settled down comfortably, and Dr. Hagen said: "You're one of a kind host, Timofey. Everyone's having a good time. My grandfather used to say that a good wine should always be sipped slowly and tasted like the last one before the guillotine. I I wonder what you've put in this five-flavored wine. I wonder, too, are you really going to buy the house, as our dear Joan is sure?"

"It's not just a plan—I also want to see if it's possible," Pning said with a grin. "I doubt you're smart enough to do that," Hagen went on, sipping his glass slowly. "Of course, I'm counting on eventually getting the tenure," Pnin quipped. "I've been an assistant professor for nine years. Quite a few years. I'm about to become an emeritus assistant professor. Why don't you say anything, Hagen?" "You're embarrassing me, Timofey. I wish you hadn't brought up that specific question." "I didn't raise the question. I was just hoping—well, not necessarily next year, but, say, on the centenary of emancipation—Wyndale might make me an associate professor."

"Well, you see, my dear friend, I have to tell you a sad secret. It has not been made public, and you must promise me that you will tell no one." "I swear I won't tell anyone," Pnin swore, throwing up a hand. "You must know," Hagen went on, "how hard it took me to get this great department of ours up and running. I'm not getting any younger now. You say you've been here nine years, Timofey. But I have given everything in my twenty-nine years to this university! Everything below, as my friend Dr. Kraft wrote to me a few days ago said: Hellmann Hagen, you single-handedly did more for Germany in America than all our missions did for America in Germany. Now what? I hold that piece of paper in my arms The dragon, who was raised by Faternforth, has now relied on means to occupy an important position. I will never tell you the details of this conspiracy!"

"Well," said Pnin with a sigh, "conspiracy is terrible, terrible. But on the other hand, decent work has its merits. The two of us can open some wonderful doors next year that I have long planned to open." On tyranny, on torture, on Nicholas I, on the ancestor of all modern atrocities. Hagen, when we talk about injustice, we tend to forget the Armenian massacre, the torture invented in Tibet, Africa Colonialists... the history of humanity is a history of suffering!" Hagen bent down and patted his friend's bumpy knee with his hand. "You're a wonderful romantic, Timofey, and in happier circumstances... Anyway, I can tell you we're going to do something unusual this spring term. We're going to put on a show A batch of theatrical shows - pieces from Kotzebue to Hauptmann. I see this as a culmination event...but let's not get our hopes up. I'm a romantic myself, Timothy Fee, so I can't cooperate with the Budonas as the trustees expect of me. Kraft is about to retire at Seabold College, and he proposed that I fill his vacancy starting this fall."

"Congratulations to you," said Pnin enthusiastically. "Thank you, my friend. This is indeed a very good and prestigious position. I will apply the valuable experience I have gained here to wider academic research and administration. Now that I know Budo will not continue To keep you in the German department, my first step would of course be to suggest that you come with me, but they say there are already enough Slavic researchers at the Seebold College without you. So I asked Braulenghi Talk, but the French department here is full too. That's too bad, because Wendell doesn't think it's financially worth paying you to teach two or three Russian courses that don't attract students anymore. As we all know, the political leanings of the United States have also turned people off from Russian stuff. Also, you'll be glad to know that the English department is hiring one of your most eminent countrymen, a truly fascinating lecturer— —I heard him tell it once; I think he's an old friend of yours."

Pu Ning cleared his throat and asked, "Does this mean they are going to fire me?" "Well, don't be too sad, Timofey. I'm sure your old friend..." "Who is an old friend?" Pnin asked with narrowed eyes. Hagen named the engaging lecturer. Pnin leaned forward, with his elbows on his knees, his hands clenched and then loosened, and he said: "Yes, I have known him for more than thirty years. We are friends." , but one thing is certain, that is, I will never work under him." "Oh, I think you should ignore this matter for the time being. Maybe a solution can be found. Anyway, we have a lot of opportunities to discuss this matter. The two of us, you and I, continue to teach our classes as if nothing happened Yes, nicht wahr? We should be brave, Timothy!"

"So they've fired me," said Pnin, shaking his hands tightly and nodding. "Yes, we are in the same situation and have the same experience." The optimistic Hagen said, then stood up.It was very late. "I'm going," said Hagen, who, although not quite as fond of the present tense as Pnin, "had a very good evening, and if our mutual friend had not told me of your optimistic plans, I'm never going to spoil the fun. Good night, oh, by the way... Of course, you'll still get full pay for the fall semester, and then we'll see what we can get you for the spring semester How much, especially if you agree to take on some of the tedious administrative work on my poor old shoulders, and if you're willing to come alive and take part in the theatrical performances in the new building. I think you should be in the show, it's my daughter Director's; it will distract you from your worries. Now go to bed, read a good detective novel, and get a good night's sleep."

On the porch he shook Pnin's unresponsive hand with enough force to shake both hands.Then, waving his cane, he walked down the wooden steps with ease. The screen door slammed shut behind him. "Der arme Kerl," murmured the kind-hearted Hagen as he walked home, "at least I've sugar-coated this bitter pill."