“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?”