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228 pages, Unknown Binding
First published January 1, 1926
Philip Stephanovitch was a model citizen. And all this notwithstanding, there was just a little impish adventurous streak in his character.
Suddenly a brisk tune was struck up. The flaxen hair of the pianist fell over the black and white keys of the groaning keyboard.
Three hands moved squealing bows over collapsible music-stands. Brazenly inflated lips began to spit into the narrow mouthpiece of a flute, extracting from the black wood a clear, high and tremulous howl. All this combined in a tune which consumed you and filled the heart with a promise of impossible but easily attainable pleasures.
The following morning Philip Stephanovitch woke up at a certain hour… Each person has his own manner of waking in the morning after a drunken orgy, and as nothing is unknown to a Soviet citizen, so there is nothing strange in the fact that one Soviet citizen wakes up in one way, another so, and a third prefers not to awaken, but lies with face to the wall and eyes closed, waiting in vain for the friends who have forgotten to bring him half a vodka and a cucumber.
Philip Stephanovitch, with a dagger in his mouth, was dancing a Caucasian dance in the middle of the room. Over his jacket he wore the tunic of a general, epaulettes jumping up and down like golden claws.
Twisting and turning his long legs in a most unbelievable manner, he was waving a beer bottle, groaning and grimacing. It was terrible. And all round him stood noisy people of the highest society – drunkenly applauding and beating time.