"Arkady & Boris Strugatsky - The Ugly Swans" - читать интересную книгу автора (Strugatski Arkady)

"It's difficult to argue with you," Pavor said politely.
"Don't," said Victor. "It's a bad idea. Arguments may, God forbid, yield truth." He tenderly stroked his
lump. "However, this is no doubt the result of my ignorance. All scientists are champions of progress and
I'm not a scientist. All I am is a not unknown versifier."
"Why do you keep poking at the back of your head?" asked Pavor.
The Ugly Swans 25

"Some bastard lit into me," said Victor. "With brass knuck-les. Am I right, Golem? Brass knuckles?"
"Looks like it," said Golem. "Although it could have been a brick."
"What are you talking about?" said Pavor. "What brass knuckles? In this backwoods?"
"So you see," said Victor in a didactic tone. "Progress. Let's have another drink to conservatism."
They had another drink to conservatism. The clock struck nine. A familiar pair appeared in the hall, a
young man with thick glasses and his lanky companion. They took their ac-customed seats, lit the table
lamp, meekly glanced around the room, and set to studying the menu. The man in glasses had, as usual,
come with his attache case, which he put on an empty armchair next to him. He was always very kind to
his attache' case. The two dictated their order to the waiter, straightened up, and stared silently into space.
"A strange pair," thought Victor. "An astonishing lack of correspondence. As though you were seeing them
through bad binocularsтАФas soon as one comes into focus, the other fades out, and vice versa. Complete
in-compatibility. You could have a chat about progress with the one in glasses, but not with the lanky one.
Whereas the lanky one could slug me with a set of brass knuckles, but not the one in glasses. But now I'm
going to bring you both into focus. Only how? Well, let's see. . . . The cellar of some government bank.
Cement, concrete, a security system. The lanky one works on the combination lock and the steel block
rotates, revealing the entrance to the depository. The two enter, the lanky one works on a second
combination lock, the doors of the safe roll back, and the one in glasses is up to his elbows in diamonds."
Dr. R. Quadriga suddenly burst into tears and grabbed Vic-tor's hand. "Sleep," he said. "My place. All
right?"
Victor rushed to pour him some more gin. Quadriga gulped it down and wiped his chin.
26 The Ugly Swans

"My place. My villa. There's a fountain. All right?"
"A fountainтАФthat's a good one," said Victor, putting him off. "What else?"
"A cellar," moaned Quadriga. "Footprints. Frightening. It's awful. Want to buy it?"
"Make it a gift," said Victor.
Quadriga blinked. "Can't do it," he said.
"Tightwad," Victor reproached him. "Comes from your childhood. Can't spare your villa. Well, go choke
on it."
"You don't like me," said Dr. R. Quadriga bitterly. "No-body likes me."
"What about Mr. President?" Victor was getting aggressive.
"The president is the father of his people," said Quadriga, livening up. "A sketch in gold tones. The
President in the Trenches.' A fragment from a painting: 'The President in the Trenches During the Shelling.'
"
"What else?" inquired Victor.
" The President in a Cloak,'" said Quadriga quickly. "A panel. Panorama."
Victor got bored. He cut himself a slice of marinated eel and started listening to Golem.
"I'll tell you what, Pavor," Golem was saying. "Leave me alone. What else can I do? I showed you our
books. I'm ready to sign your report. If you want to make a complaint about the soldiers, go ahead. If you
want to make a complaint about meтАФ
"I don't want to write about you," said Pavor, pressing his hands to his heart.
"Then don't."
"Then tell me what to do. Can't you give me some idea of what to do?"