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

for the observations and explanations made in the course of their talk."
"It's strange how well I remember it all." He discovered that his cheeks and the tip of his nose had turned
pale. "That's the way I looked thenтАФwho wouldn't go after a guy who looked like that? The old wreck
couldn't have known that I wasn't turning pale from fear but from anger, like Louis XIV. But let's stop
waving our fists after the fight. What difference does it make what I was turning pale from? Okay, we'll
stop. But in order to calm down, in order to get things under control before appearing in company, and
return a homely but courageous face to its normal color, I must observe, Mr. Banev, and I must remind you,
that if you hadn't flaunted your handkerchief in front of Mr. President, at the present moment you would be
biding your time in our glorious capital, under the most pleas-ant conditions, and not in this wet hole."
Victor finished off the gin and went down to the restaurant.
Chapter II


"Of course they could have been muggers," said Victor. "Only in my day no mugger would think of taking
on a four-eyes. To throw a stone at oneтАФwell, all right. But to grab one, drag him around, and above all
touch him. . . . We were all afraid of them, we thought it was catching."
"I'm telling you, it's a genetic disease," said Golem. "You can't catch anything from them."
"What do you mean you can't," said Victor. "They give you warts, just like toads. Everybody knows that."
"You can't get warts from toads," said Golem expansively. "You can't get them from slimies either. You
should be ashamed of yourself, my dear writer. Though writers en masse are notoriously dense."
"Like all masses. The masses are dense, but they are wise. And if the masses declare that toads and
slimies give wartsтАФ"
"If it isn't my inspector coming toward us," said Golem.
Pavor walked over to them. He was wearing a wet raincoat, right from the street.
"Hello," he said. "I'm soaked to the skin, I want a drink."
"He smells like slime again," grumbled Dr. R. Quadriga, awakening from an alcoholic trance. "He always
smells like slime. Like a pond. Duckweed."
"What are you drinking?" asked Pavor.
"It depends," said Golem. "I, for one, am drinking cognac. As usual. Victor is having gin. And the doctor
is having one of everything."
*7
18 The Ugly Swans

"Shame!" muttered Dr. R. Quadriga. "Scales. And gills."
"A double cognac," Pavor shouted to the waiter.
His face was wet from the rain. His thick hair hung in clumps, and shining rivulets flowed down from his
temples along his smoothly shaven cheeks. "Another hard face," thought Victor. "A lot of people must envy
him. How did a health inspector get a face like that? A hard face. I can see it. The rain is pouring, there are
searchlights. Shadows flash along the wet trains and break off. Everything is dark and glittering, nothing but
darkness and glitter. No discussions, no bullshit, only or-ders, and everyone obeys. It doesn't have to be a
train, maybe an airplane, the airfield, and later nobody knows where he came from. Girls are falling over
backwards, and men feel like doing something manly. Like straightening their shoulders and pulling in their
stomachs. Take Golem. It wouldn't hurt Golem to pull in his stomach. But it won't work, where could he pull
it, there's no room left. Or Dr. R. Quadriga. But he wouldn't be able to straighten his shoulders, he's been
bent over for a long time, forever. In the evening he's bent over the table, in the morning he's bent over a
basin, and during the day he's bent over be-cause his liver hurts him. So I'm the only one capable of pull-ing
in my stomach and straightening my shoulders. But I think I'll direct my manliness toward this glass of gin."
"Nymphomaniac," moaned Dr. R. Quadriga to Pavor. "Mer-maidomaniac. And seaweed."
"Pipe down, Doctor," said Pavor. He was wiping his face with paper napkins, which he then crumpled up