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along with the smoke, there flew out of the fifth-storey window three dark, apparently male silhouettes and one silhouette of a naked woman.
Haha narrator!
the mirrored doors of a currency store
Like a department store? Question
a long citizen in a checkered suit, and with him a big black cat.
There was a primus in the fat fellow’s hands.
Haha Behemoth.
read the story of the famous caliph Harun al-Rashid over again.
Koroviev and Behemoth made straight for the junction of the grocery and confectionery departments.
With the sharpest of knives, much like the knife stolen by Matthew Levi,
Bleeding one story 8n to the other.
‘we’re out of currency today ...
‘Palosich! Palosich!’
Pavel Yosifovich
’the poor man spends all day reparating primuses. He got hungry ... and where’s he going to get currency?‘
Mocking the working man and lack of hard currency in the economy.
the lilac fat man,
Mocking the treatment of foreigners
I’m bitter! Bitter, bitter!’ Koroviev wailed, like the best man at an old-fashioned wedding.
Haha simile
probably politically harmful speech
one could see by the eyes of the crowding public that it provoked sympathy ...
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a miracle occurred.
little old man,
a second miracle occurred.
The lilac one,
evidently having mastered, owing to the shock, this language hitherto unknown to him.
Haha
the perfidious Behemoth doused the confectionery counter with benzene from his primus,
The lilac citizen,
the two blackguards, Koroviev and the glutton Behemoth, got lost somewhere, but where - it was impossible to grasp.
the two hooligans supposedly flew up to the ceiling and there popped like children’s balloons.
Narrator!
the house of Griboedov’s aunt.
See ch. 5, “There were Doings at Griboedov’s” p. 64
Haha simile
his inseparable companion,
devil take me,
the service of Melpomene, Polyhymnia and Thalia.
the two blackguards
the unsuspecting restaurant.
Haha
A pale and bored citizeness
fat book of the ledger variety, in which the citizeness, for unknown reasons, wrote down all those who entered the restaurant.
Haha mocking bureaucracy
‘You’re not Dostoevsky,’ said the citizeness, who was getting muddled by Koroviev. ‘Well, who knows, who knows,’ he replied.
Haha
‘Dostoevsky’s dead,’ said the citizeness, but somehow not very confidently.
Haha
‘I protest!’ Behemoth exclaimed hotly. ‘Dostoevsky is immortal!’
Haha
some writer in a grey suit
covered with thick hair very much resembling a cat’s fur.
Haha
Sofya Pavlovna.’
the freebooter.
the two dubious ragamuffins
Archibald Archiba...
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A big deal in Ch. 5, “There were Doings at Griboedov’s” p. 64
‘Panaev,’
Haha
‘Skabichevsky,’
for some reason pointing to his primus.
Haha
Haha
