ABSALOM VLADIMIROVICH IZNURENKOV 153
bath, and, after pouring some water over himself out of a pale blue enamel jug, he began to soap himself vigorously. He was soon covered all over with soap and looked hke a snowman. ‘ That’s better ! ’ he said to himself ; and it certainly was better, for he had got rid of his wife and there was complete freedom for the future. The engineer bent down in the bath and turned the taps on, intending to wash off the soap. The tap gurgled, but no water came out of it. He thrust a soapy finger into the tap, but that did not improve matters ; only a few drops of water trickled out, but no more. He frowned, got out of the bath and went to the kitchen tap, but he could not get any water out of that either. He walked up and down in dismay. The soap was making his eyes smart, his back was itching, and the foamy water was dripping off his arms and legs on to the floor. Ernest Pavlovich decided to call the house porter. ‘ He’ll bring me some water,’ said the engineer to himself. ‘ It’s positively absurd. I can’t imderstand it.’ He looked out of the window and saw some children who were playing in the yard below. ‘ Porter ! Porter ! ’ he shouted. There was no answer, and then he remembered that the porter had his room at the bottom of the front staircase. He went out on to the landing and, holding the front door with his hand, he hung over the banister. There was only this one flat on the landing, and he was not afraid of being seen in this soapy condition. ‘ Porter ! ’ he shouted, and the word ‘ Por . . . ter ! ’ boomed out and re-echoed down the well of the stairs. ‘ Porter! Porter! ’ he shouted again, and the staircase re-echoed again and again ‘ ter ! . . . ter ! ’ At this point the engineer stamped his foot, slipped, and on trying to regain his balance, he let go of the door. The door swung to and he heard the Yale lock click.
