CHAPTER VIII
A NERVOUS THIEF
THE superintendent of the home for the aged was a faint-hearted thief. He protested with all his being against theft, but he could not refrain from thieving. He stole and was ashamed of stealing. He stole constantly and was constantly ashamed. of himself, and as a result his cheeks glowed from a mixture of shame and embarrassment. His name was Alexander Yakovlevich and his wife was called Alexandra Yakovlevna. He called her Sashkin and she called him Alkin. The world had never known such a thief as Alexander Yakovlevich.
He was not only the superintendent of the home for the aged but the director as well. The former superintendent had lost his job for bad treatment of the inmates. Alkin was in no way like his ignorant predecessor—he treated the inmates politely, and introduced important reforms and improvements.
Ostap Bender opened the heavy oak door of Hippolyte's former home and went into the hall. He could smell burnt porridge, and he could hear people talking loudly in the rooms above. From the distance it sounded as if they were cheering, but there was no one in the hall and no one appeared. There were two flights of stairs leading up from the hall, which had at one time been polished. On the stairs the eyes had been left in their places, but the rods that used to press the carpet down had long since disappeared.
'This fellow Hippolyte knew how to live,' thought Bender as he went up the staircase. 'Such luxury is positively indecent.'
He found a circle of some eighteen old women sitting in the first room. They were all dressed in the cheapest
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