LOCKSMITH, PARROT, FORTUNE-TELLER 59 The fortune-teller explained all this to the widow, using words and terms accepted by graphologists, palmists, and horse-dealers. ‘ Thank you,’ said the delighted widow. ‘ I know who the King of Clubs is and the Queen of Diamonds too. Tell me, is the King eligible ? ’ ‘ Yes, he is ehgible.’ The widow went home on wings. The fortune teller tossed her cards into a box, yawned, and went into the kitchen. There she fussed about with her dinner, which was cooking on the stove, and after wiping her hands on her apron picked up an enamel pail and went out into the yard for some water. She walked along the yard. Her hair was going grey ; she was old and dirty, suspicious of every one, and fond of eating sweets. If Hippolyte had seen her at this moment, he would never have recognized Elena Bauer, his old love. Madam Bauer was greeted at the well by her neighbour, Viktor Mikhaylovich Polesov, a locksmith and an intellectual. He was also fetching water. After exchanging greetings the two neighbours began to talk about the proposed tram service about which the whole of Stargorod was talking. . . ‘ That’s what we’ve come to ! ’ said Polesov iroiiically. ‘ I ran round the whole town yesterday trying to find an inch of solder. There wasn t any to be found, and yet they’re thinking of running trams.’ The fortune-teller had as much idea what solder was as the moon, but she expressed her sympathy. ' Just look at the shops nowadays,’ she said. ‘ There’s nothing but queue after queue and no shops worth talking about. And the names they put up 1 Why, they’re absurd ! ’ , ‘ Of course the trams won’t be of any use whatever, the locksmith persisted. ‘ They’ll go for a mile and then break down. I know, I’ve had a look at them. The locksmith was silent for a moment. His dirty
