A man dressed as an ancient German was conspicuous by his stature and fine build. He pleased many because of his robustness and because his powerful arms with their well-developed muscles were visible. Women particularly walked after him, and all around him rose a whisper of admiration and of flattery. The ancient German was recognised as the actor, Bengalsky, who is a favourite in our town. That was why he received a large number of tickets. Many people argued thus:
"If I can't get the prize, then at least let an actor (or an actress) get it. If any of us get it they will tire us out with boasting."
Grushina's costume was also a success—a scandalous success. The men followed her in a thick crowd, with laughter and indelicate observations. The women turned away in embarrassment. At last the Commissioner of Police walked up to Grushina and said suavely:
"Madame, I'm afraid you must cover yourself."
"Why? There's nothing indecent to be seen about me," replied Grushina vigorously.
"Madame, the ladies are offended," said Minchukov.
"What do I care for your ladies?" shouted Grushina.
"Now, Madame," insisted Minchukov, "you must put at least a handkerchief on your chest and back."
"Suppose my handkerchief's dirty?" said Grushina with a vulgar laugh.
But Minchukov insisted: