Staircase leading to the second floor.

The first room on the upper floor had a sign on the door in bold letters which said, " Fishing and Dacha Section, " accompanied by a picture of a carp jumping into a net.

The sign on Room No. 2 was not entirely clear, " Creative Day-Trips. See M. V. Podlozhnaya."

The next room had a brief but utterly baffling sign, " Perelygino, " and the array of signs that adorned the rest of the aunt's walnut doors would make your eyes swim, " Sign up with Folevkina for supplies, " " Cashier. Personal Accounts for Theatrical Sketch Writers..."

If one cut through the very long line that began downstairs in the en-tryhall, one could see the sign, " Housing Concerns, " on a door that people were constantly bombarding.

Behind " Housing Concerns" was a lush poster depicting a horseman in a Caucasian cloak riding along the crest of a mountain cliff with a rifle slung over his shoulders. Lower on the poster were palm trees and a balcony, and on the balcony a young man with a cowlick was seated and looking upward into space with incredibly alert eyes while holding a fountain pen in his hand. The caption read, " Creative Package Vacations from two weeks (for a short story or novella) to one year (for a novel or trilogy). Yalta, Suuk-Su, Borovoye, Tsikhidziri, Makhindzhauri, Leningrad (Winter Palace)." This door also had a line, but not a very long one, only about one hundred and fifty people.

Then there followed, conforming to the whimsical curves, rises, and falls of Griboyedov House—" MASSOLIT Administration, " " Cashiers: Nos. 2, 3, 4, 5, " " Editorial Board, " " MASSOLIT President, " " Billiard Room, " various auxiliary offices, and finally, that same colonnaded room where Griboyedov's aunt had enjoyed listening to her brilliant nephew's comedy.

Any visitor who came to Griboyedov immediately realized, unless, of course, he was a complete ninny, how good life was for the fortunates who were members of MASSOLIT. He would soon become green with envy and curse the heavens for not having blessed him at birth with literary talent, without which, naturally, one could not even dream of possessing the brown, gold-bordered MASSOLIT membership card that smelled of expensive leather, and was known to all of Moscow.

Who will say anything in defense of envy? As a feeling it falls into the category of worthless, but even so, one has to put oneself in the position of our visitor. After all, what he saw on the upper floor was merely the icing on the cake. The entire bottom floor of the aunt's house was occupied by a restaurant, and what a restaurant it was! Griboyedov was considered the best restaurant in Moscow and with good reason. Not only because of its layout in two large rooms with vaulted ceilings that were adorned with lilac-colored, Assyrian-maned horses, or because each table had its own shawl-shaded lamp, or because it was exclusive

The Incident at Griboyedov 47