Little Apples

THE PROPOSAL

(A Tale for Young Ladies)

Valentin Petrovich Perederkin, a young man of pleasant demeanor, put on his coat and tails, slipped into lacquered pointed boots, donned a top hat, and, struggling to contain his agitation, drove to Princess Vera Zapiskina’s estate.

What a pity, gentle reader, that you are not acquainted with the princess! What a sweet and charming creature she is: soft eyes the color of the sky, locks silken and wavy! The waves of the sea may break upon the rocky shore, but on the waves of the princess’s locks every stone crumbles to dust. Only an undiscerning dunce can remain unmoved by her smiles and the warmth emanating from her miniature bust that seems chiseled from the finest stone. Only a hard-boiled brute will not be transported to the heights of bliss when she speaks, laughs, or shows her dazzlingly white teeth.

Perederkin was shown into the drawing room.

He took a seat opposite the princess.

“There is something, dearest princess,” he began falteringly, “that I would like to ask you.”

“I’m listening.”

“Princess . . . forgive me, I do not know how to begin . . . you will surely find this so sudden . . . so impromptu . . . you will be angry.”

He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. The princess smiled and looked at him questioningly.

“From the moment I set eyes on you,” he continued, “my heart . . . my heart was filled with a longing that leaves me no peace day or night! And if this longing is not assuaged, I . . . I will be very unhappy!”

The princess lowered her eyes pensively. Perederkin fell silent for a moment, but then continued. “You will surely be taken aback by what I have to say . . . you have such a lofty nature, far above mine, but in my eyes you are the ideal person for me.”

Silence hung in the air. Perederkin sighed.

“And of course my estate does border on yours . . . and I am a man of considerable means.”

“What is this about?” the princess asked demurely.

“What is this about?” Perederkin said heatedly, and rose. “Princess, I beg you, do not reject me! Do not destroy all my dreams! Dearest princess, I would like to make a proposal.”

Perederkin sat down quickly, and leaned toward the princess. “A most profitable one, as you will see,” he whispered. “In a single year we could sell a million poods of lard. I am proposing that we set up a lard processing factory on our estates, fifty-fifty.”

The princess thought awhile. “Fifty-fifty?” she said. “It’s a deal!”

And the innocent reader, who expected a melodramatic ending, can breathe a sigh of relief.