Afterword
The phone number of the daughter of Fiodor Ivanovich Eichmanis was given to me by a retired colonel of state security, a reader of patriotic newspapers, a demagogue filled a sense of his own dignity and false significance. However, he wasn’t all unpleasant, a good host, not bad to have a drink with. At a certain moment in life, former soldier and old comics become similar; there’s something to that, isn’t there?
The colonel was showing me the photographs of his children. He offered to play chess. I watched as he placed the pieces — the last time he played was twenty years before, and I was worried I’d embarrass myself. But in vain…
I lost terribly, bringing him great joy.
“Another cognac?”
I hope you’re not also an amateur fencer, comrade colonel.
He cited this and that acq
