The housekeeper Varya nearly dropped the plates she was carrying when she heard a wild scream coming from the bedroom. She set the dishes down on the white tablecloth and rushed upstairs to her employer.
“May I come in, Vitaly Vitalyevich?” she asked, knocking on the door.
“Come in, come in,” the man replied. “I need your help.”
The woman entered the room and was confronted with a peculiar sight: Vitaly Vitalyevich was sitting on the edge of his bed, desperately trying to remove a crown from his head.
“What the hell is going on?” he fumed. “I can't get this damn contraption off! Take a look and see what's happened.”
Varvara stepped closer to her employer and turned pale.
“Well?” he demanded. “What's wrong? Why can't I take it off? It feels as though the bloody thing has grown into my head.”
“Oh, Vitaly Vitalyevich, do you really need to take it off?” the frightened housekeeper asked. “You've been wearing it all this time. Why not just carry on? Is it bothering you?”
“What exactly are you implying?” Vitaly Vitalyevich asked sarcastically, narrowing his eyes.
“God forbid!” the woman exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “It's just that… well… you see…”
“Spit it out! Come on! Why are you mumbling?” her employer shouted. “Why won't it come off?”
“You see, Vitaly Vitalyevich,” the housekeeper sighed heavily, “I'm afraid there's no way around it. I think you're going to need surgery.”
“What do you mean?” The man raised his eyebrows. “What kind of surgery? A crown is a piece of metal! What's surgery got to do with it?”
“The crown certainly is made of iron… I mean, metal,” Varvara nodded. “But something has grown right through it… I'm terribly sorry… horns.”
“What horns?” Vitaly Vitalyevich stared at her in astonishment. “Real horns?”
“That's precisely the problem. They're real. That's why I'm saying you'll need an operation. We won't be able to remove the crown just like that.”
“Hang on a minute. There's something I don't understand.” Her employer's eyes bulged. “Where could they possibly have come from? These horns, I mean…”
“Perhaps there's too much calcium in your body,” Varya answered evasively. “But please don't worry, Vitaly Vitalyevich. Deer spend their whole lives walking around with antlers, and they're perfectly fine.”
“Are you comparing me to a deer?” the man grumbled indignantly.
“Oh, forgive me!” the housekeeper caught herself. “It was just a figure of speech. Of course you're not a deer, but…”
“But what? But what?” Vitaly Vitalyevich shouted. “There's a hacksaw in the storeroom. Go and fetch it. We'll saw them off…”
“A surgeon ought to do that,” Varvara objected. “After all, horns are…”
“Not the horns! We'll saw the crown off!”
“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Varya said quietly.
“Why not?” Vitaly Vitalyevich asked in surprise.
“You see, as long as the crown stays on your head, nobody will even notice the horns. Especially if you put a hat over the crown. But if you take the crown off, your subordinates will immediately realise that their boss is a cuckold. And then people will start talking…”
“A fair point,” her employer agreed. “What do you suggest?”
“Let's not rush into anything,” Varvara proposed. “We'll call a surgeon and let him have a look. He can decide what needs to be done.”
“Right,” her employer agreed. “There's just one thing I still can't understand. How could this possibly have happened? Am I the only one like this? With horns, I mean?”
“Oh, no, no! Of course not, Vitaly Vitalyevich! Half the country is like that…”
“Really?” The man's mouth fell open.
“Well, what do you expect? Men drink too much, forget all about their wives, and then the wives…”
“Stop, stop, stop!” Vitaly Vitalyevich shouted. “Are you trying to tell me that my Albina is cheating on me?”
“I'm not trying to tell you anything,” Varvara sighed heavily. “But this”—she touched her employer's head—“speaks for itself.”
“Damn it! How could I have been so blind?” Vitaly Vitalyevich whined. “How could I have failed to notice? Of course it's her! But it's not my fault. Lately, nothing helps anymore — no pills, no powders, no injections. And she's still young. All she wants is more and more…”
“You can't argue with nature,” Varvara observed philosophically.
“Are you defending her?” her employer frowned.
“Who? Nature?”
Vitaly Vitalyevich had the distinct impression that Varya's question was dripping with sarcasm.
“What the hell has nature got to do with it? I'm talking about Albina!” Vitaly Vitalyevich hissed.
“And does she really need defending?” Varya was growing quite bold now.
“But you yourself said that this was the result of…”
“Yes, the result of adultery. But it might not have been Albina who caused it…”
“Then who?” Vitaly Vitalyevich asked in alarm.
“Your first wife. Horns don't grow that quickly, you know.”
“Oh, come on! Lyubka could never have cheated on me. She's… she's not that kind of woman…”
“Oh, please, Vitaly Vitalyevich! No woman is ever ‘that kind of woman’. But when circumstances press hard enough…”
“Stop!” Her employer thrust out his hand. “Tell me something, and be honest. Have you ever cheated on your husband?”
“It has happened,” the woman admitted. “He was always away on business trips, one after another. What was I supposed to do? So I found myself a couple of lovers.”
“Why did you need a couple?” Vitaly Vitalyevich asked in astonishment.
“One couldn't manage on his own,” Varvara chuckled.
“Well, you'd never guess it by looking at you,” her employer said with a smirk. “So that's what you women are really like!”
“It's all about balance, Vitaly Vitalyevich.” Varya spread her hands. “Things always break where they're weakest.”
“Hmm,” Vitaly Vitalyevich sighed. “I must have overlooked something somewhere. Still, what am I supposed to do now? What would you advise?”
“What can you do? If your subordinates don't object, you might as well carry on wearing your crown. Those horns even have an advantage…”
“An advantage?” Vitaly Vitalyevich exclaimed in amazement.
“A perfectly obvious one,” Varvara replied with a smile. “Just let someone try knocking that crown off your head now! It can still be removed, of course — but only together with your head.”
“Bite your tongue!” her employer said threateningly. “And don't forget: if they take my head off, you'll lose your job!”
Varvara chose not to argue with Vitaly Vitalyevich.
She invited him down to breakfast and returned to the kitchen.