Lazar Brodsky, the lumber king of Kiev, was an immensely wealthy man, back during the days of the Czar. As with many such figures in all ages, he was the subject of much curiosity throughout the community. Many humble folk longed to meet him, or at least to catch a glimpse of the magnate through a window.
It seems that a certain peasant of a small Ukrainian community, through the influence of a friend who had risen to prominence in local government, was fortunate enough to enter the portals of the Brodsky mansion and peek into the living quarters. There he beheld two young ladies, the lumber king's daughters, he was told. They were playing a duet at the piano.
After returning home the fellow was immediately besieged by his neighbors with questions as to the great man's splendor. He stopped them all with a disparaging shrug of his shoulders.
"Frankly, I wasn't at all impressed," said he. "I fail to see why people rave so much about Brodsky's wealth. Just imagine ... two girls forced to play on one piano. That's riches?"