Anton Chekhov short stories. stories

About the early stories of A. Ch.

(from complete collection works in 30 volumes)

The first collection of Chekhov's stories was prepared for publication in the middle of 1882. It included stories: "Wives of Artists", "Daddy", "Peter's Day", "You chase two hares, you won't catch a single one", "Confession, or Olya, Zhenya, Zoya", "Sinner from Toledo", "Temperaments ”, “Flying Islands”, “Before the wedding”, “Letter to a learned neighbor”, “In the carriage”, “A thousand and one passions, or a terrible night”.
This collection has not been published. Two incomplete copies of it have survived - without covers, title pages, last pages and contents (Moscow House-Museum of A.P. Chekhov - 112 and 96 pages). One copy is marked: "Edition of the author 188-"; in another - an indication of I.P. Chekhov: “The surviving sheets of the first collection of stories by A.P., which was not published. (Early 80s, before "Tales of Melpomene"). I. Chekhov. March 31, 1913"; "Drawings of the late brother Nikolai".
M. P. Chekhov wrote about this book very carefully: “It was already printed, stitched, and only the cover was missing ... I don’t know why it was not published and in general what was its further fate” (Around Chekhov, p. 137).
A.P. Chekhov himself did not leave any information about his first collection.
By tradition, this book was associated with a rough sketch of the cover, kept by M. M. Dyukovsky (in 1965 transferred to the Moscow Museum of A. P. Chekhov): “At leisure. Antosha Chekhonte. Rice. N. P. Chekhov.
The collection has so far been dated to 1883 on the basis that the chronologically latest parody in it, The Flying Islands, was published in the Alarm Clock magazine in May 1883.
In preparing the volume, the cases of Moscow censorship, stored in the Central State. archive of Moscow. Among the papers of 1882, documents were found explaining the fate of Chekhov's first book.
On June 19, 1882, the Moscow printing house N. Cody, which published, in particular, the magazine Spectator, applied to the censorship committee with a request to issue her a “ticket for submitting a book called “Miners and Complacent” in proof sheets. Antosha Chekhonte's Almanac with Chekhov's Drawings, which will include 7 printed sheets» (f. 31, op. 3, item 2251, fol. 95). The censorship committee met on the same day, but the request was refused “for lack of a law in mind to resolve this petition” (ibid., item 2173, fol. 125v.). On June 30, 1882, the printing house again appealed to the censorship committee, asking “to give it a ticket for presentation in the proof sheets of the book “Prank” by A. Chekhonte, with drawings by N. P. Chekhov, a book that includes articles that have already been published at different times in censored publications. “Articles,” said this petition, written in Chekhov's own hand, “which have not yet been printed, will be delivered in manuscript form. The book will consist of 5–7 printed sheets” (ibid., item 2251, fol. 155). This time the request was granted, and the printing house received a "ticket" - the right to present the book to the censor. The censor was a real state councilor V. Ya. Fedorov, a very influential official, who was soon appointed chairman of the Moscow Censorship Committee.
The discovered materials made it possible to establish the date of the collection - 1882 (the parody "Flying Islands" thus also refers to 1882), its title - "Prank" - and the full volume (7 printed sheets).
The further fate of Chekhov's first book was not reflected in the surviving documents of the censorship archive. But, starting with N. A. Leikin, negotiations on Motley Tales, Chekhov wrote: “There are publishers-typographers in Moscow, but in Moscow censorship will not let the book, because all my choicest stories, according to Moscow concepts, undermine the foundations” (1 April 1885).
Since the publication of Tales of Melpomene did not meet with censorship obstacles, Chekhov's remark can only be attributed to his first collection.
From the collection “Tales of Melpomene. Six stories by A. Chekhonte”, M., 1884, this volume included: “He and She”, “Baron”, “Revenge”, “Two Scandals”, “Wives of Artists” (1883 story “Tragic”, see . in Volume II).
The appearance of "Tales of Melpomene" - Chekhov's first published book - caused a number of responses in the press. In particular, P. A. Sergeenko wrote: “... the stories of A. Chekhonte are torn alive from the artistic world. All of them are small, read easily, freely and with an involuntary smile. Written with Dickensian humor ... Humor is everywhere, humor without effort, and Chekhonte handles it very carefully, as it should. And then for recent times it’s terrible how everyone has fallen into humor ... we just laugh when the authorities are wise and it’s impossible not to giggle, or when we skin our neighbor. Healthy, cheerful, good laugh and we don’t have it in sight ”(Iago. Volatile notes. - Novorossiysk Telegraph, 1884, No. 2931, December 1).
The weekly newspaper Teatralny Mirok (edited by A. A. Pleshcheev) published a bibliographic note about the collection: “All six stories are written in a lively, lively language and are read with interest. The author has an undoubted sense of humor” (“Theatrical World”, 1884, No. 25).
A. D. Kurepin, who signed with the initial K, began his “Moscow Feuilleton” in Novoye Vremya with a review of the collection. It would be better for him to turn to life itself and draw from it a handful of materials for all kinds of stories, both merry and sad ”(“ Novoye Vremya ”, 1884, No. 3022, July 28).
The Observer magazine (1885, no. 4, pp. 68–68) also printed a sympathetic review. Here it was said about the “Tales of Melpomene”: “The author of these stories gave them an inappropriate name: they are all taken from the world of the theater, but they have nothing to do with the muse of tragedy; they could rather be conveyed by the muse of comedy, the cheerful Thalia, since they are dominated by a comic or humorous element. These stories are not badly written, they are easy to read; their content and the types derived from them are close to real life.
In 1883, a humorous collection “Kukareku. funny and funny stories, novels and poems" - ed. King of Clubs (L. I. Palmina), where from the magazines "Alarm Clock" and "Moscow" were reprinted, without the participation of the author, two Chekhov's stories: "Life in questions and exclamations" and "I forgot !!".
In 1900, the editors of the St. Petersburg magazine "Dragonfly" released both " main prize magazine" collection "In the world of laughter and jokes", which includes some stories, poems, humoresques, cartoons that were published on the pages of "Dragonfly". Among them are the following stories and humoresques by Chekhov, dating back to 1880: “American Style”, “Daddy”, “Before the Wedding”, “For Apples”, “What is most often found in novels, short stories, etc.? ". As a comparison of the texts shows, it was a simple reprint (the story "Papasha", corrected by Chekhov in 1882, was reproduced here according to the magazine text of 1880). Thus, the collections "Kukareku" and "In the world of laughter and jokes" cannot be considered sources of the text.
Stories and humoresques early years, which were not published during Chekhov's lifetime and preserved in manuscripts, are collected in the section “Unpublished. Unfinished." Here, in particular, for the first time the humoresque "Advertising and Announcements" is fully placed. It was also found out that the parody "novel" "Secrets of one hundred and forty-four catastrophes, or Russian Rocambole", dated 1884 in previous editions, actually refers to 1882.

All the stories and humoresques collected in the first volume appeared in the magazines and newspapers of 1880–1882 under pseudonyms or without a signature. The first authentically known Chekhov's signature in print - "... in" - was under the "Letter to a learned neighbor." Then the well-known pseudonym "Antosha Chekhonte" and its variants were widely used: Antosha, Chekhonte, An. Ch., Antosha Ch., Antosha Ch***, A. Chekhonte, Don Antonio Chekhonte. Under some texts there were signatures: Man without a spleen, Prose poet, G. Baldastov.
Preparing the first collection of his works for the book publishing house of A.F. Marx, Chekhov could not find everything that he had published in twenty years of literary work - his "children scattered all over the world." A number of stories and humoresques, published under undisclosed pseudonyms or anonymously, were lost on the pages of magazines and newspapers of the late 70s and early 80s and have not been collected to this day.
In preparing this volume, the following editions of 1877-1883 were surveyed.
Magazines: "Dragonfly", "Alarm Clock", "Shards", "Illustrated Demon", "Spectator", "Light and Shadows", "Worldly Talk", "Moscow", "Entertainment", "Russian satirical leaflet", "Bell ”, “Malyar”, “Jester”, “Phalanx” (Tiflis), “Gusli” (Tiflis), “Lighthouse” (Odessa), “Bee” (Odessa), “Good-natured”, “Echo”, “Rebus”, "Nuvellist", "Niva", "Neva", "Illustrated World", "Spark", "Nature and Hunting", "Russia", "Krugozor", "Children's Recreation", "Spring".
Newspapers: Moskovsky Leaf, Minute, Petersburg Leaf, A. Gatsuk's Newspaper, Prompter, Theatre, Azov Herald, Azov Rumors, Taganrog Herald, Russian Courier , "Moscow Week", "Russia", "Russian Newspaper", "Donskaya bee", "South Territory", "Hive", "Order", "Light", "Light", "Echoes", "Glasnost", " Dawn".
Almanacs and collections: "Forget-Me-Not", M., 1878; "Shooter", M., 1878; "Komar", M., 1878; "Yula", M., 1878; "Merry-punning", M., 1879; "Live strings", St. Petersburg, 1879; "Zabavnik", St. Petersburg, 1879; "Our laughers" ("Amusing Library"), St. Petersburg, 1879; "Rainbow", M., 1879; "Repertoire of fun, fun and laughter", M., 1879; "Cricket", Odessa, 1879; Almanacs "Alarm Clock" for 1879-1882; "Cricket", M., 1880; "Crow in peacock feathers", M., 1880; "Skomorokh", M., 1880; "Laugher, or Pea Jesters", St. Petersburg, 1880; "Jester pea", Odessa, 1881; "Humorist", M., 1881; "Cheerful fellow traveler", St. Petersburg, 1881; "Bouquet", St. Petersburg, 1881; "Miracles of the Moscow Exhibition", St. Petersburg, 1882; "Hey, she, I'll die of laughter", St. Petersburg, 1882; “Artistic almanac of the journal Light and Shadows”, M., 1882; "Fragments", St. Petersburg, 1882; "The stimulant of the pleasures of life, fun, love and happiness", M., 1883; "Kukareku", M., 1883; "Live string", St. Petersburg, 1883; "Fly", St. Petersburg, 1883; Veselchak, St. Petersburg, 1883; "Zabubennye golovushki", St. Petersburg, 1883; "Mother's sons", St. Petersburg, 1883; "Copper foreheads", St. Petersburg, 1883; "Flashlight", St. Petersburg, 1883; Zuboskal, St. Petersburg, 1883; "Moth", Kyiv, 1883.
During the examination, the following were checked: evidence of Chekhov's first appearance in the press; assumptions about Chekhov's authorship in controversial texts; publications attributed to Chekhov. It was possible to find stories, humoresques and poems, probably belonging to Chekhov (placed in the "Dubia" section of volume XVIII). Volume XVIII also includes 12 lines from No. 30 of the Dragonfly magazine for 1880 (“Mosquitoes and Flies”), presumably separated from the entire 35-line publication.
A. Pazukhin remembered Chekhov's participation in the almanac "The Illustrated Demon" (see A. Izmailov. Chekhov. M., 1916, pp. 84–85). In the only published issue (M., 1880; a copy is kept in the State public library them. M. E. Saltykov-Shchedrin, Leningrad) reproduced engraved drawings by N. P. Chekhov; the accompanying text is not signed. According to the documents of the archive of the Moscow Censorship Committee, the author of the poems and feuilletons of The Illustrated Demon was established - Alexandra Urvanovna Sokolova, who worked in the small press under the pseudonym "Blue Domino" (petition by A. U. Sokolova dated May 13, 1881, TsGAM, f. 31, inventory 3, item 2250, sheet 41).
Central state. the archive of literature and art (Moscow) acquired proofs preserved in the papers of the book publishing house of A. F. Marx - material for additional volumes posthumous edition of Chekhov's works. On eighteen large sheets there are prints of stories, humoresques and feuilletons of 1881-1886. Among them are those in real volume“And this and that (Letters and telegrams)”, “Salon de Variety”, “Temperaments”, “In the Carriage”, “Wedding Season”, “Philosophical Definitions of Life”, “Meeting of Spring”. Here, three humoresques were reprinted from the Alarm Clock magazine for 1882: “The most offensive of foreign ducks”, “On the history of advertising”, “Women's costume in Paris”. The first was published in "Alarm Clock" signed by A., the other two - without a signature. An analysis of the content and style of these humoresques leads to the conclusion that they do not belong to Chekhov.

A. P. Chekhov "Vanka"

Vanka Zhukov, a nine-year-old boy who was apprenticed three months ago to the shoemaker Alyakhin, did not go to bed on Christmas Eve. After waiting for the masters and apprentices to leave for matins, he took out a vial of ink from the master's closet, a pen with a rusty nib, and, spreading a crumpled sheet of paper in front of him, began to write. Before he typed out the first letter, he glanced fearfully at the doors and windows several times, glanced sideways at the dark image, on both sides of which stretched shelves with stocks, and sighed raggedly. The paper was lying on the bench, and he himself was kneeling in front of the bench.

“Dear grandfather, Konstantin Makarych! he wrote. And I am writing you a letter. I congratulate you on Christmas and wish you everything from the Lord God. I have neither father nor mother, only you left me alone.

Vanka turned his eyes to the dark window, in which the reflection of his candle flickered, and vividly imagined his grandfather, Konstantin Makarych, serving as a night watchman for the Zhivarevs. This is a small, skinny, but unusually nimble and agile old man of 65 years old, with an eternally laughing face and drunken eyes. During the day he sleeps in the people's kitchen or jokes with the cooks, but at night, wrapped in a spacious sheepskin coat, he walks around the estate and knocks on his mallet. Behind him, head down, walk the old Kashtanka and the male Vyun, so named for his black color and body, long, like a weasel. This Vyun is extraordinarily respectful and affectionate, looks equally touchingly both at his own and at strangers, but does not use credit. Beneath his reverence and humility hides the most Jesuitical malice. No one better than him knows how to sneak up in time and grab a leg, climb into a glacier or steal a chicken from a peasant. His hind legs were beaten off more than once, he was hanged twice, every week he was flogged half to death, but he always came to life.

Now, probably, grandfather is standing at the gate, screwing up his eyes at the bright red windows of the village church and, stamping his felt boots, jokes with the servants. His beater is tied to his belt. He clasps his hands, shrugs from the cold, and, giggling like an old man, pinches first the maid, then the cook.

- Shall we sniff some tobacco? he says, offering the women his snuffbox.

The women sniff and sneeze. Grandfather comes into indescribable delight, bursts into cheerful laughter and shouts:

- Rip it off, it's frozen!

They give snuff to tobacco and dogs. Kashtanka sneezes, twists her muzzle and, offended, steps aside. The loach, out of respect, does not sneeze and wags its tail. And the weather is great. The air is quiet, transparent and fresh. The night is dark, but you can see the whole village with its white roofs and wisps of smoke coming from the chimneys, trees covered with frost, snowdrifts. The whole sky is strewn with merrily twinkling stars, and Milky Way looms so clearly, as if it had been washed and rubbed with snow before the holiday ...

Vanka sighed, dipped his pen and continued to write:

“And yesterday I had a scolding. The owner dragged me by the hair into the yard and combed me with a spade because I rocked their child in the cradle and accidentally fell asleep. And in the week the hostess told me to clean the herring, and I started with the tail, and she took the herring and started poking me in the mug with her snout. The apprentices mock me, send me to a tavern for vodka and tell me to steal cucumbers from the owners, and the owner beats me with whatever comes to hand. And there is no food. In the morning they give bread, at lunch they give porridge, and in the evening they also give bread, and for tea or cabbage soup, the hosts crack themselves. And they tell me to sleep in the entryway, and when their baby cries, I don’t sleep at all, but rock the cradle. Dear grandfather, do God's mercy, take me home from here, to the village, there is no way for me ... I bow to your feet and I will forever pray to God, take me away from here, otherwise I will die ... "

Vanka twisted his mouth, rubbed his eyes with his black fist, and sobbed.

“I’ll grind tobacco for you,” he continued, “pray to God, and if anything, then flog me like Sidorov’s goat. And if you think I don’t have a position, then for Christ’s sake I’ll ask the clerk to clean my boots, or instead of Fedka I’ll go to the shepherd. Dear grandfather, there is no way, just one death. I wanted to run to the village on foot, but I don’t have boots, I’m afraid of frost. And when you grow big, I will feed you for this very thing and will not give offense to anyone, but if you die, I will pray for the repose of your soul, just like for mother Pelageya.

And Moscow is a big city. The houses are all master's and there are many horses, but there are no sheep and the dogs are not evil. The guys here don’t go with a star and don’t let anyone sing to the kliros, and since I saw in one shop on the window hooks are sold directly with fishing line and for any fish, very worthy, even there is one hook that will hold a pound catfish. And I saw shops with all sorts of guns in the manner of masters, so probably a hundred rubles each ... But in butcher shops there are black grouse, and grouse, and hares, and in which place they are shot, the inmates do not say about that.

Dear grandfather, and when the gentlemen have a Christmas tree with gifts, take me a gilded nut and hide it in a green chest. Ask the young lady Olga Ignatievna, tell me, for Vanka.

Vanka sighed convulsively and again stared at the window. He remembered that the grandfather always went to the forest to fetch the Christmas tree for the masters and took his grandson with him. It was fun time! And grandfather grunted, and frost grunted, and looking at them, Vanka grunted. It used to happen that before cutting down the Christmas tree, the grandfather smoked a pipe, sniffed tobacco for a long time, chuckled at the cold Vanya ... Young Christmas trees, shrouded in hoarfrost, stand motionless and wait for which of them to die? Out of nowhere, a hare flies like an arrow through the snowdrifts ... Grandfather cannot help but shout:

- Hold, hold... hold! Ah, the cheeky devil!

The grandfather dragged the felled Christmas tree to the master's house, and there they began to clean it up ... The young lady Olga Ignatievna, Vanka's favorite, was the hardest of all. When Vanka's mother Pelageya was still alive and served as maids for the masters, Olga Ignatievna fed Vanka with candy and, having nothing to do, taught him to read, write, count to a hundred and even dance a square dance. When Pelageya died, the orphan Vanka was sent to the people's kitchen to his grandfather, and from the kitchen to Moscow to the shoemaker Alyakhin ...

“Come, dear grandfather,” continued Vanka, “I pray to you in Christ God, take me out of here. Have pity on me, an unfortunate orphan, otherwise everyone beats me and I want to eat passion, but the boredom is such that it’s impossible to say, I’m crying all the time. And the other day the owner hit him on the head with a block, so that he fell and forcibly came to himself. Wasting my life, worse than any dog ... And I also bow to Alena, the crooked Yegorka and the coachman, but don’t give my harmony to anyone. I remain your grandson Ivan Zhukov, dear grandfather, come.”

Vanka folded the sheet of paper he had written in four and put it in an envelope he had bought the day before for a kopeck... After a moment's thought, he dipped his pen and wrote the address:

To the grandfather's village.

Then he scratched himself, thought, and added: "To Konstantin Makarych." Satisfied that he had not been prevented from writing, he put on his hat and, without throwing on a fur coat, ran out into the street in his shirt—

The inmates from the butcher's shop, whom he had questioned the day before, told him that letters were dropped into mailboxes, and from the boxes they were transported all over the earth in postal troikas with drunken coachmen and ringing bells. Vanka ran to the first mailbox and thrust the precious letter into the slot...

Lulled by sweet hopes, he slept soundly an hour later ... He dreamed of a stove. Grandfather sits on the stove, his bare feet dangling, and reads a letter to the cooks... Vyun walks around the stove and twirls his tail...

A. P. Chekhov "Boys"

- Volodechka has arrived! yelled Natalya, running into the dining room. “Oh, my God!

The whole family of the Korolevs, who had been waiting for their Volodya from hour to hour, rushed to the windows. There were wide sledges at the entrance, and a thick fog was rising from a trio of white horses. The sleigh was empty, because Volodya was already standing in the entryway, untying his hood with red, chilled fingers. His gymnasium coat, cap, galoshes, and hair at the temples were covered with frost, and from head to toe he emitted such a delicious frosty smell that, looking at him, you wanted to go cold and say: “brrr!” His mother and aunt rushed to hug and kiss him, Natalya threw herself at his feet and began to pull off his felt boots, the sisters raised a screech, the doors creaked and slammed, and Volodya's father, in just a waistcoat and with scissors in his hands, ran into the hall and shouted in fright:

And we were waiting for you yesterday! Did you get well? Safely? My God, my God, let him say hello to his father! What, I'm not a father, or what?

- Woof! Woof! roared Milord, a huge black dog, in a bass voice, thumping the walls and furniture with his tail.

Everything was mixed into one continuous joyful sound, which lasted about two minutes. When the first impulse of joy passed, the Korolevs noticed that in addition to Volodya, there was another one in the hall. small man, wrapped in scarves, shawls and hoods and covered with frost; he stood motionless in a corner in the shadow cast by one large fox coat.

- Volodechka, but who is this? asked the mother in a whisper.

— Ah! Volodya caught on. - This, I have the honor to introduce, is my comrade Chechevitsyn, a second-grade student ... I brought him with me to stay with us.

- Very nice, you are welcome! Father said happily. - Excuse me, I'm at home, without a frock coat ... Please! Natalya, help Mr. Cherepitsyn undress! My God, my God, let this dog go! This is punishment!

A little later, Volodya and his friend Chechevitsyn, stunned by the noisy meeting and still rosy from the cold, sat at the table and drank tea. The winter sun, penetrating through the snow and patterns on the windows, trembled on the samovar and bathed its pure rays in the rinsing cup. The room was warm, and the boys felt how in their chilled bodies, not wanting to give in to each other, warmth and frost tickled.

Well, it's almost Christmas! - Father said in a singsong voice, rolling a cigarette out of dark-red tobacco. - But how long ago was summer and mother cried, seeing you off? And you came... Time, brother, goes fast! You won’t have time to gasp when old age comes. Mr. Chibisov, eat, please, do not be shy! We simply have.

Volodya's three sisters, Katya, Sonya and Masha - the oldest of them was eleven years old - sat at the table and did not take their eyes off their new acquaintance. Chechevitsyn was the same age and height as Volodya, but not so plump and white, but thin, swarthy, covered with freckles. His hair was bristly, his eyes were narrow, his lips were thick, he was generally very ugly, and if he had not been wearing a school jacket, then in appearance he could be mistaken for a cook's son. He was gloomy, kept silent all the time and never smiled. The girls, looking at him, immediately realized that he must be a very smart and learned person. He thought about something all the time and was so busy with his thoughts that when he was asked about something, he shuddered, shook his head and asked to repeat the question.

The girls noticed that Volodya, always cheerful and talkative, this time spoke little, did not smile at all, and seemed not even glad that he had come home. While we were sitting at tea, he addressed the sisters only once, and even then with some strange words. He pointed his finger at the samovar and said:

“And in California they drink gin instead of tea.” He, too, was preoccupied with some thoughts, and judging by the looks he occasionally exchanged with his friend Tchechevitsyn, the boys' thoughts were in common.

After tea, everyone went to the nursery. The father and the girls sat down at the table and began to work, which was interrupted by the arrival of the boys. They made flowers and fringes for the Christmas tree out of multi-colored paper. It was exciting and noisy work. Each newly made flower was greeted by girls with enthusiastic cries, even cries of horror, as if this flower had fallen from the sky; papa also admired and occasionally threw the scissors on the floor, angry with them for being stupid. Mother ran into the nursery with a very preoccupied face and asked:

Who took my scissors? Again, Ivan Nikolaitch, did you take my scissors?

“Oh my God, they don’t even give you scissors!” answered Ivan Nikolaevich in a weeping voice, and, leaning back in his chair, assumed the pose of an offended man, but a minute later he was again admiring.

On his previous visits, Volodya had also been busy preparing for the Christmas tree, or running out into the yard to see how the coachman and the shepherd were making a snow mountain, but now he and Chechevitsyn paid no attention to the colored paper and never even went to the stable, but sat by the window and they began to whisper about something; then they both opened the geographical atlas together and began to examine some kind of map.

“First to Perm…” Chechevitsyn said quietly… “from there to Tyumen… then Tomsk… then… then… to Kamchatka… From here the Samoyeds” will be transported by boat across the Bering Strait… That's America for you... There are a lot of fur-bearing animals here.

- What about California? Volodya asked.

- California is lower ... If only to get to America, and California is just around the corner. You can get food for yourself by hunting and robbery.

Tchechevitsyn kept aloof from the girls all day and looked at them frowningly. After evening tea, it happened that he was left alone with the girls for five minutes. It was awkward to be silent. He coughed sternly, rubbed his right hand left hand looked sullenly at Katya and asked:

Samoyeds - the name of the northern peoples (obsolete).

Have you read Mine Reid?

No, I haven't read it... Listen, do you know how to skate?

Immersed in his thoughts, Chechevitsyn did not answer this question, but only puffed out his cheeks and made such a sigh as if he was very hot. He once again raised his eyes to Katya and said:

- When a herd of buffalo runs through the pampas, the earth trembles, and at this time the mustangs, frightened, kick and neigh.

“And also the Indians attack the trains. But worst of all are mosquitoes and termites.

- And what is it?

- It's like ants, only with wings. They bite very hard. Do you know who I am?

- Mr. Chechevitsyn.

- Not. I am Montigomo Hawkclaw, leader of the invincibles.

Masha, the smallest girl, looked at him, then at the window, beyond which evening was already falling, and said in thought:

- And we cooked lentils yesterday.

The completely incomprehensible words of Chechevitsyn, and the fact that he was constantly whispering with Volodya, and the fact that Volodya did not play, but kept thinking about something - all this was mysterious and strange. And both older girls, Katya and Sonya, began to watch the boys vigilantly. In the evening, when the boys went to bed, the girls crept up to the door and overheard their conversation. Oh what did they know! The boys were going to run somewhere to America to mine gold; they had everything ready for the journey: a pistol, two knives, crackers, a magnifying glass for making fire, a compass, and four rubles of money. They learned that the boys would have to walk several thousand miles, and along the way fight tigers and savages, then mine gold and ivory, kill enemies, join sea robbers, drink gin, and eventually marry beauties and work plantations. Volodya and Chechevitsyn talked and interrupted each other in enthusiasm. At the same time, Chechevitsyn called himself: "Montigomo Hawk Claw", and Volodya - "my pale-faced brother."

“Look, don’t tell mom,” Katya said to Sonya, going to bed with her. “Volodya will bring us gold and ivory from America, and if you tell mom, they won’t let him in.”

On the eve of Christmas Eve, Chechevitsyn spent the whole day looking at a map of Asia and writing something down, while Volodya, languid, plump, as if stung by a bee, sullenly paced the rooms and ate nothing. And once, even in the nursery, he stopped in front of the icon, crossed himself and said:

- Lord, forgive me a sinner! God save my poor, unfortunate mother!

By evening he was crying. Going to sleep, he hugged his father, mother and sisters for a long time. Katya and Sonya understood what was the matter, but the youngest, Masha, understood nothing, absolutely nothing, and only when she looked at Chechevitsyn would she think and say with a sigh:

- When fasting, the nanny says, you need to eat peas and lentils.

Early in the morning on Christmas Eve, Katya and Sonya quietly got out of bed and went to see how the boys would flee to America. They crept up to the door.

"So you're not going?" Chechevitsyn asked angrily. "Say, won't you go?"

- God! Volodya wept softly. "How can I go?" I feel sorry for mom.

My pale-faced brother, I beg you, let's go!

You assured me that you would go, you lured me yourself, but how to go, so you chickened out.

I... I didn't get scared, but I... I feel sorry for my mother.

You say: will you go or not?

I'll go, just... just wait. I want to live at home.

"In that case, I'll go myself!" - decided Chechevitsyn - and I can do without you. And I also wanted to hunt tigers, fight! When so, give back my pistons!

Volodya wept so bitterly that the sisters could not stand it and also wept softly. There was silence.

"So you're not going?" Chechevitsyn asked again.

- I'll ... I'll go.

- So get dressed!

And Chechevitsyn, in order to persuade Volodya, praised America, growled like a tiger, pretended to be a steamer, scolded, promised to give Volodya all the ivory and all the lion and tiger skins.

And this thin, swarthy boy with bristly hair and freckles seemed to the girls unusual, wonderful. He was a hero, a determined, fearless man, and he roared so that, standing outside the door, one could really think that it was a tiger or a lion.

When the girls returned to their rooms and dressed, Katya, with eyes full of tears, said:

- Oh, I'm so scared!

Until two o'clock, when they sat down to dinner, everything was quiet, but at dinner it suddenly turned out that the boys were not at Home. They sent them to the servants' quarters, to the stable, to the clerk's outhouse—they weren't there. They sent him to the village and they didn't find him there. And then they also drank tea without the boys, and when they sat down to supper, mother was very worried, she even cried. And at night they again went to the village, searched, walked with lanterns to the river. God, what a commotion!

The next day a constable came and wrote some paper in the canteen. Mom was crying.

But now the sledges stopped at the porch, and steam poured from the three white horses.

Volodya has arrived! someone shouted outside.

- Volodechka has arrived! Natalya yelled, running into the dining room.

And Milord barked in bass: “Woof! woof!" It turned out that the boys were detained in the city, in the Gostiny Dvor (they went there and kept asking where gunpowder was sold). Volodya, as soon as he entered the hall, sobbed and threw himself on his mother's neck. The girls, trembling, thought with horror about what would happen next, heard how papa took Volodya and Chechevitsyn to his office and talked with them for a long time; and mother also spoke and cried.

— Is it possible? Dad urged. "God forbid, they'll recognize you at the gymnasium, they'll expel you. And you're ashamed, Mr. Chechevitsyn!" Not good! You are the instigator, and I hope you will be punished by your parents. Is it so possible? Where did you spend the night?

— At the station! Chechevitsyn answered proudly.

Volodya then lay down, and a towel soaked in vinegar was applied to his head. They sent a telegram somewhere, and the next day a lady, Chechevitsyn's mother, arrived and took her son away.

When Chechevitsyn left, his face was stern, haughty, and, saying goodbye to the girls, he did not say a single word; I just took a notebook from Katya and wrote as a token of memory:

"Montigomo Hawkclaw".

It was a long procedure. At first, Pashka walked with his mother in the rain, now along a mowed field, then along forest paths, where yellow leaves stuck to his boots, he walked until it was light. Then he stood for two hours in the dark hallway and waited for the door to be unlocked. It was not as cold and damp in the passage as in the yard, but with the wind, rain splashes flew in here too. When little by little the entryway was packed with people, Pashka, huddled together, leaned his face against someone's sheepskin coat, which smelled strongly of salted fish, and took a nap. But then the latch clicked, the door swung open, and Pashka and his mother entered the waiting room. Here again we had to wait a long time. All the patients sat on the benches, did not move and were silent. Pashka looked at them and was also silent, although he saw a lot of strange and funny things. Only once, when some guy came into the waiting room, bouncing on one leg, Pashka himself wanted to jump too; he pushed his mother under the elbow, jumped into the sleeve and said:

- Mom, look: a sparrow!

- Shut up, baby, shut up! mother said.

A sleepy paramedic appeared in a small window.

- Come sign up! he boomed.

Everyone, including the funny bouncing guy, reached for the window. Each paramedic asked the name and patronymic, years, place of residence, how long he had been ill, and so on. From the answers of his mother, Pashka learned that his name was not Pashka, but Pavel Galaktionov, that he was seven years old, that he had been illiterate and ill since Easter itself.

Shortly after recording, one had to stand up briefly; a doctor in a white apron and girded with a towel passed through the waiting room. As he passed the bouncing boy, he shrugged his shoulders and said in a melodious tenor:

- What a fool! Well, aren't you a fool? I told you to come on Monday, and you come on Friday. At least don’t walk on me at all, but, you fool, your leg will be lost!

The guy made such a pitiful face, as if he was going to beg, blinked and said:

- Do such a favor, Ivan Mikolaevich!

- There is nothing - Ivan Mikolaevich! - mimicked the doctor. - It was said on Monday, and we must obey. Fool, that's all...

Acceptance has begun. The doctor sat in his room and called out the patients one by one. Every now and then from the little room came piercing shrieks, children's cries, or the doctor's angry exclamations:

- Well, what are you yelling at? Am I cutting you? Sit tight!

It's Pasha's turn.

- Pavel Galaktionov! the doctor shouted.

Mother was stunned, as if she had not expected this call, and, taking Pashka by the hand, she led him into the room. The doctor sat at the table and mechanically pounded on a thick book with a hammer.

- What hurts? he asked, not looking at the newcomers.

“The boy has a sore on his elbow, father,” answered the mother, and her face took on an expression as if she were really terribly saddened by Pashka’s sore.

- Undress him!

Pashka, puffing, unraveled the handkerchief around his neck, then wiped his nose with his sleeve and slowly began to pull off his sheepskin coat.

- Baba, did not come to visit! said the doctor angrily. - What are you doing? After all, you're not alone here.

Pashka hurriedly threw his sheepskin coat on the ground and, with the help of his mother, took off his shirt... The doctor looked lazily at him and patted his bare stomach.

“Important, brother Pashka, you have grown your belly,” he said and sighed. - Well, show your elbow.

Pashka squinted at the basin of bloody slop, looked at the doctor's apron, and began to cry.

- Me-e! - mimicked the doctor. - It's time to marry the spoiled man, and he roars! Unscrupulous.

Trying not to cry, Pashka looked at his mother, and in this look of his, a request was written: “Don’t tell me at home that I cried in the hospital!”

The doctor examined his elbow, crushed it, sighed, smacked his lips, then crushed it again.

“There is no one to beat you, woman,” he said. Why didn't you bring him before? The hand is gone! Look, you fool, this joint hurts!

“You know better, father…” the woman sighed.

- Father ... I rotted the guy's hand, and now the father. What is a worker without a hand? Here is a whole century and you will nurse him. I suppose a pimple on her nose will jump up, so you immediately run to the hospital, and the boy was rotting for six months. All of you are.

The doctor lit a cigarette. While the cigarette smoked, he baked the woman and shook his head to the beat of the song that he hummed in his mind, and kept thinking about something. Naked Pashka stood in front of him, listening and looking at the smoke. When the cigarette went out, the doctor started up and spoke in a lower tone:

- Well, listen, woman. Ointments and drops will not help here. We must leave him in the hospital.

- If you need, father, then why not leave it?

We will operate on him. And you, Pashka, stay, - said the doctor, clapping Pashka on the shoulder. - Let the mother go, and you and I, brother, will stay here. I have, brother, well, raspberry spread! We are with you, Pashka, that's how we manage, let's go to catch siskins, I'll show you a fox! Let's visit together! BUT? Want? And your mother will come for you tomorrow! BUT?

Pashka looked inquiringly at his mother.

- Stay, baby! she said.

- It remains, it remains! the doctor shouted cheerfully. - And there is nothing to interpret! I'll show him a live fox! Let's go to the fair together to buy candy! Marya Denisovna, take him upstairs!

The doctor, apparently a cheerful and accommodating fellow, was glad to have company; Pashka wanted to respect him, all the more so since he had never been to a fair and would have gladly looked at a live fox, but how could he do without his mother? After thinking a little, he decided to ask the doctor to leave his mother in the hospital, but before he could open his mouth, the paramedic was already leading him up the stairs. He walked and, with his mouth open, looked around. Stairs, floors and jambs - all huge, straight and bright - were painted in magnificent yellow paint and emitted a delicious smell. vegetable oil. Lamps hung everywhere, rugs stretched, copper faucets protruded from the walls. But most of all, Pashka liked the bed on which they put him, and the gray rough blanket. He touched the pillows and the blanket with his hands, looked around the ward, and decided that the doctor was doing very well.

The ward was small and consisted of only three beds. One bed was empty, the other was occupied by Pashka, and on the third sat some old man with sour eyes, who kept coughing and spitting into a mug. From Pansha's bed, through the door, one could see part of another ward with two beds: some very pale, skinny man with a rubber bladder on his head was sleeping on one; on the other, with his arms apart, sat a peasant with a bandaged head, very much like a woman.

The paramedic, having seated Pashka, went out and returned a little later, holding a bunch of clothes in an armful.

“This is for you,” she said. - Get dressed.

Pashka undressed and, not without pleasure, began to put on a new dress. Putting on a shirt, trousers and a gray dressing gown, he looked smugly at himself and thought that in such a suit it would not be bad to walk around the village. His imagination pictured how his mother sent him to the garden to the river to pick up for a piglet. cabbage leaves; he goes, and the boys and girls surrounded him and look with envy at his dressing gown.

A nurse entered the ward, holding in her hands two pewter bowls, spoons, and two pieces of bread. She placed one bowl in front of the old man, the other in front of Pashka.

– Eat! - she said.

Glancing into the bowl, Pashka saw fatty cabbage soup, and in the cabbage soup a piece of meat, and again thought that the doctor was living very well and that the doctor was not at all as angry as he seemed at first. He ate cabbage soup for a long time, licking the spoon after each loaf, then, when there was nothing left in the bowl except meat, he glanced at the old man and envied that he was still slurping. With a sigh, he set to work on the meat, trying to eat it as long as possible, but his efforts did not lead to anything: soon the meat also disappeared. Only a piece of bread remained. It is not tasty to eat bread alone without seasoning, but there was nothing to do, Pashka thought and ate the bread. Just then the nurse came in with new bowls. This time the bowls contained roast potatoes.

- Where is the bread? the nurse asked.

Instead of answering, Pashka puffed out his cheeks and exhaled air.

- Well, why did you eat it? said the nurse reproachfully. - And what are you going to eat roast with?

She went out and brought a new piece of bread. Pashka had never eaten fried meat in his childhood, and having tasted it now, he found that it was very tasty. It disappeared quickly, and after it there was a piece of bread more than after cabbage soup. The old man, having dined, hid his remaining bread in the table; Pashka wanted to do the same, but thought about it and ate his piece.

After eating, he went for a walk. In the next room, in addition to those whom he saw at the door, there were four more people. Of these, only one attracted his attention. He was a tall, extremely emaciated peasant with a sullen, hairy face; he sat on the bed and all the time, like a pendulum, nodded his head and waved right hand. Pashka did not take his eyes off him for a long time. At first, the peasant's pendulum-like, measured nods seemed to him curious, made for general amusement, but when he peered into the peasant's face, he became terrified, and he realized that this peasant was unbearably ill. Going into the third ward, he saw two peasants with dark red faces, as if smeared with clay. They sat motionless on their beds and with their strange faces, on which it was difficult to distinguish features, looked like pagan gods.

- Aunt, why are they like that? Pashka asked the nurse.

- They, boy, wake up.

Returning to his room, Pashka sat on the bed and began to wait for the doctor to go with him to catch siskins or go to the fair. But the doctor didn't come. A paramedic flashed briefly at the door of the next ward. He bent down to the patient who had an ice bag on his head and shouted:

- Mikhailo!

Sleeping Mikhailo did not move. The paramedic waved his hand and left. While waiting for the doctor, Pashka examined his old neighbor. The old man kept coughing and spitting into his mug; his cough was long and raspy. Pashka liked one peculiarity of the old man: when he inhaled air while coughing, something whistled in his chest and sang in different voices.

- Grandfather, what is it you whistle? Pasha asked.

The old man didn't answer. Pashka waited a little and asked:

- Grandfather, where is the fox?

- What fox?

- Live.

- Where should she be? In the woods!

A long time passed, but the doctor still did not appear. The nurse brought tea and scolded Pashka for leaving no bread for tea; the paramedic came again and began to wake Mikhaila up; it turned blue outside the windows, lights were lit in the wards, but the doctor did not appear. It was already too late to go to the fair and catch siskins; Pashka stretched out on the bed and began to think. He remembered the lollipops promised by the doctor, his mother's face and voice, the darkness in his hut, the stove, grumbling grandmother Yegorovna... and he suddenly felt bored and sad. He remembered that tomorrow his mother would come for him, smiled and closed his eyes.

A noise woke him up. In the next room, someone was walking and talking in a whisper. In the dim light of nightlights and lamps, three figures moved near Mikhaila's bed.

- Let's carry it with the bed, alright? one of them asked.

- So. You won't get through with the bed. Eka, died at the wrong time, the kingdom of heaven!

One took Mikhaila by the shoulders, the other by the legs and lifted them up: Mikhaila's arms and the hem of his dressing gown hung weakly in the air. The third one - it was a peasant who looked like a woman - crossed himself, and all three, randomly stamping their feet and stepping on Mikhaila's floors, left the ward.

Whistling and discordant singing could be heard in the chest of the sleeping old man. Pashka listened, looked at the dark windows, and jumped out of bed in horror.

- Ma-a-ma! he groaned in bass.

And without waiting for an answer, he rushed into the next room. Here the light of the lamp and the night-light barely cleared up the darkness; the sick, disturbed by Mikhaila's death, were sitting on their beds; mingling with the shadows, disheveled, they appeared wider, taller, and seemed to grow larger and larger; on the last bed in the corner, where it was darker, sat a peasant, nodding his head and hand.

Pashka, without dismantling the doors, rushed into the smallpox ward, from there into the corridor, from the corridor he flew into a large room where monsters with long hair and with old women's faces lay and sat on beds. Running through the women's section, he again found himself in the corridor, saw the railing of the familiar staircase and ran down. Then he recognized the reception room in which he had sat in the morning, and began to look for the exit door.

The bolt clicked, a cold wind blew, and Pashka stumbled out into the yard. He had one thought - run and run! He did not know the way, but he was sure that if he ran, he would certainly find himself at his mother's house. The night was cloudy, but the moon shone behind the clouds. Pashka ran straight ahead from the porch, rounded the shed and stumbled upon empty bushes; after standing for a while and thinking, he rushed back to the hospital, ran around it and again stopped in indecision: grave crosses were white behind the hospital building.

- Ma-amka! he shouted and rushed back.

Running past the dark, austere buildings, he saw one lighted window.

A bright red spot in the darkness seemed terrible, but Pashka, distraught with fear, not knowing where to run, turned towards him. Next to the window was a porch with steps and a white-boarded front door; Pashka ran up the steps, looked out the window, and a sharp, gripping joy suddenly took possession of him. Through the window, he saw a cheerful, accommodating doctor who was sitting at the table and reading a book. Laughing with happiness, Pashka stretched out his hands to the familiar face, wanted to shout, but an unknown force squeezed his breath, hit his legs; he staggered and fell unconscious on the steps.

When he came to his senses, it was already light, and a very familiar voice, which had promised yesterday a fair, siskins and a fox, spoke near him:

- What a fool, Pashka! Isn't it a fool? To beat you, but there is no one.

white-fronted

The hungry wolf got up to go hunting. Her cubs, all three of them, were sleeping soundly, huddled together and warming each other. She licked them and went.

It was already the spring month of March, but at night the trees cracked from the cold, as in December, and as soon as you stick out your tongue, it begins to pinch strongly. The she-wolf was in poor health, suspicious; she shuddered at the slightest noise and kept thinking about how someone at home without her would not offend the wolf cubs. The smell of human and horse tracks, stumps, piled firewood and a dark manured road frightened her; it seemed to her as if people were standing behind the trees in the dark, and somewhere beyond the forest, dogs were howling.

She was no longer young and her instincts had weakened, so that it happened that she mistook a fox's track for a dog's, and sometimes, deceived by her instincts, she lost her way, which had never happened to her in her youth. Due to poor health, she no longer hunted calves and large rams, as before, and already far bypassed horses with foals, but ate only carrion; she had to eat fresh meat very rarely, only in the spring, when, having come across a hare, she took away her children or climbed into the barn where the lambs were with the peasants.

Four versts from her lair, at mail road, there was a winter hut. Here lived the watchman Ignat, an old man of about seventy, who kept coughing and talking to himself; he usually slept at night, and during the day he wandered through the forest with a single-barreled gun and whistled at hares. He must have been a mechanic before, because every time he stopped, he shouted to himself: “Stop, car!” and before going any further: Full stroke!" With him was a huge black dog of an unknown breed, named Arapka. When she ran far ahead, he shouted to her: "Reverse!" Sometimes he sang and at the same time he staggered strongly and often fell (the wolf thought it was from the wind) and shouted: “I went off the rails!”

The she-wolf remembered that in the summer and autumn a ram and two ewes were grazing near the winter quarters, and when she ran past not so long ago, she heard that they were fading in the barn. And now, approaching the winter hut, she realized that it was already March and, judging by the time, there must certainly be lambs in the barn. She was tormented by hunger, she thought about how greedily she would eat the lamb, and from such thoughts her teeth clicked and her eyes shone in the darkness like two lights.

Ignat's hut, his barn, barn and well were surrounded by high snowdrifts. It was quiet. The arapka must have been sleeping under the barn.

Through the snowdrift, the wolf climbed onto the barn and began to rake the thatched roof with her paws and muzzle. The straw was rotten and loose, so that the she-wolf almost fell through; she suddenly smelled warm steam and the smell of manure and sheep's milk right in her face. Below, feeling cold, a lamb bleated softly. Jumping into the hole, the she-wolf fell with her front paws and chest on something soft and warm, probably on a ram, and at that moment something suddenly squealed in the barn, barked and burst into a thin, howling voice, the sheep shied against the wall, and the she-wolf, frightened, grabbed the first thing that caught her in the teeth, and rushed out ...

She ran, straining her strength, and at that time Arapka, who had already sensed the wolf, howled furiously, disturbed chickens clucked in the winter hut, and Ignat, going out onto the porch, shouted:

Full move! Went to the whistle!

And he whistled like a machine, and then - ho-ho-ho-ho! .. And all this noise was repeated by the forest echo.

When, little by little, all this calmed down, the she-wolf calmed down a little and began to notice that her prey, which she held in her teeth and dragged through the snow, was heavier and, as it were, harder than lambs usually are at this time; and it seemed to smell differently, and some strange sounds were heard ... The she-wolf stopped and put her burden on the snow to rest and start eating, and suddenly jumped back in disgust. It was not a lamb, but a puppy, black, with a large head and high legs, of a large breed, with the same white spot all over his forehead, like Arapka's. Judging by his manners, he was an ignoramus, a simple mongrel. He licked his rumpled injured back and, as if nothing had happened, he waved his tail and barked at the wolf. She growled like a dog and ran away from him. He is behind her. She looked back and clicked her teeth; he stopped in bewilderment and, probably deciding that she was playing with him, stretched out his muzzle in the direction of the winter quarters and burst into ringing joyful barking, as if inviting his mother Arapka to play with him and with the she-wolf.

It was already dawn, and when the wolf made her way to her thick aspen, each aspen was clearly visible, and the black grouse was already waking up and beautiful roosters often fluttered, disturbed by the careless jumps and barking of the puppy.

"Why is he running after me? thought the wolf with annoyance. "He must want me to eat him."

She lived with wolf cubs in a shallow hole; about three years ago, during a strong storm, a tall old pine tree was uprooted, which is why this hole was formed. Now at the bottom of it were old leaves and moss, bones and bull horns were lying around right there, with which the cubs played. They had already woken up and all three, very similar to each other, stood side by side on the edge of their pit and, looking at the returning mother, wagged their tails. Seeing them, the puppy stopped at a distance and looked at them for a long time; noticing that they, too, were looking at him attentively, he began to bark at them angrily, as if they were strangers.

It was already dawn and the sun had risen, the snow was sparkling all around, but he still stood at a distance and barked. The cubs sucked their mother, pushing her with their paws into her thin stomach, while she gnawed at the horse bone, white and dry; she was tormented by hunger, her head ached from the barking of dogs, and she wanted to throw herself at the uninvited guest and tear him apart.

Finally the puppy got tired and hoarse; seeing that they were not afraid of him and did not even pay attention to him, he began timidly, now crouching, now jumping, to approach the cubs. Now, in daylight, it was already easy to see him ... His white forehead was large, and on his forehead a bump, which happens in very stupid dogs; the eyes were small, blue, dull, and the expression of the whole muzzle was extremely stupid. Approaching the cubs, he stretched out his broad paws, put his muzzle on them and began:

Me, me... nga-nga-nga!..

The cubs did not understand anything, but they waved their tails. Then the puppy hit one wolf cub on the big head with its paw. The wolf cub also hit him on the head with his paw. The puppy stood sideways to him and looked askance at him, wagging his tail, then suddenly rushed from his place and made several circles on the crust. The cubs chased him, he fell on his back and lifted his legs up, and the three of them attacked him and, squealing with delight, began to bite him, but not painfully, but in jest. The crows sat on a tall pine tree and looked down on their struggle, and were very worried. It got noisy and fun. The sun was already hot in the spring; and the roosters, now and then flying over a pine tree that had been felled by a storm, seemed emerald green in the glare of the sun.

Usually, she-wolves teach their children to hunt, letting them play with prey; and now, looking at how the cubs were chasing the puppy across the crust and wrestling with him, the she-wolf thought:

"Let them get used to it."

Having played enough, the cubs went into the pit and went to bed. The puppy howled a little with hunger, then also stretched out in the sun. When they woke up, they started playing again.

All day and evening the she-wolf remembered how the last night the lamb bleated in the barn and how it smelled of sheep's milk, and from appetite she kept clicking her teeth and did not stop nibbling greedily on the old bone, imagining that it was a lamb. The cubs suckled, and the puppy, which wanted to eat, ran around and sniffed the snow.

"Take it off..." - decided the wolf.

She approached him and he licked her face and whined, thinking she wanted to play with him. AT old time she ate dogs, but the puppy smelled strongly of dog, and, due to poor health, she no longer tolerated this smell; she became disgusted, and she moved away ...

By night it got colder. The puppy got bored and went home.

When the cubs were sound asleep, the she-wolf again went hunting. As on the previous night, she was alarmed by the slightest noise, and she was frightened by stumps, firewood, dark, solitary juniper bushes that looked like people from a distance. She ran away from the road, along the crust. Suddenly, far ahead, something dark flashed on the road ... She strained her eyesight and hearing: in fact, something was moving ahead, and measured steps were even audible. Isn't it a badger? She carefully, breathing a little, taking everything aside, overtook the dark spot, looked back at him and recognized him. This, slowly, step by step, was returning to his winter hut a puppy with a white forehead.

“No matter how he bothers me again,” the wolf thought, and quickly ran forward.

But the winter hut was already close. She again climbed onto the barn through a snowdrift. Yesterday's hole had already been patched up with spring straw, and two new slabs were stretched across the roof. The she-wolf began to quickly work her legs and muzzle, looking around to see if the puppy was coming, but as soon as she smelled warm steam and the smell of manure, a joyful, flooded bark was heard from behind. It's the puppy back. He jumped to the wolf on the roof, then into the hole and, feeling at home, warm, recognizing his sheep, barked even louder... with her single-barreled gun, the frightened wolf was already far from the winter hut.

Fuyt! whistled Ignat. - Fuyt! Drive at full speed!

He pulled the trigger - the gun misfired; he lowered again - again a misfire; he lowered it for the third time - and a huge sheaf of fire flew out of the barrel and there was a deafening “boo! boo!" He was strongly given in the shoulder; and, taking a gun in one hand and an ax in the other, he went to see what was causing the noise ...

A little later he returned to the hut.

Nothing ... - answered Ignat. - An empty case. Our White-fronted with sheep got into the habit of sleeping in warmth. Only there is no such thing as to the door, but strives for everything, as it were, into the roof. The other night, he took apart the roof and went for a walk, the scoundrel, and now he has returned and again ripped open the roof.

Silly.

Yes, the spring in the brain burst. Death does not like stupid people! - Ignat sighed, climb onto the stove. - Well, God's man, it's still early to get up, let's sleep at full speed ...

And in the morning he called White-fronted to him, patted him painfully by the ears, and then, punishing him with a twig, kept saying:

Go to the door! Go to the door! Go to the door!

Vanka

Vanka Zhukov, a nine-year-old boy who was apprenticed three months ago to the shoemaker Alyakhin, did not go to bed on Christmas Eve. After waiting for the masters and apprentices to leave for matins, he took out a vial of ink from the master's closet, a pen with a rusty nib, and, spreading a crumpled sheet of paper in front of him, began to write. Before deducing the first letter, he glanced timidly several times at the doors and windows, squinted at the dark image, on both sides of which stretched shelves with stocks, and sighed raggedly. The paper lay on the bench, and he himself knelt in front of the bench.

“Dear grandfather, Konstantin Makarych! he wrote. And I'm writing you a letter. I congratulate you on Christmas and wish you everything from the Lord God. I have neither father nor mother, only you left me alone.

Vanka turned his eyes to the dark window, in which the reflection of his candle flickered, and vividly imagined his grandfather, Konstantin Makarych, serving as a night watchman for the Zhivarevs. This is a small, skinny, but unusually nimble and agile old man of 65 years old, with an eternally laughing face and drunken eyes. During the day he sleeps in the people's kitchen or jokes with the cooks, but at night, wrapped in a spacious sheepskin coat, he walks around the estate and knocks on his mallet. Behind him, head down, walk the old Kashtanka and the dog Vyun, nicknamed so for his black color and body, long, like a weasel. This Vyun is extraordinarily respectful and affectionate, looks equally touchingly both at his own and at strangers, but does not use credit. Beneath his reverence and humility hides the most Jesuitical malice. No one better than him knows how to sneak up in time and grab a leg, climb into a glacier or steal a chicken from a peasant. His hind legs were beaten off more than once, he was hanged twice, every week he was flogged half to death, but he always came to life.

Is there something for us to sniff tobacco? he says, offering the women his snuffbox.

The women sniff and sneeze. Grandfather comes into indescribable delight, bursts into cheerful laughter and shouts:

Rip it off, it's frozen!

They give snuff to tobacco and dogs. Kashtanka sneezes, twists her muzzle and, offended, steps aside. The loach, out of respect, does not sneeze and wags its tail. And the weather is great. The air is quiet, transparent and fresh. The night is dark, but you can see the whole village with its white roofs and wisps of smoke coming from the chimneys, trees silvered with frost, snowdrifts. The whole sky is strewn with merrily twinkling stars, and the Milky Way looms so clearly, as if it had been washed and rubbed with snow before the holiday...

Vanka sighed, dipped his pen and continued to write:

“And yesterday I had a scolding. The owner dragged me by the hair into the yard and combed me with a spade because I rocked their child in the cradle and accidentally fell asleep. And in the week the hostess told me to clean the herring, and I started with the tail, and she took the herring and started poking me in the mug with her snout. The apprentices mock me, send me to a tavern for vodka and tell me to steal cucumbers from the owners, and the owner hits me with whatever hits me. And there is no food. In the morning they give bread, at lunch they give porridge, and in the evening they also give bread, and for tea or cabbage soup, the hosts crack themselves. And they tell me to sleep in the entryway, and when their baby cries, I don’t sleep at all, but rock the cradle. Dear grandfather, do God's mercy, take me home from here, to the village, there is no way for me ... I bow to your feet and I will forever pray to God, take me away from here, otherwise I will die ... "

Vanka twisted his mouth, rubbed his eyes with his black fist, and sobbed.

“I’ll rub tobacco for you,” he continued, “pray to God, and if anything, then flog me like Sidorov’s goat. And if you think I don’t have a position, then for Christ’s sake I’ll ask the clerk to clean my boots, or instead of Fedka I’ll go to the shepherd. Dear grandfather, there is no way, just one death. I wanted to run to the village on foot, but I don’t have boots, I’m afraid of frost. And when I grow up, I’ll feed you for this very thing and won’t let anyone hurt you, but if you die, I’ll pray for the repose of my soul, just like for mother Pelageya.

Dear grandfather, and when the gentlemen have a Christmas tree with gifts, take me a gilded walnut and hide it in a green chest. Ask the young lady Olga Ignatievna, tell me, for Vanka.

Vanka sighed convulsively and again stared at the window. He remembered that his grandfather always went to the forest to get a Christmas tree for the masters and took his grandson with him. It was fun time! And grandfather grunted, and frost grunted, and looking at them, Vanka grunted. It used to happen that before cutting down the Christmas tree, the grandfather smoked a pipe, sniffed tobacco for a long time, chuckled at the chilled Vanya ... Young Christmas trees, shrouded in hoarfrost, stand motionless and wait for which of them to die? Out of nowhere, a hare flies like an arrow through the snowdrifts ... Grandfather cannot help but shout:

Hold it, hold it... hold it! Ah, the cheeky devil!

The grandfather dragged the felled Christmas tree to the master's house, and there they began to clean it up ... The young lady Olga Ignatievna, Vanka's favorite, was the most busy. When Vanka's mother Pelageya was still alive and served as a maid to the masters, Olga Ignatyevna fed Vanka with candy and, having nothing to do, taught him to read, write, count to a hundred and even dance a square dance. When Pelageya died, the orphan Vanka was sent to the people's kitchen to his grandfather, and from the kitchen to Moscow to the shoemaker Alyakhin ...

“Come, dear grandfather,” continued Vanka, “I pray to you in Christ God, take me away. Have pity on me, an unfortunate orphan, otherwise everyone beats me and I want to eat passion, but boredom is such that it’s impossible to say, I’m crying all the time. And the other day the owner hit him on the head with a block, so that he fell and forcibly came to himself. Wasting my life, worse than any dog ... And I also bow to Alena, the crooked Yegorka and the coachman, but don’t give my harmony to anyone. I remain your grandson Ivan Zhukov, dear grandfather, come.”

Vanka folded the sheet of paper he had written in four and put it in an envelope he had bought the day before for a kopeck... After a moment's thought, he dipped his pen and wrote the address:

To the grandfather's village.

Then he scratched himself, thought, and added: "To Konstantin Makarych." Satisfied that he had not been prevented from writing, he put on his hat and, without throwing on his fur coat, ran out into the street in his shirt...

Grisha

Grisha, a small, plump boy, born two years and eight months ago, is walking along the boulevard with his nurse. He is wearing a long wadded jacket, a scarf, a large hat with a furry button, and warm galoshes. It is stuffy and hot, and then the April sun, which is still clearing up, hits right in the eyes and stings the eyelids.

His whole clumsy, timidly, uncertainly walking figure expresses extreme bewilderment.

Until now, Grisha knew only one quadrangular world, where in one corner stands his bed, in the other - the nanny's chest, in the third - a chair, and in the fourth - a lamp is burning. If you look under the bed, you will see a doll with a broken arm and a drum, and behind the nanny's chest there are a lot of different things: spools of thread, pieces of paper, a box without a lid and a broken clown. In this world, in addition to the nanny and Grisha, there are often a mother and a cat. Mom looks like a doll, and the cat looks like dad's fur coat, only the fur coat has no eyes and tail. From the world called the nursery, a door leads to a space where they dine and drink tea. Here stands Grisha's high-legged chair and hangs a clock that exists only to swing the pendulum and ring. From the dining room you can go to the room where there are red armchairs. Here a stain darkens on the carpet, for which Grisha is still threatened with fingers. Behind this room there is another one where they are not allowed in and where dad flickers - a personality in the highest degree mysterious! The nanny and mother are understandable: they dress Grisha, feed him and put him to bed, but why dad exists is unknown. There is also another mysterious person - this is an aunt who gave Grisha a drum. She appears and disappears. Where does she disappear to? Grisha looked under the bed more than once, behind the chest and under the sofa, but she was not there...

In the same new world, where the sun hurts your eyes, there are so many dads, moms and aunts that you don’t know who to run up to. But the strangest and most absurd of all are horses. Grisha looks at their moving legs and cannot understand anything: He looks at the nanny to resolve his bewilderment, but she is silent.

Suddenly he hears a terrible clatter... A crowd of red-faced soldiers with bath twigs under their arms is moving along the boulevard, walking at regular intervals. Grisha turns cold with horror and looks inquiringly at the nurse: isn't it dangerous? But the nanny doesn't run and doesn't cry, which means it's not dangerous. Grisha follows the soldiers with his eyes and begins to pace them himself.

Two big cats with long snouts, with their tongues hanging out and their tails pulled up, run across the boulevard. Grisha thinks that he, too, needs to run, and runs after the cats.

Stop! the nanny shouts to him, roughly grabbing him by the shoulders. - Where are you going? Are you supposed to be naughty?

Here is a nanny sitting and holding a small trough with oranges. Grisha walks past her and silently takes one orange for himself.

Why are you this? - shouts his companion, clapping his hand and pulling out an orange. - Fool!

Now Grisha would gladly pick up the piece of glass that is lying under his feet and sparkles like a lamp, but he is afraid that they will hit him on the arm again.

My respect to you! - Grisha suddenly hears someone's loud, thick voice almost above his ear and sees tall man with bright buttons.

To his great pleasure, this man gives the nurse a hand, stops with her and begins to talk. The brilliance of the sun, the noise of the carriages, the horses, the bright buttons, all this is so amazingly new and not terrible that Grisha's soul is filled with a feeling of pleasure and he begins to laugh.

Let's go to! Let's go to! he shouts to the man with the bright buttons, tugging at his coattail.

Where shall we go? the man asks.

Let's go to! Grisha insists.

He wants to say that it would also be nice to take papa, mama and cat with him, but the language does not speak at all what is needed.

A little later the nurse turns off the boulevard and leads Grisha into a large yard where there is still snow. And the man with the bright buttons is also following them. They diligently pass snow blocks and puddles, then they enter the room along a dirty, dark staircase. There is a lot of smoke, it smells of hot, and some woman is standing near the stove and frying cutlets. The cook and the nurse kiss and, together with the man, sit down on the bench and begin to speak softly. Grisha, shrouded, becomes unbearably hot and stuffy.

"Why would that be?" he thinks, looking around.

He sees a dark ceiling, a tong with two horns, a stove that looks like a big, black hollow...

Ma-a-ma! he pulls.

Well well well! - shouts the nanny. - Wait! The cook puts a bottle, three glasses and a pie on the table. Two women and a man with bright buttons clink glasses and drink several times, and the man embraces now the nanny, now the cook. And then all three begin to sing softly.

Grisha reaches for the pie, and they give him a piece. He eats and watches the nanny drink... He also wants to drink.

Give! Nanny, come on! he asks.

The cook gives him a sip from her glass. He goggles, winces, coughs, and then waves his arms for a long time, while the cook looks at him and laughs.

Returning home, Grisha begins to tell his mother, the walls and the bed, where he was and what he saw. He speaks not so much with his tongue as with his face and hands. He shows how the sun shines, how the horses run, how the terrible stove looks and how the cook drinks...

In the evening he can't sleep at all. Soldiers with brooms, big cats, horses, glass, a trough with oranges, bright buttons - all this has gathered in a heap and crushes his brain. He tosses from side to side, chatting, and in the end, unable to bear his excitement, begins to cry.

And you have a fever! - Mom says, touching his forehead with her palm. - Why could this happen?

Stove! Grisha cries. - Get out of here, you bastard!

Probably ate too much ... - Mom decides.

And Grisha, bursting with impressions of a new, just experienced life, receives a spoonful of castor oil from his mother.

kids

Dad, mom and aunt Nadia are not at home. They went to the christening to that old officer who rides a little gray horse. While waiting for their return, Grisha, Anya, Alyosha, Sonya and the cook's son Andrei are sitting at the dining table in the dining room and playing loto. To tell the truth, it's time for them to go to bed; but how can you fall asleep without learning from your mother what kind of baby was at the christening and what was served at dinner? The table, illuminated by a hanging lamp, is full of numbers, nutshells, pieces of paper and glass. In front of each of the players are two cards and a bunch of pieces of glass for covering numbers. In the middle of the table is a white saucer with five kopeck coins. Near the saucer is a half-eaten apple, scissors and a plate in which it is ordered to put a nutshell. Children play for money. The rate is a penny. Condition: if anyone cheats, then get out immediately. In the dining room, except for the players, there is no one. Nanny Agafya Ivanovna sits downstairs in the kitchen and teaches the cook how to cut, and the elder brother, Vasya, a pupil of the fifth grade, lies in the living room on the sofa and is bored.

They play with passion. The greatest excitement is written on Grisha's face. This is a small, nine-year-old boy with a shaved head, puffy cheeks and fat, like a negro's lips. He is already studying in the preparatory class, and therefore is considered the largest and most intelligent. He only plays for money. If there were no kopecks on a silver platter, he would have been asleep long ago. His brown eyes restlessly and jealously run over the cards of partners. Fear that he might not win, envy and financial considerations that fill his cropped head, do not allow him to sit still and concentrate. It spins like it's on pins and needles. Having won, he greedily grabs the money and immediately puts it in his pocket. His sister Anya, a girl of about eight, sharp chin and with intelligent sparkling eyes, he is also afraid that someone will win. She blushes, turns pale and vigilantly watches the players. She is not interested in pennies. Happiness in the game for her is a matter of pride. Another sister, Sonya, a six-year-old girl with a curly head and a complexion that only very healthy children have, with expensive dolls and bonbonnieres, plays loto for the sake of the game. Amazement spilled over her face. Whoever wins, she laughs and claps in the same way. Alyosha, a chubby, spherical peanut, puffs, sniffs and bulges his eyes at the cards. He has neither selfishness nor selfishness. They don’t drive from the table, they don’t put them to bed - and thanks for that. In appearance he is a phlegm, but in his soul a decent beast. He sat down not so much for the lotto, but for the misunderstandings that are inevitable in the game. He is terribly pleased if someone hits or scolds someone. He has long needed to run somewhere, but he does not leave the table for a minute, fearing that without him his pieces of glass and kopecks would not be stolen. Since he knows only ones and those numbers that end in zeros, Anya covers the numbers for him. The fifth partner, Andrey, the cook's son, a dark-skinned, sickly boy, in a cotton shirt and with a copper cross on his chest, stands motionless and looks dreamily at the numbers. He is indifferent to winning and other people's successes, because he is completely immersed in the arithmetic of the game, in its simple philosophy: how many different numbers are there in this world, and how can they not get mixed up!

They all shout out the numbers in turn, except for Sonya and Alyosha. Due to the uniformity of numbers, practice has developed many terms and ridiculous nicknames. So, seven players call it poker, eleven - sticks, seventy-seven - Semyon Semenych, ninety - grandfather, etc. The game is on smartly.

Thirty two! Grisha shouts, pulling yellow cylinders out of his father's hat. - Seventeen! Poker! Twenty-eight - we're mowing hay!

Anya sees that Andrei missed 28. At another time she would have pointed this out to him, but now, when her vanity lies on a silver platter along with a penny, she triumphs.

Twenty three! Grisha continues. - Semyon Semyonitch! Nine!

Prussian, Prussian! Sonya screams, pointing at the Prusak running across the table. - Ai!

Don't hit him," Alyosha says in a bass voice. He might have kids...

Sonya follows the Prussian with her eyes and thinks about his children: what little Prussians they must be!

Forty three! One! - continues Grisha, suffering from the thought that Anya already has two katerns. - Six!

The consignment! I have a party! Sonya screams, rolling her eyes coquettishly and laughing.

Partners' faces stretch out.

Verify! - says Grisha, looking at Sonya with hatred.

On the rights of the big and most intelligent, Grisha took the decisive vote. What he wants, they do. They check Sonya for a long time and carefully, and to the greatest regret of her partners it turns out that she did not cheat. The next batch starts.

What did I see yesterday? Anya says to herself. - Philip Philipovich turned up his eyelids somehow, and his eyes became red, terrible, like those of an unclean spirit.

I saw it too, says Grisha. - Eight! And our student knows how to move his ears. Twenty seven!

Andrey raises his eyes to Grisha, thinks and says:

And I can move my ears...

Well, let's move!

Andrei moves his eyes, lips and fingers, and it seems to him that his ears are moving. General laughter.

This Philip Philipovich is a bad man, - Sonya sighs. - Yesterday he came to our nursery, and I was in one shirt ... And it became so indecent for me!

The consignment! Grisha suddenly cries out, snatching money from a saucer. - I have a party! Check it out if you want!

The cook's son looks up and turns pale.

I can't play any more," he whispers.

Why?

Because... because I don't have any more money.

You can't do without money! Grisha says.

Andrei, just in case, once again rummages in his pockets. Finding nothing in them but crumbs and a bitten pencil, he twists his mouth and begins to blink his eyes in pain. Now he's crying...

I will deliver for you! - says Sonya, unable to bear his martyr look. - Just look, you'll give it back later.

The money is paid in and the game continues.

It seems that somewhere they are calling, - Anya says, making big eyes.

Everyone stops playing and, opening their mouths, looks at the dark window. Behind the darkness, the reflection of a lamp flickers.

It was heard.

At night, they only call at the cemetery ... - says Andrey.

Why are they calling?

So that the robbers did not climb into the church. They are afraid of ringing.

And why would robbers climb into the church? Sonya asks.

It is known for what: to kill the watchmen!

A minute passes in silence. Everyone looks at each other, shudders and continues the game. Andrey wins this time.

He cheated, - Alyosha booms for no reason at all.

You're lying, I didn't cheat!

Andrey turns pale, twists his mouth and slaps Alyosha on the head! Alyosha rolls his eyes angrily, jumps up, puts one knee on the table and, in turn, slap Andrei on the cheek! Both give each other one more slap and roar. Sonya, unable to bear such horrors, also begins to cry, and the dining room resounds with a discordant roar. But don't think the game is over. Not even five minutes pass before the children again laugh and talk peacefully. Their faces are tear-stained, but that doesn't stop them from smiling. Alyosha is even happy: there was a misunderstanding!

Vasya, a fifth grade student, enters the dining room. He looks sleepy, disappointed.

"It's outrageous! he thinks, looking at how Grisha feels his pocket, in which kopecks jingle. - Is it possible to give money to children? And how can they be allowed to gamble? Good teaching, nothing to say. Outrageous!"

But the children play so deliciously that he himself has a desire to join them and try his luck.

Wait, and I'll sit down to play, - he says.

Put a penny!

Now,” he says, rummaging through his pockets. - I don’t have a penny, but here is a ruble. I put the ruble.

No, no, no... bet a penny!

You are fools. After all, the ruble is in any case more expensive than a penny, - explains the schoolboy. Whoever wins will give me change.

No Please! Leave!

The 5th grade student shrugs his shoulders and goes into the kitchen to get change from the servants. There is not a penny in the kitchen.

In that case, change me, - he sticks to Grisha, coming from the kitchen. - I'll pay you an exchange. Do not want? Well, sell me ten kopecks for a ruble.

Grisha looks suspiciously at Vasya: isn't this some kind of trick, isn't it a scam?

I don't want to," he says, holding his pocket.

Vasya begins to lose his temper, scolds, calling the players idiots and iron brains.

Vasya, I'll bet for you! Sonya says. - Sit down!

The student sits down and places two cards in front of him. Anya starts reading the numbers.

Dropped a penny! Grisha suddenly declares in an excited voice. - Wait!

They take off the lamp and crawl under the table to look for a penny. They grab spitting, nutshells with their hands, bang their heads, but they don’t find a penny. They begin to search again and search until Vasya snatches the lamp from Grisha's hands and puts it back in its place. Grisha continues to search in the dark.

But finally, a penny is found. Players sit down at the table and want to continue the game.

Sonya is sleeping! - says Alyosha,

Sonya, resting her curly head in her arms, sleeps sweetly, serenely and soundly, as if she had fallen asleep an hour ago. She fell asleep by accident, while others were looking for a penny.

Come on, lie down on your mother's bed! - Anya says, taking her out of the dining room. - Go!

Everyone leads her in a crowd, and after some five minutes, mother's bed is a curious sight. Sleeping Sonya. Alyosha is snoring near her. With their heads resting on their feet, Grisha and Anya sleep. Right there, by the way, the cook's son Andrey settled down at the same time. Near them are scattered pennies, which have lost their strength from now on. new game. Goodnight!

Kashtanka

1. Bad behavior

A young red dog, a mixture of a dachshund and a mongrel, with a face very much like a fox, ran up and down the sidewalk and looked around uneasily. From time to time she stopped and, crying, raising now one chilled paw, then the other, tried to give herself an account: how could it happen that she got lost?

She remembered perfectly how she spent the day and how she ended up on this unfamiliar sidewalk.

The day began with the fact that its owner, the carpenter Luka Alexandrych, put on a hat, took some wooden thing wrapped in a red scarf under his arm, and shouted:

- Chestnut, let's go!

Hearing her name, a mixture of dachshund and mongrel came out from under the workbench, where she slept on wood shavings, sweetly stretched and ran after her master. Luka Alexandritch's customers lived terribly far away, so that before reaching each of them, the carpenter had to go into the tavern several times and refresh himself. Kashtanka remembered that on the way she behaved extremely indecently. For joy that they took her for a walk, she jumped, rushed barking at the horse-drawn carriages, ran into the yards and chased the dogs. The carpenter now and then lost sight of her, stopped and shouted angrily at her. Once, even with an expression of greed on his face, he took her fox ear in his fist, patted it and said with a pause:

- So that ... you ... from ... dead ... la, cholera!

After visiting the customers, Luka Alexandritch went for a minute to his sister, with whom he drank and ate; he went from his sister to a familiar bookbinder, from the bookbinder to a tavern, from a tavern to a godfather, and so on. In a word, when Kashtanka got on an unfamiliar sidewalk, it was already evening and the carpenter was drunk as a shoemaker. He waved his arms and, sighing deeply, muttered:

- In sin, give birth to my mother in my womb! Oh, sins, sins! Now here we are walking along the street and looking at the lanterns, but when we die, we will burn in a fiery hyena ...

Or he fell into a good-natured tone, called Kashtanka to him and said to her:

“You, Kashtanka, are an insect creature and nothing more. Against a man, you are like a carpenter against a carpenter ...

As he spoke to her in this way, music suddenly blared. Kashtanka looked around and saw that a regiment of soldiers was walking down the street straight at her. Unable to bear the music, which upset her nerves, she tossed and howled. To her great surprise, the carpenter, instead of being frightened, screeching and barking, smiled broadly, stretched himself out in front and with his whole five made under the peak. Seeing that the owner did not protest, Kashtanka howled even louder and, beside herself, rushed across the road to another sidewalk.

When she came to her senses, the music was no longer playing and the regiment was gone. She crossed the road to the place where she left the owner, but, alas! the carpenter was no longer there. She rushed forward, then back, once again crossed the road, but the carpenter seemed to have fallen through the ground ... Kashtanka began sniffing the pavement, hoping to find the owner by the smell of his footprints, but earlier some scoundrel had passed in new rubber galoshes, and now all the subtle smells interfered with a sharp rubber stench, so that nothing could be distinguished.

Kashtanka ran back and forth and did not find her master, and meanwhile it was getting dark. Lanterns were lit on both sides of the street, and lights appeared in the windows of houses. Large fluffy snow was falling and painting the pavement white, the horses' backs, the cabbies' hats, and the darker the air, the whiter the objects became. Past Kashtanka, obscuring her field of vision and pushing her with their feet, unfamiliar customers passed back and forth non-stop. (Kashtanka divided all of humanity into two very unequal parts: the owners and the customers; there was a significant difference between the two: the former had the right to beat her, and the latter she herself had the right to grab by the calves.) The customers were in a hurry and did not turn no attention to her.

When it became completely dark, despair and horror seized Kashtanka. She clung to some entrance and began to cry bitterly. The whole day's journey with Luka Alexandritch had exhausted her, her ears and paws were cold, and besides, she was terribly hungry. During the whole day she had to chew only twice: she ate a little paste at the bookbinder and in one of the taverns near the counter she found sausage skins - that's all. If she were human, she would probably think:

“No, it’s impossible to live like that! You have to shoot!"

2. Mysterious stranger

But she thought of nothing and only wept. When the soft, fluffy snow completely stuck to her back and head, and from exhaustion she plunged into a heavy slumber, suddenly the front door clicked, squeaked and hit her on the side. She jumped up. From the open door came a man belonging to the category of customers. Since Kashtanka squealed and fell under his feet, he could not but pay attention to her. He leaned over to her and asked:

“Dog, where are you from?” Did I hurt you? Oh, poor, poor... Well, don't be angry, don't be angry... I'm sorry.

Kashtanka looked at the stranger through the snowflakes hanging on her eyelashes, and saw in front of her a short, plump little man with a shaved head. plump face, in a top hat and in an open fur coat.

– What are you whining about? he continued, knocking the snow off her back with his finger. - Where is your master? You must be lost? Ah, poor dog! What are we going to do now?

- And you're good, funny! said the stranger. - Quite a fox! Well, well, there's nothing to do, come with me! Maybe you will be good for something ... Well, fuck!

He smacked his lips and made a sign to Kashtanka with his hand, which could mean only one thing: "Let's go!" The chestnut has gone.

Not more than half an hour later she was already sitting on the floor in a large bright room and, bowing her head to one side, looked with tenderness and curiosity at a stranger who was sitting at the table and having dinner. He ate and threw pieces to her ... First he gave her bread and a green crust of cheese, then a piece of meat, half a pie, chicken bones, and out of hunger she ate it all so quickly that she did not have time to make out the taste. And the more she ate, the more hungry she felt.

“However, your masters feed you badly!” said the stranger, looking with what ferocious greed she swallowed the unchewed pieces. - And how skinny you are! Skin and bones…

Kashtanka ate a lot, but she did not eat enough, she only got drunk from food. After dinner, she lay down in the middle of the room, stretched out her legs and, feeling a pleasant languor in her whole body, wagged her tail. While her new owner, lounging in an armchair, smoked a cigar, she wagged her tail and decided the question: where is it better - with a stranger or with a carpenter? The stranger's furnishings are poor and ugly; besides armchairs, a sofa, a lamp and carpets, he has nothing, and the room seems empty; at the carpenter's, the whole apartment is chock-full of things; he has a table, a workbench, a bunch of shavings, planers, chisels, saws, a cage with a siskin, a tub ... The stranger does not smell of anything, but the carpenter's apartment always has fog and smells great of glue, varnish and shavings. But the stranger has one very important advantage - he gives a lot to eat, and, we must do him full justice, when Kashtanka sat in front of the table and looked tenderly at him, he never hit her, did not stamp his feet and never shouted: “ Get out, you damned one!”

Having smoked a cigar, the new owner went out and returned a minute later, holding a small mattress in his hands.

- Hey, dog, come here! he said, placing the mattress in the corner near the sofa. - Lie down here. Sleep!

Then he put out the lamp and went out. Kashtanka lay down on the mattress and closed her eyes; barking was heard from the street, and she wanted to answer it, but suddenly, unexpectedly, sadness took possession of her. She remembered Luka Alexandritch, his son Fedushka, a cozy place under the workbench... She remembered that on long winter evenings, when the carpenter was planing or reading the newspaper aloud, Fedushka usually played with her... He pulled her by the hind legs from under the workbench and dressed she had such tricks that her eyes turned green and her joints ached. He made her walk on her hind legs, made her look like a bell, that is, he pulled her tail hard, which made her squeal and bark, let her sniff tobacco ... The following trick was especially painful: Fedyushka tied a piece of meat to a string and gave it to Kashtanka, then when she swallowed, he pulled it back out of her stomach with a loud laugh. And the brighter the memories were, the louder and more drearily Kashtanka whined.

But soon fatigue and warmth prevailed over sadness... She began to fall asleep. Dogs ran in her mind; ran, by the way, and a shaggy old poodle, whom she saw today in the street, with a thorn in his eyes and with tufts of wool near his nose. Fedyushka, with a chisel in his hand, chased after the poodle, then suddenly he covered himself with shaggy hair, barked merrily and found himself near Kashtanka. Kashtanka and he good-naturedly sniffed each other's noses and ran out into the street...

3. New, very pleasant acquaintance

When Kashtanka woke up, it was already light and there was a noise coming from the street, such as happens only in the daytime. There was not a soul in the room. Kashtanka stretched herself, yawned, and, angry and sullen, walked up and down the room. She sniffed the corners and furniture, peered into the hallway, and found nothing of interest. In addition to the door that led to the hall, there was another door. Thinking, Kashtanka scratched it with both paws, opened it and went into the next room. Here, on the bed, covered with a flannelette blanket, the customer was sleeping, in whom she recognized yesterday's stranger.

“Rrrrr…” she grumbled, but, remembering yesterday's dinner, she wagged her tail and began to sniff.

She sniffed the stranger's clothes and boots and found that they smelled strongly of a horse. Another door led somewhere from the bedroom, also closed. Kashtanka scratched the door, leaned her chest against it, opened it, and at once sensed a strange, very suspicious smell. Anticipating an unpleasant meeting, grumbling and looking around, Kashtanka entered a small room with dirty wallpaper and backed away in fear. She saw something unexpected and terrible. Bending its neck and head to the ground, spreading its wings and hissing, a gray goose walked straight at her. Somewhat away from him, on a mattress, lay a white cat; seeing Kashtanka, he jumped up, arched his back, lifted his tail, ruffled his fur, and also hissed. The dog was frightened in earnest, but, not wanting to betray his fear, barked loudly and rushed to the cat ... The cat arched his back even more, hissed and hit Kashtanka on the head with his paw. Kashtanka jumped back, sat down on all four paws and, stretching her muzzle towards the cat, burst into loud, shrill barking; at that moment a goose came up from behind and gave her a painful blow with its beak in the back. Kashtanka jumped up and rushed at the goose ...

- What is this? - a loud angry voice was heard, and a stranger in a dressing gown and with a cigar in his mouth entered the room. - What does it mean? To the place!

He walked up to the cat, flicked it on the arched back and said:

“Fyodor Timofeyich, what does this mean?” Did you pick up a fight? Oh, you old rascal! Get down!

And turning to the goose, he shouted:

- Ivan Ivanovich, in place!

The cat obediently lay down on its mattress and closed its eyes. Judging by the expression of his muzzle and mustache, he himself was unhappy that he got excited and joined the fight. Kashtanka whined resentfully, and the goose craned its neck and spoke of something quickly, ardently and distinctly, but extremely incomprehensibly.

- OK OK! said the owner, yawning. We must live in peace and harmony. He stroked Kashtanka and continued: - Don't be afraid, little redhead... It's a good audience, it won't offend you. Wait, what are we going to call you? You can't go without a name, brother.

The stranger thought and said:

- That's what ... You will be - Aunt ... Do you understand? Aunt!

And, repeating the word "Aunt" several times, he went out. Kashtanka sat down and began to watch. The cat sat motionless on the mattress and pretended to be asleep. The goose, stretching its neck and trampling in one place, continued to talk about something quickly and passionately. Apparently it was a very smart goose; after each long tirade, he each time backed away in surprise and pretended to admire his speech ... After listening to him and answering him: “rrrr ...”, Kashtanka began sniffing the corners. In one of the corners stood a small trough, in which she saw soaked peas and soaked rye crusts. She tried peas - tasteless, she tried peels - and began to eat. The goose was not in the least offended that the unfamiliar dog was eating his food, but on the contrary, he spoke even hotter and, in order to show his confidence, he himself went up to the trough and ate a few peas.

4. Miracles in a sieve

A little later, the stranger entered again and brought with him some strange thing, resembling a gate and the letter P. On the crossbar of this wooden, roughly hammered P, hung a bell and a pistol was tied; strings stretched from the tongue of the bell and from the trigger of the pistol. The stranger placed P in the middle of the room, took a long time to untie and tie something, then looked at the goose and said:

- Ivan Ivanovich, please!

The goose approached him and stopped in an expectant position.

"Well," said the stranger, "let's start from the very beginning." First of all, bow and curtsy! Alive!

Ivan Ivanitch craned his neck, nodded in all directions, and shuffled his paw.

- So, well done ... Now die!

The goose lay on its back and lifted up its paws. Having done a few more similar unimportant tricks, the stranger suddenly grabbed his head, depicted horror on his face and shouted:

- Guard! Fire! We are burning!

Ivan Ivanovich ran up to P, took the rope in his beak and rang the bell. The stranger was very pleased. He stroked the goose on the neck and said:

- Well done, Ivan Ivanovich! Now imagine that you are a jeweler and trade in gold and diamonds. Imagine now that you come to your store and find thieves in it. How would she act in this case?

The goose took another rope in its beak and pulled, which immediately rang out a deafening shot. Kashtanka liked the ringing very much, and she was so delighted with the shot that she ran around P and barked.

- Aunt, get in there! the stranger called to her. – Shut up!

Ivan Ivanych's work did not end in shooting. For a whole hour afterwards, the stranger drove him around on a cord and slapped a whip, and the goose had to jump over the barrier and through the hoop, stand on its hind legs, that is, sit on its tail and wave its paws. Kashtanka did not take her eyes off Ivan Ivanovich, howled with delight, and several times began to run after him with ringing barks. Having tired the goose and himself, the stranger wiped the sweat from his forehead and shouted:

- Marya, call Khavronya Ivanovna here!

A minute later, grunting was heard ... Kashtanka grumbled, took on a very brave look and, just in case, came closer to the stranger. The door opened, an old woman looked into the room and, saying something, let in a black, very ugly pig. Paying no attention to Kashtanka's grumbling, the pig lifted her snout and grunted merrily. Apparently, she was very pleased to see her master, the cat, and Ivan Ivanovich. When she went up to the cat and lightly pushed him under the stomach with her snout and then spoke about something to the goose, in her movements, in her voice and in the trembling of her tail, one could feel a lot of good nature. Kashtanka immediately realized that it was useless to grumble and bark at such subjects.

The owner removed the P and shouted:

- Fyodor Timofeich, please!

The cat got up, stretched lazily and reluctantly, as if doing a favor, went up to the pig.

“Well, let's start with the Egyptian pyramid,” the owner began.

He explained something for a long time, then commanded: “One ... two ... three!” Ivan Ivanovich flapped his wings at the word "three" and jumped on the pig's back... When he, balancing his wings and neck, secured himself on his bristly back, Fyodor Timofeyich languidly and lazily, with obvious disdain and with an air as if he despises and puts no worthless of his art, climbed onto the back of the pig, then reluctantly climbed onto the goose and stood on his hind legs. It turned out what the stranger called the "Egyptian pyramid." Kashtanka squealed with delight, but at that moment the old cat yawned and, losing his balance, fell off the goose. Ivan Ivanovich staggered and also fell down. The stranger shouted, waved his arms, and again began to explain something. After spending a whole hour with the pyramid, the indefatigable owner began to teach Ivan Ivanych to ride the cat, then he began to teach the cat to smoke, and so on.

The exercise ended with the stranger wiping the sweat from his forehead and going out, Fyodor Timofeyich snorted in disgust, lay down on the mattress and closed his eyes, Ivan Ivanovich went to the trough, and the pig was taken away by the old woman. Thanks to a mass of new impressions, the day passed unnoticed by Kashtanka, and in the evening she, with her mattress, was already installed in a room with dirty wallpaper and spent the night in the company of Fyodor Timofeyich and the goose.

5. Talent! Talent!

A month has passed.

Kashtanka was already used to the fact that every evening she was fed a delicious dinner and was called Aunt. She got used to both the stranger and her new cohabitants. Life flowed like clockwork.

All days started the same way. As a rule, Ivan Ivanovich woke up before everyone else and immediately went up to Aunt or to the cat, arched his neck and began to talk about something passionately and convincingly, but as before incomprehensibly. Sometimes he raised his head and uttered long monologues. In the first days of their acquaintance, Kashtanka thought that he talked a lot because he was very smart, but a little time passed, and she lost all respect for him; when he came up to her with his long speeches, she no longer wagged her tail, but treated him like an annoying chatterer who did not let anyone sleep, and answered him without any ceremony: "rrrr" ...

Fyodor Timofeich was a gentleman of a different sort. This one, waking up, did not make any sound, did not move, and did not even open his eyes. He would have gladly not woken up, because, apparently, he did not like life. Nothing interested him, he treated everything languidly and carelessly, he despised everything and even, eating his delicious dinner, snorted in disgust.

Waking up, Kashtanka began to walk around the rooms and sniff the corners. Only she and the cat were allowed to walk all over the apartment: the goose had no right to cross the threshold of a room with dirty wallpaper, and Khavronya Ivanovna lived somewhere in the yard in a shed and appeared only during training. The owner woke up late and, after drinking tea, immediately set to his tricks. Every day a P, a whip, hoops were brought into the room, and almost the same thing was done every day. The training went on for three or four hours, so that sometimes Fyodor Timofeyich staggered from exhaustion, like a drunkard, Ivan Ivanovich opened his beak and breathed heavily, and the master turned red and could not wipe the sweat off his forehead.

Study and dinner made the days very interesting, but the evenings were dull. Usually in the evenings the owner would leave somewhere and take the goose and the cat with him. Left alone, Auntie lay down on the mattress and began to feel sad ... Sadness crept up on her somehow imperceptibly and took possession of her gradually, like a dark room. It began with the fact that the dog lost all desire to bark, run around the rooms and even look, then some two obscure figures appeared in its imagination, either dogs or people, with faces that were pretty, cute, but incomprehensible; when they appeared, Aunt wagged her tail, and it seemed to her that she had seen them somewhere and loved them .... And falling asleep, she always felt that these figures smelled of glue, shavings and varnish.

When she got used to new life and from a skinny, bony mongrel turned into a well-fed, well-groomed dog, one day, before teaching, the owner stroked her and said:

“It’s time for us, Auntie, to get down to business. It's enough for you to beat the buckets. I want to make an artist out of you ... Do you want to be an artist?

And he began to teach her different tricks. In the first lesson, she learned to stand and walk on her hind legs, which she really liked. In the second lesson, she had to jump on her hind legs and grab sugar, which was held high above her head by the teacher. Then, in the next lessons, she danced, ran on the lunge, howled to the music, called and shot, and a month later she could successfully replace Fyodor Timofeich in the Egyptian pyramid. She studied very willingly and was pleased with her progress; running with her tongue hanging out on a lunge, jumping into a hoop and riding old Fyodor Timofeyitch gave her the greatest pleasure. She accompanied every successful trick with a sonorous, enthusiastic bark, and the teacher was surprised, also delighted and rubbed his hands.

– Talent! Talent! he said. - Definitely a talent! You will be positively successful!

And Auntie was so accustomed to the word "talent" that whenever the owner said it, she jumped up and looked around, as if it were her nickname.

6. Restless night

The aunt had a dog's dream, that a janitor with a broom was chasing her, and she woke up from fear.

The room was quiet, dark and very stuffy. The fleas bit. Auntie had never been afraid of the dark before, but now for some reason she felt terrified and wanted to bark. In the next room, the owner sighed loudly, then a little later a pig grunted in his shed, and again everything was silent. When you think about food, your soul becomes lighter, and Auntie began to think about how she stole a chicken foot from Fyodor Timofeyich today and hid it in the living room between the closet and the wall, where there is a lot of cobwebs and dust. It would not hurt now to go and see: is this paw intact or not? It may very well be that the owner found it and ate it. But earlier in the morning you can’t leave the room such a rule. Auntie closed her eyes in order to fall asleep as soon as possible, for she knew from experience that the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner the morning will come. But suddenly, not far from her, a strange cry was heard, which made her shudder and jump up on all fours. It was Ivan Ivanovich who shouted, and his cry was not chatty and persuasive, as usual, but some kind of wild, shrill and unnatural, like the creak of gates being opened. Seeing nothing in the darkness and not understanding, Auntie felt even greater fear and grumbled:

- Rrrrr...

Not much time passed, as long as it takes to gnaw on a good bone; the cry was not repeated. The aunt gradually calmed down and dozed off. She dreamed of two large black dogs with tufts of last year's fur on their thighs and sides; from a large tub they greedily ate slops, from which came white steam and a very tasty smell; from time to time they looked back at Auntie, bared their teeth and grumbled: “But we won’t let you!” But a peasant in a fur coat ran out of the house and drove them away with a whip; then Auntie went up to the tub and began to eat, but as soon as the peasant left the gate, both black dogs rushed at her with a roar, and suddenly a piercing cry was heard again.

- K-ge! K-ge-ge! shouted Ivan Ivanovich.

Auntie woke up, jumped up and, without leaving the mattress, burst into a howling bark. It already seemed to her that it was not Ivan Ivanovich who was shouting, but someone else, an outsider. And for some reason the pig grunted again in the shed.

But then the shuffling of shoes was heard, and the owner entered the room in a dressing gown and with a candle. A flickering light jumped over the dirty wallpaper and over the ceiling and drove out the darkness. The aunt saw that there was no stranger in the room. Ivan Ivanovich sat on the floor and did not sleep. His wings were outstretched and his beak was open, and in general he looked like he was very tired and thirsty. Old Fyodor Timofeyitch didn't sleep either. He must have been awakened by a scream.

- Ivan Ivanovich, what's the matter with you? the owner asked the goose. - What are you shouting? You are sick?

The goose was silent. The owner touched his neck, stroked his back and said: - You're an eccentric. And you yourself do not sleep and do not give to others.

When the owner went out and took the light with him, it was dark again.

Auntie was scared. The goose did not cry out, but again it seemed to her that someone else was standing in the darkness. The worst thing was that this stranger could not be bitten, since he was invisible and something very bad must certainly happen that night. Fyodor Timofeyitch was also restless. Aunt heard him fidgeting on his mattress, yawning and shaking his head.

Somewhere in the street there was a knock on the gate, and a pig grunted in the shed.

The aunt whimpered, stretched out her front paws and rested her head on them. In the knock of the gate, in the grunting of the pig that for some reason was not sleeping, in the darkness and in the silence, she sensed something as melancholy and terrible as in the cry of Ivan Ivanovich. Everything was in alarm and anxiety, but why? Who is this stranger that was not visible? Near Auntie, two dull green sparks flashed for a moment. This was the first time Fyodor Timofeyitch had approached her in the whole time of their acquaintance. What did he need? Aunt licked his paw and, without asking why he had come, howled softly and in different voices.

- K-ge! shouted Ivan Ivanovich. - K-ge-ge!

The door opened again, and the host entered with a candle. The goose sat in its former position, with its beak open and its wings outstretched. His eyes are closed.

- Ivan Ivanovich! called the owner.

The goose didn't move. The owner sat down in front of him on the floor, looked at him for a minute in silence, and said:

- Ivan Ivanovich! What is it? Are you dying, right? Ah, now I remember, I remember! he yelled and grabbed his head. - I know why it is! It's because a horse stepped on you today! My God, my God!

The aunt did not understand what the master was saying, but she could see from his face that he, too, was waiting for something terrible. She stretched her muzzle to the dark window, through which, as it seemed to her, someone else was looking, and howled.

"He's dying, Auntie!" - said the owner and threw up his hands. Yes, yes, he is dying! Death has come to your room. What should we do?

The pale, alarmed master, sighing and shaking his head, returned to his bedroom. The aunt was terrified to remain in the dark, and she followed him. He sat down on the bed and repeated several times:

- My God, what to do?

Aunt walked near his feet and, not understanding why she was so sad and why everyone was so worried, and trying to understand, followed his every movement. Fyodor Timofeich, who rarely left his mattress, also went into the master's bedroom and began to rub himself around his feet. He shook his head, as if he wanted to shake the heavy thoughts out of her, and looked suspiciously under the bed.

The owner took a saucer, poured water into it from the washstand and again went to the goose.

- Drink, Ivan Ivanovich! he said tenderly, placing a saucer in front of him. Drink, dove.

But Ivan Ivanovich did not stir and did not open his eyes. The owner bent his head to the saucer and dipped his beak into the water, but the goose did not drink, spread his wings even wider, and his head remained lying in the saucer.

- No, nothing can be done! the owner sighed. - Its end. Ivan Ivanovich is gone!

And shining droplets crawled down his cheeks, such as are on the windows during the rain. Not understanding what was the matter, Auntie and Fyodor Timofeyich huddled up to him and looked at the goose with horror.

- Poor Ivan Ivanovich! said the owner, sighing sadly. - And I dreamed that in the spring I would take you to the dacha and I would walk with you on the green grass. Dear animal, my good comrade, you are no more! How am I going to get along without you now?

It seemed to the aunt that the same thing would happen to her, that is, that she, like this, for no one knows why, would close her eyes, stretch out her paws, bare her mouth, and everyone would look at her with horror. Apparently, the same thoughts wandered in the head of Fyodor Timofeyitch. Never before had the old cat been so gloomy and gloomy as now.

Dawn was beginning, and in the room there was no longer that invisible stranger that frightened Auntie so much. When it was completely dawn, the janitor came, took the goose by the paws and carried it off somewhere. And a little later an old woman appeared and brought out the trough.

Aunt went into the living room and looked behind the closet: the owner did not eat the chicken foot, it lay in its place, in dust and cobwebs. But Auntie was bored, sad and wanted to cry. She didn’t even sniff her paws, but went under the sofa, sat down there and began to whine quietly, in a thin voice:

- Well, well, well...

7. Bad debut

Into one wonderful evening the owner entered the room with dirty wallpaper and, rubbing his hands, said:

- Well, sir...

There was something else he wanted to say, but he didn't say it and left. The aunt, who had perfectly studied his face and intonation during the lessons, guessed that he was excited, preoccupied and, it seems, angry. After a while he returned and said:

“Today I will take Aunt and Fyodor Timofeyich with me. In the Egyptian pyramid, you, Aunt, will replace the late Ivan Ivanovich today. God knows what! Nothing is ready, not learned, there were few rehearsals! Shame on us, fail!

Then he went out again and a minute later returned in a fur coat and top hat. Going up to the cat, he took him by the front paws, lifted him up and hid him on his chest under his fur coat, while Fyodor Timofeyich seemed very indifferent and did not even bother to open his eyes. For him, apparently, it was absolutely all the same: whether to lie down, or to be lifted up by the legs, whether to lie on a mattress, or rest on the owner’s chest under a fur coat ...

"Auntie, let's go," said the host.

Understanding nothing and wagging her tail, Aunt followed him. A minute later she was already sitting in the sleigh at the feet of the owner and listened to him, shrugging from cold and excitement, muttering:

- Shame on you! Let's fail!

The sleigh stopped near a large strange house that looked like an overturned soup bowl. The long entrance of this house with three glass doors was lit by a dozen bright lanterns. The doors opened with a clang and, like mouths, swallowed the people who scurried about at the entrance. There were many people, often horses ran up to the entrance, but no dogs were visible.

The host took Auntie in his arms and put her on his chest, under the fur coat, where Fyodor Timofeyitch was. It was dark and stuffy, but warm. For a moment, two dull green sparks flashed - it was the cat that opened its eyes, worried by the cold, hard paws of the neighbor. Auntie licked his ear and, wanting to make herself as comfortable as possible, moved uneasily, crushed him under her cold paws and inadvertently stuck her head out from under her fur coat, but immediately grunted angrily and dived under the fur coat. She thought she saw a huge, dimly lit room full of monsters; terrible mugs peeped out from behind the partitions and bars that stretched on both sides of the room: horse, horned, long-eared, and some kind of one fat, huge mug with a tail instead of a nose and with two long, gnawed bones sticking out of the mouth.

The cat meowed hoarsely under Auntie's paws, but at that moment the fur coat flew open, the owner said "hop!", and Fyodor Timofeyitch and Auntie jumped to the floor. They were already in a small room with gray plank walls; there, except for a small table with a mirror, a stool and rags hung in the corners, there was no other furniture, and instead of a lamp or a candle, a bright fan-shaped light burned, attached to a nightstand driven into the wall. Fyodor Timofeyich licked his fur coat, wrinkled by Auntie, went under the stool and lay down. The owner, still agitated, and rubbing his hands, began to undress ... He undressed as he usually undressed at home, preparing to lie down under the flannelette blanket, that is, he took off everything except underwear, then sat down on a stool and, looking in the mirror, began to dress amazing things over there. First of all, he put on his head a wig with a parting and with two swirls that looked like horns, then he smeared his face thickly with something white and, on top of the white paint, painted more eyebrows, a mustache and rouge. His adventures didn't end there. Having soiled his face and neck, he began to put on some unusual, inconsistent costume, such as Auntie had never seen before, either in houses or on the street. Imagine the widest pantaloons, sewn from calico with large flowers, such as is used in bourgeois houses for curtains and furniture upholstery, pantaloons that are fastened at the very armpits; one pantaloon is made of brown chintz, the other of light yellow. Having drowned in them, the owner also put on a cotton jacket with a large scalloped collar and with a gold star on the back, multi-colored stockings and green shoes ...

Auntie's eyes and soul were full of color. The white-faced, baggy figure smelled of a master, her voice was also familiar, a master's, but there were moments when Auntie was tormented by doubts, and then she was ready to run away from the motley figure and bark. A new place, a fan-shaped light, a smell, a metamorphosis that happened to the owner - all this inspired in her a vague fear and a presentiment that she would certainly meet with some kind of horror, like a fat mug with a tail instead of a nose. And then, somewhere beyond the wall, hateful music was playing far away, and at times an incomprehensible roar was heard. There was only one thing that reassured her - it was Fyodor Timofeyitch's equanimity. He dozed quietly under the stool and did not open his eyes even when the stool moved.

A man in a tailcoat and a white waistcoat looked into the room and said:

“Miss Arabella is coming out now. After her, you.

The owner didn't answer. He pulled a small suitcase from under the table, sat down and waited. It was evident from his lips and hands that he was agitated, and Auntie heard his breath trembling.

- Mr. Georges, please! someone shouted at the door.

The owner got up and crossed himself three times, then took the cat out from under the stool and put it into the suitcase.

- Go, Auntie! he said quietly.

The aunt, not understanding anything, went up to his hands; he kissed her on the head and placed her next to Fyodor Timofeyitch. Then darkness fell ... Auntie trampled on the cat, scratched the walls of the suitcase and from horror could not utter a sound, and the suitcase swayed, as if on waves, and trembled ...

- Here I am! the owner shouted loudly. - Here I am!

The aunt felt that after this cry, the suitcase hit something hard and stopped swinging. A loud thick roar was heard: someone was clapping, and this someone, probably with a mug with a tail instead of a nose, roared and laughed so loudly that the locks on the suitcase trembled. In response to the roar, there was a piercing, screeching laugh of the owner, such as he never laughed at home.

- Ha! he shouted, trying to drown out the roar. - Dear audience! I'm just from the station now! My grandmother died and left me an inheritance! In the suitcase, which is very heavy - obviously, gold ... Ha-a! And suddenly there's a million! Let's open it up and see...

The lock on the suitcase clicked. A bright light hit Auntie in the eyes; she jumped out of the suitcase and, deafened by the roar, quickly, at full speed, ran around her master and burst into ringing barking.

- Ha! the owner shouted. "Uncle Fyodor Timofeyitch!" Dear Aunt! Dear relatives, damn you!

He fell on his stomach on the sand, grabbed the cat and Auntie and began to hug them. The aunt, while he was squeezing her in his arms, glanced at the world into which her fate had brought her, and, struck by its grandiosity, froze for a moment with surprise and delight, then escaped from the arms of the owner and, from the sharpness of the impression, like a top, spun on one place. The new world was great and full of bright light; wherever you looked, everywhere, from floor to ceiling, you could see only faces, faces, faces and nothing more.

“Auntie, please sit down!” the owner shouted.

Remembering what that meant, Aunt jumped up on a chair and sat down. She looked at her master. His eyes, as always, looked serious and kindly, but his face, especially his mouth and teeth, were disfigured by a wide, motionless smile. He himself laughed, jumped, twitched his shoulders and pretended to be very cheerful in the presence of a thousand faces. The aunt believed his cheerfulness, suddenly felt with her whole body that these thousands of faces were looking at her, lifted her fox-like muzzle and howled joyfully.

“You, Auntie, sit down,” the owner said to her, “and uncle and I will dance Kamarinsky.”

Fyodor Timofeyich, waiting to be forced to do stupid things, stood and looked around indifferently. He danced listlessly, carelessly, gloomily, and it was evident from his movements, from his tail and mustache that he deeply despised the crowd, and the bright light, and the owner, and himself ... Having danced his portion, he yawned and sat down.

- Well, Auntie, - said the owner, - first we will sing, and then we will dance. Good?

He took a fife out of his pocket and began to play. The aunt, unable to bear the music, shifted uneasily in her chair and howled. There were roars and applause from all sides. The owner bowed and, when everything was quiet, continued to play ... During the performance of one very high note, somewhere upstairs in the audience, someone gasped loudly.

- There is a chestnut! - confirmed the drunken, rattling tenor. Chestnut! Fedyushka, this is, God punish, Kashtanka! Fuyt!

- Chestnut! Chestnut!

The aunt shuddered and looked where they were shouting. Two faces: one hairy, drunk and grinning, the other plump, red-cheeked and frightened, hit her eyes, as a bright light hit earlier ... She remembered, fell from her chair and thrashed in the sand, then jumped up and rushed to these faces with a joyful screech . There was a deafening roar, pierced through with whistles and the piercing cry of a child:

- Chestnut! Chestnut!

The aunt jumped over the barrier, then over someone's shoulder, and found herself in a box; to get to the next tier, it was necessary to jump over a high wall; The aunt jumped, but did not jump, and crawled back along the wall. Then she passed from hand to hand, licked someone's hands and faces, moved higher and higher and, finally, got into the gallery ...

Half an hour later, Kashtanka was already walking down the street behind people who smelled of glue and varnish. Luka Alexandritch swayed and instinctively, taught by experience, tried to stay away from the ditch.

- In the abyss of sin I wallow in my womb ... - he muttered. - And you, Kashtanka, - bewilderment. Against a man you are like a carpenter against a carpenter.

Fedyushka walked beside him in his father's cap. Kashtanka looked at their backs, and it seemed to her that she had been following them for a long time and was glad that her life had not been interrupted for a minute.

She remembered the little room with the dirty wallpaper, the goose, Fyodor Timofeyitch, the tasty dinners, the studies, the circus, but all this seemed to her now like a long, confused, heavy dream...

Horse surname

The retired Major General Buldeev had a toothache. He rinsed his mouth with vodka, cognac, applied tobacco soot, opium, turpentine, kerosene to a sick tooth, smeared iodine on his cheek, he had cotton wool soaked in alcohol in his ears, but all this either did not help or caused nausea. The doctor came. He picked his teeth, prescribed quinine, but that didn't help either. On the proposal to pull out a bad tooth, the general refused. Everyone at home - wife, children, servants, even the cook Petka, each offered his own remedy. By the way, Buldeev's clerk Ivan Evseich came to him and advised him to undergo treatment with a conspiracy.

Here, in our county, Your Excellency, - he said, - about ten years ago, exciseman Yakov Vasilyich served. He spoke teeth - the first grade. It used to turn away to the window, whisper, spit - and as if by hand! He has such power...

Where is he now?

And after he was fired from the excise, he lives with his mother-in-law in Saratov. Now it only feeds on teeth. If a person has a toothache, then they go to him, help ... Local, Saratov at home uses, and if they are from other cities, then by telegraph. Send him, Your Excellency, a dispatch that this is so, they say, that's it ... the servant of God Alexy has a toothache, please use it. Send money for treatment by mail.

Nonsense! Quackery!

And you try, Your Excellency. He is very much a fan of vodka, lives not with his wife, but with a German woman, a scolder, but, one might say, a miraculous gentleman!

Come on, Alyosha! the general pleaded. You don't believe in conspiracies, but I experienced it myself. Although you do not believe, why not send? Your hands won't fall off of it.

Well, okay, - agreed Buldeev. - Here not only to the excise, but also to hell with a dispatch ... Oh! No urine! Well, where does your exciseman live? How to write to him?

The general sat down at the table and took a pen in his hands.

Every dog in Saratov knows him, - said the clerk. - If you please, your Excellency, write to the city of Saratov, therefore ... His Honor, Mr. Yakov Vasilyich ... Vasilyich ...

Vasilyich ... Yakov Vasilyich ... but by his last name ... But I forgot his last name! .. Vasilyich ... Damn it ... What is his last name? Just now, how I came here, I remembered... Excuse me, sir...

Ivan Evseich raised his eyes to the ceiling and moved his lips. Buldeev and the general's wife waited impatiently.

Well, what? Think quickly!

Now... Vasilyich... Yakov Vasilyich... I forgot! Such a simple surname ... as if like a horse ... Kobylin? No, not Kobylin. Wait... Are there any stallions? No, and not Zherebtsov. I remember the name of the horse, and which one - knocked out of my head ...

Zherebyatnikov?

Not at all. Wait... Kobylitsyn... Kobylyatnikov... Kobelev...

It's a dog, not a horse. stallions?

No, and not Zherebchikov... Loshadinin... Loshakov... Zherebkpn... It's not the same!

Well, how am I going to write to him? Think about it!

Now. Loshadkin... Kobylkin... Root...

Korennikov? asked the general.

Not at all. Pristyazhkin... No, that's not it! Forgot!

So why the hell are you climbing with advice if you forgot? the general got angry. - Get out of here!

Ivan Yevseich slowly left, and the general grabbed his cheek and went into the rooms.

Oh, fathers! he yelled. - Oh, mothers! Oh, I don't see white light!

The clerk went out into the garden and, raising his eyes to the sky, began to recall the name of the exciseman:

Zherebchikov... Zherebkovsky... Zherebenko... No, that's not it! Loshadinsky... Loshadevich... Zherebkovich... Kobylyansky...

A little later he was called to the masters.

Remembered? the general asked.

Not at all, Your Excellency.

Maybe Konyavsky? Horsemen? Not?

And in the house, everyone vied with each other, they began to invent surnames. They went through all the ages, sexes and breeds of horses, remembered the mane, hooves, harness ... In the house, in the garden, in the servants' room and in the kitchen, people walked from corner to corner and, scratching their foreheads, looked for a surname ...

The clerk was constantly demanded to the house.

Tabunov? they asked him. - Kopytin? Zherebovsky?

No, no," answered Ivan Evseich, and, raising his eyes, went on thinking aloud. - Konenko... Konchenko... Zherebeev... Kobyleev...

Dad! - shouted from the nursery. - Troykin! Uzdechkin!

The entire estate was in a state of shock. The impatient, tortured general promised to give five rubles to anyone who remembered his real name, and whole crowds began to follow Ivan Evseich ...

Gnedov! they told him. - Trotting! Horse!

But evening came, and the surname was still not found. So they went to bed without sending a telegram.

The general did not sleep all night, walked from corner to corner and moaned ... At three o'clock in the morning he left the house and knocked on the window to the clerk.

No, not Merinov, Your Excellency," answered Ivan Evseich, and sighed guiltily.

Yes, maybe the surname is not horse, but some other!

The word is true, Your Excellency, horse ... I remember this very well.

What you are, brother, forgetful ... For me now this name is more precious, it seems, than everything in the world. Tormented!

In the morning the general again sent for the doctor.

Let it vomit! he decided. - No more patience...

The doctor came and pulled out a bad tooth. The pain subsided immediately, and the general calmed down. Having done his job and having received what follows for his work, the doctor got into his britzka and drove home. Outside the gate in the field, he met Ivan Yevseich... The clerk was standing on the edge of the road and, looking intently at his feet, was thinking about something. Judging by the wrinkles that furrowed his forehead, and by the expression of his eyes, his thoughts were intense, painful...

Bulanov ... Cheressedelnikov ... - he muttered. - Zasuponin... Horse...

Ivan Evseich! the doctor turned to him. - Can't I, my dear, buy five quarters of oats from you? Our peasants sell me oats, but it’s painfully bad ...

Ivan Yevseich looked dully at the doctor, smiled somehow wildly, and without saying a single word in reply, clasping his hands, ran towards the estate with such speed as if a mad dog was chasing him.

Thought, Your Excellency! he shouted joyfully, not in his own voice, flying into the general's office. - Thought up, God bless the doctor! Ovsov! Ovsov is the surname of the excise tax! Ovsov, Your Excellency! Send a dispatch to Ovsov!

On-mow! - said the general with contempt and raised two figs to his face. - I don't need yours now horse surname! On-mow!

boys

Volodya has arrived! Natalya yelled, running into the dining room. - Oh my god!

The whole family of the Korolevs, who had been waiting for their Volodya from hour to hour, rushed to the windows. There were wide sledges at the entrance, and a thick fog was rising from a trio of white horses. The sleigh was empty, because Volodya was already standing in the entryway, untying his hood with red, chilled fingers. His gymnasium coat, cap, galoshes, and hair at the temples were covered with frost, and he emitted such a delicious frosty smell from head to toe that, looking at him, you wanted to go cold and say: “Brrr!” His mother and aunt rushed to hug and kiss him, Natalya threw herself at his feet and began to pull off his felt boots, the sisters raised a screech, the doors creaked and slammed, and Volodya's father, wearing only a waistcoat and with scissors in his hands, ran into the hall and shouted in fright:

And we were waiting for you yesterday! Did you get well? Safely? My God, my God, let him say hello to his father! That I'm not a father, or what?

Woof! Woof! - roared bass Milord, a huge black dog, banging his tail on the walls and furniture.

Everything was mixed into one continuous joyful sound, which lasted about two minutes. When the first impulse of joy passed, the Queens noticed that in addition to Volodya in the hall there was another small man, wrapped in scarves, shawls and hoods and covered with frost; he stood motionless in a corner in the shadow cast by a large fox coat.

Volodya, who is this? asked the mother in a whisper.

Oh! - Volodya caught on. - This, I have the honor to present, is my comrade Chechevitsyn, a second grade student ... I brought him with me to stay with us.

Very nice, you are welcome! - said the father happily. - Excuse me, I'm at home, without a frock coat ... Please! Natalya, help Mr. Cherepitsyn undress! My God, my God, let this dog go! This is punishment!

Well, Christmas is coming soon! - said the father in a singsong voice, rolling a cigarette out of dark-red tobacco. - How long has it been summer and your mother was crying, seeing you off? and you came... Time, brother, goes fast! You won’t have time to gasp, as old age comes. Mr. Chibisov, eat, please, do not be shy! We simply have.

Volodya's three sisters, Katya, Sonya and Masha - the oldest of them was eleven years old - sat at the table and did not take their eyes off their new acquaintance. Chechevitsyn was the same age and height as Volodya, but not so plump and white, but thin, swarthy, covered with freckles. His hair was bristly, his eyes were narrow, his lips were thick, he was generally very ugly, and if he hadn't been wearing a gymnasium jacket, he might have been taken for a cook's son by appearance. He was gloomy, kept silent all the time and never smiled. The girls, looking at him, immediately realized that he must be a very intelligent and learned person. He thought about something all the time and was so busy with his thoughts that when he was asked about something, he shuddered, shook his head and asked to repeat the question.

And in California they drink gin instead of tea.

He, too, was preoccupied with some thoughts, and, judging by the looks he occasionally exchanged with his friend Tchechevitsyn, the boys' thoughts were common.

Who took my scissors? Again, Ivan Nikolaitch, did you take my scissors?

Oh my God, they don't even give you scissors! answered Ivan Nikolaevich in a weeping voice, and, leaning back in his chair, assumed the pose of an offended man, but a minute later he was again admiring.

On his previous visits, Volodya had also been preparing for the Christmas tree, or had run out into the yard to see how the coachman and the shepherd were making a snowy mountain, but now he and Chechevitsyn paid no attention to the colored paper and never even went to the stable, but sat by the window and they began to whisper about something; then they both opened the geographical atlas together and began to examine some kind of map.

First to Perm ... - Chechevitsyn said quietly ... - from there to Tyumen ... then Tomsk ... then ... then ... to Kamchatka ... From here, the Samoyeds will be transported by boat across the Bering Strait ... Here you and America ... There are a lot of fur-bearing animals.

And California? Volodya asked.

California is lower ... If only to get to America, and California is just around the corner. You can get food for yourself by hunting and robbery.

Tchechevitsyn kept aloof from the girls all day and looked at them frowningly. After evening tea, it happened that he was left alone with the girls for five minutes. It was awkward to be silent. He coughed severely, rubbed his left hand with his right hand, looked sullenly at Katya, and asked:

Have you read Mine-Read?

No, I haven't read it... Listen, do you know how to skate?

Immersed in his thoughts, Chechevitsyn did not answer this question, but only puffed out his cheeks and made such a sigh as if he was very hot. He once again raised his eyes to Katya and said:

When a herd of buffalo runs across the pampas, the earth trembles, and at this time the mustangs, frightened, kick and neigh.

And also Indians attack trains. But worst of all are mosquitoes and termites.

And what is it?

It's like ants, only with wings. They bite very hard. Do you know who I am?

Mr. Chechevitsyn.

No. I am Montigomo, Hawkclaw, leader of the invincibles.

Masha, the smallest girl, looked at him, then at the window, beyond which evening was already falling, and said in thought:

And we cooked lentils yesterday.

The completely incomprehensible words of Chechevitsyn and the fact that he was constantly whispering with Volodya, and the fact that Volodya did not play, but kept thinking about something - all this was mysterious and strange. And both older girls, Katya and Sonya, began to watch the boys vigilantly. In the evening, when the boys went to bed, the girls crept up to the door and overheard their conversation. Oh what did they know! The boys were going to run somewhere to America to mine gold; they had everything ready for the journey: a pistol, two knives, crackers, a magnifying glass for making fire, a compass, and four rubles of money. They learned that the boys would have to walk several thousand miles, and along the way fight tigers and savages, then mine gold and ivory, kill enemies, become sea robbers, drink gin, and eventually marry beauties and work plantations. Volodya and Chechevitsyn talked and interrupted each other in enthusiasm. At the same time, Chechevitsyn called himself: "Montigomo the Hawk Claw", and Volodya - "my pale-faced brother."

Look, don't tell your mother, - Katya said to Sonya, going to sleep with her. - Volodya will bring us gold and ivory from America, and if you tell your mother, they will not let him in.

Lord, forgive me a sinner! God save my poor, unfortunate mother!

When fasting, the nanny says, you should eat peas and lentils.

Early in the morning on Christmas Eve, Katya and Sonya quietly got out of bed and went to see how the boys would flee to America. They crept up to the door.

So you won't go? Chechevitsyn asked angrily. - Say: won't you go?

God! Volodya wept softly. - How can I go? I feel sorry for mom.

My pale-faced brother, I beg you, let's go! You assured me that you would go, you lured me yourself, but how to go, so you chickened out.

I... I didn't get scared, but I... I feel sorry for my mother.

You say: will you go or not?

I'll go, just... just wait. I want to live at home.

In that case, I'll go myself! Chechevitsyn decided. - I'll manage without you. And I also wanted to hunt tigers, fight! When so, give back my pistons!

Volodya wept so bitterly that the sisters could not stand it and wept softly too. There was silence.

So you won't go? - once again asked Chechevitsyn.

By ... I'll go.

So get dressed!

And Chechevitsyn, in order to persuade Volodya, praised America, growled like a tiger, pretended to be a steamer, scolded, promised to give Volodya all the ivory and all the lion and tiger skins.

When the girls returned to their rooms and dressed, Katya said with tears in her eyes:

Ah, I'm so scared!

Until two o'clock, when they sat down to dinner, everything was quiet, but at dinner it suddenly turned out that the boys were not at home. They sent them to the servants' quarters, to the stable, to the clerk's wing - they were not there. They sent him to the village, but they didn't find him there. And then they also drank tea without the boys, and when they sat down to supper, mother was very worried, she even cried. And at night they again went to the village, searched, walked with lanterns to the river. God, what a commotion!

The next day a constable came and wrote some paper in the canteen. Mom was crying.

But now the sledges stopped at the porch, and steam poured from the three white horses.

Volodya has arrived! someone shouted outside.

Volodya has arrived! Natalya yelled, running into the dining room.

And Milord barked in bass: “Woof! woof!" It turned out that the boys were detained in the city, in the Gostiny Dvor (they went there and kept asking where gunpowder was sold). As soon as Volodya entered the hall, he sobbed and threw himself on his mother's neck. The girls, trembling, thought with horror about what would happen next, heard how papa took Volodya and Chechevitsyn to his office and talked with them for a long time; and mother also spoke and cried.

Is it so possible? Dad assured. - God forbid, they will find out in the gymnasium, you will be expelled. Shame on you, Mr. Chechevitsyn! Not good! You are the instigator and hopefully you will be punished by your parents. Is it so possible! Where did you spend the night?

At the station! Chechevitsyn answered proudly.

Volodya then lay down, and a towel soaked in vinegar was applied to his head. They sent a telegram somewhere, and the next day a lady, Chechevitsyn's mother, arrived and took her son away.

When Chechevitsyn left, his face was stern, haughty, and, saying goodbye to the girls, he did not say a single word; I just took a notebook from Katya and wrote as a token of memory:

"Montigomo Hawkclaw".

Tutor

Gymnasium student VII class Egor Ziberov graciously gives Petya Udodov a hand. Petya, a twelve-year-old boy in a gray suit, plump and ruddy-cheeked, with a small forehead and bristly hair, bows and reaches into the cupboard for notebooks. The lesson starts.

According to the condition concluded with Father Udodov, Ziberov must study with Petya for two hours every day, for which he receives six rubles a month. He prepares it for the second grade of the gymnasium. (Last year he was preparing him for class I, but Petya cut himself.)

Well... - Ziberov begins, lighting a cigarette. - You are given the fourth declension. Bow fructus!

Petya starts to bow.

Again you didn't learn! - says Ziberov, getting up. - For the sixth time I ask you the fourth declension, and you will not push in the tooth! When will you finally start learning the lessons?

Didn't learn again? - a coughing voice is heard behind the doors, and Petya's father, retired provincial secretary Udodov, enters the room. - Again? Why didn't you learn? Oh you pig, pig! Do you believe, Yegor Alekseevich? After all, yesterday I broke it!

And, sighing heavily, Udodov sits down beside his son and looks at the tattered Kuner. Ziberov begins to examine Petya in front of his father. Let a stupid father know how stupid his son is! The schoolboy enters into an examination excitement, hates, despises the little red-cheeked stupid, is ready to beat him. He even becomes annoyed when the boy answers in the right way - this Petya is so disgusted with him!

You don't even know the second declension! You don't even know the first one! This is how you learn! Well tell me how it goes vocative from meus filius (my son (lat.))?

From meus filius? Meus filius will... it will be...

Petya looks at the ceiling for a long time, moves his lips for a long time, but does not give an answer.

And what about the dative plural of dea (goddess (lat.))?

Deabus...filiabus! - Petya minted.

Old Udodov nods his head approvingly. The high school student, who did not expect a good answer, feels annoyed.

And what other noun does abus have in the dative? he asks.

It turns out that "anima - soul" has abus in the dative, which is not in Küner.

The sonorous language of Latin! - notes Udodov. - Alon... throne... bonus... anthropos... Wisdom! And that's all you need! he says with a sigh.

“It interferes, you bastard, to study ... - thinks Ziberov. - He sits over the soul here and oversees. I can't stand control!" “Well, sir,” he turns to Petya. - By the next time in Latin, take the same thing. Now for the arithmetic... Take the board. What's the next task?

Petya spits on the board and erases with his sleeve. The teacher takes the problem book and dictates:

- “The merchant bought 138 arsh. black and blue cloth for 540 rubles. The question is, how many arshins did he buy both, if the blue one cost 5 rubles. per arshin, and black 3 rubles.? Repeat the task.

Petya repeats the task and immediately, without saying a word, begins to divide 540 by 138.

Why are you sharing this? Wait! However, so ... continue. Do you get the rest? There can be no remainder here. Let me share!

Ziberov divides, gets a 3 with a remainder and quickly erases.

Strange... he thinks, ruffling his hair and blushing. - How does she decide? Hm! .. This is a problem for indefinite equations, and not an arithmetic one at all ”...

The teacher looks at the answers and sees 75 and 63.

“Hm!.. strange… Adding 5 and 3 and then dividing 540 by 8? So what? No, not that.

Decide! he says to Pete.

Well, what do you think? The task is a no-brainer! - says Udodov to Petya. - What a fool you are, brother! You decide for him, Yegor Alekseich.

Yegor Alekseich picks up a stylus and begins to decide. He stutters, blushes, turns pale.

This problem is, strictly speaking, algebraic, he says. - It can be solved with x and y. However, it is possible to decide. I, here, divided ... you understand? Now, here, you have to subtract... you understand? Or, here's what... Solve this problem for me by tomorrow... Think...

Petya smiles wickedly. Udodov also smiles. Both of them understand the teacher's confusion. A pupil of the 7th grade becomes even more embarrassed, gets up and starts walking from corner to corner.

And you can solve it without algebra, ”says Udodov, holding out his hand to the accounts and sighing. - Here, let me see...

He clicks on the abacus, and he gets 75 and 63, which is what he needed.

Here, sir ... in our way, in an unlearned way.

The teacher becomes unbearably creepy. With bated breath, he glances at his watch and sees that there is still an hour and a quarter left before the end of the lesson - an eternity!

Now dictation.

After the dictation - geography, after geography - the law of God, then the Russian language - there are many sciences in this world! But here, at last, the two-hour lesson comes to an end. Ziberov takes up his hat, graciously gives Petya his hand and says goodbye to Udodov.

Can you give me some money today? he asks timidly. - Tomorrow I have to pay the tuition fee. You owe me six months.

I? Oh, yes, yes ... - Udodov mutters, not looking at Ziberov. - With pleasure! Only I don’t have it now, and I’ll tell you in a week ... or two ...

Ziberov agrees and, putting on his heavy, dirty galoshes, goes to another lesson.

Story : experienced
(Psychological study)

Was New Year. I went out to the front.

There, besides the porter, there were several of ours: Ivan Ivanovich, Pyotr Kuzmich, Yegor Sidorych ... Everyone came to sign on the sheet, which lay majestically on the table. (The paper, however, was cheap, No. 8.)

I looked at the sheet. There are too many signatures and ... about hypocrisy! O duplicity! Where are you, strokes, underlines, squiggles, ponytails? All the letters are round, even, smooth, like rosy cheeks. I see familiar names, but I don't recognize them. Have these gentlemen changed their handwriting?

I carefully dipped my pen into the inkwell, became embarrassed for some unknown reason, held my breath and carefully traced my last name. As a rule, I never used the final “era” in my signature, but now I used it: I started it and finished it.

Do you want me to kill you? - I heard the voice and breathing of Pyotr Kuzmich near my ear.

How?

I'll take it and lose it. Yes. Want? Hehehehe…

You can't laugh here, Pyotr Kuzmich. Don't forget where you are. Smiles are less than appropriate. I'm sorry, but I suppose... This is profanity, disrespect, so to speak...

Do you want me to kill you?

How? I asked.

And so… How von Clausen killed me five years ago… He-he-he. It's very simple ... I'll take it near your last name and put a squiggle. I'll do a sketch. Hehehehe. I'll make your signature disrespectful. Want?

I turned pale. Indeed, my life was in the hands of this blue-nosed man. I looked with fear and with some respect at his ominous eyes...

How little it takes to knock a man down!

Or a drop of ink near your signature. I'll make a blot... Do you want to?

There was silence. He, with the consciousness of his strength, majestic, proud, with destructive poison in his hand, I, with the consciousness of my impotence, miserable, ready to perish - both were silent. He dug into my pale face with his burkali, I avoided his gaze ...

I was joking, he finally said. - Don't be afraid.

Oh thank you! - I said and, full of gratitude, shook his hand.

I joked... But I can still... Remember... Go... Pokedova joked... And then what God will give...

Philosophical definitions of life

Our life can be likened to lying in a bathhouse on the top shelf. Hot, stuffy and foggy. The broom does its job, the bath sheet sticks, and the soap hurts the eyes. Shouts are heard from everywhere: give a couple! They wash your head and sort out all your bones. Good! (Sarah Bernard)

* * *
Our life can be likened to a torn boot: he always asks for porridge, but no one gives it to him. (J. Zand)

* * *
Our life can be likened to Prince Meshchersky, who is always pushing, always scurrying about, exclaiming, groaning and waving his arms, always being born and dying, but never seeing the fruits of his deeds. It will give birth forever, but everything that is born is stillborn. (Bockle)

* * *
Our life can be likened to a madman who leads himself into the quarter and writes a slander on himself. (Coquelin)

* * *
Our life is like a newspaper to which the second warning has already been announced. (Kant)

* * *
Our life cannot be likened to a letter that is not dangerous to read aloud, but can be likened to a letter that is afraid of not reaching the address. (Draper)

* * *
Our life is like a type-setting box filled with punctuation marks. (Confucius)

* * *
Our life is like an old maid who does not lose hope of getting married, and a face covered with pimples and wrinkles: an ugly face, but takes offense when they beat her. (Arabi Pasha)

* * *
Our life, finally, can be likened to a frostbitten ear, which is not cut off just because they hope for his, ear, recovery. (Charcot)

Antosha Chekhonte drew from various philosophical works.

Reluctant scammers
(Christmas trinket)

Zakhar Kuzmich Dyadechkin has an evening. They celebrate the New Year and congratulate the hostess Melanya Tikhonovna on the day of the angel.

There are many guests. The people are all respectable, respectable, sober and positive. Not a single one. On the faces of tenderness, pleasantness and self-esteem. In the hall, on a large oilcloth sofa, the landlord Gusev and the shopkeeper Razmakhalov are sitting, from whom the Dyadeckins take a book. They talk about suitors and daughters.

It's hard to find a person today, says Gusev. - Who is a non-drinker and thorough ... a person who works ... Difficult!

The main thing in the house is order, Alexei Vasilich! This will not happen when there is no one in the house ... who ... the house is in order ...

If there is no order in the house, then ... everything is that way ... There are many stupid people in this world ... Where should there be order? Hm...

Three old women sit on chairs beside them and look with tenderness at their mouths. Surprise is written in their eyes. Godfather Guriy Markovich is standing in the corner and examining the icons. Noise in master bedroom. There young ladies and gentlemen play loto. The rate is a penny. Kolya, a first-class schoolboy, is standing near the table and crying. He wants to play loto, but he is not allowed to sit at the table. Is it his fault that he is small and that he does not have a penny?

Don't cry, fool! - exhort him. - Well, why are you crying? Do you want your mother to flog?

Who is roaring? Kolka? Mom's voice is heard from the kitchen. - I didn’t flog him enough, shoot him ... Varvara Guryevna, pull his ear!

On the master's bed, covered with a faded chintz blanket, sit two young ladies in pink dresses. In front of them stands a young man of about twenty-three, an employee in an insurance company, Kopaysky, en face very similar to a cat. He cares.

I don't intend to marry,” he says, showing off and pulling high, cutting collars from his neck with his fingers. - A woman is a radiant point in the human mind, but she can destroy a person. Evil creature!

What about men? A man cannot love. He does all sorts of stupid things.

How naive you are! I am not a cynic or a skeptic, but still I understand that a man will always stand on highest point regarding feelings.

From corner to corner, like wolves in a cage, Dyadechkin himself and his first-born Grisha scurry about. Their souls are on fire. At dinner they drank heavily and now passionately want to get drunk ... Dyadechkin goes into the kitchen. There the hostess sprinkles the cake with crushed sugar.

Malasha, - says Dyadechkin. - Let's have a snack. Guests would like to eat…

They will wait ... Now you will drink and eat everything, but what will I serve at twelve o'clock? Don't die. Go away ... Do not turn around in front of your nose!

Just a glass, Malasha... You won't have any deficit from this... May I?

Punishment! Leave, they tell you! Go sit with the guests! What are you doing in the kitchen?

Dyadechkin takes a deep breath and leaves the kitchen. He goes to look at the clock. The hands point to eight past twelve. There are still fifty-two minutes left before the desired moment. This is terrible! Waiting for a drink is the hardest of waiting. It's better to wait five hours in the cold for a train than five minutes to wait for a drink... Dyadechkin looks at his watch with hatred and, walking around a bit, moves the big hand further five minutes... And Grisha? If Grisha is not allowed to drink now, he will go to the tavern and have a drink there. He does not agree to die of longing ...

Mom, he says, the guests are angry that you don’t serve snacks! Only one disgusting thing... To starve!.. They would give me a glass!

Wait... Not much left... Coming soon... Don't crowd in the kitchen.

Grisha slams the door and goes to look at his watch for the hundredth time. The big arrow is ruthless! She is almost in the same place.

Behind! - Grisha comforts himself and with his index finger moves the arrow forward for seven minutes.

Kolya runs past the clock. He stops in front of them and begins to count the time ... He really wants to live as soon as possible until the moment when they shout "Hurrah!". The arrow with its immobility pierces him to the very heart. He climbs onto a chair, looks around timidly, and steals five minutes from eternity.

Come on, look, Kehler ethyl? - sends one of the young ladies of Kopaysky. - I'm dying of impatience. New Year indeed! New happiness!

Kopaysky shuffles with both feet and rushes to the clock.

Damn it, he mutters, looking at the arrows. - How much longer! And eat passion as you like ... I will definitely kiss Katya when they shout cheers.

Kopaysky moves away from the clock, stops... After thinking a little, he tosses and turns and shortens the old year by six minutes. Dyadechkin drinks two glasses of water, but... his soul burns! He walks, walks, walks ... His wife continually chases him out of the kitchen. The bottles standing on the window tear him to pieces. What to do! No strength to endure! He again grabs the last resort. Hours at his service. He goes to the nursery, where the clock hangs, and comes across a picture that is unpleasant to his parental heart: Grisha is standing in front of the clock and moving the hand.

You... you... what are you doing? BUT? Why did you move the arrow? You are such a fool! BUT? Why is this? BUT?

Dyadechkin coughs, hesitates, grimaces terribly and waves his hand.

What for? A-ah-ah ... Yes, move her, shtob she died, vile! - he says and, pushing his son away from the clock, moves the arrow.

There are eleven minutes left before the New Year. Papa and Grisha go into the hall and begin to prepare the table.

Malasha! shouts Dyadechkin. - It's New Year's Eve!

Melanya Tikhonovna runs out of the kitchen and goes to check on her husband ... She looks at her watch for a long time: her husband is not lying.

Well, how to be here? she whispers. - But I still have not cooked peas for ham! Um. Punishment. How will I give them?

And, thinking a little, Melanya Tikhonovna, with a trembling hand, moves the big arrow back. The old year gets twenty minutes back.

Wait! - says the hostess and runs into the kitchen.

Fortunetellers and soothsayers
(Christmas pictures)

The old nanny tells fortunes to the father quartermaster.

Road, she says.

Nanny waves her hand to the north. Papa's face turns pale.

You are driving, - the old woman adds, - and you have a bag of money on your lap ...

A radiance flickers across Papa's face.

* * *
Chinosha sits at the table and looks into the mirror by the light of two candles. He wonders: what height, color and temperament will be his new, not yet appointed boss. He looks in the mirror for an hour, two, three ... Goosebumps run in his eyes, sticks jump, feathers fly, but there is no boss! Nothing is visible, no bosses, no subordinates. The fourth hour passes, the fifth ... Finally, he gets tired of waiting for a new boss. He stands up, waves his hand, and sighs.

The place remains vacant, then, - he says. - And this is not good. There is no greater evil than anarchy!

* * *
The young lady stands in the yard outside the gate and waits for a passerby. She needs to know the name of her betrothed. Someone is coming. She quickly opens the gate and asks:

What is your name?

In response to her question, she hears lowing and through the half-opened gate she sees a large dark head... There are horns on the head...

“Probably right,” the young lady thinks. “The difference is only in the face.”

* * *
The editor of a daily newspaper sits down to tell fortunes about his brainchild.

Leave! - they tell him. - You want to upset yourself! Drop it!

The editor does not listen and looks into the coffee grounds.

There are many drawings, he says. - Yes, the devil will figure them out ... These are mittens ... It looks like a hedgehog ... But the nose ... It’s like my Makar ... Here’s a calf ... I can’t make out anything!

* * *
The doctor's wife tells fortunes in front of the mirror and sees ... coffins.

One of the two, she thinks. “Either someone dies, or my husband will have a big practice this year…”

........................................

on a note (stories about Chekhov) (Chekhov and Yermolova)

Chekhov began to write in gymnasium years. And one of his early works was the play "Fatherless". "The manuscript of this play was found in 1920 while dismantling documents and papers in the Moscow branch of the bank of the Russian-Azov Society. It was kept in the personal safe of the writer's sister.

Drama "Fatherlessness" Anton Chekhov, then a second-year student Faculty of Medicine, gave to the court of Maria Nikolaevna Yermolova. According to one version, he personally went to the prima donna of the Russian theater, according to another, he simply sent her a package with a play.

But the play returned to Chekhov back. The writer's brother Mikhail recalled that "Yermolova was dissatisfied with the play." In fact, Yermolova, most likely, did not even see the play. It is unlikely that the creation of the young, no one has yet famous author could, contrary to customs and orders, bypassing the retinue of fans, fall into the hands of the actress.

The fact that in his youth Chekhov wrote dramas was also recalled by his brother Mikhail Pavlovich Chekhov. In 1877-1878, while still studying at the gymnasium, Anton Chekhov wrote the drama Fatherless. Mikhail Chekhov also claimed that Anton Pavlovich destroyed his youthful play: "teared it into small pieces."

The drama "Fatherlessness" was released only in 1923, after the death of the writer. In 1960, on the occasion of the 100th anniversary of the birth of Chekhov, it was staged at the Theater. Vakhtangov called "Platonov". Based on this play, it was filmed famous movie"Unfinished Piece for Mechanical Piano".

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Copyright: Anton Chekhov

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(1886)

A married, middle-aged man received a letter of love from a mysterious stranger who invites him on a date. To go or not to go on a date?

(1886)

A successful engineer accidentally discovered the talent of an artist and began to think about how his life would have turned out if he had discovered this gift in his younger years...

(1886)

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(1890, short play)

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(1884)

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(1886)

Two first-class passengers talked about fame and fame...

(1887)

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(1886, short play)

A man enters the stage of a provincial club and begins to lecture on the dangers of tobacco...

(1886)

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(1886)

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(1889, short play)

An old friend comes to Murashkin and asks him for a revolver...

(1886)

The wife of the prosecutor at night sees a man who entered their house. She wakes up her husband and asks to find and punish the thief...

(1885)

A neighbor in the dacha stayed at Zeltersky's house. It's already 12 at night, and the guest is not going to leave. Zeltersky really wants to sleep and is looking for a way to get rid of his neighbor as soon as possible...

(1886)

A young wife returned from a vacation from the Crimea and tells her husband how she spent her time...

(1885)

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(1886)

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(1886)

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(1886)

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(1883)

The elderly prince sees that a beautiful girl of about eighteen is reclining on the couch in the living room ...

(1886)

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(1886)

The musician decided to swim in the river and left his belongings and double bass on the shore...

(1887)

Rescued the drowned man. Advice poured in from all sides on how to bring him to his senses...

(1885)

The official secretly goes to check in the county town. He is looking forward to what a rout he will inflict on the local bureaucracy ...

(1886)

A happy newlywed entered the train car and talked about his happiness...

(1886)

Two comrades are returning home from a good party. Along the way, they ran into a little misunderstanding...

(1884)

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(1885)

The retired general had a toothache. The clerk advises to turn to a great specialist, but cannot remember his last name. He just remembers the name of the horse ...

(1884)

A police officer sees a man chasing a little mongrel...

(1888)

The abbot of the monastery went to the city to see how people live. Returning, he shares his terrible impressions with the monks...

(1883)

A young rich lady shares her thoughts on life with a young writer...

(1883)

The boy saw his sister kissing a young man. Now they're on his hook...

(1885)

The hotel clerk mistakenly placed the piano tuner's boots in another room. I need to pick up my boots to go to work...

(1885)

A young, pretty actress found in the dressing room, under the sofa, a man...

(1887)

A man who flirted with a maid paid dearly for cheating on his wife...

(1892)

Notes from notebook teacher...

(play, 1888) 18+

A neighbor came to a lonely widow, yearning for her recently deceased husband, and began to demand the return of money borrowed by her husband...

(play, 1888) 18+

A man came to propose to a young girl and, in order to start a conversation with something, he started talking about the household...

(1885)

A witty story in just two paragraphs...

(1885)

The architect, who returned home from a seance, began to see spirits and the dead at night...

(1887)

The father of the family came to a friend to complain about his dacha life...

(1886)

An elderly colonel tells the girls about his romantic adventure in his younger years...

(1886)

After the sixteenth glass of vodka, the retired official saw how the devil looked out from behind the lamp ...

(1887)

The deceived husband yearns for revenge and chooses a revolver suitable for this purpose in the store ...

(1886)

A highly educated husband finds many errors in his young wife's letter. "What illiteracy!", the husband is indignant...

(1887)

In the list of visitors, a big official found a strange visitor...

(1886)

The judicial investigator summoned the peasant for interrogation, as a witness to the incident ...

(1884)

A deacon came to the paramedic of a zemstvo hospital with a severe toothache...

(1885)

The Indian rooster got sick. The owner went to the pharmacy to buy medicine for him...

(1885)

Before young man there were rumors... that he was getting married...

(1886)

Ivan Ivanovich tells young ladies scary story about how he got lost at night and ended up in a cemetery...

(1892)

Andrei Andreevich inherited money and decided to open a bookstore to enlighten and educate the inhabitants of the city...

(1887)

The mayor dreams of receiving the Persian order of the Lion and the Sun and learns that a Persian dignitary is coming to the city...

(1886)

The playwright reveals to the attending physician the secrets of his work...

(1886)

Pyotr Demyanovich decided to teach his cat to catch mice that flooded the house...

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