Lesson 45. Theme: Works of Russian writers about children.
Additional reading. D. N. Mamin-Sibiryak "Spit".

creation of conditions for the full perception of the ideological and artistic meaning of the work.

Lesson type

Application of knowledge and methods of action

Planned

results

(subject)

to acquaint with the work of D.N. Mamin - Sibiryak, to develop the ability to work with text, to assume, to anticipate the content of the text by title, to continue to develop the ability to analyze the read work, the ability to navigate the text, find the given episodes, improve the ability to characterize the character, understand the actions of the characters, their emotional state.

Personal

results

to create conditions for the formation of a positive attitude towards reading, to cultivate compassion and mercy.

Universal learning activities (meta-subject)

Cognitive: to ensure the development of students' skills to compare, group, highlight the right, analyze.

Regulatory: to promote the development in children of the ability to exercise self-control and mutual control, self-assessment of educational activities, the ability to accept and maintain a learning task, develop observation to the word, enrich the vocabulary of students, develop creative abilities.

Communicative: to promote the development of communication skills in children, the development of speech skills, monologue and dialogic speech.

The main content of the topic, concepts and terms

D. Mamin-Sibiryak "Spit". Theme, genre, main idea of ​​the work. Characteristics of the image of Proshka (appearance, actions). Comparison of stories by N. G. Garin-Mikhailovsky, K. M. Stanyukovich and D. N. Mamin-Sibiryak

(plot, the fate of the characters). Analysis of inline illustrations for a deeper understanding of the content of the work. Correlation of illustrations with episodes of the work. Comparing your understanding of what you read

Forms, methods

Teacher actions

Student actions

I. Organizational moment

motivational poem

Smile at each other, sit down

Arms? On the spot!

Legs? On the spot!

Elbows? At the edge!

Back? Straight!

Welcome teachers.

II. Update

Frontal conversation

Unsaid offer

In the last lesson, we began our acquaintance with the work of D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak, which is called ....

And we also touched on the subject ...

Look at the board and read the epigraph to the lesson.

How do you understand the meaning of these words?

What century are we living in?

And the work "Spit" is about what century?

What do you remember about this time?

A heavy fate fell to the children of old Russia. Poverty and devastation in the country forced to send the parents of their children to work, otherwise they would not live, not feed themselves. All around hopelessness. Mountain around. And no matter how sorry the mother was to give her child to someone else's house, they had to do this in order to survive. And in spite of everything, people believed that it would be better to be far from home, even if it was hard for the child, but still he would be fed, learn something, earn a little.

What did the rich dream about?

What did the poor children dream about? You should have finished reading at home.

Look at the pictures and tell me which one is missing and why?

What do you think, what is the topic of our today's lesson?

–What is your goal?

What are the tasks?

skewer

Stories

Children's statement.

XXI

XIX

In the endXIXcentury there was a sharp division of people into poor and rich. The rich had everything and the poor had nothing. The poor had to work hard. They worked mostly for the rich. They worked hard.

They worked in factories, in the homes of the rich, and sometimes right on the streets (shine shoes, begged). Both of them had children. They were distinguished by the fact that the children of the poor, in order to somehow live, had to work.

Both of them love to dream.

There are many stories about the life of children of that time.

They give answers.

Lermontov, because he is a poet.

Analysis of the work of D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak "Spit"

Analysis of the work "Spit"

Remember what you learned about the author?

Answer the questions

To make a plan

Characterize the heroes

Find trails

III. Application of knowledge and methods of action

Conscious expressive reading. Exploratory reading. Characteristics of the characters in the story. Independent completion of tasks

- What did you learn about the author in the last lesson? (evaluate yourself on the self-assessment sheets)

- How many parts can the story be divided into?

Let's make a plan in pairs (cards). (assessment)

Where did Proshka work?

What did the workshop look like?

Prove that working in the workshop posed a health hazard to people.

What kind of work did Proshka do in the workshop?

Name the workers.

- Describe in a few words the heroes, what they did. (on cards) (Weak students in T. S. 64 1 task) (assessment)

What did the owner feed the workers in the workshop?

Why did a rich lady bring her children to the workshop?

- Individual work on cards. (Find in the text and complete the sentences, restore the text)

a) Remember what the workshop used to be?

Find a snippet that proves it

Would you like to work in such a workshop?

Why?

b) Find in the 3rd part of the work the place where it is written what Proshka dreamed about.

What else did Proshka dream about? (part 3)

Why did a rich lady bring her children to the workshop?

Reading by roles 2 parts ( from the words “Mother Volodya looked into the corner ...)

Fizminutka (If you agree, we squat, if we don’t agree, we jump) - Game "True or False"

Proshka was 14 years old.

Ukhov fed his workers to their heart's content

Ukhov - the owner of the workshop

Anna Ivanovna had three children

Proshka had parents

The handle of the wheel that Proshka turned was shiny because it was new.

The owner of the workshop deceived not only his workers, but also customers;

The writer Ukhov compares with a bear

Lyovka - young, lively, loves to tease Yermilich

The most important thing in a person is a good heart

Offers to complete tasks in RT No. 1

(p. 64–65)

- Why is Proshka dying?

story about a writer.

For 4

Yermilich, Ignatius, Spirka, Proshka, Levka.

Read aloud piece by piece. They answer questions. Find answers to questions in the text. Describe the characters in the story.

Do the tasks in the workbook

bathhouse

(read an excerpt from part 1, paragraph 2)

wrong, he is 12 years old

wrong, fed very badly

right

wrong, two

wrong, he's an orphan

wrong, she was light from the hands

right

wrong, with a fox

wrong, he was mute from birth

right

From sanding dustoverwork and poor nutrition

IV. Consolidation of knowledge and methods of action

Comparison

- Guys, what do you think, who other than writers could tell us about the life of children of the distant past? (slides) V.E. Makovsky "Date", V.G. Perov "Troika"

Not only writers wrote about the difficulties and hardships of children, but artists in their immortal canvases reflected their bitter fate.

Look closely at the characters in the picture.

How do you see children?

What do their faces express?

Whose fate does the fate of the children in the picture look like?

In the pictures we do not see their owners, but what can we say about them?

So, we figured out what ruined Proshka, but we did it from a moral point of view. We will try to compare the legal status of today's child and our hero. Therefore, at this stage, we will try to determine what rights of the child of modern times were not given to Proshka, but the Convention on the Rights of the Child will help us do this (slide)

Offers to compare the stories of N. G. Garin-Mikhailovsky, K. M. Stanyukovich

and D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak (plot, fate

heroes)

Painters

Proshki

Greedy, evil, heartless, gloomy.

V. Reflection

Proper expression of your emotions

What prompted the writer to write the story "Spit"?

What does the story of Mamin - Sibiryak teach?

What new things have you learned for yourself?

– Did you complete the assigned tasks?

Sinkway 1 group - about the main character of the work

Group 2 - about the owner of the workshop

Answer the questions asked

Homework

Development of reading skills

The bright summer sun burst in through the open window, illuminating the workshop with all its squalor, with the exception of one dark corner where Proshka worked. The sun seemed to have forgotten him, as sometimes mothers leave small children without any care. Proshka, only by stretching his neck, could see from behind the wide wooden frame of his wheel only one corner of the window, in which the green beds of the vegetable garden were exactly painted, behind them - a brilliant strip of the river, and in it - the city children always bathing. Through the open window came the cry of those who were bathing, the rumble of heavily loaded carts rolling along the river bank, the distant chime of monastery bells, and the desperate cawing of jackdaws flying from rooftop to rooftop of the urban suburb of Terebilovka.

The workshop consisted of only one room, in which five people worked. There used to be a banya here, and the dampness of the banya can still be felt, especially in the corner where Proshka worked like a spider. Near the window stood a wooden workbench with three circles on which precious stones were polished. Closest to the light sat old Yermilych, who worked with glasses. He was considered one of the best cutters in Yekaterinburg, but every year he began to see worse. Yermilich worked with his head thrown back a little, and Proshka could only see his beard of some kind of bast color. While working, Yermilych liked to talk aloud, and endlessly scolded the owner of the workshop, Ukhov.

He's a rogue, Alexei Ivanovich, that's what! the old man repeated in a kind of dry voice, as if his throat were dry. - He kills us like cockroaches. Yes ... And he mortifies with work and mortifies with food. What does he feed us? Empty cabbage soup and porridge - that's all the food. And what kind of work, if a person has an empty heart? .. Don't be afraid, Alexei Ivanovich himself will drink tea five times a day. At home he drinks twice, and then he goes to visit and drinks there ... And what a rogue: he dine with us and even praises ... This is him to avert our eyes so that we do not grumble. And he himself, probably, will dine on his own.

These discussions ended each time like this:

I'll leave him - that's the end of the matter. Will be - eleven years old worked for Alexei Ivanovich. Enough ... And as much work as you like ... Do me a favor, we will not bow ...

The consumptive craftsman Ignatius, who worked next to Yermilych, was usually silent. He was a gloomy man who did not like to lose words in vain. On the other hand, the apprentice Spirka, a young, lively fellow who sported red calico shirts, liked to provoke grandfather, as the workers called old Yermilych.

And he is a rogue, Alexei Ivanovich! Spirka said, winking at Ignatius. - We are languishing at his work, and he cheats. All day long he only does what he walks around the city and deceives who is simpler. Do you remember, grandfather, how he sold the glass to the lady in passing numbers? And he says: “I work all by myself, with my own hands…”

And what a rogue! Yermilich agreed. - Last year, that's how cleverly I replaced amethyst for a passing gentleman! He gave him a stone to fix, because the edge was dull and there were scratches. I also corrected it ... The stone was excellent! .. So he left it for himself, and handed another one to a passing gentleman ... It is known that the gentlemen do not understand anything what and why.

The fourth worker, Levka, mute from birth, could not take part in these conversations and only mumbled when Yermilich explained to him by signs what a rogue their master was.

Ukhov himself looked into his workshop only early in the morning, when he handed out the work, and in the evening, when he accepted the finished stones. The exception was those cases when some urgent work got in. Then Aleksei Ivanovich ran in ten times to hurry the workers. Yermilich could not endure such urgent work and grumbled every time.

The funniest thing was when Alexei Ivanovich came into the workshop, dressed like a workman, in an old jacket, in an apron smeared with yellow spots of emery. This meant that someone would come to the workshop, some profitable customer or a curious passerby. Alexei Ivanovich looked like a hungry fox: long, thin, bald, with a red mustache that stuck out to bristles and colorless eyes darted uneasily. He had such long arms, as if nature had created him especially for stealing. And how deftly he knew how to talk to customers. And no one knew how to show a precious stone better than him. Such a buyer looked at some crack or other defect only at home. Sometimes the deceived came to the workshop and received the same answer - namely, that Alexei Ivanovich had left somewhere.

How is it so? - the buyer was surprised. The stone is no good...

We don't know anything, master, - Yermilich answered for everyone. Our business is small...

All the workers used to roll with laughter when the duped customer left.

And you look carefully, ”Yermilych remarked instructively, indirectly defending the owner,“ you have eyes for that ... Alexei Ivanovich will learn something.

Spirka gloated most of all, laughing to tears. All the same, entertainment, otherwise you sit all day long at the workbench, as if sewn on. Yes, and the gentlemen have nothing to regret: they have wild money, so they throw it away.

Work in the workshop was distributed in this way. Raw stones were sorted by Yermilych, and then handed them over to Levka to “chip”, that is, to chip with an iron hammer, so that they could be cut. This was considered menial work, and only the most expensive stones, like an emerald, were spun by Yermilich himself. The stones rounded by Levka went to Spirka, who turned them rough. Ignatius had already laid facets (edges), and Yermilich corrected and polished again. As a result, precious and semi-precious stones playing in different colors were obtained: emeralds, chrysolites, aquamarines, heavyweights (noble topaz), amethysts, and most of all - rauch-topazes (smoky-colored rock crystal) and simply colorless rock crystal. Occasionally, other stones also fell, like rubies and sapphires, which Yermilich called "toothy" because they were harder than all the others. Amethyst Yermilych called the bishop's stone. The old man treated the stones as if they were something alive, and even got angry with some of them, like chrysolites.

What stone is this? To put it bluntly, our enemy, - he grumbled, pouring shiny emerald green grains on his hand. - Every other stone is sharpened with wet emery, but give this one a dry one. That's how you swallow dust, then ... One maet.

Large stones were sharpened directly by hand, pressing a stone on a spinning circle, and small ones were previously stuck with a special mastic to a wooden handle. During operation, the spinning circle was constantly wetted with emery. Emery - a breed of corundum, which is turned into a fine powder for cutting and grinding. During work, dried emery is carried as a fine dust in the air, and workers involuntarily breathe this dust, clogging their lungs and spoiling their eyes. It is this sanding dust that causes most of the lapidary workers to suffer from chest diseases and lose their eyesight early. Add to this the fact that you have to work in cramped rooms, without any ventilation, like with Alexei Ivanovich.

Cramped ... yes ... - said Ukhov himself. - I'll build a new workshop as soon as I get better with business.

Year after year went by, and Alexei Ivanovich's affairs did not get better. The same thing happened with regard to food. Alexei Ivanovich himself was sometimes indignant at the dinners of his workers and said:

What kind of lunch is this? Are there such dinners? .. As soon as I get better with my affairs, then we will turn everything around for real.

Alexei Ivanovich never argued, never got excited, but agreed with everyone and did it his own way. Even Yermilich, no matter how he scolded the owner behind his back, said:

Well, the man was also born! He, Alexei Ivanovich, like a living burbot, you can’t grab with your hand. You look, and turned out. But in words, like a goose on the water ... He also pities us! .. And it’s cramped for us, and the food is bad ... Oh, what a man was born! .. In a word, all around is a rogue! ..

The sun shone in all eyes, as it shines only in July. It was eleven o'clock in the morning. Yermilich sat in the very sun and enjoyed the warmth. The old blood no longer warmed him. Proshka thought all morning about dinner. He was constantly hungry and reaped only from meal to meal, like a small hungry animal. Early in the morning he looked into the kitchen and saw that a piece of "sheina" (the cheapest kind of meat, from the neck) lay on the table, and he looked forward to the pleasure of eating cabbage soup with beef. What could be better than such cabbage soup, especially when the fat covers the brew with a layer of almost an inch, like pork? . Sheina is also good if the hostess does not dilute the cabbage soup with water. These thoughts made Proshka's stomach ache, and he swallowed his hungry saliva. If only I could eat my fill every day!

Proshka turned his wheel, closing his eyes. He often did this when he dreamed. But his thoughts today were disturbed by the unexpected appearance of Alexei Ivanovich. This meant that someone would come to the workshop and that they would have to wait for dinner. Alexei Ivanovich dressed up in his work clothes and looked around anxiously.

Such dirt! .. - he thought aloud. - And where does it come from? Worse than in the stable... Spirka, if only you could clean up something!

Spira looked around in bewilderment. If you clean up, then you need to smash the entire workshop on a log. He nevertheless transferred from one corner to another several heavy stones that were lying around in the workshop without any need. This is how it all ended. Alexei Ivanovich only shook his head and said:

Well, the workshop, nothing to say! Just keep pigs.

It was time for dinner, when a smart carriage stopped at the gates of Ukhov's house and a well-dressed lady got out of it with two children: a girl of about twelve and a boy of about ten. Aleksei Ivanitch ran out of the gate to greet his dear guests without a hat, and bowed all the time.

Excuse me, ma'am!... It will be a little dirty in the workshop; and you can see the pebbles in my house.

No, no, - insistently repeated the lady. - I can buy stones in the store; and I just want to see your workshop, that is, to show the children how stones are cut.

Ah, that's another matter! Welcome…

The lady winced when she crossed the threshold of the Ukhov workshop. She did not expect to meet such squalor.

Why are you so dirty? she wondered.

It is impossible for us to keep cleanliness, - Alexei Ivanovich explained. - It is known, a stone ... Dust, rubbish, dirt ... How we try to be cleaner ...

These explanations, apparently, did not at all convince the lady, who picked up her skirts with disgust as she moved from the door to the workbench. She was still so young and beautiful, and the Ukhov workshop was filled with the smell of some expensive perfume. The girl looked like her mother and was also pretty. She listened with curiosity to Alexei Ivanovich's detailed explanations and was frankly surprised in the end that such pretty pebbles came out of such a dirty workshop.

Yes, young lady, it happens, - Yermilich explained, - and the white bread that you like to eat will be born on black earth.

Alexei Ivanovich gave a whole lecture on precious stones. First he showed them in their raw form, and then - sequential processing.

There used to be more stones,” he explained, “but now every year there are less and less. Here, take alexandrite - you will find it in the afternoon with fire. And the gentlemen respect him very much, because he is green during the day, and red in the fire. There are different classes, madam, a stone, just like there are different people.

The boy had no interest in stones at all. He did not understand what mother and sister were admiring and what was worse than cut colored glass. He was most interested in the large wooden wheel that Proshka was turning. This is a really curious thing: such a big wheel is spinning! The boy imperceptibly made his way into a dark corner to Proshka and looked with admiration at the shiny iron handle, by which Proshka was turning.

Why is she so light?

And by hand, - explained Proshka.

Let me believe myself...

Proshka laughed when the little boy began to turn the wheel.

Yes, it's a lot of fun... What's your name?

Proshka.

How funny you are: you just got out of the pipe.

Work with mine, so you won't turn black like that.

Volodya, where did you get to? - the lady was surprised. - You'll still get hurt...

Mommy, it's terribly interesting!.. Give me to the workshop - I would also turn the wheel. Very fun!.. Look! And what a light pen, precisely polished. And Proshka looks like a jackdaw who lived with us. A real bastard…

Volodya's mother looked into Proshka's corner and just shook her head.

How skinny he is! - she felt sorry for Proshka, - Is he ill with something?

No, nothing, thank God! Alexei Ivanovich explained. - A complete orphan, - neither father nor mother ... There is nothing to get fat from, madam! My father died of consumption... He was also a master in our field. Many of us die from consumption ...

So it's hard for him?

No, why is it difficult? If you please, try it yourself... The wheel, read, turns by itself.

But does he work all day?

Usually…

When do you start working in the morning?

Not the same, Alexei Ivanovich explained evasively, who did not like such questions. - Looking at work ... Another time - from seven o'clock.

And when do you finish?

It is also not the same: at six o'clock, at seven, - as it happens.

Aleksey Ivanovich lied in the most shameless way, cutting off two whole hours of work.

And how much do you pay this Proshka?

Have mercy, madam, what a salary! I dress, I put on shoes, I feed, everything is at a loss. So, out of pity, I keep an orphan ... Where can he go?

The lady looked into Proshka's corner and just shrugged her shoulders. After all, it is terrible: to spend the whole day in such a corner and turn the wheel endlessly. It's kind of a little scam...

How old is he? she asked.

Twelve…

And in appearance he can not be given more than nine. Perhaps you are not feeding him well?

Have mercy, sir! Food is the same for everyone. I have lunch with them myself. To put it bluntly, I feed myself at a loss; but my heart is so... I can't help it, and I pity everyone, ma'am.

The lady selected several stones and asked to send them home.

Send stones with this boy,” she asked, pointing with her eyes at Proshka.

Listen, sir!

Alexei Ivanovich did not like the last wish. These ladies are always up to something! Why did she need Proshka? He would have been better off bringing the stones himself. But there is nothing to do - can you talk to the mistress? Proshka so Proshka, - let him go; and Levka will work at the wheel.

When the mistress left, the workshop resounded with general laughter.

I just let go of the spirit! grumbled Yermilych. - It smells like soap...

She will perfume Proshka, too, - thought Spirka. “But Aleksei Ivanovich didn’t put a handful on his hand: he fooled her for five rubles.

What is five rubles to her? Don't give a damn! grumbled Yermilych. - Lord's money has no eyes ... So they throw it. Aleksey Ivanych is on hand. This is how he crucified himself before the mistress: he sings like a nightingale.

She is wearing a silk dress, a gold watch, so many rings ... A rich lady!

Well, it's still unknown. One vision for another. There are some gentlemen...

Dear little Volodya explained to his mother that Proshka was "spitting".

What does it mean? she didn't understand.

And he turns the wheel, - well, he went out: he turned it. Not spit, mom, but spit.

Poor Proshka was often occupied with the question of those unknown people for whom he had to turn the wheel in his corner from morning to night. Other children had fun, played and enjoyed freedom; and he was exactly tied to his wheel. Proshka understood that other children have fathers and mothers who protect and pity them; and he is an orphan and must earn his own little piece of bread. But after all, there are many orphans in this world, and not all of them should turn the wheels. At first, Proshka hated his wheel, because if it were not for him, there would be no need to turn him. It was a completely childish thought. Then Proshka began to hate Alexei Ivanovich, to whom his aunt had given him an apprenticeship: Alexei Ivanovich had deliberately invented this accursed wheel in order to torment him.

“When I grow up big,” Proshka thought at work, “then I’ll beat off Alexei Ivanovich, chop the damned wheel with an ax and run away into the forest.”

The last thought pleased Proshka the most. What could be better than a forest? Oh, how good it is there!.. The grass is green-green, the pines rustle with their peaks, icy little keys ooze from the ground, every bird sings in its own way - there is no need to die! Arrange a hut out of needles, spread out a light - and live for yourself like a bird. Let others suffocate in the cities from the dust and turn the wheels ... Proshka already saw himself as free as a bird.

"I'll run away! .. - Proshka decided a thousand times, as if arguing with someone. “I won’t even beat Alexei Ivanovich, but I’ll just run away.”

Proshka thought for whole days, - he turns his wheel and thinks, thinks without end. It was inconvenient to talk at work, not like other masters. And Proshka thought all the time, thought until he began to see his thoughts as if they were alive. He often saw himself, and certainly big and healthy, like Spira. It's good to be big. Did not like one owner - went to work for another.

The hatred for Alexei Ivanovich also passed when Proshka realized that all the owners are the same, and that Alexei Ivanovich does not wish him harm at all, but does the same thing that they did with him when he was the same spit as Proshka is now. So, those people who need all these amethysts, emeralds, heavyweights are to blame - they forced Proshka to turn his wheel. Immediately, Proshka's imagination refused to work, and he could not imagine these countless enemies, merging for him in one word "gentlemen." One thing was clear to him, that they were evil. Why do they need these stones, without which it is so easy to do? If the gentlemen did not buy stones from Alexei Ivanovich, he would have to leave his workshop - and that's all. And there the lady brought more children ... Indeed, there is something to admire ... Proshka saw in a dream this lady, who had stones on her hands, and on her neck, and in her ears, and on her head. He hated her and even said:

Wu! evil...

It seemed to him that the lady's eyes too shone like a polished stone shines - green, angry, like a cat's at night.

None of the masters could understand why the lady needed Proshka. Aleksei Ivanovich would have come himself and slipped ten rubles worth into the goods; what can Proshka understand?

It’s a master’s whim, and nothing else,” Yermilich grumbled.

Alexei Ivanovich was also dissatisfied. Firstly, it was impossible to let Proshka in at home, which means the cost of a shirt; and secondly, who knows, mistress, what is on her mind!

Wash your snout, - he punished Proshka from the evening. - Understand? And then you’ll come to the devil’s mistress ...

In view of these preparations, Proshka began to coward. He even tried to evade, referring to the fact that his leg hurts. Alexei Ivanovich became furious and, showing his fist, said:

I'll show you how my legs hurt!

It must be said that Alexey Ivanovich never fought like other masters, and very rarely scolded. He usually agreed with everyone, promised everything and did nothing.

Proshka had to go in the morning when the lady was drinking coffee. Alexei Ivanovich examined Proshka as if he were a rookie, and said:

Don't be shy, Proshka! And the gentlemen are the same people - sewn from the same skin as we sinners. The lady ordered amethysts; and I'll give you a couple more beryls, and heavyweights, and almandines. Understand? Must be able to show...

Alexey Ivanovich taught how much to ask for, how much to give in, and what not to give less. The lady, perhaps, will take pity on the little boy and buy it.

When Proshka was leaving, Alexei Ivanovich stopped him at the very door and added:

Look, don't talk too much... Do you understand? If the lady will inquire about food and so on ... "We, they say, madam, eat with silver spoons."

Proshka had to walk through the whole city, and the closer he came to the mistress's apartment, the more frightened he became. He himself did not know what he was afraid of, and yet he was afraid. Timidity seized him completely when he saw a two-story large stone house. Even the thought of running away flashed through Proshka's head. But what if you take yes and run away into the forest?

Reluctantly, he made his way into the kitchen and found out that the lady was at home. The maid in a starched white apron looked him over suspiciously from head to toe and reluctantly went to report "by herself." Instead of her, Volodya ran into the kitchen, dressed in a short funny jacket, short funny pants, stockings and shoes.

Let's go, spit! .. - he invited Proshka. - Mom is waiting.

They went along some kind of corridor, then through the dining room, and then into the nursery, where the lady herself was waiting, dressed in a wide house dress.

So show me what you got! she said in a melodious, fresh voice, and, looking round Proshka, she added: Real chicken!

Proshka took out the goods with a serious look and began to show the stones. He was no longer afraid of anything. The lady did not look at all evil. Aleksey Ivanych's calculation was justified: she examined the stones and bought everything without bargaining. Proshka inwardly triumphed that he had so deftly swindled the mistress out of three rubles. He was only embarrassed that she kept looking at him in a special way and smiling.

Do you want to eat? she finally spoke. - Yes?

This simple question confused Proshka, as if the lady had divined his secret thoughts. When he waited in the kitchen, it smelled so good of fried meat and all the time he was pursued by this appetizing smell.

I don't know, he answered childishly.

He wants mom! - picked up Volodya. - I'll run to the kitchen now and tell Matryona to give her a cutlet.

Volodya was a kind boy, and this made his mother happy. After all, the most important thing in a person is a good heart. Proshka felt embarrassed, like an animal caught in a trap. He silently looked around the room and was surprised that there were such large and bright rooms. There was a toy cabinet against one wall; besides, the toys lay on the floor, stood in the corner, hung on the wall. There were children's guns, and a soldier's box, and a mill, and horses, and houses, and picture books - a real toy store.

Are these all your toys? Proshka asked Volodya.

My. I don't play anymore because I'm big. Do you have toys too?

Proshka laughed. He has toys! How funny this little barchon is: he absolutely does not understand anything!

The maid serving the cutlet in the dining room looked at Proshka with surprise. So the lady will soon gather all the beggars into the house and feed them with cutlets. Proshka felt this and looked at the maid with serious eyes. Then the fork and the napkin, especially the last one, made him difficult. what does he do on holidays, does he know how to read and write, etc.

You see, Volodya, - she said to her son, - this boy has been earning a piece of bread since the age of seven ... Proshka, do you want to study?

Don't know…

Would you like to come visit us on Sundays? I will teach you to read and write. I will talk about this with Alexei Ivanovich myself.

Proshka was puzzled.

He returned home in Volodya's old jacket, which was even broad in the shoulders, although Volodya was two years younger. Barchuk was so tall and well-fed. The workers laughed at him, as they laughed at everyone else, and the owner praised:

Well done; Proshka! When you go on Sunday, I will give you more goods ...

Proshka started going to school every Sunday. At first, to tell the truth, he was most attracted by the opportunity to eat well, as gentlemen eat. And the latter was amazing, most amazing of all, that only Proshka had seen. Volodya's mother - her name was Anna Ivanovna - was terribly worried every time they had breakfast. It seemed to her that Volodya was eating little and that he was unwell. At first Proshka thought that Anna Ivanovna was joking; but Anna Ivanovna spoke quite seriously:

It seems to me, Volodya, that soon you will absolutely not eat anything. Look at Proshka: that's the kind of appetite you need to have.

And why is he so thin if he eats a lot? Volodya asked.

Because he works a lot, because there is literally nothing to breathe in their workshop, and so on.

Volodya was a real barchon. Kind in his own way, always cheerful, addicted and rather spineless. Proshka next to him seemed to be a creature of a different breed. Anna Ivanovna was amazed when the children were together. Proshka's children's eyes looked not at all childish; then he just couldn't smile. In the skinny figure of Proshka, some hidden reproach was definitely hidden. Anna Ivanovna sometimes even felt a little ashamed - after all, she invited Proshka for the first time only in order to show Volodya that children of his age work from morning to night. Proshka was to serve as a living and illustrative example; and Volodya had to correct himself, looking at him, from the attacks of his lordly laziness.

For these educational purposes, Anna Ivanovna sent Volodya several times under various pretexts to Alexei Ivanovich's workshop, so that he could actually see how little Proshka worked. Volodya went to the workshop every time with special pleasure and returned home all covered with emery. The result of these object lessons was that Volodya quite seriously declared to his mother:

Mom, take me to the workshop. I want to be a skewer like Proshka...

Volodya, what are you talking about? Anna Ivanovna was horrified. - Just think what you're saying!

Oh, mother, it's terribly fun! ..

You would die there in three days of hunger ...

But no! I've had lunch with the workers twice already. What delicious soup from salted fish, mom! And then - millet porridge with green butter ... peas ...

Anna Ivanovna was horrified. After all, Volodya could simply be poisoned. She even measured Volodya's temperature and calmed down only when he took a bath and asked for food himself.

Mom, if you ordered to cook grated radish with kvass! ..

Volodya turned out to be incorrigible. The example of Proshka taught him absolutely nothing, except that for several days he tried to set up a cutting workshop in his children's workshop and dragged all kinds of stones from the yard. It turned out to be almost a real workshop, only the huge wooden wheel that Proshka turned was missing.

Before Christmas, Proshka stopped going to school on Sundays. Anna Ivanovna thought that Alexey Ivanovitch would not let him in, and she went herself to find out what was the matter. Alexei Ivanovich was at home and explained that Proshka himself did not want to go.

Why is that? Anna Ivanovna was surprised.

Who knows! He is unwell... He coughs at night.

Anna Ivanovna went to the studio and saw with her own eyes that Proshka was ill. His eyes burned with feverish fire; a consumptive blush appeared on her pale cheeks. He treated Anna Ivanovna with complete indifference.

Have you completely forgotten us? she asked.

Maybe you don't want to study?

What teaching is he, when he breathes his last! Ermilich remarked.

Is it possible to say such things in front of a patient? - Anna Ivanovna was indignant.

We'll all die, ma'am...

It was heartless. After all, Proshka was still quite a child and did not understand his position. Impressed by these considerations, Anna Ivanovna suggested that Proshka move in with them until he recovered; but Proshka flatly refused.

Don't you like us? I would arrange you in the human...

I'm better here ... - stubbornly answered Proshka.

Madam, we feel sorry for him too! Ermilich explained. He doesn't want to leave...

Anna Ivanovna was seriously upset, although she fully understood why Proshka did not want to leave his workshop. Patients have a passionate attachment to their corner. And big and small people in this case are exactly the same. Later Anna Ivanovna reproached herself for having done absolutely nothing for Proshka, because she did not know how to do it. The boy was dying at his wheel from emery dust, bad food and overwork. And how many children die in this way in different workshops, both boys and girls! Returning home, Anna Ivanovna could not calm down for a long time. The little skewer Proshka did not get out of her head. Previously, Anna Ivanovna was very fond of precious stones, but now she has promised herself never to wear them: each such stone would remind her of a dying little Proshka.

But Proshka continued to work, even though Alexei Ivanovich tried to persuade him to rest. The boy was ashamed to eat someone else's bread for nothing... And the wheel seemed to be getting heavier and heavier every day... Proshka's head began to spin from the effort, and it seemed to him that the whole workshop was spinning along with the wheel. At night, he dreamed of whole heaps of faceted gems: pink, green, blue, yellow. The worst thing was when these stones rained down on him like rainbow rain and began to crush his small, sore chest, and something heavy began to spin in his head, as if the same wooden wheel was spinning there, with which Proshka had lived all his little life.

Then Proshka took to his bed. A small bed was attached to him right there, in the workshop. Yermilich looked after him with almost feminine tenderness and constantly said:

You should eat something, Proshka! What are you!..

But Proshka didn't want to eat anything, even when Anna Ivanovna's maid brought him cutlets and a cake. He was indifferent to everything, as if crushed by his illness.

Two weeks later he was gone. Anna Ivanovna came with Volodya to the funeral and wept, wept not for one but for all the poor children whom she could not and did not know how to help.

This is a very sad story for children. It tells about the life of a "spit" - a boy who spins a wheel for grinding precious and semi-precious stones.

The unfortunate boy is deprived of his childhood. Proshka is an orphan, his father also worked in this workshop, overworked himself in hard work, and his mother died. The owner of the workshop (a cunning businessman) seems to help the boy - he gives him a job. But this work is too heavy for the child. He has to turn a stone all day long in a dirty corner of a stuffy workshop. The child does not play, does not see the light, is always hungry. Only dreams of escaping, hates everyone who needs these useless stones.

Once a lady with children came to the workshop to show them how stones are cut. She was struck by the poverty and squalor of the place, but even more by the misfortune of the child. Trying to help, she invites Proshka to visit, feeds him, and begins to teach him to read and write. The boy is amazed at the wealth of her house. The lady's son, even looking at Proshka, does not get better, he only plays stone cutting.

Proshka stopped going to the hospitable house. It turned out that he was ill. And despite the care of the mistress, he died. Like many children, tortured by overwork and hard life.

The lady, unable to help, only promised herself not to carry more stones.

Picture or drawing

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Hello dear reader. In the story "Spit" Mamin-Sibiryak describes the difficult life of orphans who were forced to work from an early age, often in inhuman conditions. The boy Proshka, the protagonist of the story, did not leave the workshop for days on end. Difficult physical work, dust, poor nutrition, all this ruined the boy and he fell ill and died. The author also shows adults who loved this boy, but they could do nothing, because it was already too late. Sad story, but how many were there and how many will there be? We recommend reading the story "Spit" by Mamin-Sibiryak online for older children. This work will help them understand that children have different fates and perhaps children will be able to learn to appreciate the fact that they have parents, that they are warm and do not experience hunger, because it is not in vain that they say that everything is known in comparison.

The bright summer sun burst in through the open window, illuminating the workshop with all its squalor, with the exception of one dark corner where Proshka worked. The sun seemed to have forgotten him, as sometimes mothers leave small children without any care. Proshka, only by stretching his neck, could see from behind the wide wooden frame of his wheel only one corner of the window, in which the green beds of the garden were exactly painted, behind them - a brilliant strip of the river, and in it - the city children always bathing. Through the open window came the cry of those who were bathing, the rumble of heavily loaded carts rolling along the river bank, the distant chime of monastery bells, and the desperate cawing of jackdaws flying from rooftop to rooftop of the urban suburb of Terebilovka.
The workshop consisted of only one room, in which five people worked. There used to be a banya here, and the dampness of the banya can still be felt, especially in the corner where Proshka worked like a spider. Near the window stood a wooden workbench with three circles on which precious stones were polished. Closest to the light sat old Yermilych, who worked with glasses. He was considered one of the best cutters in Yekaterinburg, but every year he began to see worse. Yermilich worked with his head thrown back a little, and Proshka could only see his beard of some kind of bast color. While working, Yermilych liked to talk aloud, and endlessly scolded the owner of the workshop, Ukhov.
"He's a rogue, Alexei Ivanovich, that's what!" the old man repeated in a kind of dry voice, as if his throat were dry. He kills us like cockroaches. Yes ... And he mortifies with work and mortifies with food. What does he feed us? Empty cabbage soup and porridge - that's all the food. And what kind of work, if a person has an empty heart? .. Don't be afraid, Alexei Ivanovich himself will drink tea five times a day. At home he drinks twice, and then he goes to visit and drinks there ... And what a rogue: he dine with us and even praises ... This is him to avert our eyes so that we do not grumble. And he himself, probably, will dine on his own.
These discussions ended each time like this:
“I’ll leave him—that’s the end of it.” Will, - worked for Alexei Ivanovich for eleven years. Enough ... And as much work as you like ... Do me a favor, we will not bow ...
The consumptive craftsman Ignatius, who worked next to Yermilych, was usually silent. He was a gloomy man who did not like to lose words in vain. On the other hand, the apprentice Spirka, a young, lively fellow who sported red calico shirts, liked to provoke grandfather, as the workers called old Yermilych.
"And he's a rogue, Alexei Ivanovich!" Spirka said, winking at Ignatius. “We are languishing at his work, and he cheats. All day long he only does what he walks around the city and deceives who is simpler. Do you remember, grandfather, how he sold the glass to the lady in passing numbers? And he says: “I work all by myself, with my own hands…”
- And what a rogue! Ermilich agreed. - Last year, that's how cleverly I replaced amethyst for a passing gentleman! He gave him a stone to fix, because the edge was dull and there were scratches. I also corrected it ... The stone was excellent! .. So he left it for himself, and handed another one to a passing gentleman ... It is known that the gentlemen do not understand anything what and why.
The fourth worker, Levka, mute from birth, could not take part in these conversations and only mumbled when Yermilich explained to him by signs what a rogue their master was.
Ukhov himself looked into his workshop only early in the morning, when he handed out the work, and in the evening, when he accepted the finished stones. The exception was those cases when some urgent work got in. Then Aleksei Ivanovich ran in ten times to hurry the workers. Yermilich could not endure such urgent work and grumbled every time.
The funniest thing was when Alexei Ivanovich came into the workshop, dressed like a workman, in an old jacket, in an apron smeared with yellow spots of emery. This meant that someone would come to the workshop, some profitable customer or a curious passerby. Alexei Ivanovich looked like a hungry fox: long, thin, bald, with a red mustache that stuck out to bristles and colorless eyes darted uneasily. He had such long arms, as if nature had created him especially for stealing. And how deftly he knew how to talk to customers. And no one knew how to show a precious stone better than him. Such a buyer looked at some crack or other defect only at home. Sometimes the deceived came to the workshop and received the same answer - namely, that Alexei Ivanovich had left somewhere.
— How is it so? the buyer wondered. The stone is no good...
“We don’t know anything, master,” Yermilich answered for everyone. Our business is small...
All the workers used to roll with laughter when the duped customer left.
“Look carefully,” Yermilich remarked admonishingly, indirectly defending the owner, “you have eyes for that ... Alexei Ivanovich will learn something.
Spirka gloated most of all, laughing to tears. All the same, entertainment, otherwise you sit all day long at the workbench, as if sewn on. Yes, and the gentlemen have nothing to regret: they have wild money, so they throw it away.
Work in the workshop was distributed in this way. Raw stones were sorted by Yermilych, and then handed them over to Levka to “chip”, that is, to chip with an iron hammer, so that they could be cut. This was considered menial work, and only the most expensive stones, like an emerald, were spun by Yermilich himself. The stones rounded by Levka went to Spirka, who turned them rough. Ignatius had already laid facets (edges), and Yermilich corrected and polished again. As a result, precious and semi-precious stones playing in different colors were obtained: emeralds, chrysolites, aquamarines, heavyweights (noble topaz), amethysts, and most of all - rauch-topazes (smoky-colored rock crystal) and simply colorless rock crystal. Occasionally, other stones also fell, like rubies and sapphires, which Yermilich called "toothy" because they were harder than all the others. Amethyst Yermilych called the bishop's stone. The old man treated the stones as if they were something alive, and even got angry with some of them, like chrysolites.
- What stone is this? To put it bluntly, our enemy,” he grumbled, sprinkling shiny emerald green grains on his hand. - Every other stone is sharpened with wet emery, but give this one a dry one. That's how you swallow dust, then ... One maet.
Large stones were sharpened directly by hand, pressing a stone on a spinning circle, and small ones were previously stuck with a special mastic to a wooden handle. During operation, the spinning circle was constantly wetted with emery. Emery is a type of corundum that is turned into a fine powder for cutting and grinding. During work, dried emery is carried as a fine dust in the air, and workers involuntarily breathe this dust, clogging their lungs and spoiling their eyes. It is this sanding dust that causes most of the lapidary workers to suffer from chest diseases and lose their eyesight early. Add to this the fact that you have to work in cramped rooms, without any ventilation, like with Alexei Ivanovich.
“It’s a bit crowded… yes…” said Ukhov himself. “I’ll build a new workshop as soon as I get better with business.
Year after year went by, and Alexei Ivanovich's affairs did not get better. The same thing happened with regard to food. Alexei Ivanovich himself was sometimes indignant at the dinners of his workers and said:
- What kind of lunch is this? Are there such dinners? .. As soon as I get better with my affairs, then we will turn everything around for real.
Alexei Ivanovich never argued, never got excited, but agreed with everyone and did it his own way. Even Yermilich, no matter how he scolded the owner behind his back, said:
- Well, the man was also born! He, Alexei Ivanovich, like a living burbot, you can’t grab with your hand. You look, and turned out. But in words, like a goose on the water ... He also pities us! .. And it’s cramped for us, and the food is bad ... Oh, what a man was born! .. In a word, all around is a rogue! ..

The sun shone in all eyes, as it shines only in July. It was eleven o'clock in the morning. Yermilich sat in the very sun and enjoyed the warmth. The old blood no longer warmed him. Proshka thought all morning about dinner. He was constantly hungry and reaped only from meal to meal, like a small hungry animal. Early in the morning he looked into the kitchen and saw that a piece of "sheina" (the cheapest kind of meat, from the neck) lay on the table, and he looked forward to the pleasure of eating cabbage soup with beef. What could be better than such cabbage soup, especially when the fat covers the brew with a layer of almost an inch, like pork? . Sheina is also good if the hostess does not dilute the cabbage soup with water. These thoughts made Proshka's stomach ache, and he swallowed his hungry saliva. If only I could eat my fill every day!
Proshka turned his wheel, closing his eyes. He often did this when he dreamed. But his thoughts today were disturbed by the unexpected appearance of Alexei Ivanovich. This meant that someone would come to the workshop and that they would have to wait for dinner. Alexei Ivanovich dressed up in his work clothes and looked around anxiously.
“Such dirt!” he thought aloud. - And where does it come from? Worse than in the stable... Spirka, if only you could clean up something!
Spira looked around in bewilderment. If you clean up, then you need to smash the entire workshop on a log. He nevertheless transferred from one corner to another several heavy stones that were lying around in the workshop without any need. This is how it all ended. Alexei Ivanovich only shook his head and said:
- Well, the workshop, there is nothing to say! Just keep pigs.
It was time for dinner, when a smart carriage stopped at the gates of Ukhov's house and a well-dressed lady got out of it with two children: a girl of about twelve and a boy of about ten. Aleksei Ivanitch ran out of the gate to greet his dear guests without a hat, and bowed all the time.
- Excuse me, madam! .. It will be a little dirty in the workshop; and you can see the pebbles in my house.
“No, no,” the lady insisted. - I can buy stones in the store; and I just want to see your workshop, that is, to show the children how stones are cut.
“Ah, that’s different!” Welcome…
The lady winced when she crossed the threshold of the Ukhov workshop. She did not expect to meet such squalor.
- Why are you so dirty? she wondered.
“It’s impossible for us to keep cleanliness,” Alexei Ivanovich explained. - It is known, a stone ... Dust, rubbish, dirt ... How we try to make it cleaner ...
These explanations, apparently, did not at all convince the lady, who picked up her skirts with disgust as she moved from the door to the workbench. She was still so young and beautiful, and the Ukhov workshop was filled with the smell of some expensive perfume. The girl looked like her mother and was also pretty. She listened with curiosity to Alexei Ivanovich's detailed explanations and was frankly surprised in the end that such pretty pebbles came out of such a dirty workshop.
“Yes, young lady, it happens,” Yermilich explained, “and the white bread that you like to eat will be born on black earth.”
Alexei Ivanovich gave a whole lecture on precious stones. First he showed them in raw form, and then - sequential processing.
“Before there were more stones,” he explained, “but now every year there are less and less. Here, take alexandrite - you will find it in the daytime with fire. And the gentlemen respect him very much, because he is green during the day, and red in the fire. There are different classes, madam, a stone, just like there are different people.
The boy had no interest in stones at all. He did not understand what mother and sister were admiring and what was worse than cut colored glass. He was most interested in the large wooden wheel that Proshka was turning. This is a really curious thing: such a big wheel is spinning! The boy imperceptibly made his way into a dark corner to Proshka and looked with admiration at the shiny iron handle, by which Proshka was turning.
Why is she so bright?
“But by hand,” Proshka explained.
Let me believe myself...
Proshka laughed when the little boy began to turn the wheel.
- Yes, it's very fun ... What's your name?
- Proshka.
- How funny you are: you just got out of the pipe.
- Work with mine, so you won’t turn black so much.
— Volodya, where did you get to? the lady was surprised. "You'll still get hurt...
- Mom, it's terribly interesting! .. Give me to the workshop - I would also turn the wheel. Very fun!.. Look! And what a light pen, precisely polished. And Proshka looks like a jackdaw who lived with us. A real bastard…
Volodya's mother looked into Proshka's corner and just shook her head.
- How skinny he is! she took pity on Proshka. "Is he ill with something?"
— No, nothing, thank God! Alexei Ivanovich explained. - A complete orphan - neither father nor mother ... There is nothing to get fat from, madam! My father died of consumption... He was also a master in our field. Many of us die from consumption ...
So it's hard for him?
No, why is it difficult? If you please, try it yourself... The wheel, read, turns by itself.
But he works all day, doesn't he?
- Usually...
- When do you start working in the morning?
"It's not the same," Alexei Ivanovich explained evasively, who did not like such questions. - Looking at work ... Another time - from seven o'clock.
- And when do you finish?
- It's not the same either: at six o'clock, at seven, as it happens.
Aleksey Ivanovich lied in the most shameless way, cutting off two whole hours of work.
- And how much do you pay this Proshka?
“Forgive me, madam, what a salary! I dress, I put on shoes, I feed, everything is at a loss. So, out of pity, I keep an orphan ... Where can he go?
The lady looked into Proshka's corner and just shrugged her shoulders. After all, it is terrible: to spend the whole day in such a corner and turn the wheel endlessly. It's kind of a little scam...
- How old is he? she asked.
- Twelve…
“And you can’t give him more than nine by the looks of it.” Perhaps you are not feeding him well?
— Have mercy, madame! Food is the same for everyone. I have lunch with them myself. To put it bluntly, I feed myself at a loss; but my heart is so... I can't help it, and I pity everyone, ma'am.
The lady selected several stones and asked to send them home.
"Send stones with this boy," she pleaded, pointing at Proshka with her eyes.
- I obey, sir!
Alexei Ivanovich did not like the last wish. These ladies are always up to something! Why did she need Proshka? He would have been better off bringing the stones himself. But there is nothing to do - can you talk to the mistress? Proshka so Proshka - let him go; and Levka will work at the wheel.
When the mistress left, the workshop resounded with general laughter.
- I just let the spirit go! Yermilych grumbled. - Smells like soap...
"She'll perfume Proshka, too," Spirka reflected. “But Aleksei Ivanovich didn’t put a handful on his hand: he fooled her for five rubles.”
- What does she need five rubles for? Don't give a damn! Yermilych grumbled. - The master's money has no eyes ... So they throw it. Aleksey Ivanych is on hand. This is how he crucified himself before the mistress: he sings like a nightingale.
- She has a silk dress, a gold watch, how many rings ... A rich lady!
Well, that's still unknown. One vision for another. There are some gentlemen...
Dear little Volodya explained to his mother that Proshka was "spitting".
- What does it mean? she didn't understand.
- And he turns the wheel, - well, he went out: he turned. Not spit, mom, but spit.

Poor Proshka was often occupied with the question of those unknown people for whom he had to turn the wheel in his corner from morning to night. Other children had fun, played and enjoyed freedom; and he was exactly tied to his wheel. Proshka understood that other children have fathers and mothers who protect and pity them; and he is an orphan and must earn his own little piece of bread. But after all, there are many orphans in this world, and not all of them should turn the wheels. At first, Proshka hated his wheel, because if it were not for him, there would be no need to turn him. It was a completely childish thought. Then Proshka began to hate Alexei Ivanovich, to whom his aunt had given him an apprenticeship: Alexei Ivanovich had deliberately invented this accursed wheel in order to torment him.
“When I grow up big,” Proshka thought at work, “then I’ll beat off Alexei Ivanovich, chop up the damned wheel with an ax and run away into the forest.”
The last thought pleased Proshka the most. What could be better than a forest? Oh, how good it is there!.. The grass is green-green, the pines rustle with their peaks, icy springs ooze from the ground, every bird sings in its own way - there is no need to die! Arrange a hut out of needles, spread out a light - and live for yourself like a bird. Let others suffocate in the cities from the dust and turn the wheels ... Proshka already saw himself as free as a bird.
“I’ll run away!” Proshka decided a thousand times, as if he were arguing with someone. “I won’t even beat Alexei Ivanovich, but I’ll just run away.”
Proshka thought for whole days, he turns his wheel and thinks, thinks without end. It was inconvenient to talk at work, not like other masters. And Proshka thought all the time, thought until he began to see his thoughts as if they were alive. He often saw himself, and certainly big and healthy, like Spira. It's good to be big. Did not like one owner — went to work for another.
The hatred for Alexei Ivanovich also passed when Proshka realized that all the owners are the same, and that Alexei Ivanovich does not wish him harm at all, but does the same thing that they did with him when he was the same spit as Proshka is now. So, those people who need all these amethysts, emeralds, heavyweights are to blame - they forced Proshka to turn his wheel. Immediately, Proshka's imagination refused to work, and he could not imagine these countless enemies, merging for him in one word "gentlemen." One thing was clear to him, that they were evil. Why do they need these stones, without which it is so easy to do? If the gentlemen did not buy stones from Alexei Ivanovich, he would have to leave his workshop - and that's all. And there the lady brought more children ... Indeed, there is something to admire ... Proshka saw in a dream this lady, who had stones on her hands, and on her neck, and in her ears, and on her head. He hated her and even said:
— Wu! evil...
It seemed to him that the lady's eyes, too, shone like a polished stone shines - green, angry, like a cat's at night.
None of the masters could understand why the lady needed Proshka. Aleksei Ivanovich would have come himself and slipped ten rubles worth into the goods; what can Proshka understand?
"The master's whim, and nothing else," Yermilich grumbled.
Alexei Ivanovich was also dissatisfied. Firstly, it was impossible to let Proshka in at home, which means the cost of a shirt; and secondly, who knows, mistress, what is on her mind!
“Wash your snout,” he had been punishing Proshka since the evening. - Understand? And then you’ll come to the devil’s mistress ...
In view of these preparations, Proshka began to coward. He even tried to evade, referring to the fact that his leg hurts. Alexei Ivanovich became furious and, showing his fist, said:
“I’ll show you how my legs hurt!”
It must be said that Alexey Ivanovich never fought like other masters, and very rarely scolded. He usually agreed with everyone, promised everything and did nothing.
Proshka had to go in the morning when the lady was drinking coffee. Alexei Ivanovich examined Proshka as if he were a rookie, and said:
- Don't be shy, Proshka! And the gentlemen are the same people - sewn from the same skin as we sinners. The lady ordered amethysts; and I'll give you a couple more beryls, and heavyweights, and almandines. Understand? Must be able to show...
Alexey Ivanovich taught how much to ask for, how much to give in, and what not to give less. The lady, perhaps, will take pity on the little boy and buy it.
When Proshka was leaving, Alexei Ivanovich stopped him at the very door and added:
“Look, don’t talk too much… Do you understand? If the lady will inquire about food and so on ... "We, they say, madam, eat with silver spoons."
Proshka had to walk through the whole city, and the closer he came to the mistress's apartment, the more frightened he became. He himself did not know what he was afraid of, and yet he was afraid. Timidity seized him completely when he saw a two-story large stone house. Even the thought of running away flashed through Proshka's head. But what if you take yes and run away into the forest?
Reluctantly, he made his way into the kitchen and found out that the lady was at home. The maid in a starched white apron looked him over suspiciously from head to toe and reluctantly went to report "by herself." Instead of her, Volodya ran into the kitchen, dressed in a short funny jacket, short funny pants, stockings and shoes.
“Let’s go, spit!” he invited Proshka. - Mom is waiting.
They went along some kind of corridor, then through the dining room, and then into the nursery, where the lady herself was waiting, dressed in a wide house dress.
- Well, show me what you brought! she said in a melodious, fresh voice, and, looking round Proshka, she added: "How thin you are!" Real chicken!
Proshka took out the goods with a serious look and began to show the stones. He was no longer afraid of anything. The lady did not look at all evil. Aleksey Ivanych's calculation was justified: she examined the stones and bought everything without bargaining. Proshka inwardly triumphed that he had so deftly swindled the mistress out of three rubles. He was only embarrassed that she kept looking at him in a special way and smiling.
“Do you want to eat?” she finally spoke. - Yes?
This simple question confused Proshka, as if the lady had divined his secret thoughts. When he waited in the kitchen, it smelled so good of fried meat and all the time he was pursued by this appetizing smell.
"I don't know," he answered childishly.
- He wants, mom! Volodya picked it up. - I'll run to the kitchen now and tell Matryona to give her a cutlet.
Volodya was a kind boy, and this made his mother happy. After all, the most important thing in a person is a good heart. Proshka felt embarrassed, like an animal caught in a trap. He silently looked around the room and was surprised that there were such large and bright rooms. There was a toy cabinet against one wall; besides, the toys lay on the floor, stood in the corner, hung on the wall. There were children's guns, and a soldier's box, and a mill, and horses, and houses, and picture books - a real toy store.
Are these all your toys? Proshka asked Volodya.
- My. I don't play anymore because I'm big. Do you have toys too?
Proshka laughed. He has toys! How funny this little barchon is: he absolutely does not understand anything!
The maid serving the cutlet in the dining room looked at Proshka with surprise. So the lady will soon gather all the beggars into the house and feed them with cutlets. Proshka felt this and looked at the maid with serious eyes. Then he was troubled by the fork and the napkin, especially the last one. what does he do on holidays, does he know how to read and write, etc.
- You see, Volodya, - she said to her son, - this boy has been earning a piece of bread since the age of seven ... Proshka, do you want to study?
- I do not know…
Do you want to come visit us on Sundays? I will teach you to read and write. I will talk about this with Alexei Ivanovich myself.
Proshka was puzzled.
He returned home in Volodya's old jacket, which was even broad in the shoulders, although Volodya was two years younger. Barchuk was so tall and well-fed. The workers laughed at him, as they laughed at everyone else, and the owner praised:
- Well done; Proshka! When you go on Sunday, I will give you more goods ...

Proshka started going to school every Sunday. At first, to tell the truth, he was most attracted by the opportunity to eat well, as gentlemen eat. And the latter was amazing, most amazing of all, that only Proshka had seen. Volodya's mother - her name was Anna Ivanovna - was terribly worried every time they had breakfast. It seemed to her that Volodya was eating little and that he was unwell. At first Proshka thought that Anna Ivanovna was joking; but Anna Ivanovna spoke quite seriously:
- It seems to me, Volodya, that you will definitely not eat anything soon. Look at Proshka: that's the kind of appetite you need to have.
Why is he so thin if he eats a lot? Volodya asked.
- Because he works a lot, because there is literally nothing to breathe in their workshop, and so on.
Volodya was a real barchon. Kind in his own way, always cheerful, addicted and rather spineless. Proshka next to him seemed to be a creature of a different breed. Anna Ivanovna was amazed when the children were together. Proshka's children's eyes looked not at all childish; then he just couldn't smile. In the skinny figure of Proshka, some hidden reproach was definitely hidden. Anna Ivanovna sometimes even felt a little ashamed, because she invited Proshka for the first time only in order to show Volodya that children of his age work from morning to night. Proshka was to serve as a living and illustrative example; and Volodya had to correct himself, looking at him, from the attacks of his lordly laziness.
For these educational purposes, Anna Ivanovna sent Volodya several times under various pretexts to Alexei Ivanovich's workshop, so that he could actually see how little Proshka worked. Volodya went to the workshop every time with special pleasure and returned home all covered with emery. The result of these object lessons was that Volodya quite seriously declared to his mother:
- Mom, give me to the workshop. I want to be a skewer like Proshka...
— Volodya, what are you talking about? Anna Ivanovna was horrified. "Just think what you're saying!"
“Oh, mother, it’s terribly fun there! ..
“You would have starved to death there in three days…”
- But no! I've had lunch with the workers twice already. What delicious soup from salted fish, mom! And then - millet porridge with green butter ... peas ...
Anna Ivanovna was horrified. After all, Volodya could simply be poisoned. She even measured Volodya's temperature and calmed down only when he took a bath and asked for food himself.
- Mom, if you ordered to cook grated radish with kvass! ..
Volodya turned out to be incorrigible. The example of Proshka taught him absolutely nothing, except that for several days he tried to set up a cutting workshop in his children's workshop and dragged all kinds of stones from the yard. It turned out to be almost a real workshop, only the huge wooden wheel that Proshka turned was missing.
Before Christmas, Proshka stopped going to school on Sundays. Anna Ivanovna thought that Alexey Ivanovitch would not let him in, and she went herself to find out what was the matter. Alexei Ivanovich was at home and explained that Proshka himself did not want to go.
- Why is that? Anna Ivanovna was surprised.
- Who knows! He is unwell... He coughs at night.
Anna Ivanovna went to the studio and saw with her own eyes that Proshka was ill. His eyes burned with feverish fire; a consumptive blush appeared on her pale cheeks. He treated Anna Ivanovna with complete indifference.
- Have you completely forgotten us? she asked.
- So…
“Maybe you don’t want to study?”
- Not…
- What kind of teaching is he, when he breathes his last! Ermilich remarked.
“Is it possible to say such things in front of a patient?” Anna Ivanovna was indignant.
"We're all going to die, ma'am...
It was heartless. After all, Proshka was still quite a child and did not understand his position. Impressed by these considerations, Anna Ivanovna suggested that Proshka move in with them until he recovered; but Proshka flatly refused.
- Don't you like us? I would arrange you in the human...
“It’s better for me here…” Proshka replied stubbornly.
“Madame, we feel sorry for him, too!” Ermilich explained. He doesn't want to leave...
Anna Ivanovna was seriously upset, although she fully understood why Proshka did not want to leave his workshop. Patients have a passionate attachment to their corner. And big and small people in this case are exactly the same. Later Anna Ivanovna reproached herself for having done absolutely nothing for Proshka, because she did not know how to do it. The boy was dying at his wheel from emery dust, bad food and overwork. And how many children die in this way in different workshops, both boys and girls! Returning home, Anna Ivanovna could not calm down for a long time. The little skewer Proshka did not get out of her head. Previously, Anna Ivanovna was very fond of precious stones, but now she has promised herself never to wear them: each such stone would remind her of a dying little Proshka.
But Proshka continued to work, even though Alexei Ivanovich tried to persuade him to rest. The boy was ashamed to eat someone else's bread for nothing... And the wheel seemed to be getting heavier and heavier every day... Proshka's head began to spin from the effort, and it seemed to him that the whole workshop was spinning along with the wheel. At night, he dreamed of whole heaps of faceted gems: pink, green, blue, yellow. The worst thing was when these stones rained down on him like rainbow rain and began to crush his small, sore chest, and something heavy began to spin in his head, as if the same wooden wheel was spinning there, with which Proshka had lived all his little life.
Then Proshka took to his bed. A small bed was attached to him right there, in the workshop. Yermilich looked after him with almost feminine tenderness and constantly said:
- You should eat something, Proshka! What are you!..
But Proshka didn't want to eat anything, even when Anna Ivanovna's maid brought him cutlets and a cake. He was indifferent to everything, as if crushed by his illness.
Two weeks later he was gone. Anna Ivanovna came with Volodya to the funeral and wept, wept not for one but for all the poor children whom she could not and did not know how to help.

I

The bright summer sun burst in through the open window, illuminating the workshop with all its squalor, with the exception of one dark corner where Proshka worked. The sun seemed to have forgotten him, as sometimes mothers leave small children without any care. Proshka, only by stretching out his neck, could see from behind the wide wooden frame of his wheel only one corner of the window, in which the green beds of the vegetable garden were exactly painted, behind them - a brilliant strip of the river, and in it - the city children always bathing. Through the open window came the cry of those who were bathing, the rumble of heavily loaded carts rolling along the river bank, the distant chime of monastery bells, and the desperate cawing of jackdaws flying from rooftop to rooftop of the urban suburb of Terebilovka.

The workshop consisted of only one room, in which five people worked. There used to be a banya here, and the dampness of the banya can still be felt, especially in the corner where Proshka worked like a spider. Near the window stood a wooden workbench with three circles on which precious stones were polished. Closest to the light sat old Yermilych, who worked with glasses. He was considered one of the best cutters in Yekaterinburg, but every year he began to see worse. Yermilich worked with his head thrown back a little, and Proshka could only see his beard of some kind of bast color. While working, Yermilych liked to talk aloud, and endlessly scolded the owner of the workshop, Ukhov.

"He's a rogue, Alexey Ivanovich, that's what!" the old man repeated in a kind of dry voice, as if his throat were dry. He kills us like cockroaches. Yes ... And he mortifies with work and mortifies with food. What does he feed us? Empty cabbage soup and porridge - that's all the food. And what kind of work, if a person has an empty heart? .. Don't be afraid, Alexei Ivanovich himself will drink tea five times a day. At home he drinks twice, and then he goes to visit and drinks there ... And what a rogue: he dine with us and even praises ... This is him to avert our eyes so that we do not grumble. And he himself, probably, will dine on his own.

These discussions ended each time like this:

“I’ll leave him—that’s the end of the matter.” He will, - he worked for Aleksey Ivanovich for eleven years. Enough ... And as much work as you like ... Do me a favor, we will not bow ...

The consumptive craftsman Ignatius, who worked next to Yermilych, was usually silent. He was a gloomy man who did not like to lose words in vain. On the other hand, the apprentice Spirka, a young, lively fellow who sported red calico shirts, liked to provoke grandfather, as the workers called old Yermilych.

- And he is a rogue, Alexei Ivanovich! Spirka said, winking at Ignatius. “We are languishing at his work, and he cheats. All day long he only does what he walks around the city and deceives who is simpler. Do you remember, grandfather, how he sold the glass to the lady in passing numbers? And he says: “I work all by myself, with my own hands…”

- And what a rogue! Ermilich agreed. - Last year, that's how cleverly amethyst replaced a passing gentleman! He gave him a stone to fix, because the edge was dull and there were scratches. I also corrected it ... The stone was excellent! .. So he left it for himself, and handed another one to a passing gentleman ... It is known that the gentlemen do not understand anything what and why.

The fourth worker, Levka, mute from birth, could not take part in these conversations and only mumbled when Yermilich explained to him by signs what a rogue their master was.

Ukhov himself looked into his workshop only early in the morning, when he handed out the work, and in the evening, when he accepted the finished stones. The exception was those cases when some urgent work got in. Then Aleksei Ivanovich ran in ten times to hurry the workers. Yermilich could not endure such urgent work and grumbled every time.

The funniest thing was when Alexei Ivanovich came into the workshop, dressed like a workman, in an old jacket, in an apron smeared with yellow spots of emery. This meant that someone would come to the workshop, some profitable customer or a curious passerby. Alexei Ivanovich looked like a hungry fox: long, thin, bald, with a red mustache that stuck out to bristles and colorless eyes darted uneasily. He had such long arms, as if nature had created him especially for stealing. And how deftly he knew how to talk to customers. And no one knew how to show a precious stone better than him. Such a buyer looked at some crack or other defect only at home. Sometimes the deceived came to the workshop and received the same answer - namely, that Alexei Ivanovich had left somewhere.

– How is it so? the buyer wondered. The stone is no good...

“We don’t know anything, master,” Yermilich answered for everyone. Our business is small...

All the workers used to roll with laughter when the duped customer left.

“Look carefully,” Yermilych remarked admonishingly, indirectly defending the owner, “you have eyes for that ... Alexei Ivanovich will learn something.

Spirka gloated most of all, laughing to tears. All the same, entertainment, otherwise you sit all day long at the workbench, as if sewn on. Yes, and the gentlemen have nothing to regret: they have wild money, so they throw it away.

Work in the workshop was distributed in this way. Raw stones were sorted by Yermilych, and then handed them over to Levka to “chip”, that is, to chip with an iron hammer, so that they could be cut. This was considered menial work, and only the most expensive stones, like an emerald, were spun by Yermilich himself. The stones rounded by Levka went to Spirka, who turned them rough. Ignatius had already laid facets (edges), and Yermilich corrected and polished again. As a result, precious and semi-precious stones playing in different colors were obtained: emeralds, chrysolites, aquamarines, heavyweights (noble topaz), amethysts, and most of all - rauch-topazes (smoky-colored rock crystal) and simply colorless rock crystal. Occasionally, other stones also fell, like rubies and sapphires, which Yermilich called "toothy" because they were harder than all the others. Amethyst Yermilych called the bishop's stone. The old man treated the stones as if they were something alive, and even got angry with some of them, like chrysolites.