The character of the paraska in the Sorochinskaya fair. Nikolay gogol - Sorochinskaya Fair

Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol

SOROCHI FAIR

Mini is boring to live in a hati.
Oh take me out of the house
De rich to thunder, thunder,
De goptsyuyut all the divkas,
Where the couples are walking!

From an old legend.

How delightful, how sumptuous is a summer day in Little Russia! How painfully hot are those hours when noon shines in silence and heat, and the blue, immeasurable ocean, bent over the earth like a voluptuous dome, seems to have fallen asleep, all sunk in bliss, embracing and squeezing the beautiful in its airy embrace! There are no clouds on it. There is no speech in the field. Everything seems to have died; only above, in the depths of heaven, a lark trembles, and silver songs fly along the airy steps to the earth in love, and occasionally the cry of a seagull or the ringing voice of a quail is heard in the steppe. Lazily and thoughtlessly, as if walking without a goal, the cloudy oaks stand, and the dazzling strokes of the sun's rays light up entire picturesque masses of leaves, throwing a shadow as dark as night over the others, over which gold spurts only with a strong wind. Emeralds, topazes, yahontas of ethereal insects are pouring over colorful gardens, overshadowed by stately sunflowers. Gray stacks of hay and golden sheaves of bread are encamped in the field and roam through its immensity. Wide branches of sweet cherries, plums, apple trees, pears bent over from the weight of the fruits; the sky, its pure mirror - a river in green, proudly raised frames ... how full of voluptuousness and bliss is the Little Russian summer!

One day of hot August shone with such luxury eighteen hundred ... eight hundred ... Yes, thirty years ago, when the road, ten versts from the town of Sorochinets, was seething with people rushing from all surrounding and distant farms to the fair. In the morning there was still an endless line of chumaks with salt and fish. Mountains of pots wrapped in hay moved slowly, as if bored by their confinement and darkness; in some places only some brightly painted bowl or makitra poked out boastfully from a wattle fence highly perched on a wagon and attracted the touching glances of lovers of luxury. Many passers-by looked with envy at the tall potter, the owner of these jewels, who slowly walked behind his goods, carefully wrapping his clay dandies and coquettes in hated hay.

Lonely in the side dragged a wagon loaded with sacks, hemp, linen and various household luggage, behind which he wandered, in a clean linen shirt and soiled linen trousers, his owner. With a lazy hand, he wiped the sweat that rolled in a hail from his swarthy face and even dripped from his long mustache, powdered by that inexorable hairdresser who, without a call, comes to both the beautiful and the ugly, and forcibly powders the entire human race for several thousand years. Beside him walked a mare tied to a wagon, whose humble appearance betrayed her advanced years. Many oncoming ones, and especially young lads, took hold of their hats as they caught up with our peasant. However, it was not his gray mustache and his important step that forced him to do this; one had only to raise their eyes a little upward to see the reason for such deference: on the cart sat a pretty daughter with a round face, with black eyebrows rising in even arches above her light brown eyes, with pink lips smiling nonchalantly, with red and blue ribbons tied around her head, which , together with long braids and a bunch of wild flowers, rested on her charming head with a rich crown. Everything seemed to occupy her; everything was wonderful, new to her ... and her pretty eyes were constantly running from one object to another. How not to get lost! first time at the fair! A girl at eighteen for the first time at a fair!.. But not one of the passers-by and travelers knew what it cost her to beg her father to take with her, who would have been glad to do it with her soul before, if not for the evil stepmother, who learned to hold him in his hands as dexterously as he holds the reins of his old mare, dragged for a long service now for sale. A restless wife ... but we forgot that she, too, was immediately sitting at the height of the wagon in an elegant green woolen jacket, on which, as if on ermine fur, tails of only red color were sewn, in a rich plank, speckled like a chessboard, and her colored cap, which gave some special importance to her red, full face, over which something so unpleasant, so wild slipped through, that everyone immediately hurried to transfer their anxious glance to the cheerful little face of their daughter.

It's boring for me to live in a hut.
Oh, take me from home
De rich to thunder, thunder,
De goptsyuyut all divki,
De walk couples!
From an old legend

How delightful, how sumptuous is a summer day in Little Russia! How painfully hot are those hours when noon shines in silence and heat, and the immeasurable blue ocean, bent over the earth with a voluptuous dome, seems to have fallen asleep, all sunk in bliss, embracing and squeezing the beautiful in its airy embrace! There are no clouds on it. There is no speech in the field. Everything seems to have died; only above, in the depths of heaven, a lark trembles, and silver songs fly along the airy steps to the earth in love, and occasionally the cry of a seagull or the sonorous voice of a quail is heard in the steppe. Lazily and thoughtlessly, as if walking without a goal, the cloudy oaks stand, and the dazzling strokes of the sun's rays light up entire picturesque masses of leaves, throwing a shadow as dark as night over the others, over which gold spurts only with a strong wind. Emeralds, topazes, yahontas of ethereal insects are pouring over colorful gardens, overshadowed by stately sunflowers. Gray haystacks and golden sheaves of bread are encamped in the field and roam through its immensity. Wide branches of cherries, plums, apple trees, pears bent over from the weight of the fruits; the sky, its pure mirror - a river in green, proudly raised frames ... how full of voluptuousness and bliss is the Little Russian summer!

Alone in the side dragged on exhausted oxen a cart, piled with bags, hemp, linen and various household luggage, after which he wandered, in a clean linen shirt and soiled linen trousers, his owner. With a lazy hand, he wiped the sweat that rolled in a hail from his swarthy face and even dripped from his long mustache, powdered by that inexorable hairdresser who, without a call, comes to both the beautiful and the ugly and forcibly powders the entire human race for several thousand years. Beside him walked a mare tied to a wagon, whose humble appearance betrayed her advanced years. Many oncoming ones, and especially young lads, took hold of their hats as they caught up with our peasant. However, it was not his gray mustache and his important step that forced him to do this; one had only to raise their eyes a little upward to see the reason for such deference: on the cart sat a pretty daughter with a round face, with black eyebrows rising in even arches above her light brown eyes, with pink lips smiling nonchalantly, with red and blue ribbons tied around her head, which , together with long braids and a bunch of wild flowers, rested on her charming head with a rich crown. Everything seemed to occupy her; everything was wonderful, new to her ... and her pretty eyes were constantly running from one object to another. How not to get lost! first time at the fair! A girl at eighteen for the first time at a fair! .. But not one of the passers-by and travelers knew what it cost her to beg her father to take with her, who would have been glad to do it with her soul before, if not for the evil stepmother, who learned to hold him in his hands as deftly as he does the reins of his old mare, dragged, for a long service, now for sale. A restless wife ... but we forgot that she, too, was sitting right there at the height of the wagon, in an elegant green woolen jacket, on which, as if on ermine fur, tails were sewn, only red, in a rich plank, mottled like a chessboard, and in a colored calico, which gave some special importance to her red, full face, over which something so unpleasant, so wild slipped through, that everyone immediately hurried to transfer their anxious glance to the cheerful little face of their daughter.

The eyes of our travelers have already begun to open Psyol; from afar there was already a breath of coolness, which seemed more perceptible after the languishing, destructive heat. Through the dark and light green leaves of sapwoods, birches and poplars carelessly scattered across the meadow, fiery sparks, dressed in cold, sparkled, and the beautiful river brilliantly bared its silver chest, on which green curls of trees fell magnificently. Wayward, as she is in those delightful hours, when the faithful mirror so enviably contains her full of pride and dazzling brilliance, her brow, lilac shoulders and marble neck, overshadowed by a dark wave that has fallen from her blond head, when with contempt she throws only jewelry to replace them others, and there is no end to her whims - she changed her surroundings almost every year, choosing a new path for herself and surrounding herself with new, diverse landscapes. Rows of mills lifted their wide waves onto heavy wheels and powerfully threw them, breaking them into spray, sprinkling dust and making noise around the surroundings. At that time, a cart with passengers we knew rode onto the bridge, and the river, in all its beauty and grandeur, like solid glass, stretched out before them. The sky, green and blue forests, people, carts with pots, mills - everything overturned, stood and walked upside down, without falling into the beautiful blue abyss. Our beauty fell into thought, looking at the luxury of the view, and forgot even to peel her sunflower, which she was regularly engaged in all the way, when suddenly the words: “Aw, damsel!” struck her ear. Glancing around, she saw a crowd of lads standing on the bridge, one of whom, dressed more splendidly than the others, in a white coat and a gray hat of Retilov's coats, leaning on his hips, looked valiantly at the passers-by. The beauty could not fail to notice his tanned, but full of pleasantness, face and fiery eyes, which seemed to strive to see right through her, and lowered her eyes at the thought that perhaps the spoken word belonged to him.

Glorious girl! continued the lad in the white coat, without taking his eyes off her. - I would give all my household to kiss her. And here is the devil sitting in front!

Laughter rose from all sides; but such a greeting did not seem too much to the discharged concubine of her slowly speaking husband: her red cheeks turned into fiery ones, and the crackle of choice words rained down on the head of the riotous lad

So that you choke, you worthless barge hauler! So that your father is hit with a pot in the head! May he slip on the ice, damned Antichrist! May the devil burn his beard in the next world!

Look how he swears! said the lad, bulging his eyes at her, as if puzzled by such a strong volley of unexpected greetings, “and her tongue, a hundred-year-old witch, will not ache to pronounce these words.

Centennial! - picked up the old beauty. - Wicked! go wash up ahead! Bad tomboy! I haven't seen your mother, but I know it's rubbish! and the father is rubbish! and the aunt is rubbish! Centennial! that he still has milk on his lips...

Here the wagon began to descend from the bridge, and it was already impossible to hear the last words; but the lad did not seem to want to end with this: without thinking for a long time, he grabbed a lump of dirt and threw it after her. The blow was more successful than one could have imagined: the entire new calico ochipok was spattered with mud, and the laughter of the reckless rake doubled with renewed vigor. The portly dandy seethed with anger; but the cart had driven quite a distance at that time, and her revenge turned on her innocent stepdaughter and slow cohabitant, who, having long been accustomed to such phenomena, maintained stubborn silence and coolly accepted the rebellious speeches of an angry wife. However, despite this, her tireless tongue crackled and dangled in her mouth until they arrived in the suburbs to an old acquaintance and godfather, the Cossack Tsybulya. The meeting with godfathers, who had not been seen for a long time, drove this unpleasant incident out of their heads for a while, forcing our travelers to talk about the fair and rest a little after a long journey.

What, my God, my Lord! what is dumb at that fair! Wheels, sklo, yogot, tyutyun, remin, tsibulya, all sorts of kramari ... so, if you want to be in the gut it was thirty rubles, then you would not have bought the fairs.

From the Little Russian comedy

You must have heard a distant waterfall rolling somewhere, when the alarmed surroundings are full of hum and a chaos of wonderful obscure sounds rushes before you like a whirlwind. Isn't it true, isn't it the very same feelings that will instantly seize you in the whirlwind of a rural fair, when the whole people coalesces into one huge monster and moves with its whole body in the square and through the cramped streets, shouting, cackling, thundering? Noise, abuse, lowing, bleating, roaring - everything merges into one discordant dialect. Oxen, sacks, hay, gypsies, pots, women, gingerbread, hats - everything is bright, motley, discordant; rushing about in heaps and scurrying about before your eyes. Discordant speeches drown each other, and not a single word will be snatched out, will not be saved from this flood; not a single cry is spoken clearly. Only the clapping on the hands of the merchants is heard from all sides of the fair. The cart breaks, the iron rings, the boards thrown to the ground rattle, and the dizzy head is perplexed where to turn. Our visiting peasant with his black-browed daughter had long been jostling among the people. Approached one cart, felt another, applied to prices; and meanwhile his thoughts tossed and turned unceasingly about ten sacks of wheat and an old mare he had brought for sale. It was evident from the face of his daughter that she was not too pleased to rub herself near the wagons with flour and wheat. She would like to go where red ribbons, earrings, pewter, copper crosses and ducats are elegantly hung under the linen yatkas. But even here, however, she found many objects for herself to observe: she was amused to the extreme, as the gypsies and peasants beat each other on the hands, screaming out in pain themselves; how a drunken Jew gave a woman jelly; how quarreled buyouts were exchanged with abuse and crayfish; like a Muscovite, stroking his goat's beard with one hand, with the other ... But then she felt someone pull her by the embroidered sleeve of her shirt. She looked around - and a lad in a white coat, with bright eyes, stood in front of her. Her veins trembled, and her heart beat as never before, with no joy, no grief: it seemed strange and loving to her, and she herself could not explain what was happening to her.

Don't be afraid, dear, don't be afraid! - he said to her in an undertone, taking her hand, - I will not say anything bad to you!

“Maybe it’s true that you won’t say anything bad,” the beauty thought to herself, “only it’s wonderful to me ... right, it’s crafty! You yourself, it seems, know that this is not good ... but you don’t have the strength to take his hand from him.

The peasant looked around and wanted to say something to his daughter, but the word "wheat" was heard to the side. This magic word forced him at the same moment to join the two loudly talking merchants, and nothing was able to entertain the attention that was riveted to them. Here is what the merchants said about wheat.

Chi bachish, what kind of guy?
There are a few of them in the retinue.
Sivuhu so, mov braga, damnit!
Kotlyarevsky, "Aeneid"

So you think, countryman, that our wheat will go badly? - said a man who looked like a visiting tradesman, an inhabitant of some shtetl, in motley, tar-stained and greasy trousers, to another, in a blue, in places already patched, scroll and with a huge bump on his forehead.

Yes, there is nothing to think here; I'm ready to throw a noose on myself and hang out on this tree, like a sausage before Christmas on a hut, if we sell at least one measure.

Who are you, fellow countryman, fooling? After all, there is no import at all, except for ours, ”the man in the motley trousers objected.

“Yes, tell yourself what you want,” our beauty’s father thought to himself, not missing a single word from the conversation between the two merchants, “but I have ten bags in reserve.”

That's just it, if there's devilry mixed up somewhere, then expect as much good as from a hungry Muscovite, - the man with a bump on his forehead said significantly.

What the hell? - picked up the man in the motley trousers.

Have you heard what the people say? continued, with a bump on his forehead, looking askance at him with his gloomy eyes.

- Well, that's it! The assessor, so that he would not have to wipe his lips after the master's plum brandy, set aside a cursed place for the fair, where, even if you crack, you won’t let down a single grain. Do you see that old, ruined barn that stands over there under the mountain? (Here the curious father of our beauty moved even closer and seemed to turn into attention.) In that shed every now and then there are devilish tricks; and not a single fair in this place was held without misfortune. Yesterday the volost clerk passed late in the evening, just looking - a pig's snout was exposed through the dormer window and grunted so that the frost hit his skin; and wait for the red scroll to appear again!

What is this red scroll?

Here our attentive listener's hair stood on end; he turned back in fear and saw that his daughter and the lad were standing calmly, embracing each other and singing some love tales to each other, forgetting about all the scrolls in the world. This dispelled his fear and forced him to return to his former carelessness.

Ege-ge-ge, countryman! Yes, you are a master, as I see, hugging! And on the fourth day after the wedding, I learned to hug my late Khveska, and even then thanks to my godfather: being a friend, I already advised.

The lad noticed at the same hour that his dear father was not too far away, and in his thoughts he began to draw up a plan, as it were, to persuade him in his favor.

You must be a good man, you don't know me, but I recognized you at once.

Maybe he knew.

If you want, I’ll tell you the name, and the nickname, and all sorts of things: your name is Solopy Cherevik.

Yes, Solopy Cherevik.

Take a good look: don't you recognize me?

No, I don't know. Do not be said in anger, for a century I had a chance to see enough of all sorts of faces that the devil will remember them all!

It's a pity you don't remember Golopupenkov's son!

Are you like Ohrimov's son?

But who? Is there only one bald didko, if not him.

Here the friends grabbed their hats, and kissing began; our son Golopupenkov, however, lost no time in deciding to lay siege to his new acquaintance at that very moment.

Well, Solopy, as you can see, your daughter and I have fallen in love with each other so that at least we can live together forever.

And all three found themselves in a well-known fair restaurant - under a yatka near a Jewess, dotted with a numerous flotilla of salt, bottles, flasks of all kinds and ages.

Eh, grab! for that I love it! - said Cherevik, having a little fun and seeing how his betrothed son-in-law poured out a mug the size of half a quart and, without frowning in the least, drank it to the bottom, then grabbing it to smithereens. - What do you say, Paraska? What a groom I got you! Look, look how he gallantly pulls the foam! ..

And, chuckling and swaying, he wandered with her to his wagon, and our lad went along the rows with red goods, in which there were merchants even from Gadyach and Mirgorod - two famous cities of the Poltava province, - to look out for a better wooden cradle in a smart copper frame, a flowery handkerchief over a red field and a hat for wedding gifts to father-in-law and everyone who should.

Though people don’t have one,
That if zhinci, bachish, tee,
So please please...
Kotlyarevsky

Well, lady! and I found a groom for my daughter!

- That's just before now, to look for suitors! Fool, fool! You, right, are destined to stay like that! Where did you see, where did you hear that a good man was now running after suitors? You would think better how to sell wheat from your hands; the groom must be good too! I think the most ragged of all the hungry.

Eh, no matter how, you would have looked, what kind of a lad is there! One scroll is worth more than your green jacket and red boots. And how important it blows fuselage! .. Damn me with you if I saw in my lifetime that a lad pulled out half a quart in spirit without grimacing.

Well, so: if he is a drunkard and a tramp, so are his suits. I bet if it's not the same tomboy who followed us on the bridge. It is a pity that he has not come across to me yet: I would have let him know.

Well, Khivrya, even the same one; why is he a tomboy?

- E! what a tomboy he is! Oh, you brainless head! hear! what a tomboy he is! Where did you hide your foolish eyes when we passed the mills; if only they had inflicted dishonor on his wife right there, in front of his tobacco-stained nose, he would not have needed anything.

That's all, however, I do not see anything bad in him; guy anywhere! Only except that for a moment he sealed your image with manure.

Hey! Yes, you, as I see it, do not let me utter a word! What does it mean? When did this happen to you? True, I already managed to sip without selling anything ...

Here our Cherevik himself noticed that he was talking too much, and in an instant covered his head with his hands, assuming, no doubt, that the angry concubine would not be slow to cling to his hair with her conjugal claws.

“To hell with it! Here's your wedding! - he thought to himself, evading his strongly advancing wife. - We'll have to refuse a good person for nothing, my God, why such an attack on us sinners! and there is so much rubbish in the world, and you have also spawned a zhinok!

Don't be shy, little larva,
Still green;
Do not scoff, little goat,
You are young!
Little Russian. song

The lad in a white coat, sitting by his wagon, gazed distractedly at the people muffled around him. The weary sun was leaving the world, calmly passing through its noon and morning; and the fading day blushed captivatingly and brightly. The tops of the white tents and yaks shone dazzlingly, overshadowed by some barely perceptible fiery pink light. The windows of the heaped windows were on fire; the green flasks and cups on the tables at the taverns turned into fiery ones; mountains of melons, watermelons and pumpkins seemed to be poured from gold and dark copper. The conversation noticeably became less frequent and muffled, and the tired tongues of outbidders, peasants and gypsies turned more lazily and more slowly. Somewhere, a light began to sparkle, and the fragrant steam from the boiled dumplings wafted through the quiet streets.

What did you grieve about, Gritsko? - shouted a tall, tanned gypsy, hitting our lad on the shoulder. - Well, give the oxen for twenty!

You would be all oxen and oxen. Your tribe all would be self-interest only. Hook and deceive a good person.

Ugh, devil! yes, you were taken in earnest. Is it not out of vexation that he imposed a bride on himself?

No, it's not my way: I keep my word; what you have done, that will be forever. But the grunt Cherevik has no conscience, apparently, even half a shelyag: he said, and back ... Well, there’s nothing to blame him, he’s a stump, and it’s full. All these are the things of the old witch, whom we today with the boys on the bridge cursed on all sides! Eh, if I were a king or a great pan, I would be the first to hang all those fools who allow themselves to be saddled by women ...

Can you sell twenty oxen if we force Cherevik to give us Paraska?

Gritsko looked at him in bewilderment. In the swarthy features of the gypsy there was something malicious, caustic, base and at the same time arrogant: the person who looked at him was already ready to admit that great virtues seethed in this wonderful soul, but for which there is only one reward on earth - the gallows. The mouth that completely fell between the nose and the sharp chin, forever overshadowed by a caustic smile, small but lively eyes, like fire, and the lightning bolts of enterprises and intentions constantly changing on the face - all this seemed to require a special, just as strange for itself costume, which it was then on it. This dark brown caftan, the touch of which, it seemed, would turn it into dust; long black hair that fell over her shoulders in clumps; shoes worn on bare sunburned feet - all this seemed to have grown to him and constituted his nature.

I'll pay you not for twenty, but for fifteen, if you don't lie! - answered the lad, without taking his eyes off him.

For fifteen? OK! Look, do not forget: for fifteen! Here's a titmouse as a deposit!

- Well, what if you're lying?

Lie - your deposit!

Okay! Well, let's move on!

From bid, Roman ide, from now
just plant me bebekhiv,
and you, pan Homo, will not be without dashing.

From Little Russian. comedy

So the formidable cohabitant of Cherevika affectionately encouraged the priest who was cowardly clinging near the fence, who soon climbed onto the wattle fence and stood for a long time in perplexity on it, like a long, terrible ghost, measuring with his eye where it would be better to jump, and, finally, with a noise fell into the weeds.

Here's the trouble! Have you hurt yourself, have you broken your neck, God forbid? - solicitous Khivrya babbled.

Shh! Nothing, nothing, dearest Khavronya Nikiforovna! - the priest uttered painfully and in a whisper, rising to his feet, - turning off only the sores from the nettle, this snake-like cereal, in the words of the late father of the archpriest.

Let's go now to the hut; there is nobody there. And I was already thinking, Afanasy Ivanovich, that a sore or a sore throat stuck to you: no, yes and no. How are you doing? I heard that the pan-father has now got a lot of all sorts of things!

Sheer trifle, Khavronya Nikiforovna; the father received fifteen sacks of spring sacks for the whole fast, four sacks of millet, about a hundred knish, and if you count, there won’t be even fifty pieces, the eggs are mostly rotten. But truly sweet offerings, to put it roughly, are the only ones to be received from you, Khavronya Nikiforovna! continued the popovich, looking tenderly at her and slipping closer.

Here are your offerings, Afanasy Ivanovich! she said, putting bowls on the table and coyly buttoning up her jacket, which seemed to have been unbuttoned unintentionally.

I bet if this is not done by the cunning hands of all Evin's kind! - said the priest, taking up the tovchenichki and moving the dumplings with his other hand. “However, Khavronya Nikiforovna, my heart longs for food from you sweeter than all dumplings and dumplings.

Now I don’t know what else you want, Afanasy Ivanovich! answered the portly beauty, pretending not to understand.

Of course, your love, incomparable Khavronya Nikiforovna! - the priest uttered in a whisper, holding a dumpling in one hand, and hugging her wide waist with the other.

God knows what you are inventing, Afanasy Ivanovich! - said Khivrya, bashfully downcast her eyes. - What good! You might even want to kiss!

As for this, I’ll tell you at least about myself,” continued the popovich, “when I was, roughly speaking, still in the bursa, that’s how I remember now ...

Then barking and knocking at the gate were heard in the yard. Khivrya hastily ran out and returned all pale.

Well, Afanasy Ivanovich! we got caught with you; a bunch of people are knocking, and it seemed to me the voice of the godfathers ...

The dumpling stopped in the priest's throat... His eyes bulged out, as if some native of the other world had just paid him a visit before this.

Get in here! - Shouted the frightened Khivrya, pointing to the boards laid right under the ceiling on two crossbars, on which various household junk was littered.

Danger gave spirit to our hero. Having regained his composure a little, he jumped onto the couch and climbed carefully from there onto the boards; and Khivrya ran unconsciously to the gate, because the knocking was repeated in them with greater force and impatience.

But here is a miracle, mospan!
From Little Russian. comedy

A strange incident happened at the fair: everything was filled with a rumor that somewhere between the goods a red scroll had appeared. An old woman selling bagels seemed to see Satan in the form of a pig, who constantly leaned over the wagons, as if looking for something. This quickly spread to all corners of the already quiet camp; and everyone considered it a crime not to believe, despite the fact that the seller of bagels, whose mobile shop was next to the tavern, bowed all day unnecessarily and wrote with her feet the perfect semblance of her tidbit. This was joined by still increased news of a miracle seen by the volost clerk in a collapsed barn, so that by night they huddled closer and closer to each other; calm was destroyed, and fear prevented everyone from closing their eyes; and those who were not quite a brave dozen and stocked up on lodging for the night in huts, went home. Among the latter was Cherevik with his godfather and daughter, who, together with the guests who asked to come into their hut, made a strong knock, which frightened our Khivrya so much. Kuma is already a little taken aback. This could be seen from the fact that he twice drove with his cart around the yard until he found the hut. The guests, too, were in a merry mood, and entered without ceremony before the host himself. The wife of our Cherevik was sitting on pins and needles when they began to fumble around in all the corners of the hut.

What, godfather, - cried the godfather who came in, - are you still shaking with a fever?

Yes, he's not feeling well," answered Khivrya, looking uneasily at the planks laid under the ceiling.

Well, wife, get an eggplant in the cart! - the godfather said to his wife who came with him, - we draw it with good people; damned women scared us in such a way that it's a shame to say. After all, by God, brothers, we drove here for nothing! he continued, taking a sip from an earthenware mug. - I immediately put on a new hat, if the women do not take it into their heads to laugh at us. Yes, even if it really is Satan: what is Satan? Spit on his head! If only at that very moment he would take it into his head to stand here, for example, in front of me: if I were a dog’s son, if I didn’t put a muzzle under his very nose!

Why are you all of a sudden turned pale? - shouted one of the guests, who exceeded everyone with his head and always tried to show himself as a brave man.

I? .. The Lord is with you! dreamed?

The guests smiled. A contented smile appeared on the face of the eloquent brave man.

Where should he go now! - picked up the other, - his cheeks bloomed like poppies; now he is not Tsybulya, but a beet - or, better, the red scroll itself, which frightened people so much.

The eggplant rolled across the table and made the guests even happier than before. Here our Cherevik, who had been tormented by the red scroll for a long time and did not give rest for a minute to his curious spirit, proceeded to the godfather:

Say, be kind, godfather! I beg you, and I won’t interrogate the story about this damned scroll.

E, cum! it would not be suitable to tell at night, but only in order to please you and good people (at the same time he turned to the guests), who, I note, want to know about this curiosity just as much as you do. Well, be so. Listen!

Here he scratched his shoulders, wiped himself with his coat, put both hands on the table, and began:

Once, for what fault, by God, I don’t know anymore, they just kicked one devil out of hell.

How is it, comrade? - Cherevik interrupted, - how could it be that the devil was driven out of hell?

What to do, comrade? kicked out, and kicked out, like a peasant kicks a dog out of a hut. Maybe a whim came upon him to do some good deed, well, they showed the door. Damn, the poor man got so bored, so bored in hell that even to the loop. What to do? Let's get drunk with grief. Nested in that very barn, which, you saw, collapsed under the mountain and past which not a single good person will pass now without protecting himself in advance with the holy cross, and the devil has become such a reveler as you will not find among the lads. From morning to evening, it’s just that he’s sitting in a tavern! ..

Here again the strict Cherevik interrupted our narrator:

God knows what you're saying, godfather! How is it possible for someone to let the devil into the tavern? After all, he also has, thank God, both claws on his paws and horns on his head.

That's the thing, he was wearing a hat and mittens. Who will recognize him? I walked and walked - finally I had to drink everything that I had with me. Shinkar believed for a long time, then stopped. The devil had to pawn his red scroll, almost a third of the price, to the Jew, who was then chopping at the Sorochinskaya fair; pawned and said to him: “Look, Jew, I will come to you for a scroll exactly in a year: take care of it!” - and disappeared, as if in water. The Jew examined the scroll carefully: the cloth is such that you cannot get it in Mirgorod! and the red color burns like fire, so I wouldn’t have seen enough! It seemed to the Jew that it was boring to wait for the deadline. He scratched his peysiki, and even ripped off five chervonets from some visiting gentleman. I completely forgot about the term of the Jew. One day, in the evening, a man comes: “Well, Jew, give me back my scroll!” At first, the Jew did not recognize it, but after he saw it, he pretended that he had not seen it in his eyes. “What scroll? I don't have any scroll! I don't know your scroll!" He, lo and behold, is gone; only in the evening, when the Jew, having locked his kennel and counted the money in the chests, threw a sheet over himself and began to pray to God in the Jewish way, - he hears a rustle ... looking - pig snouts were put up in all the windows ...

Here, in fact, some indistinct sound was heard, very similar to the grunting of a pig; everyone turned pale ... Sweat broke out on the face of the narrator.

What? Cherevik said in fright.

Nothing! .. - the godfather answered, shaking all over.

As! one of the guests responded.

You said?..

Who snarled it?

God knows what we're up to! There is not anyone!

Everyone timidly began to look around and began to fumble in the corners. Khivrya was neither alive nor dead.

Oh you women! women! she said loudly. - Do you Cossacks and be husbands! You would have a spindle in your hands, but plant it by the comb! One person, maybe, God forgive me... The bench creaked under someone, and everyone rushed about like crazy.

This put our brave men to shame and made them take courage; the godfather took a sip from the mug and began to tell further:

The Jew froze; however, the pigs, on legs as long as stilts, climbed into the windows and instantly revived the Jew with wicker triplets, forcing him to dance higher than this bastard. The Jew - at his feet, confessed to everything ... Only the scrolls could not be returned soon. Pan was robbed on the road by some gypsy and sold the scroll to a dealer; she brought her back to the Sorochinskaya fair, but since then no one has bought anything from her. The repurchase wondered, wondered, and finally realized: it’s true, the red scroll was to blame. Not without reason, putting it on, I felt that something was pressing on her. Without thinking, without guessing for a long time, she threw it into the fire - demonic clothing does not burn! "Hey, that's a goddamn gift!" The repurchase managed and slipped into the cart one peasant who had taken out to sell oil. The fool rejoiced; But no one wants to ask for oil. “Oh, unkind hands threw a scroll!” He grabbed an ax and chopped her into pieces; lo and behold - and climbs one piece to another, and again a whole scroll. Having crossed himself, he grabbed with an ax another time, scattered the pieces all over the place and left. Only since then, every year, and just at the time of the fair, the devil with a pig's face walks all over the square, grunting and picking up pieces of his scroll. Now, they say, only the left sleeve is missing for him. Since then, people have denied that place, and now it will be a dozen years since there was no fair on it. Yes, the difficult one now pulled the assessor away from ...

The other half of the word froze on the lips of the narrator ...

The window rattled with a noise; the glass flew out, clinking, and a terrible pig's face stuck out, moving its eyes, as if asking: "What are you doing here, good people?"

... Pidzhav tail, mov dog,
Mov Kain, embarrassed, veil;

Tobacco flowed from the nose.
Kotlyarevsky, "Aeneid"

Horror gripped all those in the hut. Kum with his mouth open turned into stone; his eyes bulged, as if they wanted to shoot; open fingers remained motionless in the air. The tall brave man, in invincible fear, jumped up to the ceiling and hit his head on the crossbar; the boards slipped, and the popovich flew to the ground with a thunder and crack. “Ai! ouch! ouch! - one shouted desperately, falling down on a bench in horror and dangling his arms and legs on it. "Save!" bawled another, covering himself with a sheepskin coat. Kum, brought out of his petrification by a secondary fright, crawled in convulsions under the hem of his wife. The tall brave man climbed into the furnace, despite the narrow opening, and pushed himself behind the shutter. And Cherevik, as if doused with hot boiling water, grabbed a pot on his head instead of a hat, rushed to the doors and, like a madman, ran through the streets, not seeing the ground under him; fatigue alone made him slow down a bit. His heart was pounding like a mill mortar, sweat poured down in hail. Exhausted, he was ready to fall to the ground, when he suddenly heard that someone was chasing him from behind ... His spirit was busy ... “Damn! crap!" he shouted without memory, tripling his strength, and a minute later he fell senseless to the ground. "Crap! crap!" - shouted after him, and he only heard how something with a noise rushed at him. Then his memory flew away from him, and he, like a terrible inhabitant of a cramped coffin, remained mute and motionless in the middle of the road.

More in front i so, i so;
And zzadu, to hell with her!
From a folk tale

Do you hear, Vlas, - one of the crowd of people sleeping on the street said, rising at night, - someone mentioned the devil near us!

What do I care? - grumbled, stretching, the gypsy lying next to him, - if only he remembered all his relatives.

But he screamed so loudly, as if they were crushing him!

You never know what a person will not lie awake!

Your will, at least you need to look; and put out the fire!

Another gypsy, muttering to himself, got to his feet, twice illuminated himself with sparks, like lightning, fanned the tinder with his lips, and, with a kagan in his hands, an ordinary Little Russian lamp, consisting of a broken shard poured with mutton fat, set off, illuminating the road.

Stop! there lies something; shine here!

Here they sent a few more people to them.

What lies, Vlas?

So, as if there were two people: one above, the other below; Which one of them the hell, I don’t even recognize!

And who is at the top?

Well, this is exactly what the devil is!

The general laughter woke up almost the entire street.

Baba climbed on a man; Well, that's right, this woman knows how to ride! - said one of the surrounding crowd.

Look brothers! - said another, picking up a shard from a pot, of which only the surviving half rested on Cherevik's head, - what a hat this good fellow put on himself!

The increased noise and laughter forced our dead men to wake up, Solopiy and his wife, who, full of past fright, gazed for a long time in horror with motionless eyes at the swarthy faces of the gypsies: illumined by a light that burned unsteadily and tremblingly, they seemed to be a wild host of gnomes surrounded by heavy underground steam, in the darkness of an unbreakable night.

Tzur tobi, pek tobi, sataninsk

guidance!

From the Little Russian comedy

Yawning and stretching, Cherevik dozed by his godfather, under a thatched barn, between oxen, sacks of flour and wheat, and, it seems, had no desire to part with his dreams, when he suddenly heard a voice as familiar as the refuge of laziness - a blessed oven his hut or the tavern of a distant relative, which was not more than ten steps from his doorstep.

Get up, get up! - the tender wife rattled in his ear, pulling his arm with all her might.

Cherevik, instead of answering, puffed out his cheeks and began to dangle his arms, imitating the beat of a drum.

Crazy! she cried, evading a wave of his hand, with which he almost brushed her face.

Cherevik got up, rubbed his eyes a little and looked around.

Enemy take me, if, my dear, your mug did not seem to me like a drum, on which I was forced to beat out dawn, like a Muscovite, those very pig mugs, from which, as the godfather says ...

It's enough, it's enough for you to grind nonsense! Go and bring the mare for sale. Laughter, really, to people: they came to the fair and at least sold a handful of hemp ...

Why, zhinka, - Solopy picked up, - they will laugh at us now.

Go! go! laughing at you already!

You see that I haven't washed my face yet,” Cherevik continued, yawning and scratching his back, trying, among other things, to buy time for his laziness.

Here inopportunely came the whim to be clean! When did this happen to you? Here is a towel, wipe your mask ...

Then she grabbed something folded into a ball - and with horror threw it away from her: it was a red cuff of a scroll!

Go and do your job, - she repeated, gathering her courage, to her husband, seeing that fear had taken away his legs and his teeth were pounding one against the other.

There will be a sale now! he grumbled to himself, untying the mare and leading her to the square. - Not without reason, when I was going to this accursed fair, my heart was so heavy, as if someone had loaded a dead cow on you, and the oxen turned home twice. Yes, almost still, as I now remembered, we did not leave on Monday. Well, that's all evil!.. The damned devil is also restless: he would already wear a scroll without one sleeve; so no, you need to give good people no peace. If, approximately, I was a devil - what, God forbid - would I have been dragging myself around at night for the damned rags?

Here our Cherevik's philosophizing was interrupted by a thick and harsh voice. Before him stood a tall gypsy.

What are you selling, good man?

The seller paused, looked at him from head to toe and said with a calm look, without stopping and without letting go of the bridle:

You can see what I'm selling!

Straps? - asked the gypsy, looking at the bridle in his hands.

Yes, thongs, if only the mare looks like thongs.

But, damn it, fellow countryman, you obviously fed her with straw!

Straw?

Here Cherevik wanted to pull the bridle in order to lead his mare and expose the shameless reproach of lies, but his hand hit his chin with unusual ease. He looked - there was a cut bridle in it and tied to the bridle - oh, horror! his hair stood up like a mountain! - a piece of the red sleeve of a scroll! .. Spitting, crossing himself and dangling his hands, he ran from an unexpected gift and, faster than a young lad, disappeared into the crowd.

For my life, I was beaten.
Proverb

- Catch! catch him! shouted several lads at the cramped end of the street, and Cherevik felt that he was suddenly seized by strong hands.

Knit it! this is the one who stole the mare from the good man!

The Lord is with you! why are you knitting me?

He does ask! And why did you steal a mare from a visiting peasant, Cherevik?

You guys are crazy! Where have you seen a man steal something from himself?

Old stuff! old stuff! Why did you run with all your might, as if Satan himself were chasing after you?

Willy-nilly you will run when satanic clothes...

Hey dove! deceive others with it; You will also receive from the assessor for not frightening people with devilry.

Catch! catch him! A scream was heard from the other end of the street. - Here he is, here is the fugitive!

And our godfather appeared before the eyes of our Cherevik, in the most miserable position, with his hands laid back, led by several lads.

Miracles started, - said one of them. - Would you listen to what this swindler tells, who only has to look into his face to see a thief; when they began to ask why he ran like a madman, he reached, he says, into his pocket to sniff some tobacco and instead of a tavlinka pulled out a piece of a damned scroll, from which a red fire flared up, and he, God forbid, legs!

Ege-ge-ge! Yes, both birds are from the same nest! Knit them both together!

“Chim, good people, so have I been guilty?
What are you mumbling for? - saying our neborak. -
Why do you care about me like that?
For what, for what? - having said that, having let down the patioki,
Patyoks of hot sliz, clinging to the sides.
Artemovsky-Gulak, “Pan that dog”

- Maybe, in fact, godfather, you picked up something? asked Cherevik, lying bound, together with his godfather, under a straw yatka.

And you are there, godfather! So that I can rest my arms and legs if I have ever stolen anything, except perhaps turning off dumplings with sour cream from my mother, and even then even when I was about ten years old.

Why, godfather, to attack us like that? Nothing else for you; you are blamed, at least for stealing from another; but why should I, an unfortunate man, receive such an unkind slander: as if he had stolen a mare from himself? It can be seen that we, godfather, have already been written in the family not to have happiness!

Woe to us poor orphans!

At this the two cousins began to sob uncontrollably.

What's the matter with you, Solopiy? - said Gritsko, who entered at that time. - Who tied you up?

BUT! Golopupenko, Golopupenko! - shouted, delighted, Solopy. - Here, godfather, this is the one I told you about. Eh, grab! God, kill me in this place, if you didn’t dry out a little kuhol not the size of your head in front of me, and frowned at least once.

Why, godfather, did you not respect such a glorious lad?

So, as you can see,” Cherevik continued, turning to Gritsk, “God punished, apparently, for having sinned against you. Forgive me, good man! By God, I would be glad to do everything for you ... But what do you order? The devil is in the old woman!

I'm not vindictive, Solopiy. If you want, I will free you! - Here he winked at the lads, and the same ones who were guarding him rushed to untie them. - For that and you do as you need: a wedding! - Yes, and we will feast so that the legs hurt from hopak for a whole year.

Dobre! from good! - said Solopiy, clapping his hands. - Yes, I now became so cheerful, as if my old Muscovites had taken away. But what to think: it suits or it doesn’t suit so - today is a wedding, and ends in the water!

- Look, Solopy, in an hour I will be with you; now go home: the buyers of your mare and wheat are waiting for you there!

How! did you find the mare?

Found!

Cherevik became motionless for joy, looking after the departing Gritsko.

What, Gritsko, did we do our job badly? - said the tall gypsy to the lad in a hurry. - Are the oxen mine now?

Yours! yours!

Don't fight, motinko, don't fight,
Put on your shoes in red chobitki.
Trample the enemies
Pid legs;
Sob your podkivki
They rumbled!
Sob your enemies
Movchali!
wedding song

Resting her pretty chin on her elbow, Paraska thought, sitting alone in the hut. Many dreams twined around the blond head. Sometimes, suddenly, a slight smile touched her scarlet lips and some kind of joyful feeling raised her dark eyebrows, and sometimes again a cloud of thoughtfulness lowered them onto her bright brown eyes. “Well, what if what he said does not come true? she whispered, with an air of doubt. - Well, what if they don't give me away? if... No, no; it will not happen! The stepmother does whatever she pleases; can't I do what I want? Stubbornness is enough for me. How good is he! how wonderfully his black eyes burn! as he likes, he says: Parasya, my dear! how the white scroll stuck to him! I wish there was a brighter belt!.. let it be, though, I'll tell him how we move on to live in a new hut. I won’t think without joy,” she continued, taking out of her bosom a small mirror pasted over with red paper, bought by her at the fair, and looking into it with secret pleasure, “how I will meet her somewhere then, I will bow, even if she cracks herself. No, stepmother, stop beating your stepdaughter! Rather than sand rise on a stone and an oak tree bend into the water like a willow, than I bend down before you! Yes, I forgot ... let me try on a cap, even a stepmother, somehow I will have to! Here she got up, holding a mirror in her hands, and, leaning her head towards it, walked tremblingly around the hut, as if afraid of falling, seeing under her instead of the floor a ceiling with boards laid under it, from which the priest had recently fallen, and shelves lined with pots. . “What am I, really, like a child,” she cried, laughing, “I’m afraid to step foot.” And she began to stamp her feet, all the further, bolder; Finally, her left hand dropped and rested on her side, and she went to dance, rattling her horseshoes, holding a mirror in front of her and singing her favorite song:

Little green barvinochka, Creep low! And you, dear, dark-skinned, Snuggle up close!

Little green barvinochka, Cultivate cabbage soup below! And those, dear, black-shaven, Snuggle closer!

That's good, dad and daughter started a wedding here themselves! Go quickly: the bridegroom has come!

At the last word, Paraska flared brighter than the scarlet ribbon that tied her head, and her careless father remembered why he had come.

Well, daughter! let's go soon! Khivrya, happy that I had sold the mare, ran away, - he said, looking around timidly, - ran to buy plakht and all sorts of sackcloth for herself, so you need to finish everything before her arrival!

No sooner had Paraska crossed the threshold of the hut than she felt herself in the arms of a lad in a white coat, who, with a bunch of people, was waiting for her in the street.

God bless! - said Cherevik, folding his hands. - Let them live like wreaths weave!

Then there was a noise among the people:

I'd rather crack than let it happen! - Shouted the concubine Solopia, who, however, was pushed away with laughter by the crowd of people.

Don't freak out, don't freak out, bitch! - said Cherevik coolly, seeing that a pair of burly gypsies took possession of her hands, - what's done is done; I don't like change!

Not! No! this will not happen! shouted Khivrya, but no one listened to her; several couples surrounded the new couple and formed an impenetrable dancing wall around her.

A strange, inexplicable feeling would have seized the viewer at the sight of how, from a single blow with the bow of a musician, in a homespun scroll, with long twisted mustaches, everything turned, willy or not, to unity and passed into harmony. People, on whose gloomy faces, it seems, a smile did not slip for a century, stamped their feet and trembled their shoulders. Everything rushed. Everything danced. But an even stranger, even more inexplicable feeling would have awakened in the depths of the soul at the sight of old women, on whose shabby faces the indifference of the grave wafted, jostling between a new, laughing, living person. Careless! even without childish joy, without a spark of sympathy, which only drunkenness, like a mechanic of his lifeless automaton, forces to do something similar to a human, they quietly shook their tipsy heads, dancing after the merry people, not even turning their eyes to the young couple.

Thunder, laughter, songs were heard quieter and quieter. The bow was dying, weakening and losing indistinct sounds in the void of air. There was still a stomping sound somewhere, something like the murmur of a distant sea, and soon everything became empty and muffled.

Is it not so that joy, a beautiful and fickle guest, flies away from us, and in vain does a lonely sound think to express joy? In his own echo, he already hears sadness and the desert, and dimo listens to him. Is it not so that the frisky friends of a stormy and free youth, one by one, one by one, get lost in the world and finally leave one of their old brothers? Bored left! And the heart becomes heavy and sad, and there is nothing to help it.

Illustrations: I.E. Khrabrova. N.V. Gogol. Sorochinskaya fair. - 4th edition. - Edition of A.F. Marx 1903.

Part 1. Preface
Evening on the eve of Ivan Kupala

Wealthy peasant Solopy Cherevik goes to the local fair in Sorochintsy to sell wheat and a horse. He is accompanied by the beautiful daughter Paraska and the grumpy wife Khavronya. On the way, they meet a group of lads (young guys), one of them, bearing the name Gritsko, falls in love with a peasant daughter at first sight.

"- Glorious girl! continued the lad in the white coat, without taking his eyes off her. - I would give all my household to kiss her. And here is the devil sitting ahead!

With these words, a skirmish began between Solopiy's wife and Gritsko, who at the end threw mud at her. Khavronya grumbled the rest of the way and was able to calm down only upon arrival in the suburbs to their old friend and godfather Tsybulya.

Meanwhile, Gritsko finds Solopiy and his daughter at the fair and bluntly offers to woo them. The father does not mind, but upon arrival home, the evil wife (Prasky's stepmother) dissuades her weak-willed husband from marrying the couple with the beautiful Praska.

Gritsko finds out about it. Disappointed by the refusal, he wanders around the fair, where he meets a gypsy who offers his help, but in return asks for Cherevik's horse.

Out of fear of losing the goods, Cherevik and his godfather go to guard the wagon with wheat, and Khavronya, taking advantage of the absence of her husband, brings her lover, the priest's son, to the hut and treats him with various dishes. After a short dinner, Popovich tries to persuade the hostess to move on to love pleasures. Unexpectedly, they hear Solopiy and his godfather returning. Khavronya hides her unfortunate lover on boards placed under the ceiling.

The reason for the hasty return of her husband was a local legend about the curse of the Sorochinskaya fair. Solopy asks the godfather to tell the legend in more detail and sitting down at the table, the godfather begins his story. “In the local tavern (inn), the devil himself was drinking, and he spent so much money that he had to give his caftan to the owner of the tavern. The Shinkar sold the devil's clothes, and the demon, who went in search, found out that his caftan was torn to shreds, because it brought misfortune to its owners. Scraps of clothing, according to local residents, are scattered throughout the fair. Suddenly, the godfather and Cherevik see a pig's snout in the window, and the general turmoil is intensified by the priest's son who has fallen from the ceiling. Cherevik runs out with a frightened cry: “Damn, damn!”, followed by his wife. Found them soon, lying on the road, scared to death and laughed.

The next morning, Solopiy again goes to the fair. During the auction, the gypsy distracts him with a conversation, meanwhile someone takes his horse away from him, and leaves a tied cuff from a red caftan on the bridle. Having discovered the loss, Solopiy, out of fear, runs aimlessly, but in the crowd he is caught by a group of Cossacks. He tells them about what happened, but they do not believe him, accusing him of stealing his own horse. Solopiy is tied up and, together with the godfather (who stood up for a friend), they are thrown into a barn. After some time, the unfortunate finds Gritsko. In exchange for a promise to marry him, Paraska helps to free himself. Upon returning home, the peasant finds in the stall not only the missing horse, but also buyers for wheat.

Mini is boring to live in a hati.
Oh take me out of the house
De rich to thunder, thunder,
De goptsyuyut all the divkas,
Where the couples are walking!
From an old legend.

Gogol. Sorochinskaya fair. audiobook

Lonely in the side dragged a wagon loaded with sacks, hemp, linen and various household luggage, behind which he wandered, in a clean linen shirt and soiled linen trousers, his owner. With a lazy hand, he wiped the sweat that rolled in a hail from his swarthy face and even dripped from his long mustache, powdered by that inexorable hairdresser who, without a call, comes to both the beautiful and the ugly, and forcibly powders the entire human race for several thousand years. Beside him walked a mare tied to a wagon, whose humble appearance betrayed her advanced years. Many oncoming ones, and especially young lads, took hold of their hats as they caught up with our peasant. However, it was not his gray mustache and his important step that forced him to do this; one had only to raise their eyes a little upward to see the reason for such deference: on the cart sat a pretty daughter with a round face, with black eyebrows rising in even arches above her light brown eyes, with pink lips smiling nonchalantly, with red and blue ribbons tied around her head, which , together with long braids and a bunch of wild flowers, rested on her charming head with a rich crown. Everything seemed to occupy her; everything was wonderful, new to her ... and her pretty eyes were constantly running from one object to another. How not to get lost! first time at the fair! A girl at eighteen years old for the first time at a fair! ... But not one of the passers-by and travelers knew what it cost her to beg her father to take with her, who would have been glad to do it with her soul before, if not for the evil stepmother, who learned to keep him in in his hands as deftly as he wields the reins of his old mare, dragged for a long service now for sale. A restless wife ... but we forgot that she, too, was immediately sitting at the height of the wagon in an elegant green woolen jacket, on which, as if on ermine fur, tails of only red color were sewn, in a rich plank, speckled like a chessboard, and her colored cap, which gave some special importance to her red, full face, over which something so unpleasant, so wild slipped through, that everyone immediately hurried to transfer their anxious glance to the cheerful little face of their daughter.

The eyes of our travelers have already begun to open Pselus; from afar there was already a breath of coolness, which seemed more perceptible after the languishing, destructive heat. Through the dark and light green leaves of sapwoods, birches and poplars carelessly scattered across the meadow, fiery sparks, dressed in cold, sparkled, and the beautiful river brilliantly bared its silver chest, on which green curls of trees fell magnificently. Wayward, as she is in those delightful hours, when the faithful mirror so enviably contains her full of pride and dazzling brilliance, her brow, lilac shoulders and marble neck, overshadowed by a dark wave that has fallen from her blond head, when with contempt she throws only jewelry to replace them others, and there is no end to her whims - almost every year she changes her surroundings, chooses a new path for herself and surrounds herself with new, diverse landscapes. Rows of mills lifted their wide waves onto heavy wheels and powerfully threw them, breaking them into spray, sprinkling dust and making noise around the surroundings. At that time, a cart with passengers we knew rode onto the bridge, and the river, in all its beauty and grandeur, like solid glass, stretched out before them. The sky, green and blue forests, people, carts with pots, mills - everything overturned, stood and walked upside down, without falling into the blue, beautiful abyss. Our beauty fell into thought, looking at the luxury of the view, and forgot even to peel her sunflower, which she regularly did all the way, when suddenly the words “oh yes, maiden!” struck her ear. Looking around, she saw a crowd of lads standing on the bridge, one of whom, dressed more splendidly than the others, in a white coat and in a gray hat of Reshetilov fur coats, leaning on his hips, looked gallantly at the passers-by. The beauty could not fail to notice his tanned, but full of pleasantness, face and fiery eyes, which seemed to strive to see right through her, and lowered her eyes at the thought that perhaps the spoken word belonged to him. "Glorious girl! continued the lad in the white coat, without taking his eyes off her. - I would give all my household to kiss her. And here is the devil sitting ahead! Laughter rose from all sides; but such a greeting did not seem too much to the discharged concubine of her slowly speaking husband: her red cheeks turned into fiery ones, and the crackle of choice words rained down on the head of the riotous lad:

So that you choke, you worthless barge hauler! So that your father is hit with a pot in the head! May he slip on the ice, damned Antichrist! May the devil burn his beard in the next world!

Centennial! - picked up the old beauty. - Wicked! come on, wash up ahead! Bad tomboy! I haven't seen your mother, but I know it's rubbish! and the father is rubbish! and the aunt is rubbish! Centennial! that he still has milk on his lips ... - Here the wagon began to descend from the bridge, and it was already impossible to hear the last words; but the lad did not seem to want to end with this: without thinking for a long time, he grabbed a lump of dirt and threw it after her. The blow was more successful than one could have imagined: the entire new calico ochipok was spattered with mud, and the laughter of the reckless rake doubled with renewed vigor. The portly dandy seethed with anger; but the cart had driven quite a distance at that time, and her revenge turned on her innocent stepdaughter and slow cohabitant, who, having long been accustomed to such phenomena, maintained stubborn silence and coolly accepted the rebellious speeches of an angry wife. However, despite this, her tireless tongue crackled and dangled in her mouth until they arrived in the suburbs to an old acquaintance and godfather, the Cossack Tsybulya. The meeting with godfathers, who had not been seen for a long time, drove this unpleasant incident out of their heads for a while, forcing our travelers to talk about the fair and rest a little after a long journey.

II

What God, you are my Lord! Why is there no one at this fair! wheels, sklo, tar, tyutyun, belt, tsybulya, all sorts of kramari ... so, if only ruble and thirty rubles were in the kesheni, then even then I would not have bought the fairs.
From the Little Russian comedy.

You must have heard somewhere a distant waterfall tumbling, when the alarmed surroundings are full of hum and a chaos of wonderful, obscure sounds whirls before you. Isn't it true, isn't it the very same feelings that will instantly seize you in the whirlwind of a rural fair, when the whole people coalesces into one huge monster and moves with its whole body in the square and through the cramped streets, shouting, cackling, thundering? Noise, abuse, lowing, bleating, roaring - everything merges into one discordant dialect. Oxen, sacks, hay, gypsies, pots, women, gingerbread, hats - everything is bright, motley, discordant; rushing about in heaps and scurrying about before your eyes. Discordant speeches drown each other, and not a single word will be snatched out, will not be saved from this flood; not a single cry is spoken clearly. Only the clapping on the hands of the merchants is heard from all sides of the fair. The cart breaks, the iron rings, the boards thrown to the ground rattle, and the dizzy head is perplexed where to turn. Our visiting peasant with his black-browed daughter had long been jostling among the people. Approached one cart, felt another, applied to prices; and meanwhile his thoughts tossed and turned unceasingly about ten sacks of wheat and an old mare he had brought for sale. It was evident from the face of his daughter that she was not too pleased to rub herself near the wagons with flour and wheat. She would like to go where red ribbons, earrings, pewter, copper crosses and ducats are elegantly hung under the linen yatkas. But even here, however, she found many objects for herself to observe: she was amused to the extreme, as the gypsies and peasants beat each other on the hands, screaming out in pain themselves; how a drunken Jew gave a woman jelly; how quarreled buyouts were exchanged with abuse and crayfish; like a Muscovite, stroking his goat's beard with one hand, with the other ... But then she felt someone pull her by the embroidered sleeve of her shirt. She looked around - and a lad, in a white coat, with bright eyes, stood in front of her. Her veins quivered, and her heart beat like never before, with no joy, no grief: it seemed wonderful, and it seemed to her, and she herself could not explain what was happening to her. "Don't be afraid, dear, don't be afraid! - he said to her in an undertone, taking her hand, - I will not say anything bad to you! “Maybe it’s true that you won’t say anything bad! - the beauty thought to herself, - only it’s wonderful for me ... it’s true, this is crafty! You yourself, it seems, know that this is not good ... but you don’t have the strength to take his hand from him. The peasant looked around and wanted to say something to his daughter, but a word was heard to the side: wheat. This magic word forced him, at that very moment, to join the two loudly talking merchants, and nothing was able to entertain the attention that was riveted to them. Here is what the merchants said about wheat:

III

Chi bachish wine like a guy?
On retinue trochs there are such.
Sivuhu so, mov braga, dude!
Kotlyarevsky. Aeneid

So you think, countryman, that our wheat will go badly? - said a man who looked like a visiting tradesman, an inhabitant of some shtetl, in motley, tar-stained and greasy trousers, to another in a blue, in places already patched, scroll and with a huge bump on his forehead.

Yes, there is nothing to think here; I'm ready to throw a noose on myself and dangle from this tree like sausage before Christmas on a hut, if we sell at least one measure.

Who are you, fellow countryman, fooling? After all, there is no import at all, except for ours, ”the man in the motley trousers objected. “Yes, tell yourself what you want,” our beauty’s father thought to himself, not missing a single word from the conversation of the two merchants, “but I have ten bags in reserve.”

That's just it, if there's devilry mixed up somewhere, then expect as much good as from a hungry Muscovite, - the man with a bump on his forehead said significantly.

What the hell? - picked up the man in the motley trousers.

Have you heard what the people say? continued, with a bump on his forehead, looking askance at him with his gloomy eyes.

Well, that's it! The assessor, so that he would not have to wipe his lips after the master's plum brandy, set aside a cursed place for the fair, where, even if you crack, you won’t let down a single grain. Do you see that old, ruined barn that stands over there under the mountain? - (Here the curious father of our beauty moved even closer and seemed to turn into attention.) - In that shed every now and then, there are devilish tricks; and not a single fair in this place was held without misfortune. Yesterday the volost clerk passed late in the evening, just looking - a pig's snout was exposed through the dormer window and grunted so that the frost hit his skin; just wait for it to show up again red scroll !

What is this red scroll ?

Ege, ge, ge, countryman! Yes, you are a master, as I see, hugging! Damn it, if not only on the fourth day after the wedding I learned to hug my late Khveska, and even then thanks to my godfather: the former friend already figured it out.

The lad noticed at the same hour that his dear father was not too far away, and in his thoughts he began to draw up a plan, as it were, to persuade him in his favor. “You are truly a kind person, you don’t know me, but I immediately recognized you.”

Maybe he knew.

If you want, I’ll tell you the name, and the nickname, and all sorts of things: your name is Solopy Cherevik.

Yes, Solopy Cherevik.

Take a good look: don't you recognize me?

No, I don't know. Do not be said in anger, for a century I had a chance to see enough of all sorts of faces that the devil will remember them all!

It's a pity you don't remember Golopupenkov's son!

Are you like Ohrimov's son?

But who? Is it only one bald didko if not him.

Here the friends grabbed their hats, and kissing began; our son Golopupenkov, however, without wasting time, decided at that very moment to lay siege to his new acquaintance.

Well, Solopy, as you can see, your daughter and I have fallen in love with each other so that at least we can live together forever.

Well, Paraska, - said Cherevik, turning around and laughing to his daughter, - maybe, in fact, so that, as they say, together and that ... so that they grazed on the same grass! What? deal? Come on, newborn son-in-law, let's go to the mogarych! - and all three found themselves in a well-known fair restaurant - under a yatka near a Zhidovka, dotted with a numerous flotilla of salts, bottles, flasks of all kinds and ages. - Hey, grab! for that I love it! - said Cherevik, having a little walk and seeing how his betrothed son-in-law poured out a mug, the size of half a quart, and, without frowning in the least, drank it to the bottom, then grabbing it to smithereens. - What do you say, Paraska? What a groom I got you! Look, look: how bravely he pulls the foam! .. - and, chuckling and swaying, he wandered with her to his wagon, and our lad went along the rows with red goods, in which there were merchants even from Gadyach and Mirgorod - two famous cities Poltava province - to look out for the best wooden cradle in a dandy copper frame, a flowery scarf over a red field and a hat for wedding gifts to father-in-law and everyone who should.

IV

Though the people are not one,
Yes, if you run zhinci, tee,
So you need to please ...
Kotlyarevsky

Well, girl! and I found a groom for my daughter!

Here, just before now, to look for suitors. Fool, fool! You, right, are destined to stay like that! Where did you see, where did you hear that a good man was now running after suitors? You would think better how to sell wheat from your hands; the groom must be good too! I think the most ragged of all the hungry.

Eh, no matter how, you would have looked, what kind of a lad is there! One scroll is worth more than your green jacket and red boots. How about a sivuhu important blowing ... Damn me along with you, if I saw in my lifetime that a lad pulled out half a quart in spirit without grimacing.

Well, so: if he is a drunkard, yes a tramp, so be his suit. I bet if it's not the same tomboy who followed us on the bridge. It is a pity that he has not come across to me yet: I would have let him know.

Well, Khivrya, even the same one; why is he a tomboy?

E! what a tomboy he is! Oh, you brainless head! hear! what a tomboy he is! Where did you hide your foolish eyes when we passed the mills; if only they had inflicted dishonor on his wife right there, in front of his tobacco-stained nose, he would not have needed anything.

All the same, I do not see anything bad in him; guy anywhere! Only except that for a moment he sealed your image with manure.

Hey! Yes, as I see, you won’t let me utter a word! What does it mean? When did this happen to you? True, I already managed to sip without selling anything ...

Here our Cherevik himself noticed that he was talking too much, and in an instant covered his head with his hands, assuming without a doubt that the angry concubine would not be slow to cling to his hair with her conjugal claws. “To hell with it! Here's your wedding! - he thought to himself, evading his strongly advancing wife. - We'll have to refuse a good man for nothing, for nothing. Lord, my God, why attack us sinners like this! and so much all sorts of rubbish in the world, and you also spawned a zhinok!

V

Don't cheat on the larva
Are you green?
Do not scoff at the goat
You are young!
Little Russian. song

The lad in a white coat, sitting by his wagon, gazed distractedly at the people muffled around him. The weary sun was leaving the world, calmly passing through its noon and morning; and the fading day blushed captivatingly and brightly. The tops of the white tents and yaks shone dazzlingly, overshadowed by some barely perceptible fiery pink light. The windows of the heaped windows were on fire; green flasks and cups on the tables at the taverns turned into fiery ones; mountains of melons, watermelons and pumpkins seemed to be poured from gold and dark copper. The conversation noticeably became less frequent and muffled, and the tired tongues of outbidders, peasants and gypsies turned more lazily and more slowly. Somewhere, a light began to sparkle, and the fragrant steam from the boiled dumplings wafted through the quiet streets. “What are you grieving about, Gritsko? - shouted a tall, tanned gypsy, hitting our lad on the shoulder. - Well, give the oxen for twenty!

You would have all oxen, yes oxen. Your tribe all would be self-interest only. Hook, yes deceive a good person.

Ugh, devil! yes, you were taken in earnest. Is it not out of vexation that he imposed a bride on himself?

No, it's not my way; I keep my word; what you have done, that will be forever. But the grunt Cherevik has no conscience, apparently, even half a shelyag: he said, and back ... Well, there’s nothing to blame him, he’s a stump, and it’s full. All these are the things of the old witch, whom we today with the boys on the bridge cursed on all sides! Eh, if I were a king or a great pan, I would be the first to hang all those fools who allow themselves to be saddled by women ...

Can you sell twenty oxen if we force Cherevik to give us Paraska?

Gritsko looked at him in bewilderment. In the swarthy features of the gypsy there was something malicious, caustic, base and at the same time arrogant: the person who looked at him was already ready to admit that great virtues seethed in this wonderful soul, but for which there is only one reward on earth - the gallows. The mouth that completely fell between the nose and the sharp chin, forever overshadowed by a caustic smile, small but lively eyes, like fire, and the lightning bolts of enterprises and intentions constantly changing on the face - all this seemed to require a special, just as strange for itself costume, which it was then on it. This dark brown caftan, the touch of which, it seemed, would turn it into dust; long black hair that fell over her shoulders in clumps; shoes worn on bare, tanned feet - all this seemed to have grown to him and constituted his nature. “I’ll give you not for twenty, but for fifteen, if you don’t just lie!” - answered the lad, not taking his test eyes off him.

For fifteen? OK! Look, do not forget: for fifteen! Here's a titmouse as a deposit!

Well, what if you lie?

Lie - your deposit!

Okay! Well, let's move on!

VI

From the bid, Roman, go, from now, just to plant bebekhivs on me, and you, Pan Homo, will not be without a fuss.
From the Little Russian comedy

Over here, Afanasy Ivanovich! Here the wattle fence is lower, raise your leg, but don’t be afraid: my fool went all night with a godfather under the carts, so that the Muscovites wouldn’t pick up anything in case. - So the formidable cohabitant of Cherevik affectionately encouraged the priest who was cowardly clinging near the fence, who soon climbed onto the wattle fence and stood for a long time in perplexity on it, like a long, terrible ghost, measuring with his eye where it would be better to jump, and finally fell with a noise into the weeds.

Here's the trouble! Have you hurt yourself, have you broken your neck, God forbid? - solicitous Khivrya babbled.

Let's go now to the hut; there is nobody there. And I thought it was already, Afanasy Ivanovich, what to you sore or dormouse stuck. No, yes and no. How are you doing? I heard that the pan-father now got a lot of all sorts of things!

Sheer trifle, Khavronya Nikiforovna; the father received fifteen sacks of spring sacks for the whole fast, four sacks of millet, a hundred knyshas, and if you count, there won’t be even fifty pieces, the eggs are mostly rotten. But truly sweet offerings, to put it roughly, are the only ones to be received from you, Khavronya Nikiforovna! continued the popovich, looking tenderly at her and slipping closer.

Here is your offering, Afanasy Ivanovich! she said, putting the bowls on the table and coyly buttoning up her jacket, which had been unbuttoned unintentionally.

Now I don’t know what else you want, Afanasy Ivanovich! answered the portly beauty, pretending not to understand.

Of course, your love, incomparable Khavronya Nikiforovna! - the priest uttered in a whisper, holding a dumpling in one hand, and hugging her wide waist with the other.

God knows what you will invent, Afanasy Ivanovich! - said Khivrya, bashfully downcast her eyes. - What good! You might even want to kiss!

About this, I’ll tell you at least about myself,” continued the priest, “when I was, roughly speaking, still in the bursa, that’s how I remember now ...” Then barking and a knock on the gate were heard in the yard. Khivrya hastily ran out and returned all pale. “Well, Afanasy Ivanovich! we got caught with you; a bunch of people are knocking, and I thought the voice of godfathers ... ". - The dumpling stopped in the throat of the popovich ... His eyes bulged out, as if some native of the other world had just paid him a visit before this. - "Get in here!" Shouted the frightened Khivrya, pointing to boards laid right under the ceiling on two crossbars, on which various household junk was piled. Danger gave spirit to our hero. Having come to his senses a little, he jumped up on the couch and climbed carefully from there onto the planks. And Khivrya ran unconsciously to the gate, because the knock was repeated in them with greater force and impatience.

VII

Yes, here is a miracle, mospan!
From Little Russian. comedy

A strange incident happened at the fair: everything was filled with rumors that somewhere between the goods appeared red scroll. The old woman who was selling bagels seemed to see Satan in the form of a pig, who constantly leaned over the wagons, as if looking for something. This quickly spread to all corners of the already quiet camp; and everyone considered it a crime not to believe, despite the fact that the seller of bagels, whose mobile shop was next to the tavern, bowed all day unnecessarily and wrote with her feet the perfect semblance of her tidbit. This was joined by still increased news of a miracle seen by the volost clerk in a collapsed barn, so that by night they huddled closer and closer to each other; calm was destroyed, and fear prevented everyone from closing their eyes; and those who were not quite a brave dozen and stocked up on lodging for the night in huts, went home. Among the latter was Cherevik with his godfather and daughter, who, together with the guests who asked to come into their hut, made a strong knock, which frightened our Khivrya so much. Kum was already a little taken aback. This could be seen from the fact that he twice drove with his cart around the yard until he found the hut. The guests, too, were in a merry mood, and entered without ceremony before the host himself. The wife of our Cherevik was sitting on pins and needles when they began to rummage around in all the corners of the hut. “What, kuma! - cried the godfather who entered, - are you still shaking with a fever? “Yes, he’s not well,” answered Khivrya, looking uneasily at the boards laid under the ceiling. “Well, wife, get an eggplant in the cart! - the godfather said to his wife, who came with him, - we will scoop it up with good people, otherwise the damned women scared us so much that it’s a shame to say. After all, by God, brothers, we drove here for nothing! he continued, taking a sip from an earthenware mug. - I immediately put on a new hat, if the women do not take it into their heads to laugh at us. Yes, even if it really is Satan: what is Satan? Spit on his head! If only he had decided to stand at that very moment, here, for example, in front of me: if I were a dog’s son, if I didn’t put a muzzle under his very nose! - "Why did you suddenly turn pale all over?" - shouted one of the guests, who exceeded everyone with his head and always tried to show himself as a brave man. “I… the Lord is with you! dreamed!" The guests smiled. A contented smile appeared on the face of the eloquent brave man. “Where can he turn pale now! - picked up the other, - his cheeks bloomed like poppies; now he is not a tsybulya, but a beet - or better, like that red scroll that scared people so much." The eggplant rolled across the table and made the guests even happier than before. Here is our Cherevik, whom she has long tormented red scroll and did not give rest for a minute to his curious spirit, he proceeded to the godfather. “Say, be kind, godfather! I beg you, and I won’t interrogate the story about this damned scroll».

E, cum! it would not be good to tell at night; Yes, perhaps already in order to please you and good people (at the same time he turned to the guests), who, I note, want to know about this curiosity just as much as you do. Well, be so. Listen! - Here he scratched his shoulders, wiped himself with his coat, put both hands on the table and began:

Once, for what fault, by God, I don’t know anymore, they just kicked one devil out of hell.

How is it, comrade? - Cherevik interrupted, - how could it be that the devil was driven out of hell?

What to do, comrade? kicked out, and kicked out, like a peasant kicks a dog out of a hut. Maybe a whim came upon him to do some good deed, well, and they showed the door. Here, the devil, the poor became so bored, so bored in hell that at least to the noose. What to do? Let's get drunk with grief. Nested in that very barn which, you saw, collapsed under the mountain, and past which not a single good man will now pass without protecting himself in advance with the holy cross, and the devil has become such a reveler as you will not find among the lads. From morning to evening, every now and then that he sits in a tavern! ..

Here again the strict Cherevik interrupted our narrator: “God knows what you are saying, godfather! How is it possible for someone to let the devil into the tavern? After all, he also has, thank God, both claws on his paws and horns on his head.

That's the thing, he was wearing a hat and mittens. Who will recognize him? I walked and walked - finally I had to drink everything that I had with me. Shinkar believed for a long time, then stopped. The devil had to pawn his red scroll, almost a third of the price, to the Jew, who was then chopping at the Sorochinskaya Fair; pawned and said to him: “Look, Jew, I will come to you for a scroll exactly in a year: take care of it!” - and disappeared, as if in water. Zhud examined the scroll carefully: the cloth is such that you cannot get it in Mirgorod! and the red color burns like fire, so I wouldn’t have seen enough! It seemed to the Jew that it was boring to wait for the deadline. He scratched his little dogs, and even ripped off almost five chervonets from some visiting gentleman. I completely forgot about the term of the Jew. One day, in the evening, a man comes: “Well, Jew, give me back my scroll!” At first, the Jew did not recognize it, but after he saw it, he pretended that he had not seen it in his eyes: “What scroll? I don't have any scroll! I don't know your scroll!" He, lo and behold, is gone; only in the evening, when the Jew, having locked his kennel and counted the money in the chests, threw a sheet over himself and began to pray to God in a Jewish way, he heard a rustle ... looking - pig snouts were exposed in all the windows ...

Here, in fact, some indistinct sound was heard, very similar to the grunting of a pig; everyone turned pale ... Sweat broke out on the face of the narrator.

What? Cherevik said in fright.

Nothing! .. - the godfather answered, shaking all over.

As! one of the guests responded.

You said…

Who snarled it?

God knows what we're up to! There is not anyone! - Everyone fearfully began to look around and began to fumble in the corners. Khivrya was neither alive nor dead. - Oh, you women! women! she said aloud, “should you be Cossacks and be husbands!” You would have a spindle in your hands, but plant it by the comb! One person, maybe, God forgive me... The bench creaked under someone, and everyone rushed about like crazy! - This brought shame to our brave men and made them take heart; the godfather took a sip from the mug and began to tell further: “The Jew froze; however, the pigs, on legs as long as stilts, climbed into the windows and instantly revived him with wicker triplets, forcing him to dance higher than this rabble. Jew at his feet, confessed to everything ... Only the scrolls could not be returned soon. Pan was robbed on the road by some gypsy and sold the scroll to a dealer; she brought her back to the Sorochinskaya fair, but since then no one has bought anything from her. The repurchase wondered, wondered, and finally realized: it’s true, the red scroll is to blame for everything. Not without reason, putting it on, I felt that something was pressing on her. Without thinking, without guessing for a long time, she threw it into the fire - demonic clothing does not burn! Hey, that's a goddamn present! The repurchase managed and slipped into the cart one peasant who had taken out to sell oil. The fool rejoiced; But no one wants to ask for oil. Eh, unkind hands threw a scroll! He grabbed an ax and chopped it into pieces; lo and behold - and climbs one piece to another, and again a whole scroll. Having crossed himself, he grabbed the ax another time, scattered the pieces all over the place and left. Only since then, every year, and just at the time of the fair, the devil with a pig's face walks all over the square, grunting and picking up pieces of his scroll. Now, they say, only the left sleeve is missing for him. Since then, people have denied that place, and now it will be a dozen years since there was no fair on it. Yes, the difficult one now pulled the assessor about ... ". The other half of the word froze on the narrator's lips:

The window rattled with a noise; the glass flew out, clinking, and a terrible pig's mug stuck out, moving its eyes, as if asking: what are you doing here, good people?

VIII

... Pijav whist, mov dog,
Mov Cain cowardly veil;
Tobacco dripped from his nose.
Kotlyarevsky. Aeneid

Horror shackled everyone in the hut. Kum with his mouth open turned into stone. His eyes bulged, as if they wanted to shoot; open fingers remained motionless in the air. A tall brave man, in invincible fear, jumped up to the ceiling and hit his head on the crossbar; the boards slipped, and the popovich flew to the ground with a thunder and crack. “Ai! ouch! ouch! - one shouted desperately, falling down on a bench in horror and dangling his arms and legs on it. - "Save!" bawled another, covering himself with a sheepskin coat. Kum, brought out of his petrification by a secondary fright, crawled in convulsions under the hem of his wife. The tall brave man climbed into the furnace, despite the narrow opening, and pushed himself behind the shutter. And Cherevik, as if doused with hot boiling water, grabbed a pot on his head instead of a hat, rushed to the doors and, like a half-wit, ran through the streets, not seeing the ground under him; fatigue alone made him slow down a bit. His heart was pounding like a mill mortar, sweat poured down in hail. Exhausted, he was ready to fall to the ground, when he suddenly heard that someone was chasing him from behind ... His spirit was busy ... “Damn! crap!" he shouted without memory, tripling his strength, and a minute later he fell senseless to the ground. "Crap! crap!" - shouted after him, and he only heard how something with a noise rushed at him. Then his memory flew away from him, and he, like a terrible inhabitant of a cramped coffin, remained mute and motionless in the middle of the road.

IX

Back in front, and so, and so;
And behind her, to hell with her!
From the common people fairy tales

Hear, Vlas! - said, rising, one of the crowd of people sleeping on the street, - near us, someone mentioned the devil!

What do I care? - grumbled, stretching, the gypsy lying next to him, - if only he remembered all his relatives.

But he screamed so loudly, as if they were crushing him!

You never know what a person will not lie awake!

Your will, at least you need to look; and put out the fire! - Another gypsy, grumbling to himself, got to his feet; twice he lit himself up with sparks, like lightning, blew out the tinder with his lips, and with a kagan in his hands, an ordinary Little Russian lamp, consisting of a broken shard poured with mutton fat, set off, illuminating the road. “Stop; something lies here: shine here!”

A few more people came up to them.

What lies, Vlas?

So, as if there were two people: one at the top, the other at the bottom; Which one of them the hell, I don’t even recognize!

And who is at the top?

Well, that's what the devil is! - General laughter woke up almost the entire street.

Baba climbed on a man; Well, that's right, this woman knows how to ride! - said one of the surrounding crowd.

Look brothers! - said another, picking up a shard from a pot, of which only the surviving half rested on Cherevik's head, - what a hat this good fellow put on himself! - The increased noise and laughter forced our dead men to wake up, Solopiy and his wife, who, full of past fright, looked for a long time in horror with motionless eyes at the swarthy faces of the gypsies. Illuminated by a light that burned unsteadily and tremulously, they seemed like a wild host of dwarfs, surrounded by heavy underground steam, in the darkness of an unbreakable night.

X

Tzur toby, bake toby, Satan's obsession!
From the Little Russian comedy

The freshness of the morning blew over the awakened Sorochintsy. Clouds of smoke from all chimneys rushed towards the emerging sun. The fair was bustling. The sheep bleated, the horses neighed; the cry of the geese and the merchants rushed again all over the camp - and terrible talk about red scroll, who brought such timidity to the people, in the mysterious hours of twilight, disappeared with the advent of morning. Yawning and stretching, Cherevik dozed by his godfather, under a thatched barn, together with oxen, sacks of flour and wheat, and, it seems, had no desire to part with his dreams, when suddenly he heard a voice, as familiar as the refuge of laziness - blessed the oven of his hut or tavern of a distant relative, located no further than ten steps from his threshold. "Get up, get up!" - the tender wife rattled in his ear, pulling his arm with all her might. Cherevik, instead of answering, puffed out his cheeks and began to dangle his arms, imitating the beat of a drum.

Crazy! she shouted, dodging the wave of his hands, with which he almost brushed her face. Cherevik got up, rubbed his eyes a little and looked around: “Enemy, take me, if, my dear, your mug didn’t seem like a drum on which I was forced to beat out dawn, like a Muscovite, those very pig faces, from which, as the godfather says ... "- “Enough, enough nonsense for you to grind! Go ahead and bring the mare in for sale. Laughter, really, to people: they came to the fair and at least sold a handful of hemp ... "

Why, zhinka, - Solopy picked up, - they will laugh at us now.

Go! go! laughing at you already!

You see that I haven't washed my face yet,” Cherevik continued, yawning and scratching his back, and trying, among other things, to buy time for his laziness.

Here inopportunely came the whim to be clean! When did this happen to you? Here is a towel, wipe off your mask ... - Then she grabbed something rolled up into a ball - and threw it away from herself in horror: it was red cuff scrolls!

Go, do your job, ”she repeated, gathering her courage, to her husband, seeing that fear had taken away his legs and his teeth were pounding one against the other.

“There will be a sale now! he grumbled to himself, untying the mare and leading her to the square. - Not without reason, when I was going to this accursed fair, my heart was so heavy, as if someone had loaded a dead cow on you, and the oxen turned home twice. Yes, almost still, as I now remembered, we did not leave on Monday. Well, that's all evil!.. The damned devil is also restless: he would already wear a scroll without one sleeve; so no, you need to give good people no peace. If, approximately, I'm the devil - what God protect: would I be dragging around at night for the damned rags?

Here our Cherevik's philosophizing was interrupted by a thick and harsh voice. Before him stood a tall gypsy: “What are you selling, good man?” The seller paused, looked at him from head to toe and said with a calm look, without stopping and without letting go of the bridle:

You can see what I'm selling!

Straps? - asked the gypsy, looking at the bridle in his hands.

Yes, thongs, if only the mare looks like thongs.

But, damn it, fellow countryman, you obviously fed her with straw!

Straw? - Here Cherevik wanted to pull the bridle in order to lead his mare and expose the shameless reproach of lies, but his hand hit his chin with unusual ease. He looked - there was a cut bridle in it and tied to the bridle - oh horror! his hair stood up like a mountain! - a piece red sleeve scrolls.. Spitting, crossing himself and dangling his hands, he ran away from the unexpected gift and, faster than the young lad, disappeared into the crowd.

XI

For my life, that’s what happened to me.
Proverb

Catch! catch him! shouted several lads at the cramped end of the street, and Cherevik felt suddenly seized by strong hands.

Knit it! this is the one who stole the mare from the good man.

The Lord is with you! why are you knitting me?

He does ask! And why did you steal a mare from a visiting peasant, Cherevik?

You guys are crazy! Where have you seen a man steal something from himself?

Old stuff! old stuff! Why did you run with all your might, as if Satan himself were chasing after you?

Willy-nilly you will run when satanic clothes...

Hey dove! deceive others with it; You will also receive from the assessor for not frightening people with devilry.

Catch! catch him! - a cry was heard from the other end of the street, - here he is, here is the fugitive! - and our godfather appeared in the eyes of our Cherevik, in the most miserable position, with his hands clasped back, led by several lads. “Miracles have begun! - said one of them, - you should have listened to what this swindler tells, who only needs to look into his face to see the thief, when they began to ask what he was running from like a half-wit. He reached into his pocket, he said, to sniff some tobacco and, instead of a tavlinka, pulled out a piece of damn scrolls, from which a red fire flared up, and God forbid his legs!

Ege, ge! Yes, both birds are from the same nest! Knit them both together!

XII

“Chym, good people, so why am I guilty?
What are you mumbling for?" - saying our neborak,
“Why are you bothering me like that?
For what, for what? - having said, let the patios go,
Patios of heavy tears, clinging to the sides.
Artemovsky-Gulak. pan that dog

Maybe, in fact, godfather, you picked up something? asked Cherevik, lying bound together with his godfather, under a straw yatka.

And you are there, godfather! So that my arms and legs would wither if I ever stole anything, except perhaps turning off dumplings with sour cream from my mother, and even then, when I was ten years old.

Why, godfather, to attack us like that? Nothing else for you; you are blamed at least for what you stole from another; why, then, to me, an unfortunate man, such an unkind slander: as if he pulled a mare from himself. It can be seen that we, godfather, have already been written in the family not to have happiness!

"Woe to us poor orphans!" At this the two cousins began to sob uncontrollably. “What is the matter with you, Solopiy? - said Gritsko, who entered at that time. "Who tied you up?"

BUT! Golopupenko, Golopupenko! - shouted, delighted, Solopy. - Here, this is the same godfather that I told you about. Eh, grab! now, God kill me in this place, if you didn’t dry out a little kuhol not the size of your head in front of me, and frowned at least once.

Why, godfather, did you not respect such a glorious lad?

So, as you can see, - continued Cherevik, turning to Gritsk, - God punished, apparently, for having guilty before you. Forgive me, good man! By God, I would be glad to do everything for you ... But what do you order? The devil is in the old woman!

- Dobre! from good! - said Solopiy, clapping his hands. - Yes, it has now become so fun for me, as if the Muscovites had taken my old woman away. But what to think: it’s good, or it’s not good - today is a wedding, and the ends are in the water!

Look, Solopiy: in an hour I will be with you; now go home: the buyers of your mare and wheat are waiting for you there!

How! did you find the mare?

Found!

Cherevik became motionless for joy, looking after the departing Gritsko.

What, Gritsko, did we do our job badly? - said the tall gypsy to the lad in a hurry. - Are the oxen mine now?

Yours! yours!

XIII

Don't fight, matinko, don't fight,
Put on your red chobits,
Trample the enemies
pid feet;
Schob your nods
They rumbled!
Schob your enemies
Movchali!
wedding song

Resting her pretty chin on her elbow, Paraska thought, sitting alone in the hut. Many dreams twined around the blond head. Sometimes, suddenly, a slight smile touched her scarlet lips, and some kind of joyful feeling raised her dark eyebrows; then again a cloud of thoughtfulness descended upon their hazel, bright eyes. “Well, what if what he said does not come true? she whispered, with an air of doubt. - Well, what if they don't give me away? if... No, no; it will not happen! The stepmother does whatever she pleases; can't I do what I want? Stubbornness is enough for me. How good is he! how wonderfully his black eyes burn! like he says: Parashu, dove! how the white scroll stuck to him! I wish there was a brighter belt! .. even if it’s true, I’ll give him a vytka, as soon as we move on to live in a new hut. I won’t think without joy,” she continued, taking out of her bosom a small mirror covered with red paper, bought by her at the fair, and looking into it with secret pleasure, “how I will meet her somewhere then - I will never bow to her.” even if she cracks herself. No, stepmother, stop beating your stepdaughter! Rather than sand rise on a stone and an oak tree bend into the water like a willow, than I bend down before you! Yes, I forgot ... let me try on a cap, even a stepmother, somehow I will have to! Then she got up, holding a mirror in her hands, and, bending her head towards it, walked tremblingly around the hut, as if afraid of falling, seeing under her, instead of the floor, a ceiling with boards laid under it, from which the priest had recently fallen, and shelves, filled with pots. “What am I, really, like a child,” she cried out laughing, “I’m afraid to step foot.” And she began to stamp her feet all the farther, bolder; Finally, her left hand dropped and rested on her side, and she went to dance, rattling her horseshoes, holding a mirror in front of her and singing her favorite song:

green periwinkle,
Get down low
And you, soapy, black-browed,
Get on your ass!

green periwinkle,
Get low now!
And you, soapy, black-browed,
Come closer!

Cherevik looked at the door at that moment and, seeing his daughter dancing in front of the mirror, stopped. He stared for a long time, laughing at the unprecedented caprice of the girl, who, lost in thought, seemed not to notice anything; but when he heard the familiar sounds of a song, his veins began to stir; Proudly akimbo, he stepped forward and started to squat, forgetting about all his affairs. The loud laughter of the godfather made both of them flinch. “That's good, dad and daughter started a wedding here themselves! Go quickly: the bridegroom has come! At the last word, Paraska flared brighter than the scarlet ribbon that tied her head, and her careless father remembered why he had come. “Well, daughter! let's go soon! Khivrya, happy that I had sold the mare, ran, - he said, looking around timidly, - ran to buy plakht and all sorts of sackcloth for herself, so you need to finish everything before her arrival! No sooner had she crossed the threshold of the hut, than she felt herself in the arms of a lad in a white coat, who, with a bunch of people, was waiting for her in the street. "God bless! - said Cherevik, folding his hands. - Let them live like wreaths weave! Then a noise was heard among the people: “I would rather crack than let this happen!” - Shouted Solopia, the concubine, who, however, was pushed away with laughter by the crowd of people. "Don't freak out, don't freak out, bitch! - said Cherevik coolly, seeing that a pair of burly gypsies took possession of her hands, - what's done is done; I don't like change! - "Not! No! this will not happen!” shouted Khivrya, but no one listened to her; several couples surrounded the new couple and formed an impenetrable, dancing wall around her.

A strange inexplicable feeling would have seized the viewer, at the sight of how, from one blow with the bow of a musician in a homespun scroll, with a long twisted mustache, everything turned, willy or not, to unity and passed into harmony. People, on whose gloomy faces, it seems, a smile did not slip for a century, stamped their feet and trembled their shoulders. Everything rushed. Everything danced. But an even stranger, still more inexplicable feeling would have awakened in the depths of the soul at the sight of old women, on whose decrepit faces the indifference of the grave wafted, jostling between a new, laughing, living person. Careless! even without childish joy, without a spark of sympathy, which only drunkenness, like a mechanic of his lifeless automaton, forces to do something similar to a human, they quietly shook their tipsy heads, dancing after the merry people, not even turning their eyes to the young couple.

Is it not so that joy, a beautiful and fickle guest, flies away from us, and in vain does a lonely sound think to express joy? In his own echo, he already hears sadness and the desert, and wildly listens to him. Is it not so that the frisky friends of a stormy and free youth, one by one, one by one, get lost in the world and finally leave one of their old brothers? Bored left! And the heart becomes heavy and sad, and there is nothing to help it.

Kum, brought out of his petrification by a secondary fright, crawled in convulsions under the hem of his wife. The tall brave man climbed into the furnace, in spite of the narrow opening, and pushed himself behind the shutter. And Cherevik, as if doused with hot boiling water, grabbed a pot on his head instead of a hat, rushed to the doors, like a madman, ran through the streets. Gogol laughs merrily at the amazing adventures of his heroes, at the comic absurdity of their actions, but the comic here is still largely external.

For all that, the comedy of characters in the Sorochinskaya Fair is still not widely developed. A significant place in the story is occupied by descriptions of amusing incidents and events. These descriptions reinforce the overall cheerful coloring of the work.

Gogol draws images of Paraska and Gritsko, fanned by romance, in a well-known contrasting comparison with everyday life, with characters that bear the stamp of prosaic everyday life. But life itself, and these characters, in turn, are marked by bright colors. A colorful figure is Khivrya Cherevik. An imperious woman, she subordinated her husband to her unquestioning influence. Accustomed to command, she does not tolerate any "willfulness." Loving reverence, Khivrya is very sensitive to all sorts of "insults." An old "charm", she imagines herself a beauty capable of making an irresistible impression. In his own way, the simple-hearted Cherevik, who loves a cup, is very "picturesque" and is eager to spend time with friends in a heart-to-heart conversation; gullible and spineless, he easily becomes the object of all sorts of tricks of others, the "hero" of comic adventures.

Images of Paraska and Gritsko reflect the world of bright and pure feelings, high poetry of life. Paraska appears in the story as a living embodiment of beauty and femininity, as the personification of youth and the dream of happiness. The breadth of impulses, prowess characterize her lover, sometimes meek and gentle, sometimes capable of impudence and violence. A distinctive feature of these heroes is the naturalness of life behavior, the natural manifestation of their feelings and experiences. True to themselves, to their decisions, they are filled with consciousness of human dignity. About his relationship with his stepmother, Paraska says: “Rather the sand will rise on the stone and the oak will bend into the water, like a willow, than I will bend down before you!” In the heroes taken from the people's environment, Gogol saw genuine poetic spirituality, high human qualities.

Portal for the student. Self-training

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