The last day before Christmas has passed. Winter, clear night arrived. Stars looked. The month majestically rose to heaven to shine for good people and the whole world, so that everyone would have fun caroling and glorifying Christ. It was freezing colder than in the morning; but on the other hand it was so quiet that the creak of frost under a boot could be heard half a verst away. Not a single crowd of lads had yet shown under the windows of the huts; the moon alone peeped furtively into them, as if urging the dressed-up girls to run out into the squeaky snow as soon as possible. Then smoke fell in clubs through the chimney of one hut and went in a cloud across the sky, and together with the smoke a witch mounted on a broom rose up.

"The Night Before Christmas" ("Evenings on a Farm near Dikanka"). 1961 film

If at that time a Sorochinsky assessor was passing by on a trio of philistine horses, in a hat with a lambskin band, made in the manner of a Uhlan, in a blue sheepskin coat, lined with black furs, with a devilishly woven whip, which he has a habit of urging his driver, then he would, surely , noticed her, because not a single witch in the world would escape from the Sorochinsky assessor. He knows exactly how many pigs every woman has, and how many canvases are in the chest, and what exactly from her dress and household a good man will lay on Sunday in a tavern. But the Sorochinsky assessor did not pass by, and what does he care about strangers, he has his own parish. Meanwhile, the witch rose so high that only a black speck flickered above. But wherever a speck appeared, there the stars, one after another, disappeared in the sky. Soon the witch had a full sleeve of them. Three or four still glittered. Suddenly, from the opposite side, another speck appeared, increased, began to stretch, and it was no longer a speck. Short-sighted, at least he put wheels from a commissar's britzka on his nose instead of glasses, and then he wouldn't have recognized what it was. The front is completely German: a narrow, constantly spinning and sniffing everything that came across, the muzzle ended, like our pigs, in a round patch, the legs were so thin that if Yareskov's head had such, he would have broken them in the first Cossack. But on the other hand, behind him he was a real provincial attorney in uniform, because his tail hung as sharp and long as the coat-tails of today; only by the goat’s beard under his muzzle, by the small horns sticking out on his head, and that he was not all whiter than a chimney sweep, could one guess that he was not a German and not a provincial attorney, but simply a devil who had been left to roam around the world last night and to teach the sins of good people. Tomorrow, with the first bells for matins, he will run without looking back, tail between his legs, to his lair.

Meanwhile, the devil crept slowly towards the moon and was already stretching out his hand to grab it, but suddenly pulled it back, as if burned, sucked his fingers, dangled his foot and ran from the other side, and again jumped back and pulled his hand away. However, despite all the failures, the cunning devil did not leave his pranks. Running up, he suddenly grabbed the moon with both hands, grimacing and blowing, tossing it from one hand to the other, like a peasant who takes out a fire for his cradle with his bare hands; Finally, he hurriedly put it in his pocket and, as if he had never happened, ran further.

Gogol. Christmas Eve. audiobook

Nobody in Dikanka heard how the devil stole the moon. True, the volost clerk, coming out of the tavern on all fours, saw that the moon was dancing in the sky for no reason at all, and assured the whole village of it with God; but the laity shook their heads and even laughed at him. But what was the reason for the devil to decide on such a lawless deed? And this is what it was like: he knew that the rich Cossack Chub was invited by the deacon to kutya, where they would be: a head; a relative of a deacon in a blue frock coat, who came from the bishop's singing room, took the lowest bass; the Cossack Sverbyguz and some others; where, in addition to kutya, there will be varenukha, vodka distilled for saffron, and a lot of all kinds of food. In the meantime, his daughter, the beauty of the whole village, would stay at home, and the blacksmith, a strong man and a fellow, who was more disgusting than Father Kondrat's sermons, would probably come to her daughter. In his spare time, the blacksmith was engaged in painting and was known as the best painter in the whole neighborhood. The centurion L...ko, who was still alive then, called him on purpose to Poltava to paint the wooden fence near his house. All the bowls from which the Dikan Cossacks slurped borscht were painted by the blacksmith. The blacksmith was a God-fearing man and often painted images of saints: and now you can still find his evangelist Luke in the T ... church. But the triumph of his art was one picture, painted on the church wall in the right vestibule, in which he depicted St. Peter on the day of the Last Judgment, with keys in his hands, driving out an evil spirit from hell; the frightened devil rushed about in all directions, foreseeing his death, and the previously imprisoned sinners beat and drove him with whips, logs, and everything else. At the time when the painter was working on this picture and painting it on a large wooden board, the devil tried with all his might to interfere with him: he pushed invisibly under the arm, raised ashes from the furnace in the forge and sprinkled the picture with it; but, in spite of everything, the work was finished, the board was brought into the church and built into the wall of the narthex, and from that time the devil swore to take revenge on the blacksmith.

Only one night remained for him to stagger in the wide world; but even that night he looked for something to vent his anger on the blacksmith. And for this he decided to steal the month, in the hope that the old Chub was lazy and not easy to climb, but the deacon was not so close to the hut: the road went beyond the village, past the mills, past the cemetery, went around the ravine. Even with a month-long night, varenukha and vodka infused with saffron could have lured Chub, but in such darkness no one would have been able to drag him off the stove and call him out of the hut. And the blacksmith, who had long been at odds with him, would never dare to go to his daughter in his presence, despite his strength.

In this way, as soon as the devil hid his moon in his pocket, it suddenly became so dark all over the world that not everyone would find the way to the tavern, not only to the clerk. The witch, seeing herself suddenly in the darkness, cried out. Then the devil, riding up like a little demon, grabbed her by the arm and set off to whisper in her ear the same thing that is usually whispered to the entire female race. Wonderfully arranged in our world! Everything that lives in it, everything tries to adopt and imitate one another. Before, it used to be that in Mirgorod one judge and the mayor went around in the winter in sheepskin coats covered with cloth, and all the petty officials wore just naked ones; now both the assessor and the sub-commissary have worn out new fur coats from Reshetilov's fur coats with a cloth cover. The clerk and the volost clerk took the blue Chinese woman for six hryvnia arshins in the third year. The sexton made himself nanke trousers for the summer and a waistcoat of striped garus. In a word, everything climbs into people! When these people will not be vain! You can bet that it will seem surprising to many to see the devil set off in the same place for himself. The most annoying thing of all is that he probably imagines himself handsome, while as a figure - to look ashamed. Erysipelas, as Foma Grigoryevich says, an abomination is an abomination, but he also builds love chickens! But it became so dark in the sky and under the sky that it was no longer possible to see what was going on between them.

- So you, godfather, have not yet been to the deacon in the new hut? - said the Cossack Chub, leaving the door of his hut, to a lean, tall, in a short sheepskin coat, a peasant with an overgrown beard, showing that for more than two weeks a fragment of a scythe, with which peasants usually shave their beard for want of a razor, has not touched it. - There will now be a good drinking party! - Chub continued, while softening his face. - We don't want to be late.

At this, Chub straightened his belt, which tightly intercepted his sheepskin coat, pulled his hat tighter, squeezed a whip in his hand - fear and a thunderstorm of annoying dogs; but, looking up, he stopped ...

- What a devil! Look! look, Panas!

- What? - said the godfather and raised his head also up.

- Like what? no month!

- What an abyss! In fact, there is no month.

“Something that’s not there,” Chub uttered with some annoyance at the constant indifference of his godfather. - You don't even need to.

- What should I do!

“It was necessary,” Chub continued, wiping his mustache with his sleeve, “some devil, so that he didn’t happen to drink a glass of vodka in the morning, a dog, intervene! window: the night is a miracle! It is light, the snow shines during the month. Everything was visible as if it were daylight. I didn’t have time to go out the door - and now, at least gouge out your eye!

Chub grumbled and scolded for a long time, and meanwhile at the same time pondered what he would decide on. He was dying to chat about all sorts of nonsense at the deacon’s, where, without any doubt, the head, and the visiting bass, and the tar Mikita, who went to Poltava every two weeks for auction and made such jokes that all the laity took their stomachs, were already sitting. with laughter. Chub already saw in his mind the varenukha standing on the table. It was all tempting, really; but the darkness of the night reminded him of that laziness which is so dear to all Cossacks. How nice it would be to lie now, legs tucked under you, on a couch, calmly smoke a cradle and listen through an intoxicating drowsiness to carols and songs of cheerful lads and girls crowding in heaps under the windows. He would, no doubt, have decided on the latter if he had been alone, but now both are not so bored and afraid to walk in the dark at night, and they did not want to seem lazy or cowardly in front of others. Having finished the scolding, he turned again to his godfather:

- So no, godfather, a month?

- Wonderful, right! Let me sniff some tobacco. You, godfather, have glorious tobacco! Where do you take it?

- What the hell, glorious! - answered the godfather, closing the birch tavlinka, punctured with patterns. “The old chicken won’t sneeze!”

“I remember,” Chub continued in the same way, “the late tavern maker Zozulya once brought me tobacco from Nizhyn. Oh, there was tobacco! good tobacco! So, godfather, how should we be? it's dark outside.

“So, perhaps, we’ll stay at home,” said the godfather, grabbing the door handle.

If the godfather had not said this, then Chub would surely have decided to stay, but now it was as if something was pulling him to go against the grain.

- No, godfather, let's go! you can't, you have to go!

Having said this, he was already vexed with himself for what he had said. It was very unpleasant for him to drag himself on such a night; but he was consoled by the fact that he himself purposely wanted it and did not do it the way he was advised.

Kum, without expressing the slightest movement of annoyance on his face, like a man who absolutely does not care whether he sits at home or drags himself out of the house, looked around, scratched his shoulders with a batog stick, and the two godfathers set off on the road.

Now let's see what the beautiful daughter does, left alone. Oksana was not yet seventeen years old, as in almost all the world, and on the other side of Dikanka, and on this side of Dikanka, there was only talk about her. The lads in a herd proclaimed that there had never been a better girl and never would be in the village. Oksana knew and heard everything that was said about her, and was capricious, like a beauty. If she walked not in a plank and spare tire, but in some kind of hood, she would have dispersed all her girls. The lads chased her in droves, but, having lost patience, they left her little by little and turned to others who were not so spoiled. Only the blacksmith was stubborn and did not leave his red tape, despite the fact that it was no better to deal with him than with others.

After her father's departure, for a long time she dressed up and coaxed herself in front of a small mirror in a tin frame and could not stop admiring herself. “What did people decide to praise, as if I were good? she said, as if absent-mindedly, only to chat about something to herself. “People lie, I’m not good at all.” But the fresh face that flashed in the mirror, alive in childish youth, with shining black eyes and an inexpressibly pleasant smile that burned through the soul, suddenly proved the opposite. “Are my black eyebrows and my eyes,” continued the beauty, not letting go of the mirror, “so good that they have no equal in the world? What's so good about that upturned nose? and cheeks? and in the lips? Like my black braids look good? Wow! one can be frightened of them in the evening: they, like long snakes, intertwined and coiled around my head. I see now that I'm not good at all! - and, pushing the mirror a little further away from her, she cried out: - No, I'm good! Ah, how good! Miracle! What joy I will bring to the one whom I will be the wife! How my husband will admire me! He won't remember himself. He will kiss me to death."

- Wonderful girl! - whispered the blacksmith, who quietly entered, - and she has little boasting! He stands for an hour, looking in the mirror, and does not look enough, and still praises himself aloud!

“Yes, lads, do you like me? look at me,” continued the pretty coquette, “how smoothly I step forward; I have a shirt sewn with red silk. And what tapes on the head! You never see a richer galloon! My father bought all this for me so that the best fellow in the world would marry me! And, smiling, she turned in the other direction and saw the blacksmith...

She screamed and sternly stopped in front of him.

The blacksmith dropped his hands.

It is difficult to tell what the marvelous girl's swarthy face expressed: both severity was visible in it, and through the severity some kind of mockery of the embarrassed blacksmith, and a barely noticeable flush of annoyance thinly spread over her face; and it was all so mixed up and it was so indescribably good that kissing her a million times was all that could be done at that time in the best possible way.

– Why did you come here? Oksana began to speak like that. “Do you want to be kicked out the door with a shovel?” You are all masters to drive up to us. Instantly sniff out when the fathers are not at home. Oh, I know you! What, is my chest ready?

- It will be ready, my dear, after the holiday it will be ready. If you only knew how much you fussed around him: for two nights he did not leave the forge; on the other hand, not a single priest will have such a chest, Iron put on the fetter such as he did not put on the centurion's gibberish when he went to work in Poltava. And how it will be painted! Even if the whole neighborhood comes out with your little white legs, you will not find such a thing! Red and blue flowers will be scattered throughout the field. It will burn like fire. Don't be angry with me! Let me at least talk, at least look at you!

- Who forbids you, speak and look!

Then she sat down on the bench and again looked in the mirror and began to straighten her braids on her head. She glanced at her neck, at the new shirt embroidered with silk, and a subtle feeling of self-satisfaction expressed itself on her lips, on her fresh cheeks, and shone in her eyes.

“Let me sit next to you!” said the blacksmith.

“Sit down,” Oksana said, keeping the same feeling in her lips and in her satisfied eyes.

- Wonderful, beloved Oksana, let me kiss you! - said the encouraged blacksmith and pressed her to him, intent on grabbing a kiss; but Oksana turned away her cheeks, which were already at an inconspicuous distance from the blacksmith's lips, and pushed him away.

– What else do you want? When he needs honey, he needs a spoon! Go away, your hands are tougher than iron. Yes, you smell like smoke. I think I've been smeared all over with soot.

Then she brought up the mirror and again began to preen in front of him.

“She doesn’t love me,” the blacksmith thought to himself, hanging his head. - She's all toys; but I stand before her like a fool and keep my eyes on her. And everyone would stand before her, and the century would not take her eyes off her! Wonderful girl! What wouldn't I give to know what's in her heart, who she loves! But no, she doesn't need anyone. She admires herself; torments me, the poor; and I do not see the light behind sadness; and I love her so much as no other person in the world has ever loved and will never love.

Is it true that your mother is a witch? Oksana said and laughed; and the blacksmith felt that everything inside him laughed. This laughter seemed to resonate at once in his heart and in his quietly quivering veins, and with all that, vexation sank into his soul that he was not in the power to kiss the face that laughed so pleasantly.

- What do I care about my mother? you are my mother, and father, and everything that is dear in the world. If the king called me and said: “Blacksmith Vakula, ask me for everything that is best in my kingdom, I will give everything to you. I will order you to make a golden forge, and you will forge with silver hammers. “I don’t want,” I would say to the king, “neither expensive stones, nor a golden forge, nor your whole kingdom: give me better my Oksana!”

- See what you are! Only my father himself is not a blunder. You'll see when he doesn't marry your mother," Oksana said with a sly smile. - However, the girls do not come ... What would that mean? It's high time to carol. I get bored.

“God be with them, my beauty!”

- No matter how! with them, right, the lads will come. This is where the balls come in. I can imagine what funny stories they will tell!

So do you have fun with them?

- Yes, it's more fun than with you. BUT! someone knocked; right, girls with lads.

“What can I expect more? said the blacksmith to himself. - She's mocking me. I am as dear to her as a rusty horseshoe. But if so, it will not get, at least, to another to laugh at me. Let me just notice for sure who she likes more than me; I will teach…”

A knock on the door and a voice that sounded sharply in the cold: “Open it!” interrupted his thoughts.

“Wait, I’ll open it myself,” said the blacksmith and went out into the hallway, intent on breaking off the side of the first person who came across with annoyance.

The frost increased, and it became so cold upstairs that the devil jumped from one hoof to another and blew into his fist, wanting to somehow warm his freezing hands. It is not surprising, however, to freeze to death for someone who pushed from morning to morning in hell, where, as you know, it is not as cold as it is in winter with us, and where, putting on a cap and standing in front of the hearth, as if in fact a cook, roasted he sinners with such pleasure, with which a woman usually fries sausage for Christmas.

The witch herself felt that it was cold, despite the fact that she was warmly dressed; and therefore, raising her hands up, she put her foot aside and, having brought herself into such a position as a man flying on skates, without moving a single joint, she descended through the air, as if along an icy sloping mountain, and straight into the pipe.

The devil followed her in the same order. But since this animal is more agile than any dandy in stockings, it is not surprising that at the very entrance to the chimney he ran into the neck of his mistress, and both found themselves in a spacious stove between the pots.

The traveler slowly pushed back the shutter to see if her son Vakula had called guests into the hut, but, seeing that there was no one there, turning off only the bags that lay in the middle of the hut, she got out of the stove, threw off the warm casing, recovered, and no one could find out that she rode a broom a minute ago.

The mother of the blacksmith Vakula was no more than forty years old. She was neither good nor bad. It's hard to be good in such years. However, she was so able to enchant the most sedate Cossacks (who, by the way, do not interfere with remarking, had little need for beauty), that both the head and the clerk Osip Nikiforovich went to her (of course, if the clerk was not at home), and the Cossack Korniy Chub, and the Cossack Kasyan Sverbyguz. And, to her credit, she knew how to deal with them skillfully. It never occurred to any of them that he had a rival. Whether a pious peasant, or a nobleman, as the Cossacks call themselves, dressed in a kobenyak with a widlog, went to church on Sunday or, if the weather was bad, to a tavern - how not to go to Solokha, not eat fat dumplings with sour cream and not chat in a warm hut with a talkative and obsequious hostess. And the nobleman deliberately gave a big detour for this, before he reached the tavern, and called it - to go along the road. And if Solokha used to go to church on a holiday, putting on a bright plakht with a Chinese spare, and over her blue skirt, on which a golden mustache was sewn on the back, and stand right next to the right wing, then the clerk would already cough correctly and squint involuntarily at that side of the eye the head was stroking his mustache, the settled man was wrapping his ear around and saying to his neighbor who was standing near him: “Oh, good woman! damn woman!

Solokha bowed to everyone, and everyone thought that she bowed to him alone. But a hunter to interfere in other people's affairs would immediately notice that Solokha was the friendliest of all with the Cossack Chub. Chub was a widow; eight stacks of bread always stood in front of his hut. Two pairs of stout oxen each time stuck their heads out of the wicker shed into the street and lowed when they envied the walking godfather - a cow, or uncle - a fat bull. The bearded goat climbed to the very roof and rattled from there in a harsh voice, like a mayor, teasing the turkeys that were walking around the yard and turning around when he envied his enemies, the boys who mocked at his beard. In Chub's chests there were a lot of linen, zhupans, and old kuntush with gold galloons: his late wife was a dandy. In the garden, besides poppies, cabbage, sunflowers, two more fields of tobacco were sown every year. Solokha found it not superfluous to attach all this to her household, thinking in advance about what order it would take when it passed into her hands, and doubled her favor for old Chub. And so that somehow her son Vakula would not drive up to his daughter and not have time to take everything away for himself, and then he would probably not allow her to interfere in anything, she resorted to the usual means of all forty-year-old gossips: to quarrel Chub with the blacksmith as often as possible. Perhaps these very cunning and sharpness of hers were the fault that in some places the old women began to say, especially when they drank too much somewhere at a merry gathering, that Solokha was definitely a witch; that the lad Kizyakolupenko saw behind her a tail the size of no more than a woman's spindle; that she ran across the road like a black cat the Thursday before last; that a pig once ran up to the priest, crowed like a rooster, put Father Kondrat's hat on his head and ran back.

It happened that when the old women were talking about this, some cow shepherd Tymish Korostyavy came. He did not fail to tell how in the summer, just before Petrovka, when he lay down to sleep in the barn, putting straw under his head, he saw with his own eyes that a witch, with a loose scythe, in one shirt, began to milk the cows, and he could not move, so was bewitched; after milking the cows, she came to him and smeared his lips with something so vile that he spat all day afterwards. But all this is somewhat doubtful, because only the Sorochinskiy assessor can see the witch. And that is why all eminent Cossacks waved their hands when they heard such speeches. "The bitch women are lying!" was their usual answer.

Getting out of the stove and recovering, Solokha, like a good housewife, began to clean up and put everything in its place, but she did not touch the bags: “Vakula brought this, let him take it out himself!” The devil, meanwhile, when he was still flying into the chimney, somehow accidentally turned around, saw Chub, arm in arm with his godfather, already far from the hut. In an instant, he flew out of the stove, crossed their path and began to tear heaps of frozen snow from all sides. A blizzard has risen. The air turned white. The snow tossed back and forth in a net and threatened to close the eyes, mouths and ears of pedestrians. And the devil flew back into the chimney, firmly convinced that Chub would return with his godfather, find the blacksmith and treat him so that he would not be able to pick up a brush and paint offensive caricatures for a long time.

In fact, as soon as a blizzard picked up and the wind began to cut right in the eyes, Chub already expressed remorse and, slamming the droplets deeper on his head, treated himself, the devil and godfather with scoldings. However, this annoyance was feigned. Chub was very pleased with the blizzard that had risen. The clerk still had eight times the distance they had traveled. The travelers turned back. The wind blew on the back of my head; but nothing could be seen through the rushing snow.

- Stop, godfather! we seem to be going the wrong way,” said Chub, stepping back a little, “I don’t see a single hut. Oh, what a blizzard! Turn around, godfather, a little to the side, if you find the way; and in the meantime I'll look here. The evil spirit will pull to drag along such a blizzard! Don't forget to scream when you find your way. Eck, what a pile of snow has Satan thrown into his eyes!

The road, however, was not visible. Kum, stepping aside, wandered back and forth in long boots, and finally came across a tavern. This discovery pleased him so much that he forgot everything and, shaking off the snow, went into the passage, not in the least worrying about the godfather who remained on the street. It seemed to Chub between the fact that he had found the way; stopping, he began to shout at the top of his voice, but, seeing that the godfather was not, he decided to go himself.

Walking a little, he saw his hut. Drifts of snow lay beside her and on the roof. Clapping his hands frozen in the cold, he began to knock on the door and shout commandingly to his daughter to open it.

- What do you need here? - the blacksmith came out sternly.

Chub, recognizing the blacksmith's voice, stepped back a little. “Oh, no, this is not my hut,” he said to himself, “a blacksmith will not wander into my hut. Again, if you look closely, then not Kuznetsov. Whose house would this be? Here on! did not recognize! this is the lame Levchenko, who recently married a young wife. He has only one house similar to mine. It seemed to me, and at first a little strange, that I had come home so soon. However, Levchenko is now sitting with the deacon, I know that; why the blacksmith?.. E-ge-ge! he goes to his young wife. That's how! good! .. now I understand everything.

- Who are you and why are you hanging around under the doors? - said the blacksmith more severely than before and coming closer.

“No, I won’t tell him who I am,” Chub thought, “what good, he’ll nail it down, damned freak!” and, changing his voice, answered:

- It's me, good man! I came for your amusement to carol a little under the windows.

“Go to hell with your carols!” Vakula shouted angrily. - Why are you standing? Hear, get out this hour!

Chub himself already had this prudent intention; but it seemed to him vexingly that he was compelled to obey the orders of the blacksmith. It seemed that some evil spirit was pushing him by the arm and forcing him to say something in defiance.

“Why are you really screaming like that?” - he said in the same voice, - I want to carol, and that's enough!

- Ege! Yes, you won’t get tired of words! .. - Following these words, Chub felt a painful blow to his shoulder.

- Yes, it's you, as I see it, you are already starting to fight! he said, stepping back a little.

- Go, go! the blacksmith shouted, giving Chub another push.

- Go, go! the blacksmith shouted and slammed the door.

“Look how brave you are!” Chub said, left alone on the street. - Try to get close! wow, what a! here's a big one! Do you think I won't find a trial for you? No, my dear, I'll go, and I'll go straight to the commissioner. You will know me! I will not see that you are a blacksmith and painter. However, look at the back and shoulders: I think there are blue spots. It must have been a painful thrashing, son of the enemy! It’s a pity that it’s cold and you don’t want to throw off the casing! Wait, you demonic blacksmith, so that the devil beats both you and your forge, you will dance with me! Look, damned shibenik! However, now he is not at home. Solokha, I think, is sitting alone. Hm... it's not far from here; would go! The time is now such that no one will catch us. Maybe even that will be possible... Look, how painfully the cursed blacksmith beat him!

Here Chub, scratching his back, went in the other direction. The pleasantness that awaited him ahead when meeting with Solokha lessened the pain a little and made insensible the very frost that crackled through all the streets, not drowned out by the blizzard whistle. From time to time, on his face, whose beard and mustache the blizzard lathered with snow more quickly than any barber, tyrannically grabbing his victim by the nose, showed a semi-sweet mine. But if, however, the snow had not baptized back and forth everything in front of your eyes, then for a long time you could see how Chub stopped, scratched his back, said: “The damned blacksmith hit painfully!” - and set off again.

At the time when the nimble dandy with a tail and a goatee's beard was flying out of the chimney and then back into the chimney, the palm hanging on a sling at his side, in which he hid the stolen moon, somehow accidentally caught in the stove, the moon also dissolved, using In this case, he flew out through the chimney of Solokhina's hut and smoothly rose through the sky. Everything lit up. Blizzards as never happened. The snow caught fire in a wide silver field and was sprinkled all over with crystal stars. The frost seemed to warm up. Crowds of lads and girls appeared with sacks. The songs rang out, and carolers did not crowd under the rare hut.

The month is amazing! It is hard to tell how good it is to hustle on such a night between a bunch of laughing and singing girls and between lads ready for all the jokes and inventions that a merrily laughing night can only inspire. It's warm under a tight casing; the frost burns the cheeks even more vividly; and in pranks, the evil one himself pushes from behind.

Heaps of girls with bags broke into Chub's hut and surrounded Oksana. Shouts, laughter, stories deafened the blacksmith. Everyone vied with each other in a hurry to tell the beauty something new, unloaded sacks and boasted of the biscuits, sausages, dumplings, which they had already managed to collect enough for their carols. Oksana, it seemed, was in complete pleasure and joy, chatting now with one, then with another, and laughing incessantly. With a kind of annoyance and envy, the blacksmith looked at such gaiety, and this time he cursed the carols, although he himself was crazy about them.

- Hey, Odarka! - said the cheerful beauty, turning to one of the girls, - you have new slippers! Ah, how good! and with gold! It’s good for you, Odarka, you have such a person who buys everything for you; and I have no one to get such glorious slippers.

- Do not grieve, my beloved Oksana! - picked up the blacksmith, - I will get you such slippers, which a rare lady wears.

- You? - Oksana said, quickly and arrogantly looking at him. “I’ll see where you can get slippers that I could put on my leg.” Can you bring the very ones that the queen wears.

See what you want! the crowd of girls shouted with laughter.

“Yes,” the beauty continued proudly, “be all of you witnesses: if the blacksmith Vakula brings those very slippers that the queen wears, then here is my word that I will marry him the same hour.”

The girls took the capricious beauty with them.

- Laugh, laugh! said the blacksmith, following them out. - I'm laughing at myself! I think, and I cannot imagine where my mind has gone. She doesn't love me—well, God bless her! as if there was only one Oksana in the whole world. Thank God, there are many good girls even without her in the village. What about Oksana? she will never be a good mistress; she is just a master of dressing up. No, come on, time to stop fooling around.

But at the very moment when the blacksmith was preparing to be decisive, some evil spirit carried before him the laughing image of Oksana, who said mockingly: “Get out, blacksmith, the queen’s slippers, I will marry you!” Everything in him was worried, and he thought only of Oksana.

Crowds of carolers, lads especially, girls especially, hurried from one street to another. But the blacksmith walked on and saw nothing and did not participate in those gaiety that he once loved more than anyone else.

The devil, meanwhile, was seriously softening up with Solokha: he kissed her hand with such antics, like an assessor at a priest’s, took hold of her heart, groaned and said bluntly that if she did not agree to satisfy his passions and, as usual, to reward, then he was ready for everything: he will throw himself into the water, and send his soul straight into hell. Solokha was not so cruel, moreover, the devil, as you know, acted in concert with her. She still liked to see the crowd dragging behind her and was rarely without company; this evening, however, I thought to spend alone, because all the eminent inhabitants of the village were invited to kutya to the deacon. But everything went differently: the devil had just presented his demand, when suddenly the voice of a hefty head was heard. Solokha ran to open the door, and the nimble devil climbed into the lying bag.

The head, shaking off the snow from his drops and drinking a glass of vodka from Solokha's hands, said that he had not gone to the deacon because a snowstorm had risen; and seeing the light in her hut, he turned to her, intending to spend the evening with her.

Before the head had time to say this, a knock was heard at the door and the voice of the deacon.

“Hide me somewhere,” whispered the head. “I don’t want to meet the deacon now.

Solokha thought for a long time where to hide such a dense guest; finally chose the largest bag of coal; she poured the coal into a tub, and a hefty head with a mustache, with a head and with drops, entered the bag.

The deacon came in, groaning and rubbing his hands, and said that he had no one and that he was heartily glad of this occasion. take a walk a little at her and was not afraid of the blizzard. Then he came closer to her, coughed, grinned, touched her full bare arm with his long fingers and said with an air that showed both slyness and self-satisfaction:

- And what is it with you, magnificent Solokha? And having said this, he jumped back a little.

- Like what? Hand, Osip Nikiforovich! - answered Solokha.

- Hm! hand! heh! heh! heh! said the deacon, cordially pleased with his beginning, and walked up and down the room.

- And what is it with you, dearest Solokha? - he said with the same air, approaching her again and grabbing her lightly by the neck with his hand, and jumping back in the same order.

- As if you do not see, Osip Nikiforovich! - answered Solokha. - Neck, and on the neck monisto.

- Hm! on the neck monisto! heh! heh! heh! And the clerk again walked around the room, rubbing his hands.

- And what is this with you, incomparable Solokha? .. - It is not known what the clerk would now touch with his long fingers, when suddenly a knock was heard at the door and the voice of the Cossack Chub.

- Oh, my God, a third-party face! the deacon shouted in fright. - What now, if they catch a person of my rank? .. It will reach Father Kondrat! ..

But the clerk's fears were of a different kind: he was more afraid that his half would not recognize him, who, with her terrible hand, made the narrowest of his thick braids.

"For God's sake, virtuous Solokha," he said, trembling all over. - Your kindness, as the scripture of Luke says, the head of the trine ... trine ... They are knocking, by God, they are knocking! Oh, hide me somewhere!

Solokha poured coal into a tub from another sack, and the clerk, not too bulky in body, climbed into it and sat on the very bottom, so that half a sack of coal could be poured over it.

- Hello, Solokha! - said, entering the hut, Chub. "Maybe you weren't expecting me, were you?" really didn't expect it? maybe I interfered? .. - Chub continued, showing on his face a cheerful and significant mien, which let you know in advance that his clumsy head was working and preparing to let go of some caustic and intricate joke. “Maybe you were having fun with someone here? .. maybe you hid someone already, huh? - And, delighted with such a remark of his, Chub laughed, inwardly triumphant that he alone enjoys the favor of Solokha. - Well, Solokha, let me drink some vodka now. I think my throat is frozen from the damn frost. God sent such a night before Christmas! How I grabbed it, you hear, Solokha, how I grabbed it ... my hands ossified: I won’t unfasten the casing! how the blizzard caught ...

“Someone is knocking,” said Chub, who had stopped.

- Open it! They screamed louder than before.

- It's a blacksmith! - Chub said, clutching the caps. - Do you hear, Solokha, where you want to take me; I don't want for anything in the world to show myself to this damned freak, so that he runs into it, the devil's son, under both eyes there is a bubble in a mop the size of!

Solokha, frightened herself, tossed about like mad, and, forgetting herself, gave a sign to Chub to climb into the very sack in which the deacon was already sitting. The poor clerk did not even dare to cough and grunt in pain when a heavy peasant sat almost on his head and placed his boots, frozen in the cold, on both sides of his temples.

The blacksmith entered without a word, without taking off his cap, and almost collapsed on the bench. It was obvious that he was in a very bad mood.

At the very moment when Solokha closed the door behind him, someone knocked again. It was the Cossack Sverbyguz. This one could no longer be hidden in a bag, because such a bag could not be found. He was heavier in body than the head itself and taller than Chubov's godfather. And so Solokha took him out into the garden to hear from him everything that he wanted to announce to her.

The blacksmith absentmindedly looked around the corners of his hut, listening from time to time to the far-reaching songs of carolers; finally fixed his eyes on the sacks: “Why are these sacks lying here? It's time to get them out of here. Through this foolish love, I have gone completely silly. Tomorrow is a holiday, and there is still all sorts of rubbish in the hut. Take them to the forge!"

Here the blacksmith sat down on the huge sacks, tied them tighter, and prepared to hoist them over his shoulders. But it was noticeable that his thoughts wandered God knows where, otherwise he would have heard Chub hissing when a hair on his head was tied with a rope tied in a sack, and his hefty head began to hiccup quite clearly.

“Won’t this worthless Oksana get out of my mind?” - said the blacksmith, - I don’t want to think about her; but everything is thought about, and, as if on purpose, about her alone. Why is it so that a thought creeps into one's head against one's will? What the hell, the bags seem to be heavier than before! There must be something else here besides coal. I'm a fool! and forgot that now everything seems harder to me. Before, I used to be able to bend and unbend in one hand a copper nickel and a horseshoe; and now I won’t lift sacks of coal. Soon I will fall from the wind. No,” he cried, after a pause and emboldened, “what a woman I am! Don't let anyone laugh at you! At least ten such bags, I will lift everything. - And he cheerfully heaped bags on his shoulders that two hefty people would not have carried. “Take this one too,” he continued, picking up the little one, at the bottom of which the devil lay curled up. - Here, it seems, I put my instrument. - Having said this, he went out of the hut, whistling a song:

Noisier and noisier the songs and shouts rang out through the streets. The crowds of the jostling people were enlarged by the arrivals from neighboring villages. The lads were naughty and furious enough. Often, between the carols, some cheerful song was heard, which one of the young Cossacks immediately managed to compose. Then suddenly one of the crowd, instead of a carol, would release a carol and roar at the top of his voice:

Shchedryk, bucket!
Give me a dumpling
Porridge breast,
Kilce cowbaski!

Laughter rewarded the entertainer. The small windows were raised, and the lean hand of the old woman, who alone remained in the huts together with the staid fathers, protruded from the window with a sausage in her hands or a piece of pie. The boys and girls vying with each other set up bags and caught their prey. In one place, the lads, coming in from all sides, surrounded a crowd of girls: noise, screaming, one threw a clod of snow, the other pulled out a bag with all sorts of things. In another place, the girls caught the lad, put their foot on him, and he flew headlong to the ground along with the bag. It seemed that they were ready to have fun all night long. And the night, as if on purpose, glowed so luxuriously! and the light of the moon from the brilliance of the snow seemed even whiter.

The blacksmith stopped with his bags. He fancied Oksana's voice and thin laughter in the crowd of girls. All the veins in him trembled; throwing the sacks on the ground so that the clerk, who was at the bottom, groaned from a bruise and his head hiccupped, he wandered off with a small sack on his shoulders, along with a crowd of lads, following the crowd of girls, between which he heard Oksana's voice.

“Yes, it is her! stands like a queen, and shines with black eyes! A prominent lad tells her something; right, funny, because she laughs. But she always laughs." As if involuntarily, without understanding himself how, the blacksmith pushed his way through the crowd and stood beside her.

“Ah, Vakula, you are here!” hello! - said the beauty with the same smile that almost drove Vakula crazy. - Well, did you carol a lot? Hey, what a small bag! Did you get the slippers that the queen wears? Get the slippers, I'll get married! And, laughing, she ran away with the crowd.

As if rooted to the spot, the blacksmith stood in one place. "No I can not; no more strength ... - he finally said. “But my God, why is she so damn good?” Her look, and speech, and everything, well, it burns like that, it burns like that ... No, you can’t overpower yourself already! It's time to put an end to everything: lose your soul, I'll go drown myself in the hole, and remember your name!

Then with a decisive step he went forward, caught up with the crowd, caught up with Oksana and said in a firm voice:

Farewell, Oksana! Look for yourself what kind of groom you want, fool whom you want; and you won't see me anymore in this world.

The beauty seemed surprised, she wanted to say something, but the blacksmith waved his hand and ran away.

Where, Vakula? the lads shouted, seeing the running blacksmith.

- Farewell, brothers! the blacksmith shouted back. - God willing, see you in the next world; and on this we no longer walk together. Farewell, do not remember dashingly! Tell Father Kondrat to make a requiem for my sinful soul. Candles for the icons of the miracle worker and the mother of God, sinful, did not paint over worldly affairs. All the good that is in my hiding place, to the church! Farewell!

Having said this, the blacksmith began to run again with a bag on his back.

- He's hurt! the couples said.

- Lost soul! – devoutly muttered an old woman passing by. “Go tell how the blacksmith hanged himself!”

Meanwhile, Vakula, having run several streets, stopped to catch his breath. “Where am I really running? he thought, as if everything was gone. I'll try another remedy: I'll go to the Cossack Pot-bellied Patsyuk. He, they say, knows all the devils and will do whatever he wants. I’ll go, because the soul will still have to disappear!”

At the same time, the devil, who had been lying for a long time without any movement, jumped in the sack for joy; but the blacksmith, thinking that he had somehow caught the sack with his hand and made the movement himself, struck the sack with his hefty fist, and, shaking it on his shoulders, went to Pot-bellied Patsyuk.

This Pot-bellied Patsyuk was, as it were, once a Cossack; but they expelled him or he himself fled from Zaporozhye, no one knew this. For a long time, ten years, and maybe fifteen, he lived in Dikanka. At first he lived like a real Cossack: he did nothing, slept for three-quarters of the day, ate for six mowers and drank almost a whole bucket at a time; however, there was where to fit, because Patsyuk, despite his small stature, was rather weighty in width. Moreover, the trousers that he wore were so wide that, no matter how big a step he took, his legs were completely invisible, and it seemed that the distillery's caddy was moving along the street. Maybe this is the very reason to call him Pot-bellied. A few days had not passed after his arrival in the village, as everyone already knew that he was a medicine man. If anyone was ill with anything, Patsyuk immediately called; and Patsyuk had only to whisper a few words, and the ailment seemed to be removed by hand. If it happened that a hungry nobleman choked on a fish bone, Patsyuk knew how to hit his back with his fist so skillfully that the bone went where it should, without causing any harm to the nobleman's throat. He has rarely been seen anywhere lately. The reason for this was, perhaps, laziness, or perhaps the fact that climbing through the door became more difficult for him every year. Then the laity had to go to him themselves if they needed him.

The blacksmith, not without timidity, opened the door and saw Patsyuk sitting on the floor in Turkish style, in front of a small tub on which stood a bowl of dumplings. This bowl stood, as if on purpose, on a par with his mouth. Without moving a single finger, he bent his head slightly to the bowl and slurped the slurry, grabbing dumplings with his teeth from time to time.

“No, this one,” Vakula thought to himself, “is even lazier than Chub: he at least eats with a spoon, but this one doesn’t even want to raise his hands!”

Patsyuk must have been very busy with dumplings, because he did not seem to notice the arrival of the blacksmith, who, as soon as he stepped on the threshold, gave him a low bow.

- I came to your mercy, Patsyuk! Vakula said, bowing again.

Fat Patsyuk raised his head and began to slurp dumplings again.

“You, they say, don’t say it out of anger,” the blacksmith said, gathering his courage, “I’m not talking about this in order to inflict any offense on you, you are a little like the devil.

Having uttered these words, Vakula was frightened, thinking that he still expressed himself bluntly and softened the strong words a little, and, expecting that Patsyuk, grabbing a tub with a bowl, would send it right to his head, stepped back a little and covered himself with his sleeve so that the hot liquid from dumplings did not splash his face.

But Patsyuk took a look and again began to slurp dumplings. Encouraged, the blacksmith decided to continue:

- He came to you, Patsyuk, God grant you everything, every good thing in contentment, bread in proportion! - The blacksmith sometimes knew how to screw in a buzzword; he had become adept at this when he was still in Poltava, when he painted a wooden fence for the centurion. - I have to disappear, a sinner! nothing helps in the world! What will be, will be, you have to ask the devil himself for help. Well, Patsyuk? - said the blacksmith, seeing his unchanging silence, - what should I do?

- When you need the devil, then go to hell! answered Patsyuk, not raising his eyes to him and continuing to remove the dumplings.

- That's why I came to you, - answered the blacksmith, bowing, - except you, I think no one in the world knows the way to him.

Patsyuk did not say a word and ate the rest of the dumplings.

- Do me a favor, good man, do not refuse! - the blacksmith advanced, - whether pork, sausages, buckwheat flour, well, linen, millet or other things, in case of need ... as usual between good people ... we will not be stingy. Tell me at least how, roughly speaking, to get on the road to him?

“He doesn’t have to go far, who has the devil behind him,” Patsyuk said indifferently, without changing his position.

Vakula fixed his eyes on him, as if an explanation of these words had been written on his forehead. "What he says?" – silently asked his mina; and the half-open mouth was preparing to swallow, like a dumpling, the first word. But Patsyuk was silent.

Then Vakula noticed that there were neither dumplings nor a tub in front of him; but instead there were two wooden bowls on the floor: one was filled with dumplings, the other with sour cream. His thoughts and eyes involuntarily rushed to these dishes. “Let's see,” he said to himself, “how Patsyuk will eat dumplings. He probably won’t want to bend over to sip like dumplings, and it’s impossible: first you need to dip the dumpling in sour cream.

As soon as he had time to think this, Patsyuk opened his mouth, looked at the dumplings, and opened his mouth even more. At this time, the dumpling splashed out of the bowl, slapped it into the sour cream, turned over to the other side, jumped up and just got into his mouth. Patsyuk ate and opened his mouth again, and the dumpling went again in the same order. He only took on the task of chewing and swallowing.

"Look, what a miracle!" thought the blacksmith, his mouth gaping in surprise, and at the same time he noticed that the dumpling was creeping into his mouth and had already smeared his lips with sour cream. Pushing the dumpling away and wiping his lips, the blacksmith began to think about what miracles there are in the world and what wisdom the evil spirit brings a person to, noticing, moreover, that only Patsyuk can help him. “I will bow to him again, let him explain it well ... But what the hell! because today hungry kutia, and he eats dumplings, quick dumplings! What a fool I really am, standing here and picking up sin! Back!" And the pious blacksmith rushed out of the hut.

However, the devil, who was sitting in the sack and already rejoicing in advance, could not bear to see such a glorious prey leave his hands. As soon as the blacksmith lowered the bag, he jumped out of it and sat astride his neck.

Frost hit the blacksmith's skin; frightened and turning pale, he did not know what to do; I already wanted to cross myself ... But the devil, tilting his dog snout to his right ear, said:

- It's me - your friend, I will do everything for a comrade and friend! I'll give you as much money as you want,” he squeaked into his left ear. “Oksana will be ours today,” he whispered, turning his snout back over his right ear.

The blacksmith stood, thinking.

- If you please, - he said at last, - for such a price I am ready to be yours!

The devil clasped his hands and began to gallop with joy on the blacksmith's neck. “Now the blacksmith has been caught! - he thought to himself, - now I will take out on you, my dear, all your painting and fables, cocked on devils! What will my comrades say now when they find out that the most pious man in the whole village is in my hands? Here the devil laughed with joy, remembering how the whole tailed tribe would tease in hell, how the lame devil, who was considered among them the first to invent, would rage.

- Well, Vakula! - the devil squeaked, still not getting off his neck, as if afraid that he would not run away, - you know that nothing is done without a contract.

- I'm ready! said the blacksmith. - You, I heard, sign with blood; wait, I'll get a nail in my pocket! - Here he put his hand back - and grab the devil by the tail.

- Look, what a joker! shouted, laughing, the devil. - Well, that's enough, enough to be naughty!

- Stop, dove! - shouted the blacksmith, - but how does it seem to you? - At this word, he created a cross, and the devil became as quiet as a lamb. “Wait a minute,” he said, dragging him by the tail to the ground, “you will know from me to teach good people and honest Christians about the sins!” - Here the blacksmith, not letting go of his tail, jumped on him and raised his hand for the sign of the cross.

- Have mercy, Vakula! - the devil groaned plaintively, - I will do everything that is necessary for you, only let your soul go to repentance: do not lay a terrible cross on me!

- Where? said the sad devil.

- To Petemburg, straight to the queen!

And the blacksmith was stupefied with fear, feeling himself rising into the air.

Oksana stood for a long time, thinking about the strange speeches of the blacksmith. Already inside her, something said that she had treated him too cruelly. What if he really decides to do something terrible? “What good! maybe out of grief he will take it into his head to fall in love with another and out of vexation will begin to call her the first beauty in the village? But no, he loves me. I'm so good! He won't change me for anything; he is joking, pretending. In less than ten minutes, he will probably come to look at me. I'm really tough. You need to give him, as if reluctantly, kiss yourself. That's what he'll be happy about!" And the windy beauty was already joking with her friends.

“Wait a minute,” said one of them, “the blacksmith forgot his sacks; look at those scary bags! He did not carol in our way: I think they threw a whole quarter of a ram here; and sausages and bread, right, no count! Luxury! whole holidays you can overeat.

Are these blacksmith bags? Oksana picked it up. “Let’s drag them to my hut as soon as possible and take a good look at what he put here.”

Everyone laughingly approved this proposal.

But we won't pick them up! the whole crowd suddenly shouted, trying to move the sacks.

“Wait a minute,” Oksana said, “let’s run for the sled and take it on the sled!”

And the crowd ran after the sled.

The captives were very tired of sitting in the sacks, despite the fact that the clerk had pierced a decent hole for himself with his finger. If there were still no people, then perhaps he would find a way to get out; but to get out of the sack in front of everyone, to show himself to be laughed at ... this restrained him, and he decided to wait, only slightly grunting under Chub's impolite boots. Chub himself desired freedom no less, feeling that under him lay something on which fear was awkward to sit. But as soon as he heard his daughter's decision, he calmed down and did not want to get out, arguing that he had to go to his hut at least a hundred steps, and maybe another. When you get out, you need to recover, fasten the casing, tie up the belt - how much work! and the capes remained with Solokha. Better let the girls take you on sleds. But it did not happen at all as Chub expected. At the time when the girls ran after the sled, the thin godfather came out of the tavern upset and out of sorts. Shinkarka in no way dared to believe in his debt; he wanted to wait, perhaps some pious nobleman would come and treat him; but, as if on purpose, all the nobles remained at home and, like honest Christians, ate kutya among their households. Thinking about the corruption of morals and the wooden heart of a Jewess selling wine, the godfather came across the sacks and stopped in amazement.

- Look, what bags someone threw on the road! - he said, looking around, - there must be pork here. It’s good for someone to carol so many different things! What terrible bags! Let us suppose that they are filled with Greeks and cakes, and that is good. At least there were some fireballs here, and then in shmak: a Jewess gives an eighth of vodka for each palyanitsa. Drag away quickly so that no one sees. Here he shouldered the sack with Chub and the clerk, but he felt that it was too heavy. “No, it will be hard to carry it alone,” he said, “but, as if on purpose, the weaver Shapuvalenko is coming. Hello Ostap!

“Hello,” said the weaver, stopping.

- Where are you going?

- And so, I go where my legs go.

- Help, good man, to carry the bags! someone caroled, and threw it in the middle of the road. Let's split in half.

- Bags? and what are the bags with, with knishes or sticks?

Yes, I think there is everything.

Then they hastily pulled sticks out of the wattle fence, put a sack on them and carried them on their shoulders.

"Where are we going to take him?" in a tire? asked the weaver on the way.

- It would and I thought so, so that in the tavern; but the damned Jewess won't believe it, she'll still think that it was stolen somewhere; besides, I just got out of the tavern. We will take it to my house. No one will interfere with us: Zhinka is not at home.

- Are you sure you're not at home? asked the cautious weaver.

- Thank God, we are not completely crazy yet, - said the godfather, - the devil would bring me to where she is. She, I think, will drag herself with the women to the light.

- Who's there? - Shouted the godfather's wife, hearing the noise in the hallway, made by the arrival of two friends with a bag, and opening the door.

Kum was dumbfounded.

- Here's to you! said the weaver, dropping his hands.

Kuma's wife was such a treasure, which are many in the world. Just like her husband, she almost never sat at home and almost all day crawled at the gossips and wealthy old women, praised and ate with great appetite and fought only in the morning with her husband, because at that time she only saw him sometimes. Their hut was twice as old as the volost clerk's trousers, the roof in some places was without thatch. There were only remnants of the wattle fence, because everyone who left the house never took sticks for dogs, in the hope that he would pass by the godfather's garden and pull out any of his wattle fences. The stove was not heated for three days. Everything that the tender wife asked from kind people, she hid as far as possible from her husband and often arbitrarily took away his booty from him if he did not have time to drink it in a tavern. Kum, despite his usual composure, did not like to yield to her and therefore almost always left the house with lanterns under both eyes, and the dear half, groaning, trudged to tell the old women about the excesses of her husband and about the beatings she had suffered from him.

Now one can imagine how puzzled the weaver and the godfather were by such an unexpected phenomenon. Lowering the sack, they stepped in and covered it with the floor; but it was already too late: although the godfather's wife saw badly with her old eyes, she nevertheless noticed the bag.

- That is good! she said with a look that showed the joy of a hawk. - It's good that they caroled so much! That's what good people always do; only no, I think they picked it up somewhere. Show me now, hear, show me your bag this very hour!

“The bald devil will show you, not us,” said the godfather, drawing himself up.

- Do you care? - said the weaver, - we caroled, not you.

“No, you will show me, you worthless drunkard!” - cried the wife, hitting the tall godfather in the chin with her fist and making her way to the sack.

But the weaver and godfather bravely defended the sack and forced her to step back. Before they had time to recover, the wife ran out into the passage already with a poker in her hands. She nimbly grabbed her husband's hands with the poker, weaving on the back, and was already standing near the sack.

Why did we let her in? - said the weaver, waking up.

- Oh, what have we allowed! why did you allow it? - said coolly godfather.

- You have a poker, apparently, iron! said the weaver after a short silence, scratching his back. - My wife bought a poker last year at the fair, gave beer-koppers, - that’s okay ... it doesn’t hurt.

Meanwhile, the triumphant wife, placing the kagan on the floor, untied the sack and looked into it. But it is true that her old eyes, which had seen the sack so well, were deceived this time.

- Oh, yes, there is a whole boar! she cried, clasping her hands in joy.

- Boar! Do you hear, a whole boar! - the weaver pushed the godfather. - And it's all your fault!

– What to do! - said, shrugging his shoulders, godfather.

- Like what? what are we standing for? let's take the bag! well, get started!

– Went away! gone! this is our boar! - shouted, speaking, the weaver.

"Go, go, you damn woman!" it's not your good! - said, approaching, godfather.

The wife started again at the poker, but at that moment Chub got out of the sack and stood in the middle of the passage, stretching like a man who has just awakened from a long sleep.

Kumov's wife screamed, hitting the floor with her hands, and everyone involuntarily opened their mouths.

- Well, she, a fool, says: a boar! It's not a boar! - said the godfather, bulging his eyes.

“Look, what a man was thrown into the sack!” said the weaver, backing away in fright. - At least say what you want, even crack, and not without evil spirits. After all, he will not crawl through the window!

- This is godfather! - shouted, peering, godfather.

- Who did you think? Chub said, smiling. - What, I threw a glorious thing over you? And you probably wanted to eat me instead of pork? Wait, I'll make you happy: there is something else in the bag - if not a wild boar, then, probably, a piglet or other living creatures. Something was constantly moving under me.

The weaver and godfather rushed to the sack, the mistress of the house clung to the opposite side, and the fight would have resumed again if the clerk, now seeing that he had nowhere to hide, had not climbed out of the sack.

Kumov's wife, dumbfounded, let go of her leg, by which she began to pull the deacon out of the sack.

- Here's another one! - the weaver cried out with fear, - the devil knows how it has become in the world ... the head is spinning ... not sausages and not hot pots, but people are thrown into sacks!

- It's a devil! - said Chub, amazed more than anyone. - Here's to you! oh yes Solokha! put in a sack... That's it, I see, she has a hut full of sacks... Now I know everything: she had two people in each sack. And I thought that she was only for me alone ... So much for Solokha!

The girls were a little surprised not to find one bag. “There is nothing to do, this will be with us,” Oksana babbled. Everyone took to the sack and loaded it onto the sled.

The Head decided to be silent, arguing: if he screams for them to let him out and untie the bag, the stupid girls will run away, they will think that the devil is sitting in the bag, and he will remain on the street, maybe until tomorrow.

Meanwhile, the girls, holding hands in unison, flew like a whirlwind with the sled through the squeaky snow. Many, shalya, sat on the sled; others climbed on their own heads. The head decided to demolish everything. At last they drove through, flung open the doors to the passage and the hut, and with a laugh dragged in the sack.

“Let’s see, something lies here,” everyone shouted, rushing to untie it.

Here the hiccups, which had not ceased to torment his head all the time he had been sitting in the sack, intensified so much that he began to hiccup and cough at the top of his throat.

“Ah, someone is sitting here!” everyone shouted and rushed out of the door in fright.

- What the hell! where are you running like crazy? - said, entering the door, Chub.

- Ah, father! - said Oksana, - someone is sitting in the bag!

- In a bag? where did you get this bag?

“The blacksmith left him in the middle of the road,” they all said suddenly.

“Well, then, didn’t I tell you?..” Chub thought to himself.

- What are you afraid of? let's see. Come on, cholovitch, please don’t be angry that we don’t call you by your first and middle name, get out of the bag!

The head came out.

– Ah! the girls screamed.

- And the head got in there too, - Chub said to himself in bewilderment, measuring him from head to toe, - you see how! .. Eh! .. - he could not say anything more.

The head himself was no less embarrassed and did not know what to start.

“It must be cold outside?” he said, turning to Chub.

“There is frost,” Chub answered. - And let me ask you, what do you grease your boots with, lard or tar?

He wanted to say something else, he wanted to ask: “How did you, head, get into this bag?” - but he did not understand how he said something completely different.

- Tar is better! the head said. - Well, goodbye, Chub! - And, having put on his caps, he left the hut.

- Why did I foolishly ask what he smears his boots with! - Chub said, looking at the doors through which the head went out. - Oh yes Solokha! to put such a person in a bag! .. Look, damn woman! And I'm a fool ... but where is that damn bag?

“I threw it into a corner, there’s nothing else there,” Oksana said.

- I know these things, there is nothing! give it here: there is another one sitting there! Shake it well... What, no?... Look, you damned woman! And to look at her - like a saint, as if she had never taken anything in her mouth.

But let's leave Chub to pour out his annoyance at his leisure and return to the blacksmith, because it's probably past nine already in the yard.

At first, Vakula felt terrified when he rose from the ground to such a height that he could no longer see anything below, and flew like a fly under the very moon so that if he had not leaned a little, he would have hooked him with his hat. However, after a little while he cheered up and began to make fun of the devil. He was amused to the extreme, how the devil sneezed and coughed when he removed the cypress cross from his neck and brought it to him. He deliberately raised his hand to scratch his head, and the devil, thinking that they were going to baptize him, flew even faster. Everything was bright above. The air was transparent in a light silver mist. Everything was visible, and one could even notice how the sorcerer, sitting in a pot, swept past them like a whirlwind; how the stars, gathered in a heap, played hide and seek; how a whole swarm of spirits swirled aside like a cloud; how the devil, dancing at the moon, took off his hat, seeing a blacksmith galloping on horseback; how the broom flying back flew, on which, apparently, the witch had just gone where she needed to ... they met a lot more rubbish. Everyone, seeing the blacksmith, stopped for a moment to look at him, and then again rushed on and continued on; the blacksmith kept flying; and suddenly Petersburg shone in front of him, all on fire. (Then, for some reason, there was an illumination.) The devil, flying over the barrier, turned into a horse, and the blacksmith saw himself on a dashing runner in the middle of the street.

My God! knock, thunder, shine; four-storey walls are piled up on both sides; the sound of the horse's hooves, the sound of the wheel resounded like thunder and echoed from four directions; houses grew and seemed to rise from the ground at every step; bridges trembled; carriages flew; cabbies, postilions shouted; snow whistled under a thousand sleighs flying from all sides; pedestrians huddled and crowded under the houses, humiliated with bowls, and their huge shadows flickered along the walls, reaching with their heads the chimneys and roofs. The blacksmith looked around in amazement in all directions. It seemed to him that all the houses fixed their countless fiery eyes on him and looked. He saw so many gentlemen in fur coats covered with cloth that he did not know who to take off his hat. “My God, how many pansties are here! thought the blacksmith. - I think that everyone who walks down the street in a fur coat is either an assessor or an assessor! and those who ride in such wonderful britzkas with glasses, when they are not city dwellers, then, it’s true, they are commissars, and maybe even more. His words were interrupted by the devil's question: "Is it right to go to the queen?" "No, it's scary," thought the blacksmith. - Here somewhere, I don’t know, the Cossacks landed, who passed through Dikanka in the fall. They were traveling from the Sich with papers to the queen; I would still like to consult with them."

- Hey, Satan, reach into my pocket and take me to the Cossacks!

The devil in one minute lost weight and became so small that he easily got into his pocket. And Vakula did not have time to look around when he found himself in front of a large house, went in, not knowing how, to the stairs, opened the door and leaned back a little from the glare, seeing the cleaned room; but he cheered up a little when he recognized the same Cossacks who had passed through Dikanka, sitting on silk sofas, tucking their tar-smeared boots under them, and smoking the strongest tobacco, usually called roots.

- Hello, sir! God help you! that's where we met! said the blacksmith, stepping close and bowing to the ground.

- What kind of person is there? asked the one who was sitting right in front of the blacksmith to another, who was sitting farther away.

- Didn't you know? - said the blacksmith, - it's me, Vakula, the blacksmith! When we drove through Dikanka in the autumn, we stayed, God grant you all health and longevity, for almost two days. And then I put a new tire on the front wheel of your wagon!

- BUT! - said the same Cossack, - this is the same blacksmith who paints importantly. Hello, fellow countryman, why did God bring you?

- And so, I wanted to look, they say ...

“What about a fellow countryman,” said the Cossack, drawing himself up and wanting to show that he could also speak Russian, “what a big city?

The blacksmith himself did not want to disgrace himself and seem like a beginner, moreover, as they had the opportunity to see above this, he himself knew a literate language.

- The province is noble! he replied indifferently. - There is nothing to say: the houses are bouncy, the pictures hang important through. Many houses are filled with letters of gold leaf to the extreme. Nothing to say, wonderful proportion!

The Cossacks, hearing the blacksmith speaking so freely, drew a conclusion very favorable to him.

- After we talk with you, fellow countryman, more; now we are going now to the queen.

- To the queen? And be gentle, gentlemen, take me with you!

- You? - said the Cossack with the air with which the uncle speaks to his four-year-old pupil, asking to be put on a real, big horse. - What will you do there? No, you can't. At the same time, a significant mine appeared on his face. - We, brother, will talk with the queen about our own.

- Take it! the blacksmith insisted. - Ask! he whispered softly to the devil, hitting his pocket with his fist.

Before he had time to say this, another Cossack said:

“Let’s take him, really, brothers!”

- Maybe we'll take it! others said.

“Put on the same dress as we do.”

The blacksmith was trying to pull on the green jacket, when suddenly the door opened and a man with braids came in and said that it was time to go.

It seemed strange again to the blacksmith when he raced in a huge carriage, swinging on springs, when four-story houses ran back past him on both sides and the pavement, rattling, seemed to roll under the horses' feet.

“My God, what a light! thought the blacksmith to himself. “We don’t get that much light during the day.”

The carriages stopped in front of the palace. The Cossacks went out, stepped into the splendid vestibule, and began to ascend the brilliantly lit staircase.

What a ladder! - the blacksmith whispered to himself, - it's a pity to trample underfoot. What decorations! Here, they say, fairy tales lie! what the hell are they lying! my god, what a railing! What job! here one piece of iron costs fifty rubles!

Having already climbed the stairs, the Cossacks passed the first hall. The blacksmith followed them timidly, fearful of slipping on the parquet at every step. Three halls passed, the blacksmith still did not cease to be surprised. Stepping into the fourth, he involuntarily walked up to a picture hanging on the wall. It was a pure virgin with a baby in her arms. “What a picture! what a wonderful painting! - he reasoned, - here, it seems, he speaks! seems to be alive! and holy child! and pressed the hands! and smiles, poor thing! and the colors! my God, what colors! there is a lot, I think, and it didn’t go for a penny, everything is yar and cormorant; And the blue one is on fire! important work! the ground must have been blasted. Surprising as these paintings are, however, this copper handle,” he continued, going up to the door and feeling the lock, “is even more worthy of surprise. Wow, what a clean finish! this is all, I think, German blacksmiths, they did it for the most expensive prices ... "

Perhaps the blacksmith would have argued for a long time if the footman with galloons had not pushed him by the arm and reminded him not to lag behind the others. The Cossacks passed two more halls and stopped. Here they were ordered to wait. The hall was crowded with several generals in gold-embroidered uniforms. The Cossacks bowed on all sides and stood in a heap.

A minute later, accompanied by a whole retinue of majestic stature, a rather stout man in a hetman's uniform and yellow boots entered. His hair was disheveled, one eye was a little crooked, a kind of arrogant majesty was depicted on his face, and in all his movements a habit of commanding was visible. All the generals, who were walking rather arrogantly in golden uniforms, began to fuss, and with low bows seemed to catch his every word and even the slightest movement, so that now they could fly to carry it out. But the hetman did not even pay attention, barely nodded his head and went up to the Cossacks.

The Cossacks bowed to their feet.

Are you all here? he asked drawlingly, uttering the words a little through his nose.

– That, everything, father! answered the Cossacks, bowing again.

“Remember to speak the way I taught you?”

- No, dad, we will not forget.

- Is this the king? the blacksmith asked one of the Cossacks.

- Where are you king! it’s Potemkin himself,” he answered.

Voices were heard in another room, and the blacksmith did not know where to put his eyes from the multitude of ladies in satin dresses with long tails and courtiers in caftans embroidered with gold and with tufts at the back. He only saw one glint and nothing else. The Cossacks suddenly all fell to the ground and shouted with one voice:

- Have mercy, mom! have mercy!

The blacksmith, not seeing anything, stretched out himself with all his zeal on the floor.

"Get up," a commanding and at the same time pleasant voice sounded over them. Some of the courtiers fussed and pushed the Cossacks.

- Let's not get up, mom! let's not get up! we die, but we rise! - shouted the Cossacks.

Potemkin bit his lips, finally came up himself and whispered commandingly to one of the Cossacks. The Cossacks have risen.

Here the blacksmith also dared to raise his head and saw a woman standing in front of him of small stature, somewhat portly, powdered, with blue eyes, and at the same time with that majestically smiling look that knew how to conquer everything to itself and could only belong to one reigning woman.

“His Serene Highness promised to introduce me today to my people, whom I still have not seen,” said the lady with blue eyes, examining the Cossacks with curiosity. Are you well kept here? she continued, moving closer.

– Thank you, mom! They give good provisions, although the local sheep are not at all what we have in Zaporozhye - why not live somehow? ..

Potemkin frowned, seeing that the Cossacks were saying something completely different from what he had taught them...

One of the Cossacks, drawing himself up, stepped forward:

- Have mercy, mom! why are you destroying the faithful people? what pissed off? Did we hold the hand of a filthy Tatar; did they agree in anything with Turchin; Have they betrayed you by deed or thought? Why the disgrace? Before we heard that you ordered to build fortresses everywhere from us; then listen to what you want turn into carabinieri; now we hear new misfortunes. What is the fault of the Zaporizhian army? Is it the one that brought your army across Perekop and helped your generals to cut down the Crimeans?..

Potemkin was silent and casually brushing his diamonds with which his hands were covered with a small brush.

– What do you want? – Ekaterina asked solicitously.

The Cossacks looked at each other significantly.

“Now is the time! The queen asks what you want!” - the blacksmith said to himself and suddenly fell to the ground.

- Your Royal Majesty, do not order the execution, order pardon! From what, not in anger be it said to your royal grace, are the little laces made that are on your feet? I think that not a single Swedish citizen in any state in the world will be able to do this. My God, what if my wife put on such slippers!

The Empress laughed. The courtiers laughed too. Potemkin frowned and smiled together. The Cossacks began to push the blacksmith by the arm, wondering if he had gone mad.

- Get up! said the Empress affectionately. “If you so desire to have such shoes, then it is not difficult to do so. Bring him this hour the most expensive shoes, with gold! Really, I really like this simplicity! Here you are, - continued the Empress, fixing her eyes on a man with a full, but somewhat pale face, who was standing far from other middle-aged people, whose modest caftan with large mother-of-pearl buttons showed that he did not belong to the number of courtiers, - an object worthy of your witty pen !

“Your Imperial Majesty are too merciful. At least La Fontaine is needed here! - answered, bowing, a man with mother-of-pearl buttons.

- To be honest, I'll tell you: I'm still without a memory of your "Brigadier". You are amazingly good at reading! However, - continued the empress, turning again to the Cossacks, - I heard that you never marry in the Setch.

– Yay, mom! after all, you yourself know that a man cannot live without a zhinka, ”the same Cossack who spoke with the blacksmith answered, and the blacksmith was surprised to hear that this Cossack, knowing such a well-literate language, speaks with the queen, as if on purpose, in the most rude, usually called the masculine dialect. "Cunning people! he thought to himself, “it’s true, he doesn’t do it for nothing.”

“We are not blacks,” continued the Cossack, “but sinful people. Enthusiastic, like all honest Christianity, to the point of modest. We have quite a few of those who have wives, but do not live with them in the Sich. There are those who have wives in Poland; there are those who have wives in the Ukraine; there are those who have wives in Tureshchyna.

At this time, shoes were brought to the blacksmith.

“My God, what an ornament! he cried joyfully, seizing his shoes. “Your Royal Majesty!” Well, when the shoes are on your feet and in them, hopefully, your honor, go on the ice forge, what OK should be the most legs? I think at least pure sugar.

The empress, who certainly had the most slender and charming legs, could not help but smile when she heard such a compliment from the lips of an ingenuous blacksmith, who in his Zaporozhye dress could be considered handsome, despite his swarthy face.

Delighted by such favorable attention, the blacksmith was about to question the queen thoroughly about everything: is it true that kings eat only honey and lard, and the like; but, feeling that the Cossacks were pushing him in the flanks, he made up his mind to be silent; and when the empress, turning to the old men, began to ask how they live in the Setch, what customs are common, he, stepping back, bent down to his pocket, said quietly: “Get me out of here as soon as possible!” - and suddenly found himself behind a barrier.

- Drowned! oh my god, drowned! so that I don’t leave this place if I don’t drown! - the fat weaver babbled, standing in a pile of Dikan women in the middle of the street.

- Well, am I a liar? did I steal a cow from someone? Have I jinxed anyone that they do not have faith in me? shouted a woman in a Cossack coat with a purple nose, waving her arms. “So that I don’t want to drink water if the old Pereperchiha didn’t see with her own eyes how the blacksmith hanged himself!”

- Did the blacksmith hang himself? here's to you! - said the head, coming out of Chub, stopped and pushed his way closer to those who were talking.

- Tell me better, so that you do not want to drink vodka, old drunkard! - answered the weaver, - you need to be as crazy as you to hang yourself! He drowned! drowned in the hole! I know this as well as the fact that you were now at the tavern.

- Shameful! look at what she began to reproach! the purple-nosed woman objected angrily. "Shut up, you bastard!" Don't I know that the clerk comes to you every evening?

The weaver flared up.

- What is a devil? to whom the devil? what are you lying?

- Dyak? sang, huddling up to the arguing, the sexton, in a sheepskin coat made of hare fur, covered with blue Chinese. - I'll let the deacon know! Who says this - the clerk?

- But to whom the clerk goes! said the woman with the purple nose, pointing to the weaver.

“So it’s you, bitch,” said the deacon woman, approaching the weaver, “so it’s you, witch, who fills him with fog and gives him an impure potion to go to you?”

"Get off me, Satan!" - said, backing away, the weaver.

“Look, damned witch, don’t wait to see your children, you worthless!” Ugh! .. - Here the deacon spit right in the eyes of the weaver.

The weaver wanted to do the same for herself, but instead she spat into the unshaven beard of the head, which, in order to hear everything better, crept up to the arguing themselves.

"Ah, you wicked woman!" shouted the head, wiping his face with his coat and raising the whip. This movement caused everyone to disperse with curses in different directions. - What an abomination! he repeated, continuing to rub himself. - So the blacksmith drowned! My God, what an important painter he was! what strong knives, sickles, plows he knew how to forge! What a power it was! Yes, - he continued, thinking, - there are few such people in our village. It was then that I, while still sitting in the damned bag, noticed that the poor thing was very out of sorts. Here's a blacksmith for you! was, and now is not! And I was going to shoe my pockmarked mare! ..

And, being full of such Christian thoughts, the head quietly wandered into his hut.

Oksana was embarrassed when such news reached her. She had little faith in the eyes of Pereperchikha and the talk of the women; she knew that the blacksmith was devout enough to decide to ruin his soul. But what if he really left with the intention of never returning to the village? And it is unlikely that in another place where there is such a fine fellow as a blacksmith! He loved her so much! He endured her whims the longest! The beauty turned all night under her blanket from her right side to her left, from her left to her right - and could not fall asleep. Then, darting about in charming nakedness, which the darkness of the night hid even from herself, she scolded herself almost aloud; then, calming down, she decided not to think about anything - and kept thinking. And everything was on fire; and by morning fell head over heels in love with the blacksmith.

Chub expressed neither joy nor sadness about the fate of Vakula. His thoughts were occupied with one thing: he could not forget Solokha's treachery and sleepy did not stop scolding her.

Morning has come. The whole church was full of people even before the light. Elderly women in white napkins, in white cloth scrolls, were devoutly baptized at the very entrance of the church. Noblewomen in green and yellow jackets, and some even in blue kuntush with golden mustaches behind them, stood in front of them. The girls, who had a whole shop of ribbons wound around their heads, and around their necks monists, crosses and ducats, tried to get even closer to the iconostasis. But ahead of all were the nobles and simple peasants with mustaches, with forelocks, with thick necks and freshly shaved chins, mostly in fur coats, from under which a white, and some even a blue, coat showed. On every face, wherever you look, you can see the holiday. He licked his head, imagining how he would break his fast with sausage; the girls thought about how they would forge with the boys on the ice; the old women whispered their prayers more earnestly than ever. Throughout the church one could hear how the Cossack Sverbyguz bowed. Only Oksana stood as if not herself: she prayed and did not pray. So many different feelings crowded into her heart, one more annoying than the other, one sadder than the other, that her face expressed only strong embarrassment; tears trembled in his eyes. The girls could not understand the reason for this and did not suspect that the blacksmith was to blame. However, not only Oksana was busy with the blacksmith. All the laity noticed that the holiday - as if it were not a holiday; that everything seems to be missing something. As for misfortune, the clerk, after traveling in a sack, was hoarse and rattled in a barely audible voice; true, the visiting chorister took the bass gloriously, but it would have been much better if there had been a blacksmith, who always, as soon as they sang "Our Father" or "Like the Cherubim," went up to the krylos and led out from there in the same tune with which they sing and in Poltava. In addition, he alone corrected the position of church titar. The matins have already departed; after matins, mass departed ... where, in fact, did the blacksmith disappear?

Even faster during the rest of the night, the devil and the blacksmith rushed back. And in an instant Vakula found himself near his hut. At this time the rooster crowed. "Where? he shouted, grabbing the devil who wanted to run away by the tail, “wait, buddy, that’s not all: I haven’t thanked you yet.” Here, seizing a twig, he gave him three blows, and the poor devil began to run like a peasant who had just been beaten down by an assessor. So, instead of tricking, seducing, and fooling others, the enemy of the human race was himself fooled. After this, Vakula entered the vestibule, buried himself in the hay, and slept until dinner. When he woke up, he was frightened when he saw that the sun was already high: “I overslept matins and mass!” Here the pious blacksmith plunged into despondency, arguing that it was probably God on purpose, as a punishment for his sinful intention to destroy his soul, sent a dream that did not allow even him to visit such a solemn holiday in the church. But, however, reassuring himself that next week he would confess to this priest and from today he would begin to beat fifty bows every other year, he looked into the hut; but there was no one in it. Apparently, Solokha has not yet returned. He carefully took out his shoes from his bosom and was again amazed at the expensive work and the wonderful incident of the previous night; washed, dressed as best as possible, put on the same dress that he got from the Cossacks, took out from the chest a new hat made of Reshetilov smushkas with a blue top, which he had never worn since the time he bought it when he was in Poltava; also took out a new belt of all colors; put it all together with the whip in a handkerchief and went straight to Chub.

Chub bulged his eyes when the blacksmith came in to him, and did not know what to be surprised at: whether that the blacksmith was resurrected, or that the blacksmith dared to come to him, or that he dressed up as such a dandy and Cossack. But he was even more amazed when Vakula untied the handkerchief and put in front of him a brand new hat and belt, which had not been seen in the village, and he himself fell at his feet and said in an imploring voice:

- Have mercy, father! don't be angry! here's a whip for you: hit as much as your heart desires, I surrender myself; I repent in everything; beat, but do not be angry only! Well, you once fraternized with the late father, together they ate bread and salt and drank magarych.

Chub, not without secret pleasure, saw how the blacksmith, who never blew anyone in the village, bent nickels and horseshoes in his hand, like buckwheat pancakes, that same blacksmith lay at his feet ... In order not to drop himself even more, Chub took a whip and hit him three times on the back.

- Well, it will be with you, get up! always listen to old people! Let's forget everything that was between us! Well, now tell me, what do you want?

- Give, father, Oksana for me!

- Chub thought a little, looked at the hat and belt: the hat was wonderful, the belt was also not inferior to her; remembered the perfidious Solokha and said resolutely:

– Dobre! send matchmakers!

- Ai! Oksana cried out, stepping over the threshold and seeing the blacksmith, and fixed her eyes on him with amazement and joy.

“Look what slippers I brought you!” - said Vakula, - the very ones that the queen wears.

- Not! No! I don't need cherries! she said, waving her arms and not taking her eyes off him.

The blacksmith came closer, took her by the hand; beauty and lowered her eyes. She has never been so wonderfully beautiful. The delighted blacksmith kissed her softly, and her face lit up even more, and she became even better.

A bishop of blessed memory was passing through Dikanka, praising the place where the village stands, and, driving along the street, he stopped in front of a new hut.

- And whose is this painted hut? asked the bishop of a beautiful woman standing near the door with a child in her arms.

“Blacksmith Vakula,” Oksana told him, bowing, because it was she.

- Nice! glorious work! - said the bishop, looking at the doors and windows. And the windows were all circled with red paint; everywhere on the doors were Cossacks on horseback, with pipes in their teeth.

But Bishop Vakula praised even more when he learned that he withstood church repentance and painted the entire left wing for free with green paint with red flowers. This, however, is not all: on the wall on the side, as you enter the church, Vakula painted the devil in hell, so vile that everyone spat when they passed by; and the women, as soon as the child burst into tears in their arms, brought him to the picture and said: "He's a bach, yak kaka painted!"- and the child, holding back tears, looked askance at the picture and clung to his mother's breast.

Caroling in our country is called singing songs under the windows on the eve of Christmas, which are called carols. To the one who carols, the hostess, or the owner, or who stays at home, always throws sausage, or bread, or a copper penny into the bag, than who is rich. They say that there was once a blockhead Kolyada, who was mistaken for a god, and that it was as if that's why the carols went. Who knows? It's not for us ordinary people to talk about it. Last year, Father Osip forbade caroling around the farms, saying that as if these people were pleasing to Satan. However, if we tell the truth, then in carols there is not a word about Kolyada. They often sing about the birth of Christ; and at the end they wish health to the owner, mistress, children and the whole house. Pastor's note. (Note by Gogol.)

We call anyone a German who is only from a foreign land, even if he is a Frenchman, or a tsar, or a Swede - everything is German. (Note by Gogol.)

The last day before Christmas has passed. A clear winter night has come. Stars looked. The month majestically rose to heaven to shine for good people and the whole world, so that everyone would have fun caroling and glorifying Christ. It was freezing colder than in the morning; but on the other hand it was so quiet that the creak of frost under a boot could be heard half a verst away. Not a single crowd of lads had yet shown under the windows of the huts; the moon alone peeped furtively into them, as if urging the dressed-up girls to run out into the squeaky snow as soon as possible. Then smoke fell in clubs through the chimney of one hut and went in a cloud across the sky, and together with the smoke a witch mounted on a broom rose up.

If at that time a Sorochinsky assessor was passing by on a trio of philistine horses, in a hat with a lamb band, made in the manner of a Uhlan, in a blue sheepskin coat, lined with black furs, with a devilishly woven whip, which he has a habit of urging his driver, then he would, right , noticed her, because not a single witch in the world would escape from the Sorochinsky assessor. He knows for sure how many pigs every woman has, and how many canvases are in the chest, and what exactly from her dress and household a good man will lay on Sunday in a tavern. But the Sorochinsky assessor did not pass by, and what does he care about strangers, he has his own parish. And meanwhile the witch had risen so high that only a black speck flickered above. But wherever a speck appeared, there the stars, one after another, disappeared in the sky. Soon the witch had a full sleeve of them. Three or four were still shining. Suddenly, from the opposite side, another speck appeared, increased, began to stretch, and it was no longer a speck. Short-sighted, at least he put wheels from the Komissarov's britzka on his nose instead of glasses, and then he wouldn't have recognized what it was. The front is completely German: the narrow, constantly twirling and sniffing everything that came across, the muzzle ended, like our pigs, in a round patch, the legs were so thin that if Yareskov's head had such, he would have broken them in the first Cossack. But on the other hand, behind him he was a real provincial attorney in uniform, because his tail hung, as sharp and long as the coat-tails of today; only by the goat's beard under his muzzle, by the small horns sticking out on his head, and that he was not all whiter than a chimney sweep, could one guess that he was not a German and not a provincial attorney, but simply a devil, who had been left to stagger around the world last night and to teach the sins of good people. Tomorrow, with the first bells for matins, he will run without looking back, tail between his legs, to his lair.

Meanwhile, the devil crept slowly towards the moon and was already stretching out his hand to grab it, but suddenly pulled it back, as if burned, sucked his fingers, dangled his leg and ran from the other side, and again jumped back and pulled his hand away. However, despite all the failures, the cunning devil did not leave his pranks. Running up, he suddenly grabbed the moon with both hands, grimacing and blowing, tossing it from one hand to the other, like a peasant who takes out a fire for his cradle with his bare hands; Finally, he hurriedly put it in his pocket and, as if he had never happened, ran further.

In Dikanka, no one heard how the devil stole the moon. True, the volost clerk, coming out of the tavern on all fours, saw that the moon was dancing in the sky for no reason at all, and assured the whole village of it with God; but the laity shook their heads and even laughed at him. But what was the reason for the devil to decide on such a lawless deed? And this is what it was like: he knew that the rich Cossack Chub was invited by the deacon to kutya, where they would be: a head; a relative of a deacon in a blue frock coat, who came from the bishop's singing room, took the lowest bass; the Cossack Sverbyguz and someone else; where, in addition to kutya, there will be varenukha, vodka distilled for saffron, and a lot of all kinds of food. In the meantime, his daughter, the beauty of the whole village, will stay at home, and the blacksmith, a strong man and a fellow, who the hell was more disgusting than Father Kondrat’s sermons, will probably come to her daughter. In his spare time, the blacksmith was engaged in painting and was known as the best painter in the whole neighborhood. The centurion, who was still alive at that time, himself, L...ko, summoned him on purpose to Poltava to paint the wooden fence near his house. All the bowls from which the Dikan Cossacks slurped borscht were painted by the blacksmith. The blacksmith was a God-fearing man and often painted images of saints: and now you can still find his evangelist Luke in the T ... church. But the triumph of his art was one picture, painted on the church wall in the right vestibule, in which he depicted St. Peter on the day of the Last Judgment, with keys in his hands, driving out an evil spirit from hell; the frightened devil rushed about in all directions, foreseeing his death, and the previously imprisoned sinners beat and chased him with whips, logs, and everything else. At the time when the painter was working on this picture and painting it on a large wooden board, the devil tried with all his might to interfere with him: he pushed invisibly under the arm, raised ashes from the furnace in the forge and sprinkled the picture with it; but, in spite of everything, the work was finished, the board was brought into the church and built into the wall of the narthex, and from that time the devil swore to take revenge on the blacksmith.

Only one night remained for him to stagger in the wide world; but even that night he looked for something to vent his anger on the blacksmith. And for this he decided to steal the month, in the hope that the old Chub was lazy and not easy to climb, but the deacon was not so close to the hut: the road went beyond the village, past the mills, past the cemetery, went around the ravine. Even with a month-long night, varenukha and vodka infused with saffron could have lured Chub. But in such darkness, it would hardly have been possible for anyone to pull him off the stove and call him out of the hut. And the blacksmith, who had been at odds with him for a long time, would never dare to go to his daughter in his presence, despite his strength.

In this way, as soon as the devil hid his moon in his pocket, it suddenly became so dark all over the world that not everyone would find the way to the tavern, not only to the clerk. The witch, seeing herself suddenly in the darkness, cried out. Then the devil, riding up like a small demon, grabbed her by the arm and started to whisper in her ear the same thing that is usually whispered to the entire female race. Wonderfully arranged in our world! Everything that lives in it tries to adopt and mimic one another. Before, it used to be that in Mirgorod one judge and the mayor went around in the winter in sheepskin coats covered with cloth, and all the petty officials wore just naked ones. Now both the assessor and the podkomory have worn out new fur coats from Reshetilov's fur coats with a cloth cover. The clerk and the volost clerk took the blue Chinese woman for six hryvnia arshins in the third year. The sexton made himself nanke trousers and a waistcoat of striped garus for the summer. In a word, everything climbs into people! When these people will not be vain! You can bet that it will seem surprising to many to see the devil set off to the same place for himself. The most annoying thing of all is that he probably imagines himself handsome, while as a figure - to look ashamed. Erysipelas, as Foma Grigoryevich says, an abomination is an abomination, but he also builds love chickens! But it became so dark in the sky and under the sky that it was no longer possible to see what was going on between them.

- So you, godfather, have not yet been to the deacon in the new hut? - said the Cossack Chub, leaving the door of his hut, to a lean, tall, muzhik in a short sheepskin coat with an overgrown beard, which showed that for more than two weeks a fragment of a scythe, with which peasants usually shave their beard for lack of a razor, has not touched it. - There will now be a good drinking party! - continued Chub, while softening his face. - We don't want to be late.

At this, Chub straightened his belt, which tightly intercepted his sheepskin coat, pulled his hat tighter, squeezed the whip in his hand - fear and a thunderstorm of annoying dogs, but, looking up, stopped ...

- What a devil! Look! look, Panas!

- What? - the godfather said and raised his head also up.

- Like what? no month!

- What an abyss! In fact, there is no month.

“Something that’s not there,” Chub uttered with some annoyance at the constant indifference of his godfather. - You don't even need to.

- What should I do!

“It was necessary,” Chub continued, wiping his mustache with his sleeve, “some devil, so that he didn’t happen to drink a glass of vodka in the morning, a dog, intervene! window: the night is a miracle! It is light, the snow shines during the month. Everything was visible as in the daytime. I didn’t have time to go out the door - and now, at least gouge out your eye!

Chub grumbled and scolded for a long time, and meanwhile at the same time pondered what he would decide on. He was dying to chat about all sorts of nonsense at the deacon’s, where, without any doubt, the head, and the visiting bass, and the tar Mikita, who went to Poltava every two weeks for auction and made such jokes that all the laity took their stomachs, were already sitting. with laughter. Chub already saw in his mind the varenukha standing on the table. It was all tempting, really; but the darkness of the night reminded him of that laziness which is so dear to all Cossacks. How nice it would be to lie now, legs tucked under you, on a couch, calmly smoke a cradle and listen through the entrancing drowsiness to carols and songs of cheerful lads and girls crowding in heaps under the windows. He would, no doubt, have decided on the latter if he had been alone, but now it is not so boring and scary for both of them to walk in the dark night, and they did not want to seem lazy or cowardly in front of others. Having finished the scolding, he turned again to his godfather:

- So no, godfather, a month?

- Wonderful, right! Let me sniff some tobacco. You, godfather, have glorious tobacco! Where do you take it?

- What the hell, glorious! - answered the godfather, closing the birch tavlinka, punctured with patterns. “The old chicken won’t sneeze!”

“I remember,” Chub continued in the same way, “the late tavern maker Zozulya once brought me tobacco from Nizhyn. Oh, there was tobacco! good tobacco! So, godfather, how should we be? it's dark outside.

“So, perhaps, we’ll stay at home,” the godfather said, grabbing the door handle.

If the godfather had not said this, then Chub would surely have decided to stay, but now it was as if something was pulling him to go against the grain.

- No, mate, let's go! you can't, you have to go!

Having said this, he was already vexed with himself for what he had said. It was very unpleasant for him to drag himself on such a night; but he was consoled by the fact that he himself purposely wanted it and did not do it the way he was advised.

Kum, without expressing the slightest movement of annoyance on his face, as a man who absolutely does not care whether he sits at home or drags himself out of the house, looked around, scratched his shoulders with a batog stick, and the two godfathers set off on the road.

Now let's see what the beautiful daughter does, left alone. Oksana was not yet seventeen years old, as in almost all the world, and on the other side of Dikanka, and on this side of Dikanka, there were only speeches about her. The lads in a herd proclaimed that there had never been a better girl and never would be in the village. Oksana knew and heard everything that was said about her, and was capricious, like a beauty. If she walked not in a plank and spare tire, but in some kind of hood, she would have dispersed all her girls. The lads chased her in droves, but, having lost patience, they left her little by little and turned to others who were not so spoiled. Only the blacksmith was stubborn and did not leave his red tape, despite the fact that it was no better to deal with him than with others.

After her father's departure, for a long time she dressed up and coaxed herself in front of a small mirror in a tin frame and could not stop admiring herself.

- What did people take it into their heads to praise, as if I were good? she said, as if absent-mindedly, only to chat about something to herself. People lie, I'm not good at all. – But the face that flashed in the mirror, fresh, alive in childish youth, with shining black eyes and an inexpressibly pleasant smile that burned through the soul, suddenly proved the opposite. “Are my black eyebrows and my eyes,” continued the beauty, not letting go of the mirror, “so good that they have no equal in the world? What's so good about that upturned nose? and cheeks? and in the lips? Like my black braids look good? Wow! one can be frightened of them in the evening: they, like long snakes, intertwined and coiled around my head. I see now that I'm not good at all! - And, pushing the mirror a little further away from her, she cried out: - No, I'm good! Ah, how good! Miracle! What joy I will bring to the one whom I will be the wife! How my husband will admire me! He won't remember himself. He will kiss me to death.

- Wonderful girl! whispered the blacksmith, who entered quietly. And she doesn't have much to boast about! He stands for an hour, looking in the mirror, and does not look enough, and still praises himself aloud!

- Yes, lads, do you like me? look at me,” continued the pretty coquette, “how smoothly I step forward; I have a shirt sewn with red silk. And what tapes on the head! You never see a richer galloon! My father bought all this for me so that the best fellow in the world would marry me! - And, smiling, she turned in the other direction and saw a blacksmith ...

She screamed and sternly stopped in front of him.

The blacksmith dropped his hands.

It is difficult to tell what the marvelous girl's swarthy face expressed: both severity was visible in it, and through the severity some kind of mockery of the embarrassed blacksmith, and a barely noticeable flush of annoyance thinly spread over her face; it was all so mixed up and it was so indescribably good that kissing her a million times was all that could be done at that time in the best possible way.

– Why did you come here? Oksana began to speak like that. “Do you want to be kicked out the door with a shovel?” You are all masters to drive up to us. Instantly sniff out when the fathers are not at home. Oh, I know you! What, is my chest ready?

- It will be ready, my dear, after the holiday it will be ready. If you only knew how much you fussed around him: for two nights he did not leave the forge; but not a single priest will have such a chest. He put the iron on the fitting such as he did not put on the centurion's gibberish when he went to work in Poltava. And how it will be painted! Even if the whole neighborhood comes out with your little white legs, you will not find such a thing! Red and blue flowers will be scattered throughout the field. It will burn like fire. Don't be angry with me! Let me at least talk, at least look at you!

- Who forbids you, speak and look!

Then she sat down on the bench and again looked in the mirror and began to straighten her braids on her head. She glanced at her neck, at the new shirt embroidered with silk, and a subtle feeling of self-satisfaction was expressed on her lips, and on her fresh cheeks she shone in her eyes.

“Let me sit next to you!” said the blacksmith.

“Sit down,” Oksana said, keeping the same feeling in her lips and in her satisfied eyes.

- Wonderful, beloved Oksana, let me kiss you! - said the encouraged blacksmith and pressed her to him in the intention to grab a kiss; but Oksana turned away her cheeks, which were already at an inconspicuous distance from the blacksmith's lips, and pushed him away.

– What else do you want? When he has honey, he needs a spoon! Go away, your hands are harder than iron. Yes, you smell like smoke. I think I've been smeared all over with soot.

Then she brought up the mirror and again began to preen in front of him.

“She doesn’t love me,” the blacksmith thought to himself, hanging his head. - She's all toys; but I stand before her like a fool and keep my eyes on her. And everything would stand before her, and the century would not take her eyes off her! Wonderful girl! What wouldn't I give to know what's in her heart, who she loves! But no, she doesn't need anyone. She admires herself; torments me, the poor; and I do not see the light behind sadness; and I love her so much as no other person in the world has ever loved and will never love.

Is it true that your mother is a witch? Oksana said and laughed; and the blacksmith felt that everything inside him laughed. This laughter seemed to resonate at once in his heart and in his quietly quivering veins, and behind all this, vexation sunk into his soul that he was not in the power to kiss a face that laughed so pleasantly.

- What do I care about my mother? you are my mother, and father, and everything that is dear in the world. If the king called me and said: “Blacksmith Vakula, ask me for everything that is best in my kingdom, I will give everything to you. I will order you to make a golden forge, and you will forge with silver hammers. “I don’t want,” I would say to the king, “neither expensive stones, nor a golden forge, nor your entire kingdom. Give me better my Oksana!”

- See what you are! Only my father himself is not a blunder. You'll see when he doesn't marry your mother," Oksana said with a sly smile. - However, the girls do not come ... What would that mean? It's high time to carol. I get bored.

“God be with them, my beauty!”

- No matter how! with them, right, the lads will come. This is where the balls come in. I can imagine what funny stories they will tell!

So do you have fun with them?

- Yes, it's more fun than with you. BUT! someone knocked; right, girls with lads.

“What can I expect more? said the blacksmith to himself. - She's mocking me. I am as dear to her as a rusty horseshoe. But if so, it will not get, at least, to another to laugh at me. Let me just notice for sure who she likes more than me; I will teach…”

A knock on the door and a voice that sounded sharply in the cold: “Open it!” interrupted his thoughts.

“Wait, I’ll open it myself,” said the blacksmith and went out into the passage with the intention of breaking off the sides of the first person who came across in annoyance.

The frost increased, and it became so cold at the top that the devil jumped from one hoof to another and blew into his fist, wanting to somehow warm his freezing hands. It is not surprising, however, to freeze to death to one who pushed from morning to morning in hell, where, as you know, it is not as cold as it is in winter with us, and where, putting on a cap and standing in front of the hearth, as if in fact a cook, roasted he sinners with such pleasure, with which a woman usually fries sausage at Christmas.

The witch herself felt that it was cold, despite the fact that she was warmly dressed; and therefore, raising her hands up, she put her foot aside and, having brought herself into such a position as a man flying on skates, without moving a single joint, she descended through the air, as if along an icy sloping mountain, and straight into the pipe.

The devil followed her in the same order. But since this animal is more agile than any dandy in stockings, it is not surprising that at the very entrance to the chimney he ran into the neck of his mistress, and both found themselves in a spacious stove between the pots.

The traveler slowly pushed back the shutter to see if her son Vakula called the guests into the hut, but, seeing that there was no one there, turning off only the bags that lay in the middle of the hut, she got out of the stove, threw off the warm casing, recovered, and no one could find out that she rode a broom a minute ago.

The mother of the blacksmith Vakula was no more than forty years old. She was neither good nor bad. It's hard to be good in such years. However, she was so able to enchant the most sedate Cossacks (who, by the way, do not interfere with remarking, had little need for beauty), that both the head and the clerk Osip Nikiforovich went to her (of course, if the clerk was not at home), and the Cossack Korniy Chub, and the Cossack Kasyan Sverbyguz. And, to her credit, she knew how to deal with them skillfully. It never occurred to any of them that he had a rival. Whether a pious peasant, or a nobleman, as the Cossacks call themselves, dressed in a kobenyak with a widlog, went to church on Sunday or, if the weather was bad, to a tavern - how not to go to Solokha, not eat fat dumplings with sour cream and not chat in a warm hut with a talkative and obsequious hostess. And the nobleman deliberately gave a big detour for this, before he reached the tavern, and called it - to go along the road.

And if Solokha used to go to church on a holiday, putting on a bright plakht with a Chinese spare, and over her blue skirt, on which a golden mustache was sewn on the back, and stand right next to the right wing, then the clerk would already cough correctly and squint involuntarily at that side of the eye the head was stroking his mustache, the settled man was wrapping his ear around and saying to his neighbor who was standing near him: “Oh, good woman! damn woman!

Solokha bowed to everyone, and everyone thought that she bowed to him alone. But a hunter to interfere in other people's affairs would immediately notice that Solokha was the friendliest of all with the Cossack Chub. Chub was a widow. Eight stacks of bread always stood in front of his hut. Two pairs of hefty oxen each time stuck their heads out of the wicker shed into the street and lowed when they envied the walking godfather - a cow, or uncle - a fat bull. The bearded goat climbed to the very roof and rattled from there in a harsh voice, like a mayor, teasing the turkeys that were walking around the yard and turning around when he envied his enemies, the boys who mocked at his beard. In Chub's chests there were a lot of linen, zhupans, and old kuntush with gold galloons: his late wife was a dandy. In the garden, in addition to poppies, cabbage, sunflowers, two more fields of tobacco were sown every year. Solokha found it not superfluous to attach all this to her household, thinking in advance about what order it would take when it passed into her hands, and doubled her favor for old Chub. And so that somehow her son Vakula would not drive up to his daughter and not have time to clean up everything for himself, and then he would probably not allow her to interfere in anything, she resorted to the usual means of all forty-year-old gossips: to quarrel Chub with the blacksmith as often as possible. Perhaps these very cunning and sharpness of hers were the reason that in some places the old women began to say, especially when they drank too much somewhere at a merry gathering, that Solokha was definitely a witch; that the lad Kizyakolupenko saw behind her a tail the size of no more than a woman's spindle; that even the Thursday before last she ran across the road like a black cat; that a pig once ran up to the priest, crowed like a rooster, put Father Kondrat's hat on his head and ran back.

It happened that when the old women were talking about this, some cow shepherd Tymish Korostyavy came. He did not fail to tell how in the summer, just before Petrovka, when he lay down to sleep in the barn, putting straw under his head, he saw with his own eyes that a witch, with a loose scythe, in one shirt, began to milk the cows, and he could not move, so was bewitched; after milking the cows, she came to him and smeared his lips with something so vile that he spat all day afterwards. But all this is something doubtful, because only the Sorochinskiy assessor can see the witch. And that is why all eminent Cossacks waved their hands when they heard such speeches. "The bitch women are lying!" was their usual answer.

Getting out of the stove and recovering, Solokha, like a good housewife, began to clean up and put everything in its place, but she did not touch the bags: “Vakula brought this, let him take it out himself!” The devil, meanwhile, when he was still flying into the chimney, somehow accidentally turned around, saw Chub, arm in arm with his godfather, already far from the hut. In an instant, he flew out of the stove, crossed their path and began to tear heaps of frozen snow from all sides. A blizzard has risen. The air turned white. The snow tossed back and forth in a net and threatened to close up the eyes, mouths and ears of pedestrians. And the devil flew back into the chimney, firmly convinced that Chub would return with his godfather, find the blacksmith and treat him so that he would not be able to take a brush in his hands and paint offensive caricatures for a long time.

In fact, as soon as a blizzard rose and the wind began to cut right in the eyes, Chub already expressed remorse and, pressing the droplets deeper on his head, treated himself, the devil and godfather with scolding. However, this annoyance was feigned. Chub was very pleased with the blizzard that had risen. The clerk still had eight times the distance they had traveled. The travelers turned back. The wind blew on the back of my head; but nothing could be seen through the rushing snow.

- Stop, godfather! we seem to be going the wrong way,” said Chub, stepping back a little, “I don’t see a single hut. Oh, what a blizzard! Turn around, godfather, a little to the side, if you find the way; and in the meantime I'll look here. The evil spirit will pull to drag along such a blizzard! Don't forget to scream when you find your way. Eck, what a pile of snow has Satan thrown into his eyes!

The road, however, was not visible. Kum, stepping aside, wandered back and forth in long boots, and finally came across a tavern. This discovery pleased him so much that he forgot everything and, shaking the snow off himself, went into the passage, not in the least worrying about the godfather who remained on the street. It seemed to Chub between the fact that he had found the way; stopping, he began to shout at the top of his lungs, but, seeing that the godfather did not appear, he decided to go himself. Walking a little, he saw his hut. Snowdrifts lay around her and on the roof. Clapping his hands frozen in the cold, he began to knock on the door and shout commandingly to his daughter to open it.

- What do you need here? - the blacksmith came out sternly.

Chub, recognizing the blacksmith's voice, stepped back a little. “Oh, no, this is not my hut,” he said to himself, “a blacksmith will not wander into my hut. Again, if you look closely, then not Kuznetsov. Whose house would this be? Here on! did not recognize! this is the lame Levchenko, who recently married a young wife. He has only one house similar to mine. It seemed to me, and at first a little strange, that I had come home so soon. However, Levchenko is now sitting with the deacon, I know that; why the blacksmith?.. E-ge-ge! he goes to his young wife. That's how! good! ... now I understand everything.

- Who are you and why are you hanging around under the doors? - the blacksmith said more severely than before and came closer.

“No, I won’t tell him who I am,” Chub thought, “what good, he’ll nail it down, damned freak!” and, changing his voice, answered:

- It's me, good man! I came for your amusement to carol a little under the windows.

“Go to hell with your carols!” Vakula shouted angrily. - Why are you standing? Hear, get out this hour!

Chub himself already had this prudent intention, but it seemed to him vexingly that he was forced to obey the orders of the blacksmith. It seemed that some evil spirit was pushing him by the arm and forcing him to say something in defiance.

“Why are you really screaming like that?” - he said in the same voice, - I want to carol, and that's enough.

- Ege! Yes, you won’t get tired of words! .. - Following these words, Chub felt a painful blow to his shoulder.

- Yes, it's you, as I see it, you are already starting to fight! he said, stepping back a little.

- Go, go! the blacksmith shouted, giving Chub another push.

- Go, go! the blacksmith shouted and slammed the door.

“Look how brave you are!” Chub said, left alone on the street. - Try to get close! wow what! here's a big one! Do you think I won't find a trial for you? No, my dear, I'll go, and I'll go straight to the commissioner. You will know me! I will not see that you are a blacksmith and painter. However, look at the back and shoulders: I think there are blue spots. The son of the enemy must have beaten him painfully! It’s a pity that it’s cold and you don’t want to throw off the casing! Wait, you demonic blacksmith, so that the devil beats both you and your forge, you will dance with me! Look, damned shibenik! However, now he is not at home. Solokha, I think, is sitting alone. Hm... it's not far from here; would go! The time is now such that no one will catch us. Maybe even that will be possible... Look, how painfully the cursed blacksmith beat him!

Here Chub, scratching his back, went in the other direction. The pleasantness that awaited him ahead when meeting with Solokha lessened the pain a little and made insensible the very frost that crackled through all the streets, not drowned out by the blizzard whistle. From time to time, on his face, whose beard and mustache the blizzard lathered with snow more quickly than any barber, tyrannically grabbing his victim by the nose, showed a semi-sweet mine. But if, however, the snow had not baptized back and forth everything in front of your eyes, then for a long time you could see how Chub stopped, scratched his back, said: “The damned blacksmith hit painfully!” - and set off again.

At the time when the nimble dandy with a tail and a goat's beard was flying out of the chimney and then back into the chimney, the palm hanging on a sling at his side, in which he hid the stolen moon, somehow accidentally caught in the stove, dissolved, and the moon, taking advantage of this opportunity, he flew out through the chimney of Solokhina's hut and smoothly rose through the sky. Everything lit up. Blizzards as never happened. The snow caught fire in a wide silver field and was sprinkled all over with crystal stars. The frost seemed to warm up. Crowds of lads and girls appeared with sacks. The songs rang out, and carolers did not crowd under the rare hut.

The month is amazing! It is hard to tell how good it is to hustle on such a night between a bunch of laughing and singing girls and between lads ready for all the jokes and inventions that a merrily laughing night can only inspire. It's warm under a tight casing; from the frost, the cheeks burn even more vividly; and in pranks, the evil one himself pushes from behind.

Heaps of girls with bags broke into Chub's hut and surrounded Oksana. Shouts, laughter, stories deafened the blacksmith. Everyone vied with each other in a hurry to tell the beauty something new, unloaded sacks and boasted of the biscuits, sausages, dumplings, which they had already managed to collect enough for their carols. Oksana seemed to be in complete pleasure and joy, chatting now with one, then with another, and laughing incessantly. With a kind of annoyance and envy, the blacksmith looked at such gaiety, and this time he cursed carols, although he himself was crazy about them.

- Hey, Odarka! - said the cheerful beauty, turning to one of the girls, - you have new slippers! Ah, how good! and with gold! It’s good for you, Odarka, you have such a person who buys everything for you; and I have no one to get such glorious slippers.

- Do not grieve, my beloved Oksana! - picked up the blacksmith, - I will get you such slippers, which a rare lady wears.

- You? - Oksana said, quickly and arrogantly looking at him. “I’ll see where you can get slippers that I could put on my leg.” Can you bring the very ones that the queen wears.

See what you want! the crowd of girls shouted with laughter.

“Yes,” the beauty continued proudly, “be all of you witnesses: if the blacksmith Vakula brings those very slippers that the queen wears, then here is my word that I will marry him the same hour.”

The girls took the capricious beauty with them.

- Laugh, laugh! said the blacksmith, following them out. - I'm laughing at myself! I think and cannot think where my mind has gone. She doesn't love me—well, God bless her! as if there was only one Oksana in the whole world. Thank God, there are a lot of good girls even without her in the village. What about Oksana? she will never be a good mistress; she is just a master of dressing up. No, come on, it's time to stop fooling around.

But at the very moment when the blacksmith was preparing to be decisive, some evil spirit carried before him the laughing image of Oksana, who said mockingly: “Get out, blacksmith, the queen’s slippers, I will marry you!” Everything in him was agitated, and he thought only of Oksana.

Crowds of carolers, lads especially, girls especially, hurried from one street to another. But the blacksmith walked on and saw nothing and did not participate in those gaiety that he once loved more than anyone else.

Meanwhile, the devil, meanwhile, was seriously softening up with Solokha: he kissed her hand with such antics, like an assessor at a priest’s, took hold of her heart, groaned and said bluntly that if she did not agree to satisfy his passions and, as usual, to reward, then he was ready for everything: he will throw himself into the water, and send his soul straight into hell. Solokha was not so cruel, moreover, the devil, as you know, acted with her at the same time. She still liked to see the crowd dragging behind her and was rarely without company. This evening, however, I thought to spend alone, because all the eminent inhabitants of the village were invited to kutya to the deacon. But everything went differently: the devil had just presented his demand, when suddenly the voice of a hefty head was heard. Solokha ran to open the door, and the nimble devil climbed into the lying sack.

The head, shaking off the snow from his drops and drinking a glass of vodka from Solokha's hands, said that he did not go to the deacon because a snowstorm had risen; and seeing the light in her hut, turned to her, intending to spend the evening with her.

Before the head had time to say this, a knock was heard at the door and the voice of the deacon.

“Hide me somewhere,” whispered the head. “I don’t want to meet the deacon now.

Solokha thought for a long time where to hide such a dense guest; finally chose the largest bag of coal; she poured the coal into a tub, and a hefty head with a mustache, with a head and with drops, entered the bag.

The clerk came in, groaning and rubbing his hands, and said that he had no one and that he was heartily glad of this opportunity to take a walk with her and was not afraid of a snowstorm. Then he came closer to her, coughed, grinned, touched her full bare arm with his long fingers and said with an air that showed both slyness and self-satisfaction:

- And what is it with you, magnificent Solokha? And having said this, he jumped back a little.

- Like what? Hand, Osip Nikiforovich! - answered Solokha.

- Hm! hand! heh! heh! heh! said the clerk, heartily pleased with his beginning, and walked up and down the room.

- And what is it with you, dearest Solokha? - he said with the same air, approaching her again and grabbing her lightly by the neck with his hand and jumping back in the same order.

- As if you do not see, Osip Nikiforovich! - answered Solokha. - Neck, and on the neck monisto.

- Hm! on the neck monisto! heh! heh! heh! - And the deacon again walked around the room, rubbing his hands. - And what is this with you, incomparable Solokha? ..

It is not known what the clerk would now touch with his long fingers, when suddenly a knock was heard at the door and the voice of the Cossack Chub.

- Oh, my God, a third-party face! the deacon shouted in fright. - What now, if they catch a person of my rank? .. It will reach Father Kondrat! ..

But the clerk's fears were of a different kind: he was more afraid that his half would not recognize him, who, with her terrible hand, made the narrowest of his thick braids.

"For God's sake, virtuous Solokha," he said, trembling all over. - Your kindness, as the scripture of Luke says, the head of the trine ... trine ... They are knocking, by God, they are knocking! Oh, hide me somewhere.

Solokha poured coal into a tub from another sack, and the clerk, not too bulky in body, climbed into it and sat on the very bottom, so that half a sack of coal could be poured over it.

- Hello, Solokha! - said, entering the hut, Chub. "Maybe you weren't expecting me, were you?" really didn't expect it? maybe I interfered? .. - continued Chub, showing on his face a cheerful and significant mien, which let you know in advance that his clumsy head was working and preparing to let go of some caustic and intricate joke. “Maybe you were having fun with someone here? .. maybe you hid someone already, huh? - And, delighted with such a remark of his, Chub laughed, inwardly triumphant that he alone enjoys the favor of Solokha. - Well, Solokha, let me drink some vodka now. I think my throat is frozen from the damn frost. God sent such a night before Christmas! How I grabbed it, you hear, Solokha, how I grabbed it ... my hands ossified: I won’t unfasten the casing! how the blizzard caught ...

“Someone is knocking,” said Chub, who had stopped.

- Open it! They screamed louder than before.

- It's a blacksmith! - said Chub, clutching the caps. - Do you hear, Solokha: where you want to take me; I don't want for anything in the world to show myself to this damned freak, so that he runs into it, the devil's son, under both eyes there is a bubble in a mop the size of!

Solokha, frightened herself, tossed about like mad, and, forgetting herself, gave a sign to Chub to climb into the very sack in which the deacon was already sitting. The poor clerk did not even dare to cough and grunt in pain when a heavy peasant sat almost on his head and placed his boots, frozen in the cold, on both sides of his temples.

The blacksmith entered without saying a word, without taking off his hat, and almost collapsed onto the bench. It was obvious that he was in a very bad mood.

At the very moment Solokha was shutting the door behind him, someone knocked again. It was the Cossack Sverbyguz. This one could no longer be hidden in a bag, because such a bag could not be found. He was heavier in body than the head itself and taller than Chubov's godfather. And so Solokha took him out into the garden to hear from him everything he wanted to tell her.

The blacksmith absentmindedly looked around the corners of his hut, listening from time to time to the far-reaching songs of carolers; finally fixed his eyes on the sacks: “Why are these sacks lying here? It's time to get them out of here. Through this foolish love, I have gone completely silly. Tomorrow is a holiday, and there is still all sorts of rubbish in the hut. Take them to the forge!"

Here the blacksmith sat down on the huge sacks, tied them tighter, and prepared to hoist them over his shoulders. But it was noticeable that his thoughts were wandering God knows where, otherwise he would have heard Chub hissing when a hair on his head was tied with a rope tied in a sack, and his hefty head began to hiccup quite clearly.

“Won’t this worthless Oksana get out of my mind?” - said the blacksmith, - I don’t want to think about her; but everything is thought about, and, as if on purpose, about her alone. Why is it so that a thought creeps into one's head against one's will? Damn it, the bags seem to be heavier than before! There must be something else here besides coal. I'm a fool! I forgot that now everything seems harder to me. Before, I used to be able to bend and unbend in one hand a copper nickel and a horseshoe; and now I won’t lift sacks of coal. Soon I will fall from the wind. No,” he cried, after a pause and emboldened, “what a woman I am! Don't let anyone laugh at you! At least ten such bags, I will lift everything. - And he cheerfully heaped bags on his shoulders that two hefty people would not have carried. “Take this one too,” he continued, picking up the little one, at the bottom of which the devil lay curled up. - Here, it seems, I put my instrument. - Having said this, he went out of the hut, whistling a song:
I don't bother with a woman.

Noisier and noisier the songs and shouts rang out through the streets. The crowds of the jostling people were enlarged by the arrivals from neighboring villages. The lads were naughty and furious enough. Often, between carols, some cheerful song was heard, which one of the young Cossacks immediately managed to compose. Then suddenly one of the crowd, instead of a carol, let out a carol and roared at the top of his voice:
Shchedryk, bucket!
Give me a dumpling
Porridge breast,
Kіltse cowbaski!

Laughter rewarded the entertainer. The small windows were raised, and the lean hand of the old woman, who alone remained in the huts together with the staid fathers, protruded from the window with a sausage in her hands or a piece of pie. The boys and girls vying with each other set up bags and caught their prey. In one place, the lads, coming in from all sides, surrounded a crowd of girls: noise, screaming, one threw a clod of snow, the other pulled out a bag with all sorts of things. In another place, the girls caught the lad, put their foot on him, and he flew headlong to the ground along with the bag. It seemed that they were ready to have fun all night long. And the night, as if on purpose, glowed so luxuriously! and even whiter seemed the light of the moon from the brilliance of the snow.

The blacksmith stopped with his bags. He fancied Oksana's voice and thin laughter in the crowd of girls. All the veins in him trembled; throwing the sacks on the ground so that the clerk, who was at the bottom, groaned from a bruise and hiccuped his head, he wandered off with a small sack on his shoulders, along with a crowd of lads, following the crowd of girls, between which he heard Oksana's voice.

“Yes, it is her! stands like a queen, and shines with black eyes! A prominent lad tells her something; right, funny, because she laughs. But she always laughs." As if involuntarily, not understanding how, the blacksmith pushed his way through the crowd and stood beside her.

“Ah, Vakula, you are here!” hello! - said the beauty with the same smile that almost drove Vakula crazy. - Well, did you carol a lot? Hey, what a small bag! did you get the slippers that the queen wears? - Get the slippers, I'll get married! And, laughing, she ran away with the crowd.

As if rooted to the spot, the blacksmith stood in one place. "No I can not; there is no more strength ... - he finally said. “But my God, why is she so damn good?” Her look, and speech, and everything, well, it burns like that, it burns like that ... No, you can’t overpower yourself already! It's time to put an end to everything: disappear, my soul, I'll go drown myself in the hole, and remember your name!

Then with a decisive step he went forward, caught up with the crowd, caught up with Oksana and said in a firm voice:

Farewell, Oksana! Look for yourself what kind of groom you want, fool whom you want; and you won't see me anymore in this world.

The beauty seemed surprised, she wanted to say something, but the blacksmith waved his hand and ran away.

Where, Vakula? the lads shouted, seeing the running blacksmith.

- Farewell, brothers! the blacksmith shouted back. “God willing, I’ll see you in the next world, but in this one we won’t walk together anymore. Farewell, do not remember dashingly! Tell Father Kondrat to make a requiem for my sinful soul. Candles for the icons of the miracle worker and the Mother of God, sinful, did not paint over worldly affairs. All the good that is in my hiding place, to the church! Farewell!

Having said this, the blacksmith began to run again with a bag on his back.

- He's hurt! the couples said.

- Lost soul! – devoutly muttered an old woman passing by. “Go tell how the blacksmith hanged himself!”

Vakula meanwhile, having run several streets, stopped to catch his breath. “Where am I really running? he thought, as if everything was already gone. I'll try another remedy: I'll go to the Cossack Pot-bellied Patsyuk. He, they say, knows all the devils and will do whatever he wants. I’ll go, because the soul still has to disappear!”

At the same time, the devil, who had been lying for a long time without any movement, jumped in the bag for joy; but the blacksmith, thinking that he had somehow hooked the sack with his hand and made this movement himself, struck the sack with his hefty fist and, shaking it on his shoulders, went to Pot-bellied Patsyuk.

This Pot-bellied Patsyuk was, as it were, once a Cossack; but they expelled him or he himself fled from Zaporozhye, no one knew this. For a long time, ten years, and maybe fifteen, he lived in Dikanka. At first he lived like a real Cossack: he did nothing, slept for three-quarters of the day, ate for six mowers and drank almost a whole bucket at a time; however, there was where to fit, because Patsyuk, despite his small stature, was rather weighty in width. Moreover, the trousers he wore were so wide that, no matter how long he took a step, his legs were completely invisible, and it seemed that the distillery was moving along the street. Maybe this is the very reason to call him Pot-bellied. A few days had not passed after his arrival in the village, as everyone already knew that he was a medicine man. If anyone was ill with anything, Patsyuk immediately called; and Patsyuk had only to whisper a few words, and the ailment seemed to be removed by hand. If it happened that a hungry nobleman choked on a fish bone, Patsyuk knew how to hit his back with his fist so skillfully that the bone went where it should, without causing any harm to the nobleman's throat. He has rarely been seen anywhere lately. The reason for this was, perhaps, laziness, or perhaps the fact that climbing through the door became more difficult for him every year. Then the laity had to go to him themselves if they needed him.

The blacksmith, not without timidity, opened the door and saw Patsyuk sitting on the floor in Turkish fashion in front of a small tub on which stood a bowl of dumplings. This bowl stood, as if on purpose, on a par with his mouth. Without moving a single finger, he bent his head slightly to the bowl and slurped the slurry, grabbing dumplings with his teeth from time to time.

“No, this one,” Vakula thought to himself, “is even lazier than Chub: he at least eats with a spoon, but this one doesn’t even want to raise his hands!”

Patsyuk must have been very busy with dumplings, because he did not seem to notice the arrival of the blacksmith, who, as soon as he stepped on the threshold, gave him a low bow.

- I came to your mercy, Patsyuk! Vakula said, bowing again.

Fat Patsyuk raised his head and began to slurp dumplings again.

“You, they say, don’t say it out of anger,” the blacksmith said, gathering his courage, “I’m not talking about this in order to inflict any offense on you, you’re a little like the devil.

Having uttered these words, Vakula was frightened, thinking that he still expressed himself bluntly and softened the strong words a little, and, expecting that Patsyuk, grabbing a tub with a bowl, would send it right to his head, stepped back a little and covered himself with his sleeve so that the hot slurry from dumplings did not splash his face.

But Patsyuk took a look and again began to slurp dumplings. Encouraged, the blacksmith decided to continue:

- He came to you, Patsyuk, God grant you everything, every good thing in contentment, bread in proportion! - The blacksmith sometimes knew how to screw in a buzzword; he had become adept at this when he was still in Poltava, when he painted a wooden fence for the centurion. - I have to disappear, a sinner! nothing helps in the world! What will be, will be, you have to ask the devil himself for help. Well, Patsyuk? - said the blacksmith, seeing his invariable silence, - what should I do?

- When you need the devil, then go to hell! answered Patsyuk, not raising his eyes to him and continuing to remove the dumplings.

- That's why I came to you, - answered the blacksmith, bowing, - except you, I think no one in the world knows the way to him.

Patsyuk did not say a word and ate the rest of the dumplings.

- Do me a favor, good man, do not refuse! - the blacksmith advanced, - whether pork, sausages, buckwheat flour, well, linen, millet or other things, in case of need ... as usual between good people ... we will not be stingy. Tell me at least how, roughly speaking, to get on the road to him?

“The one who has the devil behind him doesn’t need to go far,” said Patsyuk indifferently, without changing his position.

Vakula fixed his eyes on him, as if an explanation of these words had been written on his forehead. "What he says?" – silently asked his mina; and the half-open mouth was preparing to swallow, like a dumpling, the first word. But Patsyuk was silent.

Then Vakula noticed that there were neither dumplings nor a tub in front of him; but instead there were two wooden bowls on the floor; one was filled with dumplings, the other with sour cream. His thoughts and eyes involuntarily rushed to these dishes. “Let's see,” he said to himself, “how Patsyuk will eat dumplings. He probably won’t want to bend over to sip like dumplings, and it’s impossible: first you need to dip the dumpling in sour cream.

As soon as he had time to think this, Patsyuk opened his mouth, looked at the dumplings, and opened his mouth even more. At this time, the dumpling splashed out of the bowl, plopped into the sour cream, turned over to the other side, jumped up and just got into his mouth. Patsyuk ate and opened his mouth again, and the dumpling went again in the same order. He only took on the task of chewing and swallowing.

"Look, what a miracle!" thought the blacksmith, his mouth gaping in surprise, and at the same time he noticed that the dumpling was creeping into his mouth and had already smeared his lips with sour cream. Pushing the dumpling away and wiping his lips, the blacksmith began to think about what miracles there are in the world and what wisdom the evil spirit brings a person to, noticing, moreover, that only Patsyuk can help him. “I’ll bow to him again, let him explain it well ... But what the hell! because today the hungry kutya, and he eats dumplings, quick dumplings! What a fool I really am, standing here and picking up sin! Back!" And the pious blacksmith rushed out of the hut.

However, the devil, who was sitting in the sack and already rejoicing in advance, could not bear to see such a glorious prey leave his hands. As soon as the blacksmith lowered the bag, he jumped out of it and sat astride his neck.

Frost hit the blacksmith's skin; frightened and turning pale, he did not know what to do; I already wanted to cross myself ... But the devil, tilting his dog snout to his right ear, said:

- It's me - your friend, I will do everything for a comrade and friend! I'll give you as much money as you want,” he squeaked into his left ear. “Oksana will be ours today,” he whispered, turning his snout back over his right ear.

The blacksmith stood, thinking.

- If you please, - he said at last, - for such a price I am ready to be yours!

The devil clasped his hands and began to gallop with joy on the blacksmith's neck. “Now the blacksmith has been caught! - he thought to himself, - now I will take out on you, my dear, all your painting and fables, cocked on the devils. What will my comrades say now when they find out that the most pious man in the whole village is in my hands? Here the devil laughed with joy, remembering how he would tease the entire tailed tribe in hell, how the lame devil, who was considered among them the first to invent, would rage.

- Well, Vakula! - the devil squeaked, still not getting off his neck, as if afraid that he would not run away, - you know that nothing is done without a contract.

- I'm ready! said the blacksmith. - You, I heard, sign with blood; wait, I'll get a nail in my pocket! - Here he laid his hand back - and grab the devil by the tail.

- Look, what a joker! – shouted, laughing, devil. - Well, that's enough, enough to be naughty!

- Stop, dove! - shouted the blacksmith, - but how does it seem to you? - At this word, he created a cross, and the devil became as quiet as a lamb. “Wait a minute,” he said, dragging him by the tail to the ground, “you will know from me to teach good people and honest Christians about the sins!” - Here the blacksmith, not letting go of his tail, jumped on him and raised his hand for the sign of the cross.

- Have mercy, Vakula! - the devil groaned plaintively, - I will do everything that is necessary for you, let go only your soul to repentance: do not lay a terrible cross on me!

- Where? - Said the sad devil.

- To Petemburg, straight to the queen!

And the blacksmith was stupefied with fear, feeling himself rising into the air.

Oksana stood for a long time, thinking about the strange speeches of the blacksmith. Already inside her, something said that she had treated him too cruelly. What if he really decides to do something terrible? “What good! maybe out of grief he will take it into his head to fall in love with another and out of vexation will begin to call her the first beauty in the village? But no, he loves me. I'm so good! He won't change me for anything; he is joking, pretending. In less than ten minutes, he will probably come to look at me. I'm really tough. You need to give him, as if reluctantly, kiss yourself. That's what he'll be happy about!" And the windy beauty was already joking with her friends.

“Wait a minute,” said one of them, “the blacksmith forgot his sacks; look at those scary bags! He did not carol in our way: I think they threw a whole quarter of a ram here; but sausages and breads, it’s true, there’s no count. Luxury! whole holidays you can overeat.

- Are these Kuznetsov's bags? Oksana picked it up. “Let’s drag them to my hut as soon as possible and take a good look at what he put here.”

Everyone laughingly approved this proposal.

But we won't pick them up! the whole crowd suddenly shouted, trying to move the sacks.

“Wait a minute,” Oksana said, “let’s run for the sled and take it on the sled!”

And the crowd ran after the sled.

The captives were very tired of sitting in the sacks, despite the fact that the clerk had pierced a decent hole for himself with his finger. If there were not yet people, then perhaps he would have found a way to get out; but to get out of the sack in front of everyone, to show himself to be laughed at ... this restrained him, and he decided to wait, only slightly grunting under Chub's impolite boots. Chub himself desired freedom no less, feeling that under him lay something on which fear was awkward to sit. But as soon as he heard his daughter's decision, he calmed down and did not want to get out, arguing that he had to walk at least a hundred steps to his hut, and maybe even another. When you get out, you need to recover, fasten the casing, tie up the belt - how much work! and the capes remained with Solokha. Let them better take the girls on sleds. But it did not happen at all as Chub expected. At the time when the girls ran after the sled, the thin godfather came out of the tavern upset and out of sorts. Shinkarka in no way dared to believe in his debt; he wanted to wait, perhaps some pious nobleman would come and treat him; but, as if on purpose, all the nobles remained at home and, like honest Christians, ate kutya among their households. Thinking about the corruption of morals and the wooden heart of a Jewess selling wine, the godfather came across the sacks and stopped in amazement.

- Look, what bags someone threw on the road! - he said, looking around, - there must be pork here. It’s good for someone to carol so many different things! What terrible bags! Let us suppose that they are filled with Greeks and cakes, and that is good. At least there were only flakes here, and then in shmak: a Jewess gives an eighth of vodka for each flare. Drag quickly so that no one sees. Here he shouldered the sack with Chub and the clerk, but he felt that it was too heavy. “No, it will be hard to carry alone,” he said, “but, as if on purpose, the weaver Shapuvalenko is coming. Hello Ostap!

“Hello,” said the weaver, stopping.

- Where are you going?

- And so, I go where my legs go.

- Help, good man, to carry the bags! someone caroled, and threw it in the middle of the road. Let's split in half.

- Bags? and what are the bags with, with knyshs or palyanitsa?

Yes, I think there is everything.

Then they hastily pulled sticks out of the wattle fence, put a sack on them and carried them on their shoulders.

"Where are we going to take him?" in a tire? asked the weaver on the way.

- It would and I thought so, so that in the tavern; but the damned Jewess won't believe it, she'll still think that it was stolen somewhere; besides, I just got out of the tavern. We'll take it to my house. No one will interfere with us: Zhinka is not at home.

- Are you sure you're not at home? asked the cautious weaver.

- Thank God, we are not completely crazy yet, - said the godfather, - the devil would bring me to where she is. She, I think, will drag herself with the women to the light.

- Who's there? - Shouted the godfather's wife, hearing a noise in the hallway, made by the arrival of two friends with a bag, and opening the door.

Kum was dumbfounded.

- Here's to you! said the weaver, dropping his hands.

Kuma's wife was such a treasure, which are many in the world. Just like her husband, she almost never sat at home and almost all day crawled at the gossips and wealthy old women, praised and ate with great appetite and fought only in the mornings with her husband, because at that time she only saw him sometimes. Their hut was twice as old as the volost clerk's trousers, the roof in some places was without thatch. There were only remnants of the wattle fence, because everyone who left the house never took sticks for dogs, in the hope that he would pass by the godfather's garden and pull out any of his wattle fences. The stove was not heated for three days. Everything that the tender wife asked from kind people, she hid as far as possible from her husband and often arbitrarily took away his booty from him if he did not have time to drink it in a tavern. Kum, despite his usual composure, did not like to yield to her and therefore almost always left the house with lanterns under both eyes, and the dear half, groaning, trudged to tell the old women about the excesses of her husband and about the beatings she had suffered from him.

Now one can imagine how puzzled the weaver and the godfather were by such an unexpected phenomenon. Lowering the sack, they stepped in and covered it with the floor; but it was already too late: although the godfather's wife saw badly with her old eyes, she nevertheless noticed the bag.

- That is good! she said with a look that showed the joy of a hawk. - It's good that they caroled so much! That's what good people always do; only no, I think they picked it up somewhere. Show me this hour, you hear, show me this very hour your bag!

“The bald devil will show you, not us,” said the godfather, drawing himself up.

- Do you care? - said the weaver, - we caroled, not you.

“No, you will show me, you worthless drunkard!” - cried the wife, hitting the tall godfather in the chin with her fist and making her way to the sack.

But the weaver and godfather bravely defended the sack and forced her to step back. Before they had time to recover, the wife ran out into the passage already with a poker in her hands. She nimbly grabbed her husband's hands with the poker, weaving on the back, and was already standing near the sack.

- Why did we allow it? - said the weaver, waking up.

- Oh, what have we allowed! why did you allow it? - said coolly godfather.

- You have a poker, apparently, iron! – said the weaver after a short silence, scratching his back. - My wife bought a poker last year at the fair, gave beer kop, - that’s okay ... it doesn’t hurt ...

Meanwhile, the triumphant wife, placing the kagan on the floor, untied the sack and looked into it. But, it is true, her old eyes, which saw the bag so well, were deceived this time.

- Oh, yes, there is a whole boar! she cried, clasping her hands in joy.

- Boar! Do you hear, a whole boar! - the weaver pushed the godfather. - And it's all your fault!

– What to do! - said, shrugging his shoulders, godfather.

- Like what? what are we standing for? let's take the bag! well, get started!

– Went away! gone! this is our boar! - shouted, speaking, the weaver.

"Go, go, you damn woman!" it's not your good! - said, approaching, godfather.

The wife started again at the poker, but at that moment Chub got out of the sack and stood in the middle of the passage, stretching like a man who has just awakened from a long sleep.

Kumov's wife screamed, hitting the floor with her hands, and everyone involuntarily opened their mouths.

- Well, she, a fool, says: a boar! It's not a boar! - said the godfather, bulging his eyes.

“Look, what a man was thrown into the sack!” said the weaver, backing away in fright. - At least say what you want, even crack, and not without evil spirits. After all, he will not crawl through the window.

- This is godfather! - shouted, peering, godfather.

- Who did you think? Chub said, smiling. - What, I threw a glorious thing over you? And you probably wanted to eat me instead of pork? Wait, I'll please you: there is something else in the bag - if not a wild boar, then, probably, a piglet or other living creatures. Something was constantly moving under me.

The weaver and godfather rushed to the sack, the mistress of the house clung to the opposite side, and the fight would have resumed again if the clerk, now seeing that he had nowhere to hide, had not climbed out of the sack.

Kumov's wife, dumbfounded, let go of her leg, by which she began to pull the deacon out of the sack.

- Here's another one! - the weaver cried out with fear, - the devil knows how it has become in the world ... my head is spinning ... not sausages and not salted potatoes, but people are thrown into sacks!

- It's a devil! - said Chub, amazed more than anyone. - Here's to you! oh yes Solokha! put in a sack... That's it, I see, she has a hut full of sacks... Now I know everything: she had two people in each sack. And I thought that she was only for me alone ... So much for Solokha!

The girls were a little surprised not to find one bag. “There is nothing to do, this will be with us,” Oksana babbled. Everyone took to the sack and loaded it onto the sled.

The Head decided to be silent, arguing: if he screams for them to let him out and untie the bag, the stupid girls will run away, they will think that the devil is sitting in the bag, and he will remain on the street, maybe until tomorrow.

The girls meanwhile, holding hands together, flew like a whirlwind with a sled through the squeaky snow. Many, shalya, sat on the sled; others climbed on their own heads. The head decided to demolish everything. At last they arrived, flung open the doors to the passage and the hut, and with a laugh dragged in the sack.

“Let’s see, something lies here,” everyone shouted, rushing to untie it.

Then the hiccups, which had not ceased to torment his head all the while he was sitting in the sack, intensified so much that he began to hiccup and cough in his throat.

“Ah, someone is sitting here!” everyone shouted and rushed out of the door in fright.

- What the hell! where are you running like crazy? - said, entering the door, Chub.

- Ah, father! - said Oksana, - someone is sitting in the bag!

- In a bag? where did you get this bag?

“The blacksmith left him in the middle of the road,” they all said suddenly.

“Well, then, didn’t I tell you?..” Chub thought to himself.

- What are you afraid of? let's see. Come on, cholovitch, please don’t be angry that we don’t call you by your first and middle name, get out of the bag!

The head came out.

– Ah! the girls screamed.

- And the head got in there too, - Chub said to himself in bewilderment, measuring him from head to toe, - you see how! .. Eh! .. - he could not say anything more.

The head himself was no less embarrassed and did not know what to start.

“It must be cold outside?” he said, turning to Chub.

“There is frost,” Chub answered. - And let me ask you, what do you grease your boots with, lard or tar?

He wanted to say something else, he wanted to ask: “How did you, head, get into this bag?” - but he did not understand how he said something completely different.

- Tar is better! the head said. - Well, goodbye, Chub! - And, having put on his caps, he left the hut.

- Why did I foolishly ask what he smears his boots with! - Chub said, looking at the doors through which the head went out. - Oh yes Solokha! put such a person in a bag! .. Look, damn woman! And I'm a fool ... but where is that damn bag?

“I threw it into a corner, there’s nothing else there,” Oksana said.

- I know these things, there is nothing! give it here: there is another one sitting there! give it a good shake... What, no?... Look, you damned woman! And to look at her - like a saint, as if she had never taken anything in her mouth.

But let's leave Chub to pour out his annoyance at his leisure and return to the blacksmith, because it's probably past nine already in the yard.

At first, Vakula felt terrified when he rose from the ground to such a height that he could no longer see anything below, and flew like a fly under the very moon so that if he had not leaned a little, he would have hooked him with his hat. However, after a little while he regained his courage and began to play jokes on the devil. He was amused to the extreme, how the devil sneezed and coughed when he removed the cypress cross from his neck and brought it to him. He deliberately raised his hand to scratch his head, and the devil, thinking that they were going to baptize him, flew even faster. Everything was bright above. The air was transparent in a light silver mist. Everything was visible; and one could even see how a sorcerer, sitting in a pot, swept past them like a whirlwind; how the stars, gathered in a heap, played hide and seek; how a whole swarm of spirits swirled aside like a cloud; how the devil, dancing during the moon, took off his hat, seeing a blacksmith galloping on horseback; how a broom flying back flew, on which, apparently, the witch had just gone where she needed to ... they met a lot more rubbish. Everything, seeing the blacksmith, stopped for a moment to look at him, and then again rushed on and continued on its own; the blacksmith kept flying; and suddenly Petersburg shone in front of him, all on fire. (Then, for some reason, there was an illumination.) The devil, flying over the barrier, turned into a horse, and the blacksmith saw himself on a dashing runner in the middle of the street.

My God! knock, thunder, shine; four-storey walls are piled on both sides; the sound of the horse's hooves, the sound of the wheel resounded like thunder and echoed from four directions; houses grew and seemed to rise from the ground at every step; bridges trembled; carriages flew; cabbies, postilions shouted; snow whistled under a thousand sleighs flying from all sides; pedestrians huddled and crowded under the houses, humiliated with bowls, and their huge shadows flickered along the walls, reaching with their heads the chimneys and roofs. The blacksmith looked around in amazement in all directions. It seemed to him that all the houses fixed their countless fiery eyes on him and looked. He saw so many gentlemen in fur coats covered with cloth that he did not know who to take off his hat. “My God, how many pansties are here! thought the blacksmith. - I think that everyone who walks down the street in a fur coat is either an assessor or an assessor! and those who ride in such wonderful britzkas with glasses, those who are not mayor, then, it’s true, commissars, and maybe even more. His words were interrupted by the devil's question: "Is it right to go to the queen?" "No, it's scary," thought the blacksmith. - Here somewhere, I don’t know, the Cossacks landed, who passed through Dikanka in the fall. They were traveling from the Sich with papers to the queen; I would still like to consult with them."

- Hey, Satan, reach into my pocket and take me to the Cossacks!

The devil in one minute lost weight and became so small that he easily got into his pocket. And Vakula did not have time to look around when he found himself in front of a large house, went in, not knowing how himself, to the stairs, opened the door and leaned back a little from the brilliance, seeing the cleaned room, but emboldened himself a little when he recognized those very Cossacks who had passed through Dikanka, who were sitting on silk sofas, tucking their boots smeared with tar under them, and smoking the strongest tobacco, usually called roots.

- Hello, sir! God help you! that's where we met! said the blacksmith, coming close and bowing to the ground.

- What kind of person is there? asked the one who was sitting right in front of the blacksmith to another, who was sitting farther away.

- Didn't you know? - said the blacksmith, - it's me, Vakula, the blacksmith! When we drove through Dikanka in the autumn, we stayed, God grant you all health and longevity, for almost two days. And then I put a new tire on the front wheel of your wagon.

- BUT! - said the same Cossack, - this is the same blacksmith who paints importantly. Hello, oh fellow countryman, why did God bring you?

- And so, I wanted to look, they say ...

“Well, fellow countryman,” said the Cossack, drawing himself up and wanting to show that he could also speak Russian, “what a big city?

The blacksmith himself did not want to disgrace himself and seem like a beginner, moreover, as they had the opportunity to see above this, he himself knew a literate language.

- The province is noble! he replied indifferently. - There is nothing to say: the houses are bouncy, the pictures hang important through. Many houses are filled with letters of gold leaf to the extreme. Nothing to say, wonderful proportion!

The Cossacks, hearing the blacksmith speaking so freely, drew a conclusion very favorable to him.

- After we talk with you, fellow countryman, more; now we are going now to the queen.

- To the queen? And be gentle, gentlemen, take me with you!

- You? - the Cossack said with the air with which an uncle speaks to his four-year-old pupil, asking to be put on a real, big horse. - What will you do there? No, you can't. At the same time, a significant mine appeared on his face. - We, brother, will talk with the queen about our own.

- Take it! the blacksmith insisted. - Ask! he whispered softly to the devil, hitting his pocket with his fist.

Before he had time to say this, another Cossack said:

“Let’s take him, really, brothers!”

- Maybe we'll take it! others said.

“Put on the same dress as we do.”

The blacksmith was trying to pull on his green coat, when suddenly the door opened and a man with braids came in and said that it was time to go.

It seemed wonderful again to the blacksmith when he raced in a huge carriage, swinging on springs, when four-story houses ran back past him on both sides and the pavement, rattling, seemed to roll under the horses' feet.

“My God, what a light! thought the blacksmith to himself. “We don’t get that much light during the day.”

The carriages stopped in front of the palace. The Cossacks went out, entered the splendid vestibule, and began to climb the brilliantly lit staircase.

What a ladder! - the blacksmith whispered to himself, - it's a pity to trample underfoot. What decorations! Here, they say, fairy tales lie! what the hell are they lying! my god, what a railing! What job! here one piece of iron costs fifty rubles!

Having already climbed the stairs, the Cossacks passed the first hall. The blacksmith followed them timidly, fearful of slipping on the parquet at every step. Three halls passed, the blacksmith still did not cease to be surprised. Stepping into the fourth, he involuntarily approached a picture hanging on the wall. It was the Blessed Virgin with a baby in her arms. “What a picture! what a wonderful painting! - he reasoned, - here, it seems, he speaks! seems to be alive! and holy child! and pressed the hands! and smiles, poor thing! and the colors! my God, what colors! there’s a lot here, I think, and it didn’t go for a penny, everything is yar and cormorant; And the blue one is on fire! important work! the ground must have been blasted. Astonishing as these sketches are, however, this brass handle,” he continued, going up to the door and feeling the lock, “is even more worthy of astonishment. Wow, what a clean finish! This is all, I think, German blacksmiths, they did it for the most expensive prices ... "

Perhaps the blacksmith would have argued for a long time if the footman with galloons had not pushed him by the arm and reminded him not to lag behind the others. The Cossacks went through two more halls and stopped. Here they were ordered to wait. The hall was crowded with several generals in gold-embroidered uniforms. The Cossacks bowed on all sides and stood in a heap.

A minute later, accompanied by a whole retinue of majestic growth, a rather stout man in a hetman's uniform and yellow boots entered. His hair was disheveled, one eye was a little crooked, a kind of arrogant majesty was depicted on his face, and in all movements a habit of commanding was visible. All the generals, who were walking rather arrogantly in golden uniforms, fussed and with low bows seemed to catch his word and even the slightest movement, so that now they could fly to carry it out. But the hetman did not even pay attention, barely nodded his head and went up to the Cossacks.

The Cossacks bowed to their feet.

Are you all here? he asked drawlingly, uttering the words a little through his nose.

- That's it, dad! answered the Cossacks, bowing again.

“Remember to speak the way I taught you?”

- No, father, we will not forget.

- Is this the king? the blacksmith asked one of the Cossacks.

- Where are you king! it’s Potemkin himself,” he replied.

Voices were heard in another room, and the blacksmith did not know where to put his eyes from the multitude of ladies in satin dresses with long tails and courtiers in caftans embroidered with gold and with tufts at the back. He only saw one glint and nothing else. The Cossacks suddenly all fell to the ground and shouted with one voice:

- Have mercy, mom! have mercy!

The blacksmith, not seeing anything, stretched out himself with all his zeal on the floor.

- Get up! - sounded over them commanding and at the same time pleasant voice. Some of the courtiers fussed and pushed the Cossacks.

- Let's not get up, mom! let's not get up! we die, we don't get up! - shouted the Cossacks.

Potemkin bit his lips, finally came up himself and whispered commandingly to one of the Cossacks. The Cossacks have risen.

Here the blacksmith also dared to raise his head and saw a woman standing in front of him of small stature, somewhat portly, powdered, with blue eyes, and at the same time with that majestically smiling look that knew how to conquer everything to itself and could only belong to one reigning woman.

“His Serene Highness promised to introduce me today to my people, whom I still have not seen,” said the lady with blue eyes, examining the Cossacks with curiosity. Are you well kept here? she continued, moving closer.

- Thank you, Mom! They give good provisions, although the local sheep are not at all what we have in Zaporozhye - why not live somehow? ..

Potemkin frowned, seeing that the Cossacks were saying something completely different from what he had taught them...

One of the Cossacks, drawing himself up, stepped forward:

- Have mercy, mom! why are you destroying the faithful people? what pissed off? Did we hold the hand of a filthy Tatar; did they agree in anything with Turchin; Have they betrayed you by deed or thought? Why the disgrace? Before we heard that you ordered to build fortresses everywhere from us; then they heard that you want to turn into carabinieri; now we hear new misfortunes. What is the fault of the Zaporizhian army? Is it the one that brought your army across Perekop and helped your generals to cut down the Crimeans?..

Potemkin was silent and casually brushing his diamonds with which his hands were covered with a small brush.

– What do you want? – Ekaterina asked solicitously.

The Cossacks looked at each other significantly.

“Now is the time! The queen asks what you want!” - the blacksmith said to himself and suddenly fell to the ground.

- Your Royal Majesty, do not order the execution, order pardon! From what, not in anger be it said to your royal grace, are the little laces made that are on your feet? I think that not a single Swedish citizen in any state in the world will be able to do this. My God, what if my wife put on such slippers!

The Empress laughed. The courtiers laughed too. Potemkin frowned and smiled together. The Cossacks began to push the blacksmith by the arm, wondering if he had lost his mind.

- Get up! said the Empress affectionately. “If you so desire to have such shoes, then it is not difficult to do so. Bring him this hour the most expensive shoes, with gold! Really, I really like this simplicity! Here you are,” the Empress continued, fixing her eyes on a man with a plump but somewhat pale face, who was standing a little distance from other middle-aged people, whose modest caftan with large mother-of-pearl buttons showed that he did not belong to the number of courtiers, “an object worthy of your witty pen!

“Your Imperial Majesty are too merciful. At least La Fontaine is needed here! - answered, bowing, a man with mother-of-pearl buttons.

- To be honest, I'll tell you: I'm still without a memory of your "Brigadier". You are amazingly good at reading! However, - continued the empress, turning again to the Cossacks, - I heard that you never marry in the Setch.

- Yes, Mom! after all, you yourself know that a man cannot live without a zhinka, ”the same Cossack who spoke with the blacksmith answered, and the blacksmith was surprised to hear that this Cossack, knowing such a well-literate language, speaks with the queen, as if on purpose, in the most rude, usually called the masculine dialect. "Cunning people! he thought to himself, “it’s true, he doesn’t do it for nothing.”

“We are not blacks,” continued the Cossack, “but sinful people. Enthusiastic, like all honest Christianity, to a modest extent. We have many of those who have wives, but do not live with them in the Sich. There are those who have wives in Poland; there are those who have wives in the Ukraine; there are those who have wives in Tureshchyna.

At this time, shoes were brought to the blacksmith.

“My God, what an ornament! he shouted joyfully, seizing his shoes. “Your Royal Majesty!” Well, when shoes like that are on your feet and in them, hopefully, your nobility, go and forge on the ice, what kind of legs should be? I think at least pure sugar.

The empress, who certainly had the most slender and charming legs, could not help but smile when she heard such a compliment from the lips of an ingenuous blacksmith, who in his Zaporozhye dress could be considered handsome, despite his swarthy face.

Pleased with such favorable attention, the blacksmith was about to question the queen thoroughly about everything: is it true that kings eat only honey and lard, and the like; but, feeling that the Cossacks were pushing him in the flanks, he made up his mind to be silent; and when the empress, turning to the old men, began to ask how they live in the Setch, what customs are common, he, stepping back, bent down to his pocket, said quietly: “Get me out of here as soon as possible!” - and suddenly found himself behind a barrier.

- Drowned! oh my god, drowned! so that I don’t leave this place if I don’t drown! - the fat weaver babbled, standing in a pile of Dikan women in the middle of the street.

- Well, am I a liar? did I steal a cow from someone? Have I jinxed anyone that they do not have faith in me? shouted a woman in a Cossack coat with a purple nose, waving her arms. “So that I don’t want to drink water if the old Pereperchiha didn’t see with her own eyes how the blacksmith hanged himself!”

- Did the blacksmith hang himself? here's to you! - said the head, coming out of Chub, stopped and pushed his way closer to those who were talking.

- Tell me better, so that you do not want to drink vodka, old drunkard! - answered the weaver, - you need to be as crazy as you to hang yourself! He drowned! drowned in the hole! I know this as well as the fact that you were now at the tavern.

- Shameful! Vish, than began to reproach! the purple-nosed woman objected angrily. "Shut up, you bastard!" Don't I know that the clerk comes to you every evening?

The weaver flared up.

- What is a devil? to whom the devil? what are you lying?

- Dyak? - sang, huddling up to the arguing, the sexton, in a sheepskin coat made of hare fur, covered with blue Chinese. - I'll let the deacon know! Who says this - the clerk?

- But to whom the clerk goes! said the woman with the purple nose, pointing to the weaver.

“So it’s you, bitch,” said the deacon woman, approaching the weaver, “so it’s you, witch, who fills him with fog and gives him an impure potion to go to you?”

"Get off me, Satan!" - said, backing away, the weaver.

“Look, damned witch, don’t wait to see your children, you worthless!” Ugh! .. - Here the deacon spit right in the eyes of the weaver.

The weaver wanted to do the same to herself, but instead she spat into the unshaven beard of the head, which, in order to hear everything better, crept up to the arguing themselves.

"Ah, you wicked woman!" shouted the head, wiping his face with his coat and raising the whip. This movement caused everyone to disperse with curses in different directions. - What an abomination! he repeated, continuing to rub himself. - So the blacksmith drowned! My God! and what an important painter he was! what strong knives, sickles, plows he knew how to forge! What a power it was! Yes, - he continued, thinking, - there are few such people in our village. It was then that I, while still sitting in the damned bag, noticed that the poor thing was very out of sorts. Here's a blacksmith for you! was, and now is not! And I was going to shoe my pockmarked mare! ..

And, being full of such Christian thoughts, the head quietly wandered into his hut.

Oksana was embarrassed when such news reached her. She had little faith in the eyes of Pereperchikha and the talk of the women, she knew that the blacksmith was devout enough to decide to ruin his soul. But what if he really left with the intention of never returning to the village? And it is unlikely that in another place where there is such a fine fellow as a blacksmith! He loved her so much! He endured her whims the longest! The beauty turned all night under her blanket from her right side to her left, from her left to her right - and could not fall asleep. Then, darting about in charming nakedness, which the darkness of the night hid even from herself, she scolded herself almost aloud; then, calming down, she decided not to think about anything - and kept thinking. And everything was on fire; and by morning fell head over heels in love with the blacksmith.

Chub expressed neither joy nor sadness about the fate of Vakula. His thoughts were occupied with one thing: he could not forget Solokha's treachery and sleepy did not stop scolding her.

Morning has come. The whole church was full of people even before the light. Elderly women in white napkins, in white cloth scrolls, were devoutly baptized at the very entrance of the church. Noblewomen in green and yellow jackets, and some even in blue kuntush with golden mustaches behind them, stood in front of them. The girls, who had a whole shop of ribbons wound around their heads, and around their necks monists, crosses and ducats, tried to get even closer to the iconostasis. But ahead of all stood the nobles and simple peasants with mustaches, with forelocks, with thick necks and freshly shaved chins, more and more in kobenyaks, from under which a white, and some even a blue, coat showed. On every face, wherever you look, you can see the holiday. He licked his head, imagining how he would break his fast with sausage; the girls were thinking about how they would play with the lads on the ice; the old women whispered their prayers more earnestly than ever. Throughout the church one could hear how the Cossack Sverbyguz bowed. Only Oksana stood as if not herself: she prayed and did not pray. So many different feelings crowded into her heart, one more annoying than the other, one sadder than the other, that her face expressed only strong embarrassment; tears trembled in his eyes. The girls could not understand the reason for this and did not suspect that the blacksmith was to blame. However, not only Oksana was busy with the blacksmith. All the laity noticed that the holiday seemed not to be a holiday; that it's like something is missing. As for misfortune, the clerk, after traveling in a sack, was hoarse and rattled in a barely audible voice; true, the visiting chorister took the bass gloriously, but it would have been much better if there had been a blacksmith, who always, as soon as they sang "Our Father" or "Like the Cherubim," went up to the krylos and led out from there in the same tune with which they sing and in Poltava. In addition, he alone corrected the position of church titar. The matins have already departed; after matins, mass departed ... where, in fact, did the blacksmith disappear?

Even faster during the rest of the night, the devil and the blacksmith rushed back. And in an instant Vakula found himself near his hut. At this time the rooster crowed.

- Where? - he shouted, grabbing the devil who wanted to run away by the tail, - wait, buddy, that's not all: I haven't thanked you yet.

Here, seizing a twig, he gave him three blows, and the poor devil began to run like a peasant who had just been beaten down by an assessor. So, instead of tricking, seducing, and fooling others, the enemy of the human race was himself fooled. After this, Vakula entered the vestibule, buried himself in the hay, and slept until dinner. When he woke up, he was frightened when he saw that the sun was already high: “I overslept matins and mass!” Here the pious blacksmith plunged into despondency, arguing that it was probably God on purpose, as a punishment for his sinful intention to destroy his soul, sent a dream that did not allow even him to visit such a solemn holiday in the church. But, however, reassuring himself that next week he would confess to this priest and from today he would begin to beat fifty bows every other year, he looked into the hut; but there was no one in it. Apparently Solokha hasn't returned yet. He carefully took out his shoes from his bosom and was again amazed at the expensive work and the wonderful incident of the previous night; washed, dressed as best as possible, put on the same dress that he got from the Cossacks, took out from the chest a new hat made of Reshetylov astrakhan coats with a blue top, which he had never worn since the time he bought it when he was in Poltava; also took out a new belt of all colors; put it all together with the whip in a handkerchief and went straight to Chub.

Chub bulged his eyes when the blacksmith came in to him, and did not know what to be surprised at: whether that the blacksmith was resurrected, or that the blacksmith dared to come to him, or that he dressed up as such a dandy and Cossack. But he was even more amazed when Vakula untied the handkerchief and put in front of him a brand new hat and belt, which had not been seen in the village, and he himself fell at his feet and said in an imploring voice:

- Have mercy, father! don't be angry! here's a whip for you: hit as much as your heart desires, I surrender myself; I repent in everything; beat, but do not be angry only! Well, you once fraternized with the late father, together they ate bread and salt and drank magarych.

Chub, not without secret pleasure, saw how the blacksmith, who never blew anyone in the village, bent nickels and horseshoes in his hand, like buckwheat pancakes, the same blacksmith lay at his feet. In order not to drop himself even more, Chub took a whip and hit him three times on the back.

- Well, it will be with you, get up! always listen to old people! Let's forget everything that was between us! Well, now tell me, what do you want?

- Give, father, Oksana for me!

Chub thought a little, looked at the hat and belt: the hat was wonderful, the belt was also not inferior to her; remembered the perfidious Solokha and said resolutely:

- Good! send matchmakers!

- Ai! Oksana cried out, stepping over the threshold and seeing the blacksmith, and fixed her eyes on him with amazement and joy.

“Look at the slippers I brought you!” - said Vakula, - the very ones that the queen wears.

- Not! No! I don't need cherries! she said, waving her arms and not taking her eyes off him.

The blacksmith came closer, took her by the hand; beauty and lowered her eyes. She has never been so wonderfully beautiful. The admiring blacksmith kissed her softly, and her face lit up even more, and she became even better.

A bishop of blessed memory was passing through Dikanka, praising the place where the village stands, and, driving along the street, he stopped in front of a new hut.

- And whose is this painted hut? asked the bishop of a beautiful woman standing near the door with a child in her arms.

“Blacksmith Vakula,” Oksana told him, bowing, because it was she.

- Nice! glorious work! - said the bishop, looking at the doors and windows. And the windows were all circled with red paint; everywhere on the doors were Cossacks on horseback, with pipes in their teeth.

But Bishop Vakula praised even more when he found out that he withstood church repentance and painted the entire left wing for free with green paint with red flowers. This, however, is not all: on the wall on the side, as you enter the church, Vakula painted the devil in hell, so vile that everyone spat when they passed by; and the women, as soon as the child burst into tears in their arms, brought him to the picture and said: “He’s a bach, like a kaka painted!” - and the child, holding back tears, looked askance at the picture and clung to his mother's breast.

Notes
1

Caroling in our country is called singing songs under the windows on the eve of Christmas, which are called carols. To the one who carols, the hostess, or the owner, or whoever stays at home, always throws sausage, or bread, or a copper penny into the bag, than who is rich. They say that there was once a blockhead Kolyada, who was mistaken for a god, and that it was as if carols came from that. Who knows? It's not for us ordinary people to talk about it. Last year, Father Osip forbade caroling around the farms, saying that as if these people were pleasing to Satan. However, if we tell the truth, then in carols there is not a word about Kolyada. They often sing about the Nativity of Christ; and at the end they wish health to the owner, mistress, children and the whole house.

Pastor's note. (Note by N.V. Gogol.)

Philistine (horses) - that is, peasants: "rural inhabitants" in tsarist Russia were called peasants.

Smushka is the skin of a newborn lamb.

Shinok (Ukrainian) - a drinking establishment, a tavern.

Volost (obsolete) - a territorial unit in tsarist Russia.

We call a German anyone who is only from a foreign land, even if he is a Frenchman, or a tsar, or a Swede - everything is German. (Note by N.V. Gogol.)

Kozachok is a Ukrainian folk dance.

Solicitor (obsolete) - a judicial officer.

A cradle is a smoking pipe.

Kutia - sweet porridge made from rice or other cereals with raisins; it is eaten on holidays, for example around Christmas.

Varenukha - boiled vodka with spices.

Sotnik - Cossack officer rank: commander of a hundred.

Nagolny (sheepskin coat) - sewn from the skin with the skin outward and not covered with fabric.

Podkomoriy (obsolete) - a judge who dealt with land issues.

Kitayka is a thick cotton fabric, usually blue.

Arshin (outdated) - an old measure of length, equal to 71 cm.

Nankov - sewn from coarse cotton fabric - nanki.

Garus is a coarse cotton fabric that feels like wool to the touch.

Tavlinka (obsolete) - a flat birch bark snuffbox.

Batog - cane.

Plakh ta - a long piece of dense fabric, wrapped around the belt in the form of a skirt; reserve - an apron made of dense fabric, embroidered with patterns; both are national Ukrainian women's clothing.

Kapot - loose-fitting homemade women's clothing, similar to a dressing gown.

Galloon - a braid embroidered with gold or silver threads; sewn onto uniforms.

Lanites (poet.) - cheeks.

Casing - here: a sheepskin coat.

Kobenyak - a long men's raincoat with a hood sewn on the back - a vidlog.

Oseledets (Ukrainian) - a long forelock on the crown of the shaved head of the Cossacks.

Zhupan, kuntush - old Ukrainian men's and women's outerwear.

Kapelyukha and kapelyukh - a man's hat with ears.

Shibenik (Ukrainian) - hangman, scoundrel.

Ladunka - a bag or a tin box; worn over the shoulder on a belt.

palyanitsa is a small flat loaf of white bread.

Chereviki (Ukrainian) - women's narrow-toed boots with high heels.

Monisto - a necklace made of coins, multi-colored stones, etc.

Shchedrovka - songs that are sung on New Year's Eve (as opposed to carols that are performed before Christmas).

Skrynya (Ukrainian) - a large chest.

Galushki is a Ukrainian national dish: lumps of dough boiled in water, milk or broth.

Hungry kutia - here: the day of strict fasting before Christmas.

Grechanik - bread made from buckwheat flour.

Knysh is a bread made from wheat flour, which is eaten hot, with butter.

Pivkopy (Ukrainian) - twenty-five kopecks.

Kaganets - a lamp, consisting of a shard with bacon and a wick.

Lard - rendered fat.

Uncle - in the old days: a servant-educator with a boy in a noble family.

Gum - see note. 21 galloons.

Vohra (ocher) is a yellow paint extracted from clay.

Yar is a green paint obtained by oxidizing copper.

Bakan - bright red paint.

Bleivas - whitewash (from German Bleiweis).

Hetman (hetman) - the head of the Cossack army.

Turn into carabinieri - that is, enroll in regular troops, depriving the Cossacks of liberties.

The Brigadier is a comedy by D. I. Fonvizin (1745–1792), written in 1769.

Chernets is a monk who has taken a vow of celibacy.

Kovzat (local) - to ride on ice.

Svitka - a long outer garment made of homespun cloth.

Namitka - a women's scarf made of thin linen, tied over a cap.

Titar (Ukrainian) - ktitor: church warden.

He is a bach, yak kaka is painted (Ukrainian) - look, what a disgusting thing is drawn.

The last day before Christmas has passed. A clear winter night has come. Stars looked. The month majestically rose to heaven to shine for good people and the whole world, so that everyone would have fun caroling and glorifying Christ. It was freezing colder than in the morning. But it was so quiet that the creak of frost under a boot could be heard half a verst away. Not a single crowd of lads has yet shown under the windows of the huts. The moon alone peeped furtively into them, as if urging the dressed-up girls to run out into the creaky snow as soon as possible. Then, through the chimney of one hut, smoke fell in clubs and went in a cloud across the sky. Along with the smoke rose a witch riding a broomstick.

Meanwhile, the witch rose so high that she flashed a single black speck at the top.

(According to N. Gogol) (110 words)

Exercise

1. Explain the meaning of the words Christmas, praise Christ, caroling. Ask for help from the help-assistant, to the literature textbook for grade 6.
2. Explain the spelling of the word half a verst. Tell me about the spelling of words floor- and semi-. Give your examples.
3. What is the role of adverbs in this text. Show with examples from the text that is an invariable part of speech.
4. Write a mini-composition dedicated to Christmas (use the words carol, praise Christ and others thematically related to this text).
5. Help assistant. Caroling - singing under the windows on the eve of Christmas songs called carols.

tatamo in Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol... The night before Christmas...

The last day before Christmas has passed. A clear winter night has come. Stars looked. The month majestically rose to heaven to shine for good people and the whole world, so that everyone would have fun caroling and glorifying Christ. It was freezing colder than in the morning, but it was so quiet that the creak of frost under a boot could be heard half a verst away. Not a single crowd of lads had yet shown themselves under the windows of the huts; the moon alone only peered into them furtively, as if calling the dressed-up girls to run out more quickly into the squeaky snow. Then smoke fell in clubs through the chimney of one hut and went in a cloud across the sky, and together with the smoke a witch mounted on a broom rose up.

If at that time a Sorochinsky assessor was passing by on a trio of philistine horses, in a hat with a lambskin pommel, made in the manner of a Uhlan, in a blue sheepskin coat, lined with black fur coats, with a devilishly woven lash, with which he is in the habit of urging his driver, then he would, surely , noticed her, because not a single witch in the world would escape from the Sorochinsky assessor. He knows exactly how many pigs every woman has, and how many canvases are in the chest, and what exactly from her dress and household a good man will lay on Sunday in a tavern. But the Sorochinsky assessor did not pass by, and what does he care about strangers, he has his own parish.
Meanwhile, the witch rose so high that only a black spot flashed above. But wherever a speck appeared, there the stars, one after another, disappeared in the sky. Soon the witch had a full sleeve of them. Suddenly, on the opposite side, another speck appeared, increased, began to stretch, and there was no longer a speck. The front is completely German: the narrow, constantly spinning and sniffing everything that came across, the muzzle ended, like our pigs, with a round patch, the legs were so thin that if Yareskov's head had such, he would have broken them in the first Cossack. But on the other hand, behind him he was a real provincial attorney in uniform, because his tail hung as sharp and long as the coattails of today's uniform, except perhaps for a goat's beard under the muzzle, for small horns sticking out on his head, and that he was not all whiter. chimney sweep, one could guess that he was not a German and not a provincial lawyer, but simply a devil who had been left to wander around the world the last night and teach the sins of good people. Tomorrow, with the first bells for matins, he will run without looking back, tail between his legs, to his lair...
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