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Tsar's Gold

Part 1

To the sacred memory of King Alexander I of Yugoslavia the author dedicates the authorOh, you, who remind us of the Lord, do not be silent!Isaiah, ch. 62, p. 6Petrovka, in the midst of work, and my father is at the construction sites all day. The clerk Vasil Vasilich does not spend the night at home, but all in the cooperatives. Gorkin has already served his time - "in retirement" - and he is disturbed only in special cases, when his own eye is required. We have a lot of work, with some kind of "penalty": if you don't finish by the deadline, you can go bankrupt. I asked Gorkin: "What does it mean to burn out?" How they burn out... And there is a real problem with the people: they run home to the meadow, to the village, and the most golden hands. Father is terribly worried, in a hurry, his summer jacket is all wet, the heat has come, the Caucasian woman has rewound all her legs on the buildings, she is not unsaddled from morning to evening. You hear my father shouting: "Pay a penny and a half, just hold back the people!" Here are the poor people... They dressed up, devils, promised not to go to the mowing, and we have penalties of thousands... It's not about money, it's about ourselves. Hit them, fools, in the head... After all, they will get three times more than from their own meadows.. "I drove them in, I tore off my whole throat with them," Vasil Vasilich, who had noticeably lost weight, spreads his hands helplessly, "there's nothing you can do with them, it's been like this for a long time. And they themselves understand, but... Partying for them, as if they were indulging in weed. Like mowing - no rolls can hold it back, they run. When they return, they will lie down, and in the meantime we will hire the rabble. Gorkin says the same thing, and he knows everything: mowing is a matter of the soul, it cannot be otherwise, it has always been like this; Early in the morning, the sun is a little over the sheds, and at the porch there is already a sharaban. His father runs down the stairs, chewing a curl as he goes, jumps on the footboard, and here is Gorkin, he needs something. "What else do you want?.. Father asks anxiously, irritably, "what kind of trouble?" "Everything, thank God, nothing. And here, I want to go to St. Sergius to pray, according to my promise... back and forth.The father hits Chaly with the rein and pulls it towards himself. Roan kicks up and cuts the stone. "You're still... with trifles! So you are in the heat of the moment? if you die, you will wait until the Dormition?.. The father swings the rein, and is about to roll away. "It's not a trifle, to go to the reverend to pray..." says Gorkin reproachfully, begging Chaly's tail entangled in the rein. "I would like to take a warm season. And from the Dormition the cold nights will come, burn... It will be awkward. How many years have I been packing up..." "And I'm keeping you?" Go by car, you'll be done in two days." You know, the time is hot, the business itself, and... How am I here without you? And besides, God forbid, Kosoy gets drunk?.. "The Lord is merciful, He does not get drunk..." It is more pierced by winter. And you can't do all the things, Sergey Ivanitch. And my years are like that, and... "Oh, are you going to die?" "Not to die, not to die, that's God's will, but... As the saying goes, there are pounds of business, and she is a fool! "How?" who?.. Kudy — tudy?.. Father asks with irritation, waving the rein. "We know who. She won't wait, whether it's business or not, but she'll be done with everything.Father looks at Gorkin, at the open gate, which the janitor holds, biting his moustache. "Eccentric..." he says quietly, as if on Chaly, waves his hand to something and rides out into the street.Gorkin walks upset, shouts at me in his heart: "I tell you, leave me alone, for Christ's sake!" He goes under the shed where the carpenters work, throws away the shavings and blocks with his foot and shouts at me again: "Well, why are you bothering me?" He shouts something at the carpenters and goes to his closet. I run to the blind alley to the fence where he has a window, sit down on the cladding outside and ask the same thing: will he take me with him. He is sorting out a chest, under the lid of which there is a picture - "Trinity-Sergius Lavra", burst in the cracks and faded. He understands it and grumbles: "No, you can't hold me back..." I will go to Sergi the Trinity, to the venerable... Leave. All of me and I... and manage without me. And Ondrushka will take care of me, and Stepan will cope... To look at the panels, it's a great thing! And it's my time to go on contracts. The scythe does not get drunk, there is nothing to be afraid of... If he gave me his word, he will keep it out of respect. It's just the right time, it's warm, people are now on all the roads... No, you can't hold me back. "And I... You promised, eh?.. I ask him, and feel bitterly that they won't let me in. "And me, they'll let me in with you, huh?.. He doesn't even look at me, he understands everything. "They'll let you in, they won't let you in..." it's none of my business, and I'll leave anyway. No, don't hold it back... You can't do everything, brother, no... There will be no end to them. Five years since Martyn was buried, I keep getting ready, getting ready... The Queen of Heaven has preserved me," Gorkin points to a dark icon that I know, "I promised to go to the Iverskaya forty times, and even then I did not get it, eighteen moves after me. And then he promised the Monk. At that time, Martyn was begging me to die, at Easter it was just five years ago: "Pray for me, Misha... go to the monk." He never got together himself, he died. And he also promised, for a sin... - And for what sin, tell me... - I beg Gorkin, but he does not listen.He takes out of the chest a shirt, a towel, canvas footcloths, a large tethered bag, a shoulder bag. "I'll take this and take that..." Two shifts, yes... And I'll also take a shirt, a common one, and a communion shirt, and that one for the road, as a reserve. And here, then, I've got crackers," he makes a noise with a sack like sugar, "to drink tea and suck, it's a long road." Here, then, I have tea and sugar..." he thrusts a caviar box with a fish squeezed on the lid into a bag, "and I'll grab a lemon on the go, yes... a knife, a remembrance..." he thrusts in a book with a golden cross embossed on it, which I also know, with painted pictures of how the soul leaves the body and how it walks through the toll-houses, followed by a bright Angel, and below, in red tongues of flame, green unclean spirits with pitchforks, "and this is who to take out the scrolls for, leesterik..." Everything needs to be done in turn. And I'm going to bring a jar of jam to Sanya Yurtsov, he's doing his obedience in leaven, he's getting ready to become a monk at the monk's... From Moscow, I will say, a bow and a gift. I'll take a bagel to the track... My soul breaks, and he talks and talks and puts everything in a bag. What would I say to him?.. "Gorkin... and how did the Queen of Heaven preserve you, tell me?.. He raises his head and says sternly: "What are you squelching about?" Well, she did... I've told you more than once. Here, wipe yourself with a towel... Your tears are cheap. Well, we were demolishing the house on Presnya... Well, I found an old icon in the attic, that one... Well, I came down from the attic, I was standing on the second tier... — let me, I think, I will look at what the Queen of Heaven is, I can't see her face. As soon as he crossed himself, he wanted to rub it with his elbow... I don't remember anything, I was thrown into dust.. I woke up at the very bottom, in the logs, in the boards, everything was twisted... And above my head - a huge beam is stuck! I would be right in the bun.. "That's what it is. And our timid children, then, were calling out to me, I heard: "Pankratych, are you alive?" As he held, so... Clean on the wings lowered. And it didn't scratch anywhere, not a scratch, not a bruise... Think of it! And this wall was shaken wrong - the beams came out of their sockets, their ends rotted... As soon as they gasped, everything was broken, all rolled up. It flew two tiers, with trash... I know that Gorkin wants to put this icon with him in the coffin, so that his soul may be saved. And I know everything in his closet: the picture of the Last Judgment on the wall, with the fiery Gehenna, and "The Journey through the Toll-Houses of St. Theodora", and a copper, cast, very ancient cross with an "Adam's head", terrible... and the pastry-box of Martyn the carpenter, carved with one hatchet. Above the wooden bed, with scorched candles, as they burned bugs, stand on the shelf, to the images, completely gray with dust, swirls from Jerusalem-city and from Athos, brought to him by good people, and vials of sung oil, with poured saints on them. Recently, Gorkin smeared my tooth, and it became much easier. "And you promised me everything about Martyn..." You've got a hatchet hanging over there! What a miracle it was with him, eh? tell me, Gorkin.. Gorkin is no longer strict. He puts down the bag, sits down on my windowsill and lubricates my tears with a hard finger. "Well, why are you upset; and? that I'm leaving... I'm going to a good cause, I can't. When you grow up, you will understand. This is the most spiritual thing to do, to go on pilgrimage. And I'll pray for Martyn, and for you, my dear, I'll take out a scroll, I'll give you a candle, if you were good, the Lord would give them health. Well, where can you compete with me, the road is long, you can't get there... You can go by car, you can get together with your dad. How did I promise you... I didn't promise you. Well, he was joking, maybe..." "You promised, you promised... God will punish you! look, God will punish you.. He laughs, grabs me by the shoulders, wants to tickle me. "Well, what an infusion, self-indulgent you! Well, okay, it's too early to make noise. Maybe the Lord will turn so that we will roll along the path along the pillar road... What do you think! Daddy is good, that's how I know him. Wait a minute, listen: I'll tell you about our Martyn. You can't tell everything... But listen. What he himself told me, and then everything happened before my eyes. And everything is true. "His father took him to Moscow to work..." Gorkin nodded gently, like all our carpenters, Volodimir and Kostroma residents, and I liked it very much, it came out so kindly, "they were carpenters, like me, on our side. We all have the same path, to Sergiev Posad. We went to the monk... There was no trace of cast iron then. Well, let's go in, everything is honorable... We prayed and venerated it, worked for the monk with a hatchet for a week, to the monastery, yes... they went to Chernigovskaya, not far away, where the elder lived — he was saved. Nonche Father Varnava consoles the people there – he basloves, because before him he was also a good clairvoyant. That old man blessed them for a good job and said to the boy, Martyn: "You will be talan from God, just don't trespass!" And he also said to him: "Come to me when."They worked well, successfully, Martyn's talent became great, such a faithful eye, a reliable hand... I have never seen a better carpenter. Well, of course, he was clean in panels, better than me, perhaps. Why, I say better than me, so it's better, don't interrupt. Well, his father died a long time ago, he became the only one among people, an orphan. To us, to your late grandfather, Ivan Ivanitch, the kingdom of heaven, he came to us for a long time afterwards and ordered it, but he went to different places and did not get along. Well, listen. His talent was from God... And he, the dark one..." — it means that he has attached his own: Martyn has learned to drink. Well, he was chased from all places. Well, he came to work with us, I held him back a little, talked to him heartily — we were the same age as him. We talked, and he mentioned the elder to me. I ordered him to visit that elder. And he forgot how many years had passed. Well, he visited, but that old man died for ten years. He was upset, Martyn was upset that he had not been there, that he had not listened to his order. conscience and upset. And from that business he did not go to another elder, but, to tell you frankly, he went to the tavern! And he came back to us in one torn shirt, a shame to look at... barefoot, the hatchet was only with him. That hatchet is blessed by the elder... It's the same one, hanging with me, it's a memory from him, it's denied me. I won't say how he didn't drink it, how it wasn't taken away from him. It was with your grandfather. Ivan Ivanitch wanted not to receive him, but your great-grandmother Ustinya came out with a ladder... she prayed all the time, she was right in faith... and said: "Take a sinner, Vanya, give shelter... the Lord has sent him to us."

Part 2

Well, I took it. And she taught Martyn with a ladder for the sake of appearance, as if for punishment. He didn't take it in his mouth for three years. What he receives - he will bring to her, for the image. I have saved a lot. It came up to him to drink again, she did not give him money. As soon as he gets live, he will drink everything. He began to get mad, we locked him up. Otherwise, he could have killed. The axe holds, don't approach. He was afraid that the axe would be stolen from him, his talan would be lost. Once every three years, he had such a disease. If we lock him up, he grinds his teeth as if he is tearing wood chips, it is frightening to look at. The strength was unprecedented... He wore beams alone, he was taller than fathom. We are afraid – well, he will run away with an axe! And grandmother Ustinya would come to him, threaten him with a ladder, say: "Martynushka, give me the hatchet, I'll bury it!" - he obediently fell into her hands, that's how. And he was a widow, childless. Well, he lived and lived, with victories. I got triple! And now listen to him as if it were a sin... It was six years ago. We worked on the Cathedral of Christ the Savior, from large contractors. It's all made of stone, and there was a lot of our work there... platforms there, scaffolding, transfers, carts, that's it... plating, and under the kumpol there was a lot of scaffolding. The Emperor came to see, the alterations were controversial. In seventy, in the third year, in the month of August, it was still warm. Well, all the contractors, on such an occasion, put up artels to show themselves to the sovereign, the Tsar-Liberator, our Alexander Nikolaich. They dressed up in clean clothes, in everything. And we with others, our large artel, such a prominent people... I won't say anything bad, we always had good food, we didn't eat porridge - it fell off. The Tsar looked at all the decoration and was satisfied. He goes out with his escorts, with all the generals and princes. And ours, therefore, Vladimir Ondreitch, Prince Dolgorukov, with them, the Governor-General. The Emperor favored him very much. And our Alexandra Aleksandritch Kozlov, the most ober-polcimeister, a brave one, with a long moustache and tails, a good man, who did not offend anyone in vain, well, who are the bosses at the time of construction, show timid, working people. The Emperor greeted him, nodded, yes... Such a radiance from him, all sorts of medals... "Thank you," he said, "well done." He comes up to us. And Martyn was the first to stand on the edge, tall, in a new pink shirt, with a gray beard, to this day, with such a good face, pious. The Emperor paused, and it must have been our Martyn. A good old man, he said. the most Russian! And Kozlov reported to Prince Dolgorukov: "Can the Emperor prove his eye to His Majesty, which no one has." And he, therefore, knew about Martyn. We worked in the house of the Governor-General, on Tverskaya, against the watchtower, and Martyn proved his secret to the prince. And according to that secret, Martyn's name was as follows: "Martyn, show me the yardstick!" So the prince and tell the Emperor that so, they say, and so, can surprise. Dad was frightened for Martyn, and we were still afraid that he would be fined! And the rumor about him was reported to the sovereign, no joke. Consequently, Martyn is summoned. The Emperor said to him, nothing, affectionately: "Show us your secret." "I can," he said, "Your Imperial Majesty..." And he is not afraid. Well, they gave him a slat. "Please check," he said, "there are no droppings." The generals checked - there was no litter. Well, he put that smooth slat, half a mile wide, on the boards, and took his hatchet. Everyone surrounded him, and the Emperor stood over him... Martyn said: "If only no one interfered with me, did not look at my arm... the Emperor ordered him to spread a little, not to press. Martyn crossed himself, spat on his hands, took a closer look at the slat, did not bother, nothing... And just like that, he shook his span over her, hung himself..." "I put it down, cut it off. "Please," he said, "measure it, Your Majesty." The Emperor even threw up his shoulders. "Wait," says our Martyn. He ran his span over the trim again—once, once, once! — I laid and marked four quarters. They measured it - not a hair's breadth of mistake! "And the tops, he says, I can." And he did. "I can," he said, "up to eight." The Emperor took his yardstick, held it for time... "Take this curiosity to my chambers," he said, "and write it down in my royal book without fail!" Martyn kissed him there, the golden one. Well, then the princes and generals gave him a treble, some treshna, some a quarter... - we feasted. And Martyn put that royal gold under the icon, forever. He didn't drink for a year. And again it came upon him. Well, we took everything away from him, and locked him up. At night, he did escape. He disappeared for a month - he came. I climbed under his images — there was no royal gold, I drank! We began to reproach him: "I have drunk the Tsar's mercy!" He does not remember: he was drunk, of course. I drank and drank. From that time on, he stopped drinking. Let us begin to tease him: "The tsar's golden drank has proved his yardstick!" "I can't drink the cross, so I won't catch a cold against the royal gift!" He remembered what the elder had punished him – don't make a mistake! And it turned out that he had made a mistake. They don't believe him, but he stands his ground. What a sin! Okay. It will take a long time to tell you everything, and another time I will tell you a lot. And then he caught a cold on the yerdani, he was shopping with a German with one, - I'll tell you later. He was ill for three months. On Holy Saturday he whispered to me: "I will die, Misha... the old man has already called me..." "Well, he says, Martynushka, you won't come?" "Give me the royal gold piece," he said, "it's buried with me... And where, I cannot say, the eclipse is in me, and he is intact. Look for it, for Christ's sake, I want to see, to rejoice, to remember." And the words are already confusing, the eclipse is on him. "I," he said, "buried from myself in my soul then... it can't be, it's safe and sound." I told my father, and he went to his room and brought me a gold piece. He ordered Martyn to give him as if he had been found, and did not worry about his death. I gave it to him and said: "I told you rightly, your golden one was found." He kissed the golden one and held it in his hand. They unctioned him, but he didn't even unclench his hand, with his fist, that's how he was baptized with him, with a golden one, I led his hand myself. On the third day of Easter, he died well, honor with honor.They remembered about the gold, began to take it away, but you can't unclench it, no way! They have already turned the chisel, the fingers. And he was just boiling, stuck in the very valley, in the gray, like in wax, the edges were no longer visible. We dug it out, lifted it up... And in his hand, on the very hollow, there was an eagle! So it is cut in, blue, distinct... the royal seal itself. It never melted, did not disperse, as if the seal was attached, natural. So we buried him, the eagle. And that golden daddy ordered to be given a sorokoust, for the commemoration of the soul. Ok... What do you think.. A year later, it happened: we began to re-lay the floors in the bedrooms - and what do you think.. Under his head, where he had an icon... the boards were lifted... On the roll, on black... The same golden one is lying and shining... and?!. The royal one, the newer one! Everyone immediately recognized it. Either he dropped it, how he dragged it from under the icons to drink, he did not remember himself... or he really hid it from himself, lowered it into a crack on the roll... — "He buried it in his soul," he told me then, he was dying... Then he justified himself in front of everyone: he did not make a mistake, that's it! And we were all so happy, we served a pannikhida with the singers for him... it was good, it was so merry, they sang "Christ is Risen", it just happened on Foma's Day. They gave that golden papa ... held, held... "Give him away," he said, "to the church, to the forty mouths! "Let him," he said, "go about the people, and not lie in vain. This," he says, "is golden, happy, not lost!" So I wanted to exchange it, for memory! Yes, I thought - let him go among the people, right... It is a blessing, not an ordinary one. And they gave it away. So now he walks among the people, inaudible. Well, how do you recognize him... You can't know. So he told them. So, then, I will go to the monk, I will fulfill the vow, I will remember Martyn... That's it... and squelched again! Wait a minute, what am I going to tell you... I cry inconsolably. I feel sorry for Martyn that he died... It's such a pity! And that I don't recognize that golden, and that Gorkin is leaving alone... His father arrived—it was early today—shouted cheerfully in the yard: "Old Gorkin!" Father is cheerful, pats Gorkin on the back, whistles and clicks. Did anything joyful happen? And Gorkin cheered up, he kept shaking his head, shaking his beard, and his face was clear and satisfied. Father shouts from the yard to the kitchen: "Everybody to the botvinya, but live!" It's in my bag, sort it out.. And lunch today is special. As soon as they sat down, my father shouted out of the window: "Old Gorka, come with us to eat botvinya!" Well, well, you didn't dine much, and botvinya with white fish is not every day... Yes, lunch today is special: Gorkin is also sitting, putting on a fresh jacket and oiling his head. And it is surprising to him why he was invited: this happens only on major holidays. He asks his father, pulling his beard in embarrassment: "It's a sign of what... Parade for me? "But I liked you!" Father says cheerfully. "I've been in trouble for a long time," laughs Gorkin, "and the landlord says it's a sin to refuse. "Well, eat white fish." Father is unusually cheerful. Perhaps because today, for the first time in so many years, a white, fragrant flower has bloomed on an orange tree, his favorite?I was so happy when, before dinner, my father called me out of the hall, grabbed me under the armpits, brought me to the flower and said: "Well, smell it, nanny!" And the table is cheerful. Around the faience, white, with blue edges, bowls there are plates, and everything is merry on them: a green mound of finely chopped onions, a dark green mound of fragrant dill, a golden mound of crushed orange peel, a white mound of planed horseradish, brown-green with botvinya, a stack of thin circles, with seeds, fresh cucumbers, a bowl of crystal ice, a block of beluga, in grits, protruding hump in streaks, Patches of delicate white fish, juicy and pinkish-pale, films of golden balyk with redness. All this smells in its own way, viscous, fresh and spicy, fills the whole room and merges into that wonderful thing that is called botvinya. Father, with his sturdy cuffs rolled up in large gold cufflinks, stirs everything merrily in a bowl, drinks kvass from a decanter, sizzles foam in bubbles. Heat: botvinya is just right now.Everyone eats merrily, crunches cucumbers, cartilage - khru-khru. Sucking the boots from his mustache, my father keeps smiling at something... Is he smiling at something? "So... Do you think of the monk? He asks Gorkin. "I want to work... I've been going for a long time," Gorkin replies humbly and affectionately, "as you say... if things permit. "Yes, how did you do it just now?.. The father chuckles, "'It's a pood of business, and she's stupid?! You're right, wise man. Eat, brother, botvinya, eat — don't strain, the horses are still strong! So when do you think about the Trinity, on Thursday, or what? On Thursday you go out, and on Saturday you will be in time for the vigil. "We must be in time. Count with Moscow, seventy versts. You can be in time for vespers and not be in a hurry..." says Gorkin, as if they have already decided.My eyes melt as the decanter of kvass expands, the plates expand and spread, and transparent, watery patterns flow at me in waves. My father lifts my chin with his finger and says, "What are you talking about? What the hell? Smell the crust.It hurts me even more. Why are they laughing at me! Gorkin laughs too. I look at him through tears, and he winks, I hear him pushing me in the leg. "Maybe we'll come too," says his father, "it's been a long time since I've been to the Trinity. "Here, a good thing, pray," says Gorkin joyfully. "We're in the car, and he's already there," my father looks at me, squinting, "God bless him, take him with you..." Let him work. To believe or not to believe? "Rest assured, he won't be lost with me..." What a joy he is! Gorkin answers happily, and again it spreads in my eyes. But these are different tears. "Well, let it be so. And I let Antipas go with you... Crooked to help, he will drag himself. If he gets tired, he will sit down. That's right, brother... You can't do all the things. And you need to take a break... To believe or not to believe?.. I know that my father likes to make me happy.Gorkin blinks at me, as if he wants to say, as he did just now: "What did I say! Good daddy, I know him as well!" So that's what they talked about in the yard! And that's why Gorkin became cheerful? And why did this happen?.. I understand something, but not quite. And why does the father keep laughing, shaking his crest and repeating: "You can't do all the things, brother... faithfully! there are poods of business, and she is tuds!". Who is she?.. I understand something, but not quite.

Dues

And in the courtyard, and even in the whole street, it is known that we are going to St. Sergius, on foot. Everyone is jealous, they say: "Oh, and I would follow you, but there is no one to leave Moscow to!" Ours will go by car, but this is not the same at all. Gorkin said so: "Eka, what a trick, about the car..." And you work for the saint, for the soul! And from the car - what will you see? And we will go from forest to forest, along paths, through meadows, through villages, and we will see everything. If you want to rest, you sit down. And all around are all the baptized people, walking and coming. And now the strawberries are the same, all kinds of flowers, birds sing to you... - you can't compare it with a car. He sits on oats in the stable, fiddling with his boot. He shows his heel, how well he stuffed it. "I'll go in boots, as my foot is wont to do," he says cheerfully, and he keeps admiring the boot, as he has done so well. "Others put on bast shoes there, otherwise chuni for softness... And this is the only harm for the leg, who is unaccustomed. Whoever wears what, go in it. Well, who wears bast shoes, well... he is not good in boots, he will fill his leg. And the one in boots — go in boots. And Pankratych is coming in boots, and I will go in boots, and you go in boots, in the most common ones. And you can put on new shoes there, you will flaunt there. What kind of respect did daddy do to you... The curve lets go with us! After all, you'll get there. It was Gorkin who tried everything for you... - let us go with us, we'll see, it hurts to go hunting with us. So he let him go. It's too painful, you're a cooperative guy... And what can you see from the car! "It's not cunning, it's about the car!" I repeat with pride, and my legs ring. "And a pleaser to work, isn't it?" "How can you do it!" How he worked... also, they say, he was a carpenter, he built churches. Of course, he is pleased. He puts "all the harness" in a bag: two shirts - common and ceremonial, brand new footcloths, that's it. I asked him: "Are you going to die?" Do you have a shabby shirt? "Why should I die what I wanted!" he says, laughing. "I'm only in my seventh decade and eight. What are you talking about? "Oh... Gorkin has a shabby shirt, and he takes it on the road. You never know... God is in the belly... How is that?.. "Oh... that's what you're getting at, what a clever one," Anti-Cannon laughs at me. "Yes, in life and death only the Lord God is willing," they say. And I'll have something to bury myself in. I also have a good shirt, I will wear it at the Trinity, for communion, the Lord will bring me. And when someone dies, only the Lord can know. The other day you reprimanded me for a fable-Krylov... like an oak over there was broken in a thunderstorm, but the straw was fine.. "Not a straw, but a 'Cane' called!" "It's all the same. A reed, a straw... It can be the same with every person. I tell him "The Dragonfly and the Ant" quickly, and jump up. Suddenly he said: "Don't dance too much, you'll dance something else..." Well, they'll change their minds?.. It was on purpose to frighten him. You can't be very happy, I know: I wouldn't have to cry! But it seems that he is also afraid that they will change their minds. In the morning he said to Gorkin: "I wish I could get out as soon as possible, there would be no delay." And my legs are so itchy, I can't wait. There would have been no rain?.. Anti-cannon says it shouldn't rain — the flies walk merrily, they don't crowd into the stables, and this morning there was a lot of dew in the garden. And the chickens do not rob, and Bushui does not lie on his back and does not rub himself to the rain from fleas. And everyone says that the weather is now settled, it's time to go. I climb into the stall, to Crooked, crawl under her belly, and she only snorts: she is used to it. I asked her with a sighted eye if she was glad that she would go with us to the monk. She lifts her ear, slaps her wet lips, which already have gray hair, and snorts softly, "she's glad, then." It smells like chewed warm oats, milky oats—it smells so sweet! She sniffs me, grabs my hair with her lips - she plays like this. In her black-mirrored eye I see a small me, the latticed window of the stall and the dove behind me. I sing her a poem I have recently learned: "Well, drag yourself, sivka, by arable land, tithes... the beautiful dawn in the sky lit up..." I sing and pat her lips – well, drag yourself, sivka.. And he himself is already far from here. We walk along meadows, fields, paths, forests... and many baptized people. "The beautiful dawn in the sky has lit up, the sun is coming out of the big forest..."Well, drag yourself, sivka! "What an entertainer you are," says Anti-Cannon, "an entertainer.. We won't be bored going with you. "Gorkin says—" "We'll sing all sorts of prayers!" "It's customary to sing prayers..." A conpanist, right? And the monk will be glad that Krivaya is with us, eh?" He will be pleased, eh?.. "Nothing. He also managed the horses. He was happy with the bear, the bear came to him... He brought him a crust of bread. He will come, stand aside under the Christmas tree... And he waits — feed him! He will feed you. So the rat comes to me, he is not afraid. I taught Vasya too, he doesn't touch him. I'll put it in the oats, and whistle for her. She would come out from under the floor, and he would only stick out his ears, he would become all stiff, trembling, but nothing. And the rat too, gets up on its paws, sniffs. And he will go to collect oats. Gorkin calls: "Hurry, daddy is under the barn, let's choose a cart!" Under the shed, where the sleigh is stacked and all sorts of carts are parked, my father and Gorkin choose what to give us. He advises a light tarantassik, but Gorkin insists that it is much calmer in the cart, you can lie down, and braid the gazebo from the sun, bump into birch trees, and point out a very light cart - "like a feather!" "That's what suits us. We'll lay hay, cover it with whatever kind of cloth - right for you. And it's easier for Crooked, she will roll like peas after her.I know this cart well. It is smaller than others and is all in patterns. And the beds, and the underflows, and the front, and the back - everything is cut with fine carvings: suns, wheels, Christmas trees, stars and various intricate things. She went with her grandfather somewhere beyond Voronezh, where the Cossacks were - she carried red goods. Father says she is old. And he feels sorry for something. Gorkin holds on to the cart and says that nothing will be done to it: it has stood up and is all in good working order, only it will wet the wheels. You can't even see the years on it, and it's better than a new one. "Won't it fall apart?" Father asks and shakes it, takes the cart under the back. "You'll go loudly. "It's true that it's ringing, it's a bit dry. And the Anti-Cannon also praises: the birch, it is arrogant, you want to throw it from the mountain. And Crooked will be a pleasure, and the tarantas will starve. "Well, I don't know," my father says doubtfully, "I haven't gone for a long time. They say that the "fox" is strong, does not move in the nests, like a soldered one. A fox is very strange. I want to see the "fox", and I am shown a round, like a shaft, pole that fastens the front with the back. But why a fox? They say that the crooked, forest, cunning thing in the cart often deceives, breaks.Father agrees, but orders to call Brovkin, to inspect.The wheelwright Brovkin comes, from our own yard. He is always gloomy, as if from a dream, with shaggy eyebrows. His father calls him "the dissatisfied man." "Come, disgruntled man, look around the cart, I want to let them go to the Trinity." It seems to me that he is dissatisfied with her. He walks for a long time, and we stand. He begins to stagger by the beds, by the wheels, raises the rear like a feather, and throws angrily, with a swing. And again he is dissatisfied with something. Then suddenly he hits the lubok with his fist, until it dusts. Silently he tears off the front, angrily wheezes: "Let it go!" - and overturns it onto the body. He hits the butt in the ass, squats down and listens: how is the blow? He spits and winces. I hear as if - mmdamm.. - and the rear is already without wheels. The wheelman smoothed the axles, knocked on the sawn-off shotguns, looked at them with his fist and suddenly hit the "fox". My heart is pounding - it will break! He jumps on the "fox" and crushes it. But the "fox" does not give a creak. Still, I'm afraid I'll ruin the cart. And everyone is afraid, standing and silent. He puts it on the front again, smoothes the beds and hoots. Then he takes out a tube, puts shag into it, does not even look, but keeps looking at the cart. He lights a cigarette for a long time, and it seems to me that he is looking through a match. He takes a long drag, blows green smoke, makes his hands a samovar and shakes his head sadly.Father asks, squinting: "Well, how is it, a dissatisfied man, eh? Bad, or what?- Gorkin asks, and his voice is dubious. "Oh, what do you think?" Nothing, cart... The wheelman suddenly slapped around the bed, as if he was angry with the cart, and waved his hand with a pipe at us: "And where was it made?!.. If you want to go to Kiev, go beyond Kiev, and it will not be demolished forever - that's all I tell you! It's so well-coordinated, eh.. What does it mean that it is done conscientiously... and? There were masters... Is it a cart, eh?.. He looks at me with something, "it's not a cart, but... A children's toy! And the whole conversation.So everyone beamed. He punished him - how can he change the kingpin? No, it is not worth it, it lives like this. He even climbed into the shafts and rolled out a cart on himself. Well, just a feather! "It's a pity to drive one," he says, not frowning. "Look, you've been wise! For one thread, maybe three weeks... And the cleanliness, but what an evenness, eh! I know it's made in Tver... gingerbread is baked there, drawn. And where is the arc? Everyone looks at the arc: everything is so drawn! The wheelman turns it this way and that, strokes and it with his fingernail, runs his knuckles over it, and it seems to me that the arc is ringing - ringing with scars. "Lace!" Only to ride young, to flaunt. The picture is written.. They ask to join us - it will be more fun to go, but Gorkin tells everyone that no one has been ordered to go, and there is nothing to have fun here, they are not going to the fair. In order not to offend us, he said: "You don't like us, let's go quietly, with the boy, and for four days, maybe we'll stretch out, it's better not to mess with us." He is a handsome, heroic guy, curly and ruddy. And most importantly, he is pious and consonant, sings smoothly on the kliros, and his karactor is flax. It's calmer on the road with him. The road is long, all through forests. It's not scary to walk, there are a lot of people, and sometimes you are late, you are late... and after Rokhmanov there will be ravines, bridges, blind hauls - so many times they cut off the carts. And there is a ravine under the Trinity of Murderers, a merchant was recently stabbed there. The monk will protect me, of course... And God protects the safe.Also with us is Domna Panferovna, from the baths. She is very large, "raw" - that's what Gorkin calls - you can get along with her, but she is a pious and thorough woman. It's nice to talk to her, I went everywhere. Her eyes are stern, her lip is drooping, and there is a bag of fat around her neck. But she is very kind. When I was taken to the women's baths, she cut my nails and treated me to a soaked apple. I know that there is no such name as Domna Panferovna, but I should say Domna Parfyonovna, but I could not pronounce it in any way, and everyone liked it so much that everyone began to call it Panferovna. And my father even sang "Pan-fe-rovna!" She was very fat, quite Pan-ferovna. She will go with us, and look after me, after all, a woman's eye. She is a bonesetter, she can fix her stomach, she shakes her legs somehow. Her granddaughter will go with her, a quiet girl named Anyuta, just like a doll, who only flaps her eyes and is silent, and her cheeks are rosy-white. Domna Panferovna calls her for these cheeks - "you are my lingonberry little white and fresh".Voronin the baker also asked for it, but he has a "weakness", he drinks, and he is a good man, he has three bakeries, it is a pity to offend a person, but to take him - you will get drunk. We sent Vasil Vasilich to him to pray to Nikola-na-Ugreshi, we had work there, but Voronin did not want to listen. It was good that his brother came and detained him, and they went to Vorobyovka, to Krynkin, to look at Moscow. We had already returned from the Trinity, and they were all watching. The Lord took it.They come to us to give candles and oil to the saint and ask him to take out the scrolls, some with the Trinity on their heads, some with the saint. Everything must be recorded, how much was received from whom and for what. Gorkin's head is shaking, and I help him. We put holy money, with notes, in a bag. There are those who order ten scrolls, different ones for a hryvnia, and even for a quarter. We alone," Gorkin estimated on the accounts, "will have to take out more than a hundred swivels, both relatives and friends, otherwise they may be offended: they will say that the Trinity had them, but they did not bring "mercy." The blacksmith came to inspect whether all the horseshoes were in order and how the hooves were. The cart is ready, the wheels and axles are greased, and it seems to smell like a road. Gorkin orders to screw the punches to the beds, be careful as you are, - we'll stick branches in case, hang a gazebo - to shelter from the sun or from the rain. A sack of oats is laid, softly stuffed with hay, covered with a rug - right for you to bed! They sewed a bag for me, on a towel, like everyone else. And we'll carve a walnut staff on the road: Let's go falconers, there are hazelnuts there... — everyone will choose for himself. The Lord willing, tomorrow we will leave early, we would like to walk through Moscow to the sun, in the cold. If only the Lord would give me good weather tomorrow!I am told to go to bed, but the sun has not yet set. What if they leave without me? They say, "Sleep, don't talk, you'll go." That's why Crooked is coming. I think so. They say: Gorkin has been asleep for a long time and Domna Panferovna is snoring, listen. Domna Panferovna is asleep, covered with cover, completely like a mountain. Tonight he is spending the night with us: so as not to be late and not to detain him. Anyuta sits quietly on the chest, tells me that she can't sleep, she keeps thinking about how we'll go. Absolutely, like me, he cannot. I want to scare her, tell her about the robbers under the bridge. I speak to her in a whisper. She looks frighteningly with round eyes and presses against the wall. I said - it's okay, Fedya is coming with us, he'll kill all the robbers. Anyuta crosses herself at me and whispers: "The will of God." If something is written in someone's family, so it will be. If you need to stab - they will slaughter, and Fedya will not help. Ask your grandmother, she knows everything. In our village, an old man was stabbed to death, two rubles were taken away. You can't go against fate. Ask your grandmother... Her whispering makes me frightened, and Domna Panferovna snores as if she had already been stabbed. And it is already beginning to get dark. "Don't be afraid," whispered Anyuta, looking around, for some reason she clasped her cheeks with her hands and flapped her eyes, as if she were afraid, "pray to the Great Martyr Barbara." Grandmother says, "Then nothing will happen." Like this: "Holy Great Martyr Barbara, deliver me from vain death, from the hour of the night"... from something else?.. Ask your grandmother, she's everything..." "And Gorkin," I said, "knows more than your grandmother! We need to speak in a different way... It is necessary to "overwhelm and slander, and circumstances... deliver and save on the way, and over the bed, and on... Gorkin knows everything! "And my grandmother is a bone-setter, and she rules her stomachs, and she was in all sorts of monasteries..." Gorkin is a clever old man, that's true... And grandmother says... My grandmother has an incense from Jerusalem with a bone... from the relics... I want to argue, but I remember that now it is a sin – the soul must be cleansed, since we go to the monk. I go to my room, I see a solitaire ball, crystal, with multi-colored threads inside... and it suddenly occurs to me to surprise Anyuta. I run to her on tiptoe. She is still sitting with her legs crossed on the chest. I ask her why she doesn't sleep. She takes me by the hand and whispers: "I'm afraid... I fight robbers..." I show her a crystal ball and tell her that it is a magical and even holy ball... You keep it in your pocket - and nothing will happen! She looks at me to see if I am telling the truth, and her eyes seem to be begging. I give her the balloon and whisper that no one has such a balloon, only I have. She hides it in a pocket.I can't sleep. In the yard they walk and talk. The voice of his father and Gorkin is heard. My father said: "I'll see you off tomorrow myself, I have to go on business early!" I lay and thought, thought, thought... — about the road, about forests and ravines, about bridges... Somewhere far, far away is a saint who is now waiting for us. I keep thinking, thinking, and seeing... and something in me is singing, as if something in me is singing, in my head, so light and pink, like the sun, when it is not in the sky, but it is about to come out. I see forests, forests and a big light above them, and everything is singing, singing in my head... Beautiful dawn... In the sky beyond... ... From the big le... Sa... The sun... Goes... Like a father singing?.. Roosters crow. The windows are white in the curtains. They are shouting in the yard. Gorkin orders: "It's time to pawn..." Fedya is here?.. The hour is easy for us, and in the cold we will move, Lord, bless us... Father shouts, I know, from the window of the porch: "It's time to wake the pilgrim too!" Is the samovar ready?I'm so happy that tears come to my eyes. Dawn, "and let's go now!" And the wonderful, so joyful and bright, with which I fell asleep yesterday, which sang in my sleep with me, now shines outside the windows — Beauty of the Zo-rkaIn the sky beyond the mountain... ... From the big le... The sun comes out...