Teffi stories for children. Teffi stories
"What a blessing to be wild man! – thought Katyusha, making her way through the bushes of the monastery forest. “Here I am wandering where, perhaps, no human foot has ever stepped before.” I feel with my whole body, with my whole soul how much I belong to this earth. And she probably feels me as one of her own. It’s a pity that I can’t walk barefoot – it hurts too much. Damned ancestors! They ruined my soles with culture.”
Through the thin pines the sky turned pink. How wonderful!
She enthusiastically raised her freckled nose and recited:
And resin and strawberries
Smells like an old forest.
But the old forest ended right there near the official house of the chief engineer.
Katyusha stopped. There was something happening on the lawn. Something extraordinary. Myself Chief Engineer, his assistant, the young doctor and about five other people - you can’t tell who from behind - gathered in a circle, bent down, some even squatted down, and someone suddenly roared offendedly, and everyone laughed.
Who are they laughing at? That's right, some fool, deaf and dumb.
It became scary and a little disgusting.
But the people are familiar. You can come up. It's just awkward that she's so disheveled. And the dress on the shoulder is torn by thorns. But “he”, fortunately, is not here. This means there will be no grumbling. (“He” is the husband.)
And again something roared, growled without words.
Katyusha came up.
The chief engineer raised his head, saw Katyusha, nodded to her:
- Katerina Vladimirovna! Come here! Look what a monster Nikolai brought.
Nikolai, the forest guard - Katyusha knew him - stood aside and smiled, covering his mouth with his fingers out of politeness.
The young doctor moved away, and in the center of the circle Katyusha saw a small fat bear cub. Around his neck dangled a piece of rope with a wooden block. The little bear shook the block from side to side, caught it with his paw and suddenly began to skip and run. And then the block hit him on the sides, and the bear cub roared and raised his paw menacingly. This made the people around him laugh.
“Wait,” the assistant engineer shouted, “I’ll blow smoke into his nose, wait...
But at this time someone poked the bear cub with a stick. He turned around angrily and, raising his paw, funny, terribly menacing, but not at all scary, went at the offender.
Katyusha was confused. She herself didn’t understand what to do and how she felt about this story.
“Wait,” someone shouted, “Fifi is going to meet the bear.” Skip Fifi.
Fifi, a poodle from a neighboring estate, small, lean, with a dapper lion haircut, with pads and bracelets on his paws, entered the circle.
The bear, tired and offended, sat down and thought. The poodle, smartly moving his paws, approached, sniffed the bear from the side, from the tail, from the muzzle, walked around again, sniffed from the other side - the bear glanced sideways, but did not move. The poodle, dancing, had just set his sights on sniffing the bear’s ears, when the bear suddenly swung and bang the poodle in the face. He, not so much from the force of the blow as from surprise, turned over in the air, squealed and started to run away.
Everyone started laughing. Even the watchman Nikolai, forgetting politeness, threw back his head and roared at the top of his lungs.
And then Katyusha “found herself.”
“My dear,” the chief engineer jumped up. - Katerina Vladimirovna! Katyushenka! Why are you crying? Such a grown-up lady, and suddenly because of a bear cub... Nobody offends him. The Lord is with you! Don't cry, otherwise I'll cry myself!
“Ardalyon Ilyich,” Katyusha babbled, wiping her cheek with the torn sleeve of her dress, “forgive me, but I can’t when-a-a...”
“It’s a waste of time for you to walk around in the heat without a hat,” the young doctor said admonishingly.
- Leave it alone! – Katyusha shouted at him angrily. - Ardalyon Ilyich, my dear, give it to me if it’s nobody’s. I beg you.
- What are you talking about, my dear! Yes, there is something to talk about! Nikolai,” he turned to the forest guard, “you will take the bear cub to the Gordatskys, you know, to the magistrate.” Here you go. Go home quietly.
Katyusha sighed a trembling sigh. She looked around and wanted to explain her behavior - but there was no one to explain it to. Everyone left.
At home Katyusha had an angry husband, an angry cook and a maid, Nastya, her own person. Katyusha was afraid of the cook, fawned on her, and called her “Glafira, you.” She called her “Mistress, you” and clearly despised her.
Nastya understood everything.
Nastya had a boy brother, Nikolai, and a gray cat. The boy was called Cat, and the cat Pawn.
Among people, Nastya was considered a fool and was called Nastya the thick-fisted one.
The cook had a negative attitude towards the bear. Nastyukha, Cat and Pawn are delighted. The angry husband was away.
– You understand, Nastya, this is a forest child. Do you understand?
And Nastya, and the boy Cat, and the cat Pawn blinked their knowing eyes.
- Give him something to eat. He will sleep with me. The bear cub was boiled semolina porridge. He climbed into it with all four paws, ate, grumbled, then hid under the chair and fell asleep. They pulled him out, dried him and laid him on Katyusha’s bed.
Katyusha looked with emotion at the paw covering the bear's muzzle and at the furry ear. And at that moment there was no one in the world dearer and closer to her.
“I love you,” she said and quietly kissed her paw.
– I’m no longer young, that is, not my first youth. I’ll soon be eighteen... “Oh, how in our declining years we love more tenderly and more superstitiously...”
The bear woke up in the morning at half past four. He grabbed Katyushka’s leg with his paws and began to suck on it. It's ticklish, painful. Katyusha struggled to free her leg. The bear roared offendedly, walked along the bed, reached Katyusha’s shoulder, and sucked on it. Katyusha screamed and fought back. The bear was completely offended and began to climb out of bed. He stretched out his thick paw and began to carefully feel the floor. He fell, flopped, roared, got up and ran, throwing up his butt, into the dining room. A second later the dishes rattled.
It was he who climbed onto the table, caught his paws and pulled off the entire tablecloth and dishes together.
Nastya came running to the noise.
-Lock him up, or what?
- It is forbidden! – Katyusha screamed in despair. – A forest child cannot be tormented.
The books in the office rattled and the inkwell rang.
The forest child, a fat lump, knocked down everything he touched, and was offended that things were falling, roared and ran away, throwing up his tailless butt.
Katyusha, pale, with white eyes, and a blue mouth, rushed around the house in horror.
“I’ll just lock him up for an hour,” Nastya decided, “while you sleep.” Then we'll release it.
Katyusha agreed.
In the evening the angry husband returned. I found Katyusha in bed, exhausted, learned about the bear's pranks, forbade the bear to be allowed into the rooms, and the forest child passed into the custody of Nastya, the Cat and the cat Pawn.
Then it turned out that the bear was not a bear, but a she-bear, and Katyusha was terribly disappointed.
– The bear is a fabulous, wonderful animal. And a bear is downright stupid.
The little bear lived in Nastya’s little room and slept in the same bed with her. Sometimes at night shouts were heard from Nastya’s little room:
- Masha, stop it! Here I am, falling apart. There is no abyss for you!
Sometimes Katyusha asked:
- Well, how is the bear?
Nastya made a pitiful face; I was afraid that Masha would be kicked out.
- Bear? He regards me as a womb. He understands everything, no worse than a cow. This is such a bear that you won’t find it during the day with a fire.
Katyusha was pleased that everyone praised the animal, but there was no longer any interest in him. Firstly, the bear. Secondly, he grew up a lot and stopped being funny and entertaining. And he became cunning. Once they hear it, the chickens are fighting in the chicken coop and clucking in a voice that is not their own, and for some reason the door is closed - which has never happened during the day. They ran and opened it. Bear! He climbed in, locked the door behind him and caught the chickens. And he understands perfectly well that the case is illegal, because when he was caught, his face became very embarrassed and ashamed.
After this, Katya’s angry husband said that keeping such an animal in the house, whose bloodthirsty instincts have awakened, is quite dangerous. Someone advised him to be given to the mill, to the landowner Ampov. There they have long wanted to get a bear to sit on a chain.
They wrote to the landowner.
In response to the letter, Madame Ampova herself came - a poetic, gentle lady, all iridescent and flowing. Some scarves were always fluttering around her, frills were rustling, chains were jingling. She didn’t speak, but recited.
- Dear animal! Give it to me. He will sit on the chain free and proud, the chain is long and will not interfere with him. We will feed him flour. I won’t charge you much for flour, but, of course, you will have to pay six months in advance.
The lady chirped so tenderly that Katyusha, although she was very surprised that she would have to pay for food for the bear she was giving, did not find what to answer, and only fearfully asked how much exactly she had to pay.
The boy Cat was assigned to deliver the bear. The cat harnessed the beast to the sled and rolled it away.
“When he saw the forest, and when he ran, his spirit became so intense that he could barely turn it,” said the Cat.
Nastya was crying.
A month later I ran to take a look - the Ampovs’ estate was six miles from the city.
“Sit-it,” she cried. “He recognized me, but as soon as he rushed, he didn’t break the chain.” After all, I... after all, I was his womb. He sucked all over my shoulder...
Ampova sent the bill for the flour with a letter in which she poured out her tenderness for the bear:
“Cute little animal. I admire him every day and treat him with sugar.”
Then Katyusha and her husband went abroad for two months.
We returned and a few days later received a scented note from the Ampovs.
“I’m glad you’re finally back,” she wrote on lilac paper. - I honestly keep a chicken leg from our Mishka for you. The hams came out excellent. We smoked at home. Come right in time for lunch. It's wonderful here. Lilies of the valley are blooming, and all nature seems to sing a song of beauty. Wonderful nights..."
- God! – Katyusha was completely dead. - They ate it.
I remembered the "forest child", small, clumsy, funny and ferocious, how he put all four paws in semolina and how she told him at night: "I love you." And she remembered his furry ear, and how no one in the world was closer and dearer to her.
- “Dangerous beast”! But it wasn’t he who ate us, but we who ate him!
I went to Nastya and wanted to tell her, but didn’t dare.
She looked into Nastya's nook, saw the bed, narrow, small, where the forest animal lived, where he slept next to Nastya, and "revered her for the uterus", dear, warm, completely his own.
“Come right in time for lunch...”
No. She didn’t dare tell Nastya this.
ExamI was given three days to prepare for the geography exam. Manichka spent two of them trying on a new corset with a real planchette. On the third day in the evening I sat down to study.
I opened the book, unfolded the map and immediately realized that I knew absolutely nothing. No rivers, no mountains, no cities, no seas, no bays, no bays, no lips, no isthmuses - absolutely nothing.
And there were many of them, and each piece was famous for something.
The Indian Sea was famous for its typhoon, Vyazma for its gingerbread, the Pampas for its forests, Llanos for its steppes, Venice for its canals, China for its respect for its ancestors.
Everything was famous!
The good sweetheart sits at home, and the thin one runs around the world - and even the Pinsk swamps were famous for fevers.
Manichka might still have time to memorize the names, but she would never be able to cope with fame.
Lord, let your servant Mary pass the geography exam!
And she wrote in the margins of the card: “Lord, give! Lord, give! Lord, give!”
Three times.
Then I made a wish: I’ll write “Lord, grant” twelve times, then I’ll pass the exam.
I wrote it twelve times, but already finishing it the last word, incriminated herself:
Yeah! I'm glad I wrote it to the end. No, mother! If you want to pass the exam, write twelve more times, or better yet, all twenty.
She took out a notebook, since there was little space in the margins of the map, and sat down to write. She wrote and said:
Do you imagine that if you write it twenty times you will still pass the exam? No, my dear, write fifty times! Maybe then something will come of it. Fifty? I'm glad you'll get rid of it soon! A? A hundred times, and not a word less...
The pen crackles and blots.
Manichka refuses dinner and tea. She has no time. Her cheeks are burning, she is shaking all over from the hasty, feverish work.
At three o'clock in the morning, having filled two notebooks and a blot of paper, she fell asleep over the table.
Dumb and sleepy, she entered the classroom.
Everyone was already gathered and sharing their excitement with each other.
Every minute my heart stops for half an hour! - said the first student, rolling her eyes.
There were already tickets on the table. The most inexperienced eye could instantly divide them into four types: tickets bent into a tube, a boat, corners up and corners down.
But dark personalities from the last benches, those who had concocted this cunning thing, found that everything was still not enough, and hovered around the table, straightening the tickets to make it more visible.
Manya Kuksina! - they shouted. - What tickets have you memorized? A? Now, pay close attention: the boat is the first five numbers, and the tube is the next five, and with the corners...
But Manichka didn’t listen to the end. She thought with sadness that all this scientific technology was not created for her, who had not memorized a single ticket, and said proudly:
It's a shame to cheat like that! You need to study for yourself, not for grades.
The teacher came in, sat down, indifferently collected all the tickets and, carefully straightening them, shuffled them. A quiet groan passed through the class. They became agitated and swayed like rye in the wind.
Mrs. Kuksina! Come here.
Manichka took the ticket and read it. "Climate of Germany. Nature of America. Cities of North America"…
Please, Mrs. Kuksina. What do you know about the climate in Germany?
Manichka looked at him with such a look, as if she wanted to say: “Why are you torturing animals?” - and, gasping for breath, stammered:
The climate of Germany is famous for the fact that there is not much difference between the climate of the north and the climate of the south, because Germany, the further south, the further north...
The teacher raised an eyebrow and looked carefully at Manichka’s mouth.
He thought and added:
You know nothing about the climate of Germany, Mrs. Kuksina. Tell us what you know about the nature of America?
Manichka, as if depressed by the teacher’s unfair attitude towards her knowledge, lowered her head and meekly answered:
America is famous for its pampas.
The teacher was silent, and Manichka, after waiting a minute, added barely audibly:
And the pampas are like llanos.
The teacher sighed noisily, as if he had woken up, and said with feeling:
Sit down, Mrs. Kuksina.
The next exam was in history.
The cool lady warned sternly:
Look, Kuksina! You won't be given two re-exams. Prepare well for history, otherwise you will stay for a second year! What a shame!
The whole next day Manichka was depressed. I wanted to have fun and bought ten servings of pistachio from the ice cream man, and in the evening I took castor oil against my will.
But the next day - the last before the exams - I lay on the sofa, reading Marlitt’s “The Second Wife” to rest my head, overworked by geography.
In the evening I sat down with Ilovaisky and timidly wrote ten times in a row: “Lord, grant...”
She smiled bitterly and said:
Ten times! God really needs ten times! If only I had written a hundred and fifty times, it would have been a different matter!
At six o'clock in the morning, the aunt from the next room heard Manichka talking to herself in two tones. One tone moaned:
I can't do it anymore! Ugh, I can't!
Another said sarcastically:
Yeah! Can not! You can’t write “Lord, grant” one thousand six hundred times, but pass the exam - that’s what you want! So give it to you! For this write two hundred thousand times! Nothing! Nothing!
The frightened aunt sent Manichka to bed.
Can not be so. You also need to cram in moderation. If you get too tired, you won’t be able to answer anything tomorrow.
There is an old painting in the classroom.
Frightened whispers and excitement, and the heart of the first student, stopping every minute for three hours, and tickets walking around the table on four legs, and the teacher indifferently shuffling them.
Manichka sits and, awaiting her fate, writes on the cover of an old notebook: “Lord, grant.”
All you have to do is write exactly six hundred times, and it will hold up brilliantly!
Mrs. Kuksina Maria!
No, I didn’t have time!
The teacher is angry, sarcastic, asks everyone not for tickets, but at random.
What do you know about the wars of Anna Ioannovna, Mrs. Kuksina, and about their consequences?
Something dawned in Manichka's tired head:
Anna Ioannovna's life was fraught... Anna Ioannovna was fraught... Anna Ioannovna's wars were fraught...
She paused, gasping, and said again, as if finally remembering what she needed:
The consequences for Anna Ioannovna were fraught ...
And she fell silent.
The teacher took the beard in his palm and pressed it to his nose.
Manichka followed this operation with all her soul, and her eyes said: “Why are you torturing animals?”
“Can you tell me now, Madame Kuksina,” the teacher asked insinuatingly, “why the Maid of Orleans was nicknamed Orleans?”
Manichka felt that this was the last question, entailing enormous, most “fraught consequences.” The correct answer brought with him: a bicycle, promised by his aunt for moving to the next class, and eternal friendship with Liza Bekina, from whom, having failed, he would have to be separated. Lisa has already endured it and will cross over safely.
Well, sir? - the teacher hurried, apparently burning with curiosity to hear Manichka’s answer. - Why was she called Orleanskaya?
Manichka mentally vowed to never eat sweets or be rude. She looked at the icon, cleared her throat and answered firmly, looking the teacher straight in the eyes:
Because there was a girl.
Arabian tales
Autumn is mushroom time.
Spring - dental.
In autumn they go to the forest to pick mushrooms.
In the spring - go to the dentist for teeth.
I don't know why this is so, but it is true.
That is, I don’t know about teeth, but I know about mushrooms. But why every spring do you see bandaged cheeks on people who are completely unsuited to this look: cab drivers, officers, cafe singers, tram conductors, wrestlers-athletes, racing horses, tenors and infants?
Is it because, as the poet aptly put it, “the first frame is put out” and it blows from everywhere?
In any case, this is not such a trifle as it seems, and recently I became convinced of how strong impression This dental time leaves in a person and how acutely the very memory of it is experienced.
I once went to visit some good old friends for a chat. I found the whole family at the table, obviously having just had breakfast. (I used the expression “light” here because I long ago understood what it means - you can simply, without an invitation, “look at the light” at ten o’clock in the morning, or at night, when all the lamps are turned off.)
Everyone was assembled. A mother, a married daughter, a son and his wife, a maiden daughter, a student in love, a granddaughter's friend, a high school student and a country acquaintance.
I have never seen this calm bourgeois family in such a strange state. Everyone's eyes glowed with some kind of painful excitement, their faces became blotchy.
I immediately realized that something had happened here. Otherwise, why was everyone gathered, why did the son and wife, who usually came only for a minute, sit and worry.
That's right, some kind of family scandal, and I didn't bother asking.
They sat me down, quickly poured some tea on me, and all eyes turned to the owner’s son.
“Well, I’ll continue,” he said.
A brown face with a fluffy wart looked out from behind the door: it was the old nanny who was listening too.
Well, so, he applied the forceps a second time. Hellish pain! I roar like a beluga, I kick my legs, and he pulls. In a word, everything is as it should be. Finally, you know, I pulled it out...
“After you, I’ll tell you,” the young lady suddenly interrupts.
And I would like... A few words, says the student in love.
Wait, we can’t do it all at once,” the mother stops.
The son waited a moment with dignity and continued:
He pulled it out, looked at the tooth, shuffled around and said: “Pardon, this is the wrong one again!” And he goes back into his mouth for the third tooth! No, think about it! I say: “Dear sir! If you”...
Lord have mercy! - the nanny groans outside the door. - Just give them free rein...
And the dentist says to me: “What are you afraid of?” a dacha acquaintance suddenly burst out. “Is there anything to be afraid of? Just before you, I removed all forty-eight teeth from one patient!” But I was not taken aback and said: “Excuse me, why so many? It was probably not a patient, but a cow!” Ha ha!
“And cows don’t have it,” the high school student poked his head in. - A cow is a mammal. Now I'll tell you. In our class…
Shh! Shh! - they hissed around. - Do not interrupt. It's your turn next.
“He was offended,” the narrator continued, “but now I think that he removed ten of the patient’s teeth, and the patient himself removed the rest!.. Ha ha!”
Now I! - the schoolboy shouted. - Why am I always the latest?
This is just a dental bandit! - the dacha acquaintance triumphed, pleased with his story.
And last year I asked the dentist how long his filling would last,” the young lady became worried, “and he said: “Five years, but we don’t need our teeth to outlive us.” I say: “Am I really going to die in five years?” I was terribly surprised. And he pouted: “This question is not directly related to my specialty.”
Just give them free rein! - the nanny egged me on at the door.
The maid comes in, collects the dishes, but cannot leave. She stops as if spellbound with a tray in her hands. Turns red and pale. It’s obvious that she has a lot to tell, but she doesn’t dare.
One of my friends pulled out his tooth. It hurt terribly! - said the student in love.
We found something to tell! - the high school student jumped up and down. - Very interesting, I think! Now I! In our classroom...
“My brother wanted to pull a tooth,” the bonna began. - He is advised that a dentist lives opposite, up the stairs. He went and called. The dentist himself opened the door for him. He sees that the gentleman is very handsome, so it’s not even scary to tear his teeth. Says to the master: "Please, I beg you, pull out my tooth." He says: "Well, I'd love to, but I just don't have anything. Does it hurt a lot?" The brother says, "It hurts a lot; tear straight with forceps." - “Well, maybe with tongs.” I went, looked, brought some tongs, big ones. My brother opened his mouth, but the tongs wouldn’t fit. The brother got angry: “What kind of dentist are you,” he said, “when you don’t even have instruments?” And he was so surprised. “Yes,” he says, “I’m not a dentist at all! I’m an engineer.” - “So how do you go about pulling teeth if you are an engineer?” “Yes,” he says, “I’m not interfering. You came to me yourself. I thought - you know that I’m an engineer, and just ask for help as a human being. But I’m kind, well...”
And the fershal tore at me,” the nanny suddenly exclaimed with inspiration. - He was such a scoundrel! He grabbed it with a tong and pulled it out in one minute. I didn’t even have time to breathe. “Give me,” he says, “the old woman, fifty dollars.” Turn it once and it's fifty dollars. “Nice,” I say. “I didn’t even have time to breathe!” And he answered me: “Well,” he says, “do you want me to drag you across the floor by the tooth for four hours for your fifty dollars? You’re greedy,” he says, “that’s all, and it’s quite embarrassing!”
By God, it's true! - the maid suddenly squealed, finding that the transition from the nanny to her was not too offensive for the gentlemen. - By God, all this is the absolute truth. They are flayers! My brother went to pull a tooth, and the doctor said to him: “You have four roots on this tooth, all intertwined and attached to your eye. I can’t take less than three rubles for this tooth.” Where can we pay three rubles? We are poor people! So the brother thought and said: “I don’t have that kind of money with me, but if you get me this tooth today for one and a half rubles. In a month I’ll receive a payment from the owner, then you’ll make it to the end.” But no! I didn't agree. Give him everything at once!
Scandal! - Suddenly a dacha acquaintance came to his senses, looking at his watch. - Three hours! I'm late for work!
Three? My God, let’s go to Tsarskoe! - the son and his wife jumped up.
Oh! I didn’t feed Baby! - my daughter began to fuss.
And they all dispersed, heated, pleasantly tired.
But I went home very unhappy. The fact is that I myself really wanted to tell one dental story. They didn't offer it to me.
“They are sitting,” I think, “in their close, united bourgeois circle, like Arabs around a fire, telling their tales. Will they think about a stranger? Of course, in essence, I don’t care, but still I am a guest. Indelicate with their sides."
Of course I don't care. However, I still want to tell...
It was in a remote provincial town, where there was no mention of dentists. I had a toothache, and they referred me to a private doctor who, according to rumors, knew a thing or two about teeth.
She has arrived. The doctor was sad, lop-eared, and so thin that he could only be seen in profile.
Tooth? It's horrible! Well, show me!
I showed.
Does it really hurt? How strange! Such a beautiful tooth! So, does that mean it hurts? Well, this is terrible! Such a tooth! Downright amazing!
He walked up to the table with a businesslike step and looked for some kind of long pin - probably from his wife’s hat.
Open your mouth!
He quickly bent down and poked me in the tongue with a pin. Then he carefully wiped the pin and examined it as if it were a valuable tool that might be useful again and again, so as not to get damaged.
Sorry madam, that's all I can do for you.
I silently looked at him and felt how round my eyes had become. He raised his eyebrows sadly.
Sorry, I'm not an expert! I do what I can!..
So I told you!
My first Tolstoy
I am nine years old.
I am reading "Childhood" and "Adolescence" by Tolstoy. I read and re-read.
Everything in this book is familiar to me.
Volodya, Nikolenka, Lyubochka - they all live with me, they are all so similar to me, to my sisters and brothers. And their house in Moscow with their grandmother is our Moscow house, and when I read about the living room, sofa or classroom, I don’t even need to imagine anything - these are all our rooms.
Natalya Savvishna - I also know her well - this is our old woman Avdotya Matveevna, my grandmother’s former serf. She also has a chest with pictures pasted on the lid. Only she is not as kind as Natalya Savvishna. She's a grump. The elder brother even recited about her: “And he did not want to bless anything in all of nature.”
But still, the similarity is so great that, reading lines about Natalya Savvishna, I always clearly see the figure of Avdotya Matveevna.
All our own, all relatives.
And even the grandmother, looking inquiringly with stern eyes from under the ruffle of her cap, and the bottle of cologne on the table next to her chair - it’s all the same, everything is familiar.
Only the tutor St-Jerome is a stranger, and I hate him along with Nikolenka. Yes, how I hate it! Longer and stronger, it seems, than he himself, because he eventually made peace and forgave, and I continued this way all my life. “Childhood” and “Adolescence” entered my childhood and adolescence and merged with it organically, as if I had not read them, but simply lived them.
But in the history of my soul, in its first flowering, another work of Tolstoy pierced like a red arrow - “War and Peace”.
I am thirteen years old.
Every evening, to the detriment of the assigned lessons, I read and reread the same book - “War and Peace”.
I am in love with Prince Andrei Bolkonsky. I hate Natasha, firstly, because I am jealous, and secondly, because she cheated on him.
You know,” I tell my sister, “Tolstoy, in my opinion, wrote about her incorrectly.” No one could like her. Judge for yourself - her braid was “thin and short”, her lips were swollen. No, in my opinion, she could not be liked at all. And he was going to marry her simply out of pity.
Then I also didn’t like why Prince Andrei squealed when he was angry. I thought that Tolstoy also wrote this incorrectly. I knew for sure that the prince did not squeal.
Every evening I read War and Peace.
Those hours were painful when I was approaching the death of Prince Andrei.
It seems to me that I always hoped a little for a miracle. She must have hoped, because every time the same despair overwhelmed me when he died.
At night, lying in bed, I saved him. I forced him to throw himself on the ground with the others when the grenade exploded. Why didn't a single soldier think of pushing him? I would have guessed, I would have pushed.
Then she sent all the best modern doctors and surgeons to him.
Every week I read how he was dying, and hoped and believed in a miracle that maybe this time he would not die.
No. Died! Died!
A living person dies once, but this one dies forever, forever.
And my heart groaned, and I could not prepare my lessons. And in the morning... You yourself know what happens in the morning to a person who has not prepared a lesson!
And finally I thought of it. I decided to go to Tolstoy and ask him to save Prince Andrei. Even if he marries him to Natasha, I’ll even go for that, even that! - if only he didn’t die!
I consulted with my sister. She said that you definitely need to go to the writer with his card and ask him to sign, otherwise he won’t talk, and in general they don’t talk to minors.
It was very creepy.
Gradually I found out where Tolstoy lived. They said different things - that he was in Khamovniki, that he had left Moscow, that he was leaving the other day.
I bought a portrait. I began to think about what I would say. I was afraid I wouldn't cry. If I hid my intention from my family, they would ridicule me.
Finally I decided. Some relatives arrived, there was a fuss in the house - the time was convenient. I told the old nanny to take me “to a friend for lessons,” and off I went.
Tolstoy was at home. The few minutes that I had to wait in the hallway were too short for me to have time to escape, and it was awkward in front of the nanny.
I remember a plump young lady walked past me, humming something. This completely confused me. He walks so easily, and even hums and is not afraid. I thought that in Tolstoy’s house everyone walked on tiptoes and spoke in whispers.
Finally - him. He was shorter than I expected. He looked at the nanny and at me. I held out the card and, pronouncing “l” instead of “r” out of fear, stammered:
Here, they wanted to sign the photograph.
He immediately took it from my hands and went into another room.
Then I realized that I couldn’t ask for anything, I wouldn’t dare tell anything, and that I was so disgraced, I died forever in his eyes, with my “plosil” and “photography”, that only God would allow me to get out quickly.
He returned and gave the card. I curtsied.
What about you, old lady? - he asked the nanny.
It's okay, I'm with the young lady.
That's all.
In bed I remembered “plosly” and “photoglafia” and cried into my pillow.
I had a rival in the class, Yulenka Arsheva. She, too, was in love with Prince Andrei, but so passionately that the whole class knew about it. She also scolded Natasha Rostov and also did not believe that the prince squealed.
I carefully hid my feelings and, when Arsheva began to go wild, I tried to stay away and not listen, so as not to give myself away.
And then one day during a literature lesson, while examining some literary types, the teacher mentioned Prince Bolkonsky. The whole class, as one person, turned to Arshevoy. She sat red-faced, smiling tensely, and her ears were so filled with blood that they were even swollen.
Their names were connected, their novel was marked by ridicule, curiosity, condemnation, interest - all that attitude with which society always reacts to every novel.
And I, alone, with my secret “illegal” feeling, alone did not smile, did not greet, and did not even dare to look at Arsheva.
I read it with anguish and suffering, but did not grumble. She lowered her head obediently, kissed the book and closed it.
There was a life, outlived and ended.
..................................................
Copyright: Nadezhda Teffi
... For laughter is joy, and therefore in itself is good.
Spinoza. "Ethics", part IV. Proposition XLV, scholia II.
Curry favor
Leshka’s right leg had been numb for a long time, but he did not dare change his position and listened eagerly. It was completely dark in the corridor, and through the narrow crack of the ajar door one could only see a brightly lit piece of the wall above the kitchen stove. A large dark circle surmounted by two horns hovered on the wall. Leshka guessed that this circle was nothing more than the shadow of his aunt’s head with the ends of the scarf sticking up.
The aunt came to visit Leshka, whom only a week ago she had designated as a “boy for room services,” and was now conducting serious negotiations with the cook who was her patron. The negotiations were of an unpleasantly alarming nature, the aunt was very worried, and the horns on the wall rose and fell steeply, as if some unprecedented beast was goring its invisible opponents.
It was assumed that Lyoshka washes galoshes in the front. But, as you know, man proposes, but God disposes, and Leshka, with a rag in his hands, listened behind the door.
“I understood from the very beginning that he was a bungler,” the cook sang in a rich voice. - How many times I tell him: if you, guy, are not a fool, keep your eyes open. Don't do shit, but keep your eyes open. Because Dunyashka scrubs. But he doesn’t even listen. Just now the lady was screaming again - she didn’t interfere with the stove and closed it with a firebrand.
The horns on the wall are agitated, and the aunt moans like an Aeolian harp:
- Where can I go with him? Mavra Semyonovna! I bought him boots, without drinking or eating, I gave him five rubles. For the alteration of the jacket, the tailor, without drinking or eating, tore off six hryvnia...
“No other way than to send him home.”
- Darling! The road, no food, no food, four rubles, dear!
Leshka, forgetting all precautions, sighs outside the door. He doesn't want to go home. His father promised that he would skin him seven times, and Leshka knows from experience how unpleasant that is.
“It’s still too early to howl,” the cook sings again. “So far, no one is chasing him.” The lady only threatened... But the tenant, Pyotr Dmitrich, is very interceding. Right behind Leshka. That's enough, Marya Vasilievna says, he's not a fool, Leshka. He, he says, is a complete idiot, there’s no point in scolding him. I really stand up for Leshka.
- Well, God bless him...
“But with us, whatever the tenant says is sacred.” Because he is a well-read person, he pays carefully...
- And Dunyashka is good! – the aunt twirled her horns. - I don’t understand people like this - telling lies on a boy...
- Truly! True. Just now I tell her: “Go open the door, Dunyasha,” affectionately, as if in a kind way. So she snorts in my face: “Grit, I’m not your doorman, open the door yourself!” And I sang everything to her here. How to open doors, so you, I say, are not a doorman, but how to kiss a janitor on the stairs, so you are still a doorman...
- Lord have mercy! From these years to everything I spied. The girl is young, she should live and live. One salary, no food, no...
- Me, what? I told her straight out: how to open doors, you’re not a doorman. She, you see, is not a doorman! And how to accept gifts from a janitor, she is a doorman. Yes, lipstick for the tenant...
Trrrrr...” the electric bell crackled.
- Leshka! Leshka! - the cook shouted. - Oh, you, you failed! Dunyasha was sent away, but he didn’t even listen.
Leshka held his breath, pressed himself against the wall and stood quietly until the angry cook swam past him, angrily rattling her starched skirts.
“No, pipes,” thought Leshka, “I won’t go to the village. I’m not a stupid guy, I’ll want to, so I’ll quickly curry favor. You can’t wipe me out, I’m not like that.”
And, waiting for the cook to return, he walked with decisive steps into the rooms.
“Be, grit, before our eyes. And what kind of eyes will I be when no one is ever home?
He walked into the hallway. Hey! The coat is hanging - a tenant of the house.
He rushed to the kitchen and, snatching the poker from the dumbfounded cook, rushed back into the rooms, quickly opened the door to the tenant’s room and went to stir the stove.
The tenant was not alone. With him was a young lady, wearing a jacket and a veil. Both shuddered and straightened up when Leshka entered.
“I’m not a stupid guy,” thought Leshka, poking the burning wood with a poker. “I’ll irritate those eyes.” I’m not a parasite - I’m all in business, all in business!..”
The firewood crackled, the poker rattled, sparks flew in all directions. The lodger and the lady were tensely silent. Finally, Leshka headed towards the exit, but stopped right at the door and began to anxiously examine the wet spot on the floor, then turned his eyes to the guest’s feet and, seeing the galoshes on them, shook his head reproachfully.
Nadezhda Alexandrovna Teffi (Nadezhda Lokhvitskaya, by her husband - Buchinskaya) - poetess, memoirist, critic, publicist, but above all - one of the most famous satirical writers Silver Age, competing with Averchenko himself. After the revolution, Teffi emigrated, but in emigration she extraordinary talent blossomed even brighter. It was there that many were written classic stories Teffi, with very unexpected side depicting the life and customs of the “Russian Abroad”...
The collection includes the stories of Taffy different years written both at home and in Europe. Before the reader passes a real gallery of funny, bright characters, in many of which real contemporaries of the writer are guessed - people of art and politicians, famous " socialites"and patrons, revolutionaries and their opponents.
Teffi
Humorous stories
... For laughter is joy, and therefore in itself is good.
Spinoza. "Ethics", part IV.
Position XLV, scholium II.
Curry favor
Leshka’s right leg had been numb for a long time, but he did not dare change his position and listened eagerly. It was completely dark in the corridor, and through the narrow crack of the ajar door one could only see a brightly lit piece of the wall above the kitchen stove. A large dark circle surmounted by two horns hovered on the wall. Leshka guessed that this circle was nothing more than the shadow of his aunt’s head with the ends of the scarf sticking up.
The aunt had come to visit Leshka, whom she had identified only a week ago as "boys for room service," and was now in serious negotiations with the cook who had patronized her. The negotiations were of an unpleasantly disturbing nature, the aunt was very agitated, and the horns on the wall rose and fell steeply, as if some unseen beast butted their invisible opponents.
It was assumed that Lyoshka washes galoshes in the front. But, as you know, man proposes, but God disposes, and Leshka, with a rag in his hands, listened behind the door.
“I understood from the very beginning that he was a bungler,” the cook sang in a rich voice. - How many times I tell him: if you, guy, are not a fool, keep your eyes open. Don't do shit, but keep your eyes open. Because Dunyashka scrubs. But he doesn’t even listen. Just now the lady was screaming again - she didn’t interfere with the stove and closed it with a firebrand.
The horns on the wall are agitated, and the aunt moans like an Aeolian harp:
- Where can I go with him? Mavra Semyonovna! I bought him boots, without drinking or eating, I gave him five rubles. For the alteration of the jacket, the tailor, without drinking or eating, tore off six hryvnia...
“No other way than to send him home.”
- Darling! The road, no food, no food, four rubles, dear!
Leshka, forgetting all precautions, sighs outside the door. He doesn't want to go home. His father promised that he would skin him seven times, and Leshka knows from experience how unpleasant that is.
“It’s still too early to howl,” the cook sings again. “So far, no one is chasing him.” The lady only threatened... But the tenant, Pyotr Dmitrich, is very interceding. Right behind Leshka. That's enough, Marya Vasilievna says, he's not a fool, Leshka. He, he says, is a complete idiot, there’s no point in scolding him. I really stand up for Leshka.
- Well, God bless him...
“But with us, whatever the tenant says is sacred.” Because he is a well-read person, he pays carefully...
- And Dunyashka is good! – the aunt twirled her horns. - I don’t understand people like this - telling lies on a boy...
- Truly! True. This morning I say to her: "Go open the doors, Dunyasha," affectionately, as if kindly. So she will snort me in the face: "I, grit, you are not a doorman, open it yourself!" And I sang everything to her here. How to open doors, so you, I say, are not a porter, but how to kiss a janitor on the stairs, so you are all a doorman ...
- Lord have mercy! From these years to everything I spied. The girl is young, she should live and live. One salary, no food, no...
- Me, what? I told her straight out: how to open doors, you’re not a doorman. She, you see, is not a doorman! And how to accept gifts from a janitor, she is a doorman. Yes, lipstick for the tenant...
Trrrrr...” the electric bell crackled.
- Leshka! Leshka! - the cook shouted. - Oh, you, you failed! Dunyasha was sent away, but he didn’t even listen.
Leshka held his breath, pressed himself against the wall and stood quietly until the angry cook swam past him, angrily rattling her starched skirts.
“No, pipes,” thought Lyoshka, “I won’t go to the village. I’m not a fool, I want to, I’ll serve so quickly.
And, waiting for the cook to return, he walked with decisive steps into the rooms.
"Be, grit, in front of your eyes. And what kind of eyes will I be when no one is ever at home."
He walked into the hallway. Hey! The coat is hanging - a tenant of the house.
He rushed to the kitchen and, snatching the poker from the dumbfounded cook, rushed back into the rooms, quickly opened the door to the tenant’s room and went to stir the stove.
The tenant was not alone. With him was a young lady, wearing a jacket and a veil. Both shuddered and straightened up when Leshka entered.
"I'm not a fool," Leshka thought, poking his poker at the burning firewood.
The firewood crackled, the poker rattled, sparks flew in all directions. The lodger and the lady were tensely silent. Finally, Leshka headed towards the exit, but stopped right at the door and began to anxiously examine the wet spot on the floor, then turned his eyes to the guest’s feet and, seeing the galoshes on them, shook his head reproachfully.
TalentZoinka Milgau discovered a great talent for literature while still at the institute.
One day she's like this bright colors described in German the suffering of the Maid of Orleans, that the teacher got drunk out of excitement and could not come to class the next day.
Then followed a new triumph, which forever strengthened Zoinka’s reputation as the best institute poetess. She achieved this honor by writing a magnificent poem for the arrival of the trustee, beginning with the words:
Our hour has finally come,
And we saw your appearance among us...
When Zoinka graduated from college, her mother asked her:
What are we going to do now? A young girl must improve either in music or in drawing.
Zoinka looked at her mother in surprise and answered simply:
Why should I draw when I'm a writer?
And on the same day I sat down to write a novel.
She wrote very diligently for a whole month, but what came out was not a novel, but a story, which she herself was quite surprised at.
The theme was the most original: one young girl fell in love with one young man and married him. This thing was called "Hieroglyphs of the Sphinx".
The young girl got married on about the tenth page of a sheet of ordinary-sized writing paper, and Zoinka positively did not know what to do with her next. I thought about it for three days and wrote an epilogue:
"In the course of time Eliza had two children and was apparently happy."
Zoinka thought for another two days, then she rewrote everything completely and took it to the editor.
The editor turned out to be a poorly educated person. In the conversation it turned out that he had never even heard of Zoya’s poem about the arrival of the trustee. However, he took the manuscript and asked to come back for an answer in two weeks.
Zoinka blushed, turned pale, curtsied and returned two weeks later.
The editor looked at her confused and said:
Yes, Mrs. Milgau!
Then he went into another room and brought out Zoinkin’s manuscript. The manuscript became dirty, its corners were twisted different sides, like the ears of a lively greyhound dog, and in general she looked sad and disgraced.
The editor handed Zoinka the manuscript.
But Zoinka did not understand what was the matter.
Your thing is not suitable for our organ. Here, if you please see...
He unfolded the manuscript.
For example, at the beginning... mmm... "... the sun gilded the tops of the trees"... mmm... You see, dear young lady, our newspaper is ideological. We are currently defending the rights of Yakut women at village gatherings, so at present we literally have no need for the sun. Yes, sir!
But Zoinka still did not go away and looked at him with such defenseless gullibility that the editor's mouth felt bitter.
Nevertheless, you certainly have a talent,” he added, examining his own shoe with interest. - I even want to advise you to make some changes in your story, which will undoubtedly serve him well. Sometimes the whole future of a work depends on some trifle. So, for example, your story is literally asking to be given a dramatic form. Do you understand? Form of dialogue. You have, in general, a brilliant dialogue. Here, for example, umm ... "goodbye, she said" and so on. Here's my advice. Turn your thing into drama. And take your time, but think seriously, artistically. Do some work.
Zoinka went home, bought a bar of chocolate for inspiration, and sat down to work.
Two weeks later, she was already sitting in front of the editor, and he wiped his forehead and stammered:
You're right, you were in such a hurry. If you write slowly and think well, then the work comes out better than when you don’t think about it and write quickly. Check back in a month for an answer.
When Zoinka left, he sighed heavily and thought:
What if she gets married this month, or goes somewhere, or just throws all this rubbish. After all, miracles happen! After all, there is happiness!
But happiness is rare, and miracles do not happen at all, and Zoinka came a month later for an answer.
Seeing her, the editor swayed, but immediately pulled himself together.
Your thing? No, it's a lovely thing. Just guess what - I have one brilliant piece of advice to give you. That's it, dear young lady, you set it to music without hesitating a minute. A?
Zoinka moved her lips offendedly.
Why to music? I don't understand!
How can you not understand! Put it to music, because you, such an eccentric, will turn it into an opera! Just think - opera! Then you will come to thank yourself. Find a good composer...
No, I don't want opera! - Zoinka said decisively. I'm a writer... and suddenly you write an opera. I don't want!
My dove! Well, you are your own enemy. Just imagine... suddenly your song will be sung! No, I directly refuse to understand you.
Zoinka made a goat face and answered insistently:
No and no. I don't want to. Since you yourself ordered me to remake my work into a drama, you must now publish it, because I adapted it to our taste.
Yes, I don’t argue! The thing is charming! But you didn't understand me. In fact, I advised remaking it for the theater, and not for print.
Well, then give it to the theater! - Zoinka smiled at his stupidity.
Mmm-yes, but you see, modern theater requires a special repertoire. Hamlet has already been written. There is no need for anything else. But our theater really needs a good farce. If you could...
In other words, do you want me to turn Hieroglyphs of the Sphinx into a farce? That's what they would say.
She nodded her head to him, took the manuscript and walked out with dignity.
The editor looked after her for a long time and scratched his beard with a pencil.
Well, thank God! Won't come back again. But it’s still a pity that she was so offended. If only she wouldn't commit suicide.
Dear young lady,” he said a month later, looking at Zoya with meek blue eyes. - Dear young lady. You took on this matter in vain! I read your farce and, of course, remained as before as an admirer of your talent. But, unfortunately, I must tell you that such subtle and elegant farces cannot be successful with our rude public. That's why theaters only take on very, how shall I say, very indecent farces, and your piece, excuse me, is not at all piquant.
Do you need something indecent? - Zoinka inquired busily and, returning home, asked her mother:
Maman, what is considered the most indecent?
Maman thought and said that, in her opinion, the most indecent things in the world are naked people.
Zoinka creaked her pen for about ten minutes and the next day proudly handed her manuscript to the stunned editor.
Did you want something indecent? Here! I redid it.
But where? - the editor was embarrassed. - I don’t see... it seems everything is as it was...
As where? Here - in the characters.
The editor turned the page and read:
"Characters: Ivan Petrovich Zhukin, justice of the peace, 53 years old - naked.
Anna Petrovna Beck, landowner, philanthropist, 48 years old - nude.
Kuskov, the zemstvo doctor - naked.
Rykova, paramedic, in love with Zhukin, 20 years old - naked.
The police officer is naked.
Glasha, the maid - naked.
Chernov, Pyotr Gavrilych, professor, 65 years old - naked.
Now you have no excuse to reject my work,” Zoinka triumphed sarcastically. - I think that's pretty indecent!
Scary tale
When I came to the Sundukovs, they were in a hurry to see someone off at the station, but they never agreed to let me go.
Exactly in an hour; or even less, we will be at home. Sit with the kids for now - you are such a rare guest that then you won’t get a drink again for three years. Sit with the kids! Coconut! Totosya! Tulle! Come here! Take your aunt.
Kokosya, Totosya and Tulya came.
Kokosya is a clean boy with a parting on his head and a starched collar.
Totosya is a clean girl with a pigtail in her front.
Tulle is a thick bubble that connects a starched collar and an apron.
They greeted me decorously, seated me on the sofa in the living room, and began to occupy me.
Our father drove the fraulein away, - said Kokosya.
Chased the fraulein, - said Totosya.
Fat Tulya sighed and whispered:
Plogal!
She was a terrible fool! - Kokosya kindly explained.
It was stupid! - Totosya supported.
Dulishcha! - the fat man sighed.
And dad bought Lianozovo shares! - continued to occupy Kokosya. - Do you think they won't fall?
How should I know!
Well, yes, it’s true that you don’t have Lianozovsky shares, so you don’t care. And I'm terribly afraid.
Afraid! - Tulya sighed and shivered.
What are you so afraid of?
Well, how come you don’t understand? After all, we are direct heirs. If dad dies today, everything will be ours, but when the Lianozovskys fall, then, perhaps, things won’t be so bad!
Then it's not too thick! - Totosya repeated.
Not too much! - Tyulya whispered.
Dear children, stop sad thoughts, I said. Your dad is young and healthy, and nothing will happen to him. Let's have fun. Now it's Christmas time. Do you like scary fairy tales?
Yes, we don’t know - what kind of scary things are they?
If you don't know, well, I'll tell you. Want to?
Well, listen, in a certain kingdom, but not in our state, there lived a princess, a beautiful beauty. Her hands were sugar, her eyes were cornflower blue, and her hair was honey.
Frenchwoman? - Kokosya inquired busily.
Hm... perhaps not without it. Well, the princess lived and lived, and suddenly she looked: a wolf was coming...
I stopped here because I was a little scared myself.
Well, this wolf comes and tells her human voice: “Princess, oh princess, I’ll eat you!”
The princess got scared, fell at the wolf’s feet, lay there, gnawing the ground.
Let me go free, wolf.
No, he says, I won’t let you in!
Here I stopped again, remembered fat Tulya - he would get scared and fall ill.
Tulle! Aren't you very scared?
I then? Not a bit.
Kokosya and Totosya grinned contemptuously.
We, you know, are not afraid of wolves.
I was embarrassed.
Okay, so I'll tell you another one. Only, chur, then at night do not be afraid. Well, listen! Once upon a time there was an old queen in the world, and this queen went for a walk in the forest. He goes, goes, goes, goes, goes, goes, suddenly, out of nowhere, a hunchbacked old woman comes out. An old woman approaches the queen and says to her in a human voice:
Hello, mother!
The queen bowed to the old woman.
“Who are you,” he says, “grandmother, that you walk through the forest and talk in a human voice?”
And the old woman suddenly laughed, her teeth creaked.
And I,” he says, “are mother, the one whom no one knows, but everyone meets.” “I,” he says, “mother, your Death!”
I took a breath because my throat was tight with fear.
She looked at the children. They sit and don't move. Only Totosya suddenly moved closer to me (yeah, the girl probably has finer nerves than these idiotic guys) and asked something.
What are you saying?
I'm asking how much does your clutch cost?
A? What? I don’t know... I don’t remember... You don’t like this fairy tale, right? Tulya, maybe you were very scared? Why are you silent?
What were you afraid of? I'm not afraid of old women.
I'm depressed. What could you come up with that would perk them up a little?
Maybe you don’t want to listen to fairy tales?
No, we really want to, please tell us, just something scary!
Well, fine, so be it. But maybe it’s not good to scare Tulya, he’s still very small.
No, nothing, please tell me.
Well, sir, so here it is! Once upon a time there lived old count. And this count was so evil that in his old age he even grew horns.
Totosya nudged Kokosya, and both covered their mouths with their palms and giggled.
What are you doing? Well, so his horns grew, and when his teeth fell out from old age, boar tusks erupted in their place. Well, he lived and lived, shook his horns, clicked his fangs, and finally the time came for him to die. He dug himself a large grave, and not a simple one, but with an underground passage, and this underground passage led from the grave directly to the main hall, under the count's throne. And he told his children not to dare to decide any matters without him and to wait three days after his funeral. And then, he says, you’ll see what happens.
And when the count began to die, he called his two sons to him and ordered the eldest to cut out the heart of the youngest three days later and put this heart in a glass jug. And then, he says, you will see what will happen.
Then I got so scared that I even felt cold. Stupid! I made up all sorts of fears here, and then through dark room I don’t dare go through.
Children, what are you doing? Maybe... no more?
Is this your real chain? - asked Kokosya.
Where's the sample? - asked Totosya.
But what is it with Tulya? He closed his eyes! He is positively ill with fear!
Children! Look! Tulle! Tulle!
Yes, he fell asleep. Open your eyes, it's so impolite.
You know, dear children, I obviously can't wait for your mother. It’s already late, it’s getting dark, and in the darkness I’ll probably be a little scared to walk after... after everything. But before we leave, I’ll tell you one more fairy tale, short, but very scary.
Listen here:
Once upon a time there were Lianozovo actions. They lived, lived, lived, lived, lived, lived, and suddenly... and fell!
Ay! What's wrong with you?
God! What's wrong with them?
The coconut is shaking like an aspen leaf. The mouth is twisted... Paralysis, or what?
Totosia is all white, her eyes are wide open, she wants to say something but cannot, only in horror she pushes away some terrible ghost with her hands.
And suddenly Tyulya’s desperate cry:
Ay! Afraid! Afraid! Ay, that's enough! Scary! Afraid! Afraid!
Something knocked. It was Totosya who fell unconscious on the carpet.
Jonah
It was already five o'clock in the morning when Alexander Ivanovich Fokin, a judicial investigator from the city of Nesladsk, ran home from the club and, as he was, without taking off his coat, galoshes and hat, flew into his wife's bedroom.
Fokin's wife was awake, holding the newspaper upside down, squinting at the flickering candle, and there was something inspired in her eyes: she was figuring out exactly how to scold her husband when he returned.
Several options came to mind. We could start like this:
You pig, you pig! Well, tell me at least once in your life frankly and honestly, aren’t you a pig?
But it’s not bad either:
Look, if you please, at your face in the mirror. Well, who do you look like?
Then wait for the response.
He will, of course, answer:
I'm not like anyone, and leave me alone.
Then it will be possible to say:
Yeah! Now I want peace! Why didn’t you want peace when you went to the club?
It's a rough start, but from there everything will go smoothly. But what's the best way to start?
When the torment of her creativity was unexpectedly interrupted by the invasion of her husband, she was completely at a loss. For three years now, that is, since he swore on his head, the happiness of his wife and the future of his children that he would not set foot in the club, he always returned from there quietly, through the back door and tiptoed into his office .
What happened to you? - she cried, looking at his cheerful, animated, almost enthusiastic face.
And two thoughts flashed in her soul, alarmingly and joyfully at once. One: “Did he really win forty thousand?” And another: “Everything will blow through tomorrow anyway!”
But the husband did not answer, sat down next to him on the bed and spoke slowly and solemnly:
Listen carefully! I'll start everything in order. Today, in the evening, you said: “Why is that gate slamming? That’s right, they forgot to lock it.” And I replied that I would lock it myself. Well, I went outside, locked the gate and, quite unexpectedly, went to the club.
What disgusting! - the wife jumped up.
But he stopped her:
Wait, wait! I know I'm a jerk and all that, but that's not the point right now. Listen further: in our city there is a certain excise Hugenberg, an elegant brunette.
Oh my God! Well, I don’t know him, or what? We've known each other for five years. Speak quickly - what a manner of pulling!
But Fokin found the story so delicious that he wanted to hold on longer.
Well, this same Hugenberg played cards. I played and, it should be noted, I won all evening. Suddenly the forester Pazukhin gets up, takes out his wallet and says:
I cry to you, Ilya Lukich, and I cry to you, Semyon Ivanovich, and I cry to Fyodor Pavlych, but I don’t cry to this gentleman because he is over-twitching. A? What's it like? This is about Hugenberg.
What are you talking about?
Understand? - the investigator triumphed. - It's moving! Well, Hugenberg, of course, jumped up, of course, all pale, everyone, of course, “ah”, “ah”. But, however, Hugenberg was found and says:
Dear Sir, if you wore a uniform, I would tear off your epaulettes, but what can I do with you?
How is it that they distort it so much? - asked the wife, shaking with joyful excitement.
This, you see, is, in fact, very simple. Hm... For example, he rents it out and takes a look. That is, no, not like that. Wait, don't knock it down. Here's how he does it: he shuffles the cards and tries to put the ace in such a way that when dealt it hits him. Understood?
Well, my dear, that’s why he’s a sharpie! However, it's very simple, I don't know what you don't understand here. Don't we have maps?
The nanny has a deck.
Well, go drag it over here, I'll show you.
The wife brought a plump, dirty deck of cards, with gray, limp corners.
That's disgusting!
Nothing disgusting, Lenka sucked it.
Well, I'm starting. Here, look: I rent to you, myself and two others. Now suppose I want the ace of hearts. I look at my cards - there is no ace. I look at yours - no, either. Only these two partners remained. Then I reason logically: one of them must have the ace of hearts. According to the theory of probability, he is sitting right here, to the right. I'm watching. To hell with the theory of probability - there is no ace. Therefore, the ace is in this last pile. See how simple it is!
Maybe it’s simple,” the wife answered, shaking her head in disbelief, “but somehow it doesn’t look like anything.” Well, who will let you look at their cards?
Hm... perhaps you're right. Well, in that case it's even easier. When I shuffle, I take out all the trump cards and put them in for myself.
Why do you know what trump cards will be?
Hm... well...
You better go to bed, you have to get up early tomorrow.
Yes Yes. I want to go to the Bubkeviches in the morning to tell everything how it happened.
And I’ll go to the Khromovs.
No, we'll go together. You weren’t present, but I’ll tell you everything myself!
Then we’ll go to the doctor’s.
Well, of course! Let's order a cab and off we go!
Both laughed with pleasure and even, unexpectedly for themselves, kissed.
No, really, it’s not so bad to live in the world!
The next morning, Fokina found her husband already in the dining room. He sat all gray, shaggy, confused, slapped cards on the table and said:
Well, this is for you, this is for you, and now I move, and I have your ace! Damn, that's not it again!
He looked at his wife absent-mindedly and dully.
Oh, is that you, Manechka? You know, I didn’t go to bed at all. Not worth it. Wait, don't bother me. So I hand it over again: this is for you, sir, this is for you...
At the Bubkevichs he talked about the club scandal and became animated again, choking and burning. The wife sat next to me, suggested a forgotten word or gesture and also burned. Then he asked for cards and began to show how Hugenberg distorted.
This is for you, sir, this is for you... This is for you, sir, and the king for yourself too... In essence, it’s very simple... Ah, damn it! No ace, no king! Well, let's start from the beginning.
Then we went to the Khromovs. Again they told and burned, so that even the coffee pot was knocked over. Then Fokin again asked for cards and began to show how they distort. It went again:
This is for you, sir, this is for you...
The young lady Khromova suddenly laughed and said:
Well, Alexander Ivanovich, it seems you will never be a cheater!
Fokine flared up, smiled caustically, and said goodbye at once.
The doctor's wife already knew the whole story, and they even knew that Fokine was unable to shudder. So they immediately started laughing.
Well, how do you cheat? Come on, show me? Ha ha ha!
Fokin became completely angry. I decided not to travel anymore, went home and locked myself in my office.
Well, this is for you... - his tired voice came from there.
At about twelve o'clock at night he called his wife:
Well, Manya, what can you say now? Look: here I am renting. Come on, tell me, where is the trump crown?
Don't know.
Here she is! Oh! Crap! Wrong. So here it is. What is this? There is only one king...
He sank all over and his eyes bulged. His wife looked at him and suddenly squealed with laughter.
Oh, I can't! Oh, how funny you are! Apparently you will never be a cheater! You'll have to give up on this career. Believe me...
She suddenly stopped short, because Fokin jumped up from his seat, all pale, shook his fists and yelled:
Shut up, fool! Get out of my room! Vile!
She ran out in horror, but it was still not enough for him. He opened the doors and shouted after her three times:
Philistine! Philistine! Philistine!
And at dawn he came to her, quiet and pitiful, sat on the edge of the bed, folded his hands:
Forgive me, Manechka! But it's so hard for me, it's so hard that I'm a failure! At least you have pity. I'm a bastard!
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Copyright: Nadezhda Teffi
