Talent. stories with humor

Teffi

Children

Teffi N.A. Stories. Comp. E. Trubilova. -- M.: Young Guard, 1990

Spring Don Juan Kishmish Katenka Preparation Brother Sula Grandfather Leonty Underground roots Trinity Day Lifeless beast Book June Somewhere in the rear

Spring

The balcony door has just been opened. Pieces of brown wool and pieces of putty litter the floor. Lisa stands on the balcony, squints in the sun and thinks about Katya Potapovich. Well, yes! Deception means being deceived. spring sun: -- I love him! I love student Egorov, I love him madly! I'll tell Katya everything tomorrow! All! All! All! And a rat's tail with a blue rag trembled pitifully and cheerfully behind her shoulders.

Don Juan

On Friday, January 14, at exactly eight o'clock in the evening, eighth-grade high school student Volodya Bazyrev became a Don Juan. If you want, even with three.

Kishmish

Great Lent. Moscow. The church bell rings with a distant, dull hum. Even blows merge into a continuous heavy dream. Through the door, open into a room clouded by the pre-dawn darkness, one can see how, under quiet, cautious rustles, an obscure figure is moving. It either unsteadily stands out as a thick gray spot, then blurs again and completely merges with the muddy haze. The rustling noises subside, a floorboard creaked, and another one moved further away. Everything was quiet. It was the nanny who went to church for morning., small nose, small hands. In general, a trifle, small fry. By the age of thirteen, she will quickly stretch out, her legs will become long, and everyone will forget that she was once a sultana. But, being a small sultana, she suffered greatly from this offensive nickname. She was proud and dreamed of advancing somehow and, most importantly, in a grandiose, extraordinary way. Become, for example, a famous strongman, bend horseshoes, stop a madly racing troika in its tracks. It was also tempting to be a robber or, perhaps even better, an executioner. The executioner is more powerful than the robber, because he will win in the end. And could any of the adults, looking at the thin, fair-haired, short-haired girl quietly knitting a beaded ring, could it have occurred to anyone what menacing and powerful dreams were roaming in her head? By the way, there was another dream - to be a terrible ugly person, not just ugly, but such that people would be scared. She walked up to the mirror, squinted her eyes, stretched her mouth and stuck her tongue out to the side. At the same time, she first said in a bass voice, on behalf of the unknown gentleman, who does not see her face, but speaks into the back of her head: “Allow me to invite you, madam, to a square dance.” Holy Spirit. - Ask your mother, ask our guests - everyone knows. - Get out, you bad girl! - the mother said angrily. - Go to the nursery and sit alone all day.

Then he made a face, made a full turn, and followed the answer to the gentleman: “Okay.” Just kiss my crooked cheek first.

The dacha was tiny - two rooms and a kitchen. The mother grumbled in the rooms, the cook in the kitchen, and since Katenka served as the object of grumbling for both, there was no way for this Katenka to stay at home, and she sat all day in the garden on a rocking bench. I nailed a plaque “Madame Paraskova, fashion and dresses.” In the summer she rested and raised her high school student daughter through reproaches of ingratitude. - Get out, you filthy boy! - Katenka squealed. Katenka's mother, a poor but ignoble widow, spent the whole winter sewing ladies' dresses and even entrance doors greek nose. All my nerve endings were completely upset. The fact is that my novel is quickly heading towards a fatal outcome.

Our neighbor on the estate, young Count Mikhail, gives me no rest. All I have to do is go out into the garden to hear his passionate whisper behind me. To my shame, I loved him selflessly.

Lisa, a short-haired cook, was taken to her place from the boarding house for Maslenitsa by her aunt. Either he will peck at hemp seeds, then he will splash water, or he will scratch his nose on a piece of lime. Life is in full swing. This morning an unusual event happened on our estate: a lot of fruits, prunes and other valuables disappeared. All the servants unanimously accused the gang of neighboring robbers. I was silent because I knew that their leader was Count Mikhail.: - Have you come to enjoy the twilight, young lady? A? Twilight? A? Lisa left the room without answering.

“Didn’t the seamstress kill the canary that she’s so quiet?”

In the dimly lit living room sat a thin lady in a pale green dress embroidered with mother-of-pearl sequins and said to my mother: “Your St. Petersburg climate is completely unbearable.” Today this fog is heavy, dark, completely London-like. I must drop everything as soon as possible and go to the south of France. The husband will remain in the village - he will run for leader this year. I left Shura with him. I sent Petya to a German school and will leave him here with my grandmother. Think how much trouble I have! And she herself will go to Menton until spring. I really can’t imagine how I’ll cope with all this. And I'm so weak, so weak after this shock. After all, fifteen years ago I lost a lovely child, my first-born, handsome, a real Correggi bambino, to whom I was madly attached. He only lived for two hours, they didn’t even show him to me. Since then I have never taken off my black dress or smiled. No, Aunt Nellie is really lovely. “Kolya’s son” was sitting at dinner, and everything was tasteless, and they served compote for cake, just like in a boarding house, so there would be nothing to tease her friends with.. Wonderful. I have a beginning. Would you like me to read it to you? He stepped aside and began rummaging in his pocket. He rummaged around, pulled out a piece of a pencil, a piece of chocolate, a piece of soft rubber that was forbidden to snap in class, took out a penny with a piece of candy stuck to it, and, finally, a folded piece of lined paper, clearly torn from a school notebook.-- Here. This is the beginning of the novel. My younger brother Shura composed it, and I recorded it. Here. He cleared his throat, looked at us carefully, one by one—my sister and I were the listeners—obviously, he checked whether we were serious enough, and began: “Do you know what love is, which tears all your insides, makes you you to roll on the floor and curse your fate." That's all. This is just the beginning of the novel. Things will get even more interesting next. My younger brother Shura will come up with names for the heroine and hero this winter. This is the hardest thing. It soon became clear that Petya was writing a novel himself, but in Russian. At the German school, he vividly grasped the intricacies of the Russian language and even wrote several poems dedicated to school life. Now, of course, it would be difficult for me to quote them, but I carried some especially vivid lines in my memory throughout my life: The bell rings, the lesson ends, and the students go downstairs in joy. It was precisely this last mysterious phrase that produced the effect. Why did the valve in the pipe suddenly rattle? Was this some kind of occult phenomenon marking the bloody drama? Or did Prince Ardalyon swing his sword so hard that he damaged the stove? I don’t and didn’t understand anything, but I could feel the breath of talent and it was creepy. —Does your younger brother Shura write a lot?- No, he doesn’t have time. He thinks more. And in general, he has a lot of plans. And how he treats women! We had a lady visiting us, very luxury woman ? - I asked, trying to imagine this hero. .. We froze with . So Shura invited her to take a walk in the forest and took her into the swamp. She screams, calls for help. And he says to her: “Okay, I will save you, but for this you must be mine.” Well, she, of course, agreed. He pulled her out. Otherwise - death. The swamp sucks in. Last year a cow fell through there.- Why didn’t he pull out the cow? - asked my younger sister, looking at Petya with frightened round eyes. - After all, he could have taken the cow for himself later?

“I don’t know,” answered Petya. - There must have been no time. My brother Shura can do anything. He swims better than anyone in the world. More like any snake, and a snake can swim more than two hundred miles per hour, if you count by kilometers.

Before lunch, the children looked onto the terrace and immediately came back: someone was sitting on the terrace. I stayed with them for three weeks. She definitely wanted me to live longer. Definitely. Well, I’d better wrap it up later. -Can he jump?-- Jump? - Petya asked with such an air as if such a question even made him laugh. -- Well, of course! And it is so light that it can last for several minutes in the air. He will jump and stop, and then he will fall. Of course, not particularly high, but approximately up to my right temple. He’ll come next year and he’ll show you everything. -- And he. From another mother. You still don't understand anything. -Where is his house?. Try it yourself, it will work out better for you. The three of them spun around, Gulka flopped, and the Hollow Squirrel barked. It became fun. : sticking blades of grass into the cracks of the porch, it turned out to be a garden for hanging out flies. There he turned around again.

And before dinner, grandfather shrank again, became quiet, sat down near the dish table and turned his head like a sparrow until they called him to the table.

And at the table he again looked everyone in the eye, as if he was afraid that he had displeased him. The next day, grandfather became completely friendly, so Valka even told him about her cherished desire to buy a belt with a buckle and a jump rope. Gulka did not yet have any separate desires, and she joined the Valkins: also a belt and a jump rope. there was her secret torment, insult and shame. She wanted to be big and grown up. The whole house is full of large ones sitting on ordinary human chairs. She's the only one who's small. And unless there was no one in the dining room, she would sit in the wrong chair, as if by mistake. . They never laugh or joke. They have furrowed brows and abrupt voices. They are cruel. Especially chubby Tulzin, whose cheeks tremble when he gets angry. Tulzin had a wonderful handkerchief - huge and terribly thick. Like a sheet. I blew my pocket out with a drum. Tulzin rubbed his round nose with it, not unfolding it, but holding it like a bag of rags. The nose was soft, but the package of rags was hard, unforgiving. The nose turned purple. Perhaps these three phone books left her with a lifelong consciousness of being neglected, of undeserved humiliation, of the eternal desire to somehow rise, to elevate herself, to relieve the insult. and hurries Grisha to quickly reach his own people in order to turn the battlefield around. Tulzin has only one cannon. He keeps it in his pocket and dumps it every time he takes out his handkerchief., in front of which two knights are fighting. Barbara protects her colors.

- She can’t sit here anyway! - Grisha shouts and grabs Lisa’s legs. But she grabbed on so tightly that Grisha pulled her along with the chair.

The coachman Tryfon brought several armfuls of freshly cut fragrant reeds from the evening and scattered them around the rooms. The girls squealed and jumped, and the boy Grisha followed Tryphon, serious and quiet, and straightened the reeds so that they lay smoothly. , with unknown dangers. The mother and aunt crossed themselves, rolling their eyes, and whispered about the landowner Katomilov, that he needed to leave the chicken for dinner, otherwise he would sit too long and have nothing to eat. Our little aunt died. In the evening, the girls ran to make bouquets for tomorrow: on Trinity Day they are supposed to go to church with flowers. Grisha also went after his sisters. in checkered stockings, and screamed wildly, waving a linden branch over his head.

A line was drawn on the ground, and as soon as the landowner crossed it with his checkered feet, humanity rushed at him and pushed the board back with a cry of victory.

It was fun at the Christmas tree. There were many guests, both big and small. There was even one boy about whom the nanny whispered to Katya that he had been whipped today. It was so interesting that Katya did not leave his side almost the entire evening; I kept waiting for him to say something special and looked at him with respect and fear. But the whipped boy behaved like an ordinary one, begged for gingerbread, blew the trumpet and clapped firecrackers, so that Katya, no matter how bitter it was, had to be disappointed and move away from him. They brought lunch from the servants' kitchen, the cook came and whispered to the nanny: - And he is for her... and she is for him... Yes, you say... V-there! And she told him... and he told her... They whispered and rustled. We had a snack, treated the nanny and then everyone laughed about something. She looked around the nursery and said to the nanny: “Are you a nanny?” So, please, take all these toys and go somewhere far away so that the child does not see them. All these donkeys and sheep - out! Toys must be approached consistently and rationally, otherwise the fantasy will become painful and the resulting harm will result. Katya, come to me!

Grisha was sitting on a bench near the cellar with the cook, Tryphon and the nanny Agashka. On account of the dampness, he wore a cap on his head, which made his face cozy and sad.

The huge manor house, the large family, the expanse of bright, strong air, after the quiet St. Petersburg apartment, stuffyly stuffed with carpets and furniture, immediately tired Katya, who had arrived to recover after a long illness. .. It was a joy to go into the front garden with a book by A. Tolstoy in an embossed binding. And read aloud: You do not see perfection in him, And he could not seduce you with himself, Only secret thoughts, torment and bliss, He is a found excuse for you. The conversation was about the landowner Katomilov. . Early in the morning I went to run errands and told them: you call, order the coffee to be served, and then run and look around the city. I'll be back by lunchtime. She returned at two o'clock. What's happened? The curtains are drawn as they were, and both are lying in bed. What, I say, is the matter with you? Why are you lying there? Did you drink coffee? "No". What are you doing? "This idiot doesn't want to call." - Why don’t you call yourself? “Yes, that’s it! Why on earth? He’ll lie there, and I’ll run around like an errand boy.” - “Why on earth am I obligated to try for him?” So the two idiots lay there until lunchtime. -What are you looking at? - Katya was surprised. She looked into his face, saw his embarrassed, confused eyes and cried even harder. - He really needs it! - said the cook. - You'll scatter it with our berries! walked toward dawn.

“Lord, Lord,” Katya repeated and pushed the door into the garden. She didn't dare move. I was afraid to hit my heel, rustle my dress - such an indescribable blue silvery silence was on the earth. The motionless, lush clumps of trees became so silent and silent, as only living beings, sentient beings, can remain silent and silent.

Before starting hostilities, the boys herded fat Buba into the hallway and locked the door behind her. Booba roared and squealed. She will roar and listen to see if her roar reached her mother. But mother sat quietly and did not respond to Bubin’s roar.. He charged ten centimes for a spoonful of fish oil. To allow his ears to be washed, he demanded five centimes, and his nails to be cleaned - ten, at the rate of one centime per finger; to bathe with soap - he charged an inhuman price: twenty centimes, and he reserved the right to squeal when his hair was washed, and the foam got into his eyes. Behind Lately his commercial genius had developed so much that he demanded another ten centimes for getting out of the bath, otherwise he would sit and get cold, weaken, catch a cold and die. Pichuga is despicable, lisping, illiterate, a coward and a suck-up. It is absolutely impossible to bear the humiliation from him. And suddenly Pichuga and Kotka kick her out and lock the doors behind her. In the morning, when she went to look at their new cannon and stuck her finger into its mouth, this short man, a suck-up, a year younger than her, squealed in a pig’s voice and deliberately squealed loudly so that Kotka could hear from the dining room. - Now you are the aggressor.

Current page: 1 (book has 11 pages in total)

Humorous stories

...For laughter is joy, and therefore in itself is good.

Spinoza. "Ethics", part IV.

Position XLV, scholium II.

Curry favor

Leshka has been numb for a long time right leg, 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 topped with two horns wavered 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 Leshka washes his 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 realized from the very beginning that he was a bungler,” the cook sang in a rich voice. - How many times do I tell him: if you, guy, are not a fool, stay in front of your eyes. Don’t do shitty things, but stay in front of your eyes. 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.

“Here,” he said reproachfully, “they left it behind!” And then the hostess will scold me.

The guest flushed and looked at the tenant in confusion.

“Okay, okay, go ahead,” he calmed embarrassedly.

And Leshka left, but not for long. He found a rag and returned to wipe the floor.

He found the lodger and his guest silently bending over the table and immersed in contemplation of the tablecloth.

“Look, they were staring,” thought Leshka, “they must have noticed the spot.” They think I don't understand! Found a fool! I understand. I work like a horse!”

And, approaching the thoughtful couple, he carefully wiped the tablecloth under the tenant’s very nose.

- What are you doing? - he was scared.

- Like what? I can't live without my eye. Dunyashka, the oblique devil, only knows a dirty trick, and she’s not the doorman to keep order... The janitor on the stairs...

- Go away! Idiot!

But the young lady frightenedly grabbed the tenant’s hand and spoke in a whisper.

“He’ll understand...” Leshka heard, “the servants... gossip...”

The lady had tears of embarrassment in her eyes, and in a trembling voice she said to Leshka:

- Nothing, nothing, boy... You don’t have to close the door when you go...

The tenant grinned contemptuously and shrugged.

Leshka left, but, having reached the front hall, he remembered that the lady asked not to lock the door, and, returning, opened it.

The tenant jumped away from his lady like a bullet.

“Eccentric,” Leshka thought as he left. “The room is bright, but he’s scared!”

Leshka walked into the hallway, looked in the mirror, and tried on the resident’s hat. Then he walked into the dark dining room and scratched the cupboard door with his nails.

- Look, you unsalted devil! You're here all day, like a horse, working, and all she knows is locking the closet.

I decided to go stir the stove again. The door to the resident's room was closed again. Leshka was surprised, but entered.

The tenant sat calmly next to the lady, but his tie was on one side, and he looked at Leshka with such a look that he only clicked his tongue:

“What are you looking at! I myself know that I’m not a parasite, I’m not sitting idly by.”

The coals are stirred, and Leshka leaves, threatening that he will soon return to close the stove. A quiet half-moan, half-sigh was his answer.

Leshka went and felt sad: he couldn’t think of any more work. I looked into the lady's bedroom. It was quiet there. The lamp glowed in front of the image. It smelled like perfume. Leshka climbed onto a chair, looked at the faceted pink lamp for a long time, crossed himself earnestly, then dipped his finger into it and oiled his hair above his forehead. Then he went to the dressing table and sniffed all the bottles in turn.

- Eh, what’s wrong! No matter how much you work, if you don’t see them, they don’t count as anything. At least break your forehead.

He wandered sadly into the hallway. In the dimly lit living room, something squeaked under his feet, then the bottom of the curtain swayed, followed by another...

"Cat! – he realized. - Look, look, back to the tenant’s room, again the lady will go crazy, like the other day. You’re being naughty!..”

Joyful and animated, he ran into the treasured room.

- I am the damned one! I'll show you to hang around! I’ll turn your face right on its tail!..

The occupant had no face.

“Are you crazy, you unfortunate idiot!” - he shouted. -Who are you scolding?

“Hey, you vile one, just give him some slack, you’ll never survive,” Leshka tried. “You can’t let her into your room!” She's nothing but a scandal!..

The lady with trembling hands straightened her hat, which had slipped onto the back of her head.

“He’s kind of crazy, this boy,” she whispered in fear and embarrassment.

- Shoot, damn it! - and Leshka finally, to everyone’s reassurance, dragged the cat out from under the sofa.

“Lord,” the tenant prayed, “will you finally leave here?”

- Look, damn it, it’s scratching! It cannot be kept in rooms. Yesterday she was in the living room under the curtain...

And Leshka, at length and in detail, without hiding a single detail, without sparing fire and color, described to the amazed listeners all the dishonest behavior of the terrible cat.

His story was listened to in silence. The lady bent down and kept looking for something under the table, and the tenant, somehow strangely pressing Leshka’s shoulder, pushed the narrator out of the room and closed the door.

“I’m a smart guy,” Leshka whispered, letting the cat out onto the back stairs. - Smart and hard worker. I'll go close the stove now.

This time the tenant did not hear Leshkin’s steps: he stood in front of the lady on his knees and, bowing his head low and low to her legs, froze, without moving. And the lady closed her eyes and shrank her whole face, as if she was looking at the sun...

"What is he doing there? – Leshka was surprised. “Like he’s chewing a button on her shoe!” No... apparently he dropped something. I'll go look..."

He approached and bent down so quickly that the tenant, who had suddenly perked up, hit him painfully with his forehead right on the eyebrow.

The lady jumped up all confused. Leshka reached under the chair, searched under the table and stood up, spreading his arms.

– There’s nothing there.

- What are you looking for? What do you finally want from us? - the tenant shouted in an unnaturally thin voice and blushed all over.

“I thought they dropped something... It’ll disappear again, like the brooch of that little dark lady who comes to you for tea... The day before yesterday, when I left, I, Lyosha, lost my brooch,” he turned directly to the lady , who suddenly began to listen to him very carefully, even opened her mouth, and her eyes became completely round.

- Well, I went behind the screen on the table and found it. And yesterday I forgot my brooch again, but it wasn’t I who put it away, but Dunyashka, so that means the end of the brooch...

“By God, it’s true,” Leshka reassured her. - Dunyashka stole it, damn it. If it weren't for me, she would have stolen everything. I clean everything up like a horse... by God, like a dog...

But they didn’t listen to him. The lady quickly ran into the hallway, the tenant behind her, and both disappeared behind the front door.

Leshka went to the kitchen, where, going to bed in an old trunk without a top, he said to the cook with a mysterious look:

- Tomorrow the slash is closed.

- Well! – she was joyfully surprised. - What did they say?

- Since I’m talking, it’s become, I know.

The next day Leshka was kicked out.

Dexterity of hands

On the door of a small wooden booth, where local youth danced and performed charity performances on Sundays, there was a long red poster:

“Specially passing through, at the request of the public, a session of the grandest fakir of black and white magic.

The most amazing tricks, such as burning a handkerchief in front of one’s eyes, extracting a silver ruble from the nose of the most respectable public, and so on, contrary to nature.”

A sad head looked out of the side window and sold tickets.

It had been raining since the morning. The trees of the garden around the booth became wet, swollen, and were doused with gray, fine rain obediently, without shaking themselves off.

At the very entrance a large puddle bubbled and gurgled. Only three rubles worth of tickets were sold.

It was getting dark.

The sad head sighed, disappeared, and a small, shabby gentleman of indeterminate age crawled out of the door.

Holding his coat at the collar with both hands, he raised his head and looked at the sky from all sides.

- Not a single hole! Everything is gray! In Timashev there is a burnout, in Shchigra there is a burnout, in Dmitriev there is a burnout... In Oboyan there is a burnout, in Kursk there is a burnout... And where is there not a burnout? Where, I ask, is there no burnout? I sent an honorary card to the judge, to the head, to the police officer... I sent it to everyone. I'll go refill the lamps.

He glanced at the poster and couldn’t look away.

-What else do they want? An abscess in the head or what?

By eight o'clock they began to gather.

Either no one came to the places of honor, or servants were sent. Some drunks came to the standing places and immediately began to threaten that they would demand the money back.

By half past nine it became clear that no one else would come. And those who were sitting were all cursing so loudly and definitely that it became dangerous to delay any longer.

The magician put on a long frock coat, which became wider with each tour, sighed, crossed himself, took a box with mysterious accessories and went on stage.

He stood silently for a few seconds and thought:

“The fee is four rubles, kerosene is six hryvnia - that’s nothing, but the premises are eight rubles, so that’s already something! Golovin's son has a place of honor - let him. But how will I leave and what will I eat, I’m asking you.

And why is it empty? I would flock to such a program myself.”

- Bravo! - one of the drunks shouted.

The magician woke up. He lit a candle on the table and said:

– Dear audience! Let me give you a preface. What you see here is not anything miraculous or witchcraft, which is disgusting to our Orthodox religion and even prohibited by the police. This doesn't even happen in the world. No! Far from it! What you will see here is nothing less than dexterity and dexterity of hands. I give you my word of honor that there will be no mysterious witchcraft here. Now you will see the extraordinary appearance of a hard-boiled egg in a completely empty scarf.

He rummaged in the box and took out a colorful scarf rolled into a ball. His hands were shaking slightly.

- Please see for yourself that the scarf is completely empty. Here I am shaking it out.

He shook out the handkerchief and stretched it with his hands.

“In the morning, one bun for a penny and tea without sugar,” he thought. “What about tomorrow?”

“You can be sure,” he repeated, “that there is no egg here.”

The audience began to stir and whisper. Someone snorted. And suddenly one of the drunks boomed:

- You're lying! Here's an egg.

- Where? What? – the magician was confused.

- And tied it to a scarf with a string.

The embarrassed magician turned over the handkerchief. Indeed, there was an egg hanging on a string.

- Oh you! – someone spoke in a friendly manner. - If you go behind the candle, it wouldn’t be noticeable. And you climbed ahead! Yes, brother, you can’t.

The magician was pale and smiled crookedly.

“It’s true,” he said. “However, I warned you that this is not witchcraft, but purely sleight of hand.” Sorry, gentlemen...” his voice trembled and stopped.

- OK! OK!

– Now let’s move on to the next amazing phenomenon, which will seem even more amazing to you. Let one of the most respectable audience lend his handkerchief.

The public was shy.

Many had already taken it out, but after looking closely, they hastened to put it in their pockets.

Then the magician approached the head's son and extended his trembling hand.

“I could, of course, use my handkerchief, since it is completely safe, but you might think that I changed something.”

Golovin’s son gave him his handkerchief, and the magician unfolded it, shook it and stretched it.

- Please make sure! A completely intact scarf.

Golovin's son looked proudly at the audience.

- Now look. This scarf has become magical. So I roll it up into a tube, then I bring it to the candle and light it. Lit. The entire corner was burned off. Do you see?

The audience craned their necks.

- Right! - the drunk shouted. - It smells burning.

“Now I’ll count to three and the scarf will be whole again.”

- Once! Two! Three!! Please take a look!

He proudly and deftly straightened his handkerchief.

- A-ah! – the audience also gasped.

There was a huge burnt hole in the middle of the scarf.

- However! - Golovin’s son said and sniffled.

The magician pressed the handkerchief to his chest and suddenly began to cry.

- Gentlemen! Most respectable pu... No collection!.. Rain in the morning... didn’t eat... didn’t eat - a penny for a bun!

- But we’re nothing! God be with you! - the audience shouted.

- Damn us animals! The Lord is with you.

But the magician sobbed and wiped his nose with a magic handkerchief.

- Four rubles for the fee... premises - eight rubles... oh-oh-oh-eight... oh-oh-oh...

Some woman sobbed.

- That's enough for you! Oh my God! Turned my soul out! - they shouted all around.

A head in an oilskin hood poked its head through the door.

- What is this? Go home!

Everyone stood up anyway. We left. They sloshed through the puddles, were silent, and sighed.

“What can I tell you, brothers,” one of the drunks suddenly said clearly and loudly.

Everyone even paused.

- What can I tell you! After all, the scoundrel people have gone away. He will rip your money off you, and he will rip your soul out. A?

- Blow up! - someone hooted in the darkness.

- Exactly what to inflate. Come on! Who's with us? One, two... Well, march! People without any conscience... I also paid money that was not stolen... Well, we’ll show you! Zhzhiva.

Repentant

The old nanny, living in retirement in the general's family, came from confession.

I sat in my corner for a minute and was offended: the gentlemen were having dinner, there was a smell of something tasty, and I could hear the quick clatter of the maid serving the table.

- Ugh! Passionate is not Passionate, they don’t care. Just to feed your womb. You will sin unwillingly, God forgive me!

She got out, chewed, thought and went into the passage room. She sat down on the chest.

A maid passed by and was surprised.

- Why are you, nanny, sitting here? Exactly a doll! By God - exactly a doll!

- Think about what you are saying! – the nanny snapped. - Such days, and she swears. Is it appropriate to swear on such days? The man was at confession, but looking at you, you’ll have time to get dirty before communion.

The maid was scared.

- It's my fault, nanny! Congratulations on your confession.

- "Congratulations!" Nowadays they really congratulate! Nowadays they strive to offend and reproach a person. Just now their liqueur spilled. Who knows what she spilled. You won’t be smarter than God either. And the little lady says: “It’s probably the nanny who spilled it!” From such a age and such words.

– It’s even amazing, nanny! They are so small and already know everything!

- These children, mother, are worse than obstetricians! That's what they are, children of today. Me, what! I don't judge. I was there at confession, now I won’t take a sip of poppy dew until tomorrow, let alone... And you say – congratulations. There's an old lady fasting in the fourth week; I say to Sonechka: “Congratulate the little woman.” And she snorts: “Here you go!” very necessary!" And I say: “You have to respect the little woman!” The old woman will die and may be deprived of her inheritance.” Yes, if only I had such a woman, I would find something to congratulate every day. Good morning, grandma! Yes with good weather! Yes, happy holiday! Yes, happy birthday! Have a happy bite! Me, what! I don't judge. I’m going to take communion tomorrow, all I’m saying is that it’s not good and quite shameful.

- You should rest, nanny! - the maid fawned.

“I’ll stretch my legs and lie down in a coffin.” I'm taking a rest. There will be time for you to rejoice. They would have disappeared from the world long ago, but I won’t give myself to you. The young bone crunches on the teeth, and the old bone becomes across the throat. You won't eat it.

- And what are you, nanny! And everyone is just looking at you, as if to respect you.

- No, don’t tell me about respecters. You have respect, but no one respected me even from a young age, so in my old age it’s too late for me to be ashamed. Better than the coachman over there, go and ask where he took the lady the other day... That’s what you ask.

- Oh, what are you talking about, nanny! – the maid whispered and even squatted down in front of the old woman. -Where did he take it? I, by God, don’t tell anyone...

- Don’t be afraid. It's a sin to swear! For godlessness, you know how God will punish you! And he took me to a place where they show men moving. They move and sing. They spread out a sheet, and they move around on it. The little lady told me. You see, it’s not enough on her own, so she took the girl too. I would have found out myself, taken a good twig and driven it along Zakharyevskaya! There's just no one to tell. Do the people of today understand the lies? Nowadays, everyone only cares about themselves. Ugh! Whatever you remember, you will sin! Lord forgive me!

“The master is a busy man, of course, it’s hard for him to see everything,” the maid sang, modestly lowering her eyes. - They are pretty people.

- I know your master! I've known it since childhood! If I didn’t have to go to communion tomorrow, I would tell you about your master! Been like this since childhood! People are going to mass - ours has not yet recovered. People from the church are coming - ours is drinking tea and coffee. And I just can’t imagine how the Holy Mother, a lazy, free spirit, managed to reach the level of a general! I really think: he stole this rank for himself! Wherever he is, he stole it! There’s just no one to try! And I’ve been realizing for a long time that I stole it. They think: the nanny is an old fool, so with her everything is possible! Stupid, maybe even stupid. But not everyone can be smart, someone needs to be stupid.

The maid looked back at the door in fear.

- Our business, nanny, is official. God be with him! Let go! It's not for us to sort it out. Will you go to church early in the morning?

“I may not go to bed at all.” I want to come to church before everyone else. So that all sorts of rubbish does not get ahead of people. Every cricket knows its nest.

- Who is it that’s climbing?

- Yes, the old lady is alone here. Chilling, in which the soul is held. God forgive me, the scoundrel will come to the church before everyone else, and he will leave later than everyone else. One day he will outlast everyone. And I would like to sit down for a minute! All of us old women are surprised. No matter how hard you try, you’ll sit down a little while the clock reads. And this vitriol is nothing other than on purpose. Is it enough to just survive! One old woman almost burned her handkerchief with a candle. And it’s a pity that it didn’t burn. Don't stare! Why stare! Is it indicated to stare? Tomorrow I’ll come before everyone else and stop it, so I’ll probably reduce the momentum. I can't see her! Today I’m on my knees, and I keep looking at her. You're a viper, I think you're a viper! May your water bubble burst! It’s a sin, but there’s nothing you can do about it.

- It’s okay, nanny, now that you have confessed, you have forgiven all your sins to your priest’s ass. Now your darling is pure and innocent.

- Yes, the hell with it! Let go! This is a sin, but I must say: this priest confessed me poorly. When I went to the monastery with my aunt and princess, I can say that I confessed. He tortured me, tortured me, reproached me, reproached me, imposed three penances! I asked everything. He asked if the princess was thinking of renting out the meadows. Well, I repented and said that I don’t know. And this one is alive soon. Why am I sinful? Well, I say, father, what are my sins. The oldest women. I love Kofiy and quarrel with the servants. “Aren’t there any special ones,” he says? What are the special ones? Each person has his own special sin. That's what. And instead of trying and shaming him, he took a vacation and read it. That's all for you! I suppose he took the money. I suppose he didn’t give change because I didn’t have much! Ugh, God forgive me! If you remember, you will sin! Save and have mercy. Why are you sitting here? It would be better if I walked and thought: “How can I live like this and everything is not good?” Girl you are young! There's a crow's nest on her head! Have you thought about what days it is? On such days, let yourself be allowed to do so. And there is no way around you, shameless ones! Having confessed, I came, let me - I thought - I’ll sit quietly. Tomorrow I have to go and take communion. No. And then she got there. She came and said all sorts of nasty things, worse than anything. Damn washcloth, God forgive me. Look, I went with such force! Not long, mother! I know everything! Give it time, I’ll drink everything to the lady! - Go and rest. God forgive me, someone else will get attached!

"What a joy it is to be wild man! – thought Katyusha, making her way through the bushes of the monastery forest. “Here, I’m 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. Damn 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

It smells like old wood.

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 all familiar. You can come over. 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 watchman - 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. A piece of rope with a wooden block tied to it was dangling around his neck. 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.”

“Darling,” 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 no use 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-Heeled.

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. They cooked semolina porridge for the little bear. 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 started running, his spirit got busy, 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 fierce, how he put all four paws in the semolina porridge and how she said to him at night: “I love you.” And she remembered his furry ear, and how there was no one in the world 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.

I looked into Nastya’s nook, saw a bed, narrow, small, where a forest animal lived, where it slept next to Nastya, and “respected her for a womb,” dear, warm, completely at home.

“Come right in time for lunch...”

No. She didn’t dare tell Nastya this.

Nadezhda Aleksandrovna Teffi spoke about herself to the nephew of the Russian artist Vereshchagin, Vladimir: “I was born in St. Petersburg in the spring, and as you know, our St. Petersburg spring is very changeable: sometimes the sun shines, sometimes it rains. That’s why I, like on the pediment of an ancient Greek theater, have two faces: a laughing one and a crying one.”

Teffi's writing life was surprisingly happy. Already by 1910, having become one of the most popular writers in Russia, she is published in large and most famous newspapers and magazines of St. Petersburg, her collection of poems “Seven Lights” (1910) received a positive review from N. Gumilyov, Teffi’s plays are shown in theaters, one after another, collections of her stories are published. Teffi's witticisms are on everyone's lips. Her fame is so wide that even Teffi perfume and Teffi candy appear.

Nadezhda Aleksandrovna Teffi.

At first glance, it seems as if everyone understands what a fool is and why the stupider the fool, the rounder he is.

However, if you listen and look closely, you will understand how often people make mistakes, mistaking the most ordinary stupid or stupid person for a fool.

What a fool, people say. “He always has trifles in his head!” They think that a fool ever has trifles in his head!

The fact of the matter is that a real complete fool is recognized, first of all, by his greatest and most unshakable seriousness. The smartest person can be flighty and act rashly; a fool constantly discusses everything; having discussed it, he acts accordingly and, having acted, knows why he did it this way and not otherwise.

Nadezhda Aleksandrovna Teffi.

People are very proud that lies exist in their everyday life. Its black power is glorified by poets and playwrights.

“The darkness of low truths is dearer to us than the deception that elevates us,” thinks a traveling salesman, posing as an attaché at the French embassy.

But, in essence, a lie, no matter how great, or subtle, or clever it is, it will never go beyond the framework of the most ordinary human actions, because, like all such, it comes from a reason! and leads to the goal. What's unusual here?

Nadezhda Aleksandrovna Teffi.

In relation to us, we divide all people into “us” and “strangers”.

Ours are those about whom we probably know how old they are and how much money they have.

The years and money of strangers are completely and forever hidden from us, and if for some reason this secret is revealed to us, strangers will instantly turn into our own, and this last circumstance is extremely unfavorable for us, and here’s why: they consider it their duty to certainly smear the truth in your eyes -uterus, while strangers must delicately lie.

The more a person has of his own, the more bitter truths he knows about himself and the harder it is for him to live in the world.

For example, you will meet a stranger on the street. He will smile at you warmly and say:

Nadezhda Aleksandrovna Teffi.

This, of course, happens quite often that a person, having written two letters, seals them, mixing up the envelopes. All sorts of funny or unpleasant stories come out of this later.

And since this happens most of the time. people who are absent-minded and frivolous, then they, somehow in their own, frivolous way, get out of a stupid situation.

But if such a misfortune hits a family-oriented, respectable person, then there’s not much fun in that.

Nadezhda Aleksandrovna Teffi.

It was a long time ago. This was about four months ago.

We sat on the balmy southern night on the banks of the Arno.

That is, we weren’t sitting on the shore - where to sit there: damp and dirty, and indecent, but we were sitting on the hotel balcony, but that’s how they say it for the sake of poetry.

The company was mixed - Russian-Italian.

Nadezhda Aleksandrovna Teffi.

A demonic woman differs from an ordinary woman primarily in her manner of dressing. She wears a black velvet cassock, a chain on her forehead, a bracelet on her leg, a ring with a hole “for potassium cyanide, which will certainly be brought to her next Tuesday,” a stiletto behind her collar, a rosary on her elbow, and a portrait of Oscar Wilde on her left garter.

She also wears ordinary items of ladies' clothing, but not in the place where they are supposed to be. So, for example, a demonic woman will allow herself to put a belt only on her head, an earring on her forehead or neck, a ring on her thumb, and a watch on her foot.

At the table, the demonic woman does not eat anything. She never eats anything at all.

Nadezhda Aleksandrovna Teffi.

Ivan Matveich, sadly parting his lips, watched with submissive melancholy as the doctor's hammer, elastically bouncing, clicked his thick sides.

“Yes,” said the doctor and walked away from Ivan Matveich. “You can’t drink, that’s what.” Do you drink a lot?

One drink before breakfast and two before lunch. “Cognac,” the patient answered sadly and sincerely.

Nope. All this will have to be abandoned. Look where your liver is. Is this possible?

a wise man

Skinny, long, narrow head, bald, wise expression.

He speaks only on practical topics, without jokes, jokes, or smiles. If he smiles, it will certainly be ironic, pulling the corners of his mouth down.

He occupies a modest position in emigration: he peddles perfumes and herrings. Perfume smells like herrings, and herrings smell like perfume.

Trading poorly. Convinces unconvincingly:

Are the perfumes bad? It's so cheap. For this very perfume in the store you will pay sixty francs, but I have nine. But they smell bad, so you sniff it quickly. And this is not what a person gets used to.

What? Does herring smell like cologne? It doesn't harm her taste. Not much. The Germans say they eat such cheese that it smells like a dead person. Nothing. They are not offended. Will you feel nauseous? I don't know, no one complained. No one died from nausea either. Nobody complained that they were dying.

He's grey, with red eyebrows. Red and moving. He loved to talk about his life. I understand that his life is an example of meaningful and correct actions. As he talks, he teaches and at the same time shows distrust of your intelligence and sensitivity.

Our surname is Vuryugin. Not Voryugin, as many allow themselves to joke, but Vuryugin, from a completely unknown root. We lived in Taganrog. They lived in such a way that no Frenchman, even in his imagination, could have such a life. Six horses, two cows. Vegetable garden, land. My father ran a shop. What? Yes, everything happened. If you want a brick, get a brick. If you want vegetable oil, have some oil. If you want a sheepskin coat, get a sheepskin coat. There was even a ready-made dress. Yes what! It’s not like here - I’ve been vilified for a year, everything will become shiny. We had such materials as we never dreamed of here. Strong, with pile. And the styles are clever, wide, any artist can wear them - he can’t go wrong. Fashionable. Here, when it comes to fashion, I must say, they are rather weak. We put out brown leather boots in the summer. Ahah! in all the stores, ah-ah, the latest fashion. Well, I walk around, look, but just shake my head. I wore boots just like these twenty years ago in Taganrog. Look when. Twenty years ago, and fashion has only just arrived here. Fashionistas, nothing to say.

And how do the ladies dress? Did we really wear such cakes on our heads? Yes, we would be ashamed to go out in front of people with such a flatbread. We dressed fashionably, chicly. But here they have no idea about fashion.

They're bored. It's terribly boring. Metro and cinema. In Taganrog, would we wander around the metro like that? Several hundred thousand travel on the Paris metro every day. And you will assure me that they are all traveling on business? Well, you know, as they say, lie, but don’t lie. Three hundred thousand people a day, and everything is on point! Where are these things of theirs? How do they show themselves? In trade? Trade, excuse me, is stagnant. The work is also, excuse me, stagnant. So where, one wonders, are the things that cause three hundred thousand people to rush around the subway day and night, their eyes wide open? I’m surprised, in awe, but I don’t believe it.

In a foreign land, of course, it’s hard and you don’t understand a lot. Especially for a lonely person. Of course, you work during the day, but in the evenings you just go wild. Sometimes you go to the sink in the evening, look at yourself in the mirror and say to yourself:

“Vuryugin, Vuryugin! Are you a hero and a handsome man? Are you a trading house? And are you six horses, and are you two cows? Your life is lonely, and you have withered like a flower without a root.”

And now I have to tell you that I decided to somehow fall in love. As they say, it’s decided and signed. And there lived on our stairs in our Trezor hotel a young lady, very sweet and even, between you and me, pretty. Widow. And she had a five-year-old boy, a nice one. He was a very nice boy.

Wow, the lady made a little money by sewing, so she didn’t complain too much. And you know - our refugees - you invite her to drink tea, and she, like a thin accountant, just counts and recalculates everything: “Oh, they didn’t pay fifty there, but here they didn’t pay sixty, and the room is two hundred a month, and the metro costs three francs.” in a day". They count and subtract - the melancholy takes over. With a lady, it’s interesting that she says something nice about you, and not about her scores. Well, this lady was special. Everyone hums something, although she is not frivolous, but, as they say, with demands, with an approach to life. She saw that I had a button hanging by a thread on my coat, and immediately, without saying a word, she brought a needle and sewed it on.

Well, you know, further - more. I decided to fall in love. And a nice boy. I like to take everything seriously. And especially in a case like this. You need to be able to reason. I had no trifles in my head, but a legal marriage. He asked, among other things, if she had her own teeth. Even though she’s young, anything can happen. There was one teacher in Taganrog. She was also young, and then it turned out that she had a false eye.

Well, that means I’m taking a closer look at my lady and I’ve really weighed everything.

You can get married. And then one unexpected circumstance opened my eyes that I, as a decent and conscientious person, I will say more - a noble person, cannot marry her. Just think about it? - such an insignificant, seemingly insignificant incident, but it turned my whole life upside down.

And this is how it happened. We were sitting with her one evening, very cozy, remembering what kind of soups they had in Russia. They counted fourteen, but forgot about the peas. Well, it became funny. That is, of course she laughed, I don’t like to laugh. I was rather annoyed by the memory defect. So, we are sitting, remembering our former power, and the boy is right there.

Give me, - he says, - maman, caramel.

And she answers:

You can't do more, you've already eaten three.

And he whines - give it, give it.

And I say, nobly joking:

Come here, I'll spank you.

And she tell me the fatal point:

Well, where are you! You are a soft person, you won’t be able to spank him.

And then an abyss opened up at my feet.

Given my character, it is absolutely impossible to take on the upbringing of a baby at just the age when their brother is supposed to be torn. I can't take it upon myself. Will I ever get over it? No, I can't stand it. I don't know how to fight. And what? To destroy a child, the son of a beloved woman.

Excuse me, I say, Anna Pavlovna. Sorry, but our marriage is a utopia in which we will all drown. Because I cannot be your son’s real father and educator. Not only that, but I won’t be able to rip it out even once.

I spoke very restrainedly, and not a single fiber on my face twitched. Perhaps the voice was slightly suppressed, but I can vouch for the fiber.

She, of course, - ah! Oh! Love and all that, and there’s no need to tear the boy down, he’s good enough anyway.

Good, I say, good, but it will be bad. And please don't insist. Be firm. Remember that I can't fight. You shouldn't play with your son's future.

Well, she, of course, the woman, of course, screamed that I was a fool. But the matter ended up falling apart, and I don’t regret it. I acted nobly and, for the sake of my own blindness of passion, did not sacrifice the young body of a child.

I pulled myself together completely. I gave her a day or two to calm down and came to explain sensibly.

Well, of course, a woman cannot perceive it. Charged "fool yes fool." Completely unfounded.

That's how the story ended. And I can say - I’m proud. I forgot quite quickly, because I consider all sorts of memories unnecessary. For what? Should I pawn them at a pawnshop?

Well, after thinking about the situation, I decided to get married. Just not in Russian, sir. You must be able to reason. Where do we live? I ask you directly - where? In France. And since we live in France, that means we need to marry a French woman. I started looking.

I have a French friend here. Musyu Emelyan. Not exactly French, but he’s lived here for a long time and knows all the rules.

Well, this guy introduced me to one young lady. He works at the post office. Nice one. Just, you know, I look, and she has a very pretty figure. Thin, long. And the dress fits like a glove.

“Hey, I think it’s rubbish!”

No, I say, this one doesn’t suit me. I like it, there are no words, but you have to be able to reason. Such a thin, foldable girl can always buy herself a cheap dress - for seventy-five francs. But I bought a dress - but here you can’t hold it at home with your teeth. He will go dancing. Is this good? Am I getting married so that my wife can dance? No, I say, find me a model from another edition. More tightly. - And you can imagine - she was quickly found. It’s a small model, but it’s kind of, you know, a small tamper, and, as they say, you can’t buy back fat. But, in general, wow and also an employee. Don't think it's some kind of sledgehammer. No, she has curls and curls, and everything, just like the skinny ones. Only, of course, ready-made dress can't get it for her.

Having discussed and thought about all this, it means that I opened up to her, as I should, and marched to the mayor's office1.

And about a month later she asked for a new dress. I asked for a new dress, and I very willingly say:

Of course, will you buy something ready-made?

Here she blushed slightly and answered casually:

I don't like ready-made ones. They don't fit well. It’s better to buy me some blue material and let’s have it sewn.

I kiss her very willingly and go shopping. It’s like I’m buying the wrong color by mistake. It looks like dun, like horses are.

She was a little confused, but thanked her. It’s impossible - the first gift is easy to push away. He also understands his line.

And I am very happy about everything and recommend the Russian dressmaker to her. I knew her for a long time. She tore more expensively than a French woman, and she sewed so hard that you can't help but spit and whistle. I sewed a collar onto one client’s sleeve, and even argued about it. Well, this same couture sewed a dress for my lady. Well, you don’t need to go straight to the theater, it’s so funny! A dun chick, and that’s all. She, poor thing, tried to cry, and redid it, and repainted it - nothing helped. So the dress hangs on a nail, and the wife sits at home. She is French, she understands that you can’t make dresses every month. Well, we live a quiet family life. And very pleased. And why? But because you need to be able to reason.

Taught her how to cook cabbage rolls.

Happiness also does not come into your own hands. You need to know how to tackle it.

And everyone, of course, would like to, but not everyone can.

Virtuoso of feelings

The most interesting thing about this man is his posture.

He is tall, thin, and has a bare eagle head on his outstretched neck. He walks in the crowd with his elbows apart, swaying slightly at the waist and looking around proudly. And since at the same time he is usually taller than everyone else, it seems as if he is sitting astride a horse.

He lives in exile on some "crumbs", but, in general, not bad and neat. He rents a room with the right to use the salon and kitchen and loves to prepare his own special stewed pasta, which greatly captures the imagination of the women he loves.

His last name is Gutbrecht.

Lizochka met him at a banquet in favor of “cultural beginnings and continuations.”

He apparently mapped it out even before he was seated. She clearly saw how he, having galloped past her three times on an invisible horse, gave spurs and galloped to the manager and explained something to him, pointing at her, Lizochka. Then both of them, the rider and the manager, spent a long time looking at the tickets with their names laid out on plates, made some wise decisions, and in the end Lizochka turned out to be Gutbrecht’s neighbor.

Gutbrecht immediately, as they say, took the bull by the horns, that is, he squeezed Liza’s hand near the elbow and said to her with a quiet reproach:

Expensive! Well, why? Well, why not?

At the same time, his eyes became clouded underneath with a rooster film, so that Lizochka even got scared. But there was nothing to be afraid of. This technique, known to Gutbrecht as “number five” (“I work as number five”), was simply called “rotten eyes” among his friends.

Look! Gut has already used his rotten eyes!

He, however, instantly released Liza’s hand and said in the calm tone of a secular man:

We will start, of course, with herring.

And suddenly he turned his rotten eyes again and whispered in a voluptuous whisper:

God, how good she is!

And Lizochka didn’t understand who this was referring to - her or the herring, and she couldn’t eat from embarrassment.

Then the conversation began.

When we go to Capri, I will show you an amazing dog cave.

Lizochka was trembling. Why should she go to Capri with him? How amazing this gentleman is!

A tall plump lady of the caryatid type sat diagonally from her. Beautiful, majestic.

To divert the conversation away from the dog cave, Lizochka praised the lady:

Really, how interesting?

Gutbrecht turned his bare head contemptuously, turned away just as contemptuously and said:

Wow little face.

This “face” so surprisingly did not fit the lady’s majestic profile that Lizochka even laughed.

He pursed his lips into a bow and suddenly blinked like an offended child. He called it “doing a little thing.”

Babe! You're laughing at Vovochka!

Which Vovochka? - Lizochka was surprised.

Above me! I'm Vovochka! - the eagle's head pouted, pouting.

How strange you are! - Lizochka was surprised. “You’re old, but you act like a little kid.”

I am fifty years old! - Gutbrecht said sternly and blushed. He was offended.

Well, yes, that’s what I’m saying, you’re old! - Lizochka was sincerely perplexed.

Gutbrecht was also perplexed. He took six years off himself and thought “fifty” sounded very young.

“Darling,” he said and suddenly switched to “you.” - Darling, you are deeply provincial. If I had more time, I would take up your development.

Why are you suddenly talking... - Lizochka tried to be indignant.

But he interrupted her:

Be quiet. Nobody can hear us.

And he added in a whisper:

I myself will protect you from slander.

“I wish this lunch would end soon!” - thought Lizochka.

But then some speaker spoke, and Gutbrecht fell silent.

I live a strange but deep life! - he said when the speaker fell silent. - I devoted myself to the psychoanalysis of female love. It is difficult and painstaking. I carry out experiments, classify, draw conclusions. Lots of unexpected and interesting things. Of course, you know Anna Petrovna? The wife of our famous figure?

Of course, I know,” answered Lizochka. - A very respectable lady.

Gutbrecht grinned and, spreading his elbows, pranced in place.

So this most respectable lady is such a devil! Devilish temperament. The other day she came to me on business. I handed her business papers and suddenly, without letting her come to her senses, I grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed my lips to hers. And if you only knew what happened to her! She almost lost consciousness! Completely unconscious, she gave me a smack and ran out of the room. The next day I had to go see her on business. She didn't accept me. You understand? She doesn't vouch for herself. You cannot imagine how interesting such psychological experiments are. I'm not Don Juan. No. I'm thinner! More spiritual. I am a virtuoso of feelings! Do you know Vera Ax? This proud, cold beauty?

Of course I know. I saw it.

So. Recently I decided to wake up this marble Galatea! The opportunity soon presented itself, and I achieved my goal.

Yes you! - Lizochka was surprised. - Really? So why are you talking about this? Is it possible to tell!

I have no secrets from you. I wasn’t interested in her even for a single minute. It was a cold and cruel experiment. But it's so interesting that I want to tell you everything. There should be no secrets between us. So here it is. It was in the evening, at her house. I was invited to dinner for the first time. There was, among others, this big guy Stok or Strock, something like that. They also said about him that he had an affair with Vera Ax. Well, yes, this is gossip based on nothing. She is cold as ice and has only awakened to life for one moment. I want to tell you about this moment. So, after dinner (there were about six of us, all, apparently, her close friends) we went into the darkened living room. Of course, I’m next to Vera on the sofa. The conversation is general and uninteresting. Faith is cold and inaccessible. She is wearing an evening dress with a huge cutout at the back. And so I, without stopping small talk, quietly but imperiously extend my hand and quickly slap her several times on her bare back. If you only knew what happened to my Galatea! How suddenly this cold marble came to life! Indeed, just think: a person is in the house for the first time, in the salon of a decent and cold lady, in the company of her friends, and suddenly, not to say a bad word, that is, I want to say completely unexpectedly, such an intimate gesture. She jumped up like a tigress. She didn't remember herself. A woman woke up inside her, probably for the first time in her life. She squealed and with a quick movement threw a plop at me. I don’t know what would have happened if we were alone! What would the animated marble of her body be capable of? She was rescued by that vile fellow Stoke. Lines He shouted:

“Young man, you are an old man, but you behave like a boy,” and he kicked me out of the house.

We haven't met since then. But I know that she will never forget this moment. And I know that she will avoid meeting me. Poor thing! But have you become quiet, my dear girl? Are you afraid of me. Don't be afraid of Vovochka!

He made a “little boy”, pursing his lips into a bow and blinking his eyes.

Little Vovochka.

Stop it,” Lizochka said irritably. - They're looking at us.

Does it matter if we love each other? Ah, women, women. You are all on the same page. You know what Turgenev said, that is, Dostoevsky is a famous playwright and expert. "A woman needs to be surprised." Oh how true that is. My last novel... I surprised her. I threw money around like Croesus and was meek like Madonna. I sent her a decent bouquet of carnations. Then a huge box of chocolates. One and a half pounds, with a bow. And so, when she, intoxicated with her power, was already preparing to look at me as a slave, I suddenly stopped pursuing her. Do you understand? How it immediately hit her nerves. All this madness, flowers, candy, the project has an evening at the Paramount cinema and suddenly - stop. I wait a day or two. And suddenly a call. I knew it. She. A pale, trembling woman comes in... “I’ll be just a minute.” I take her face with both palms and say authoritatively, but still - out of delicacy - interrogatively: “Mine?”

She pulled me away...

And threw a splash? - Lizochka asked busily.

N-not really. She quickly regained control of herself. As an experienced woman, she realized that suffering awaited her. She pulled back and with pale lips stammered: “Please give me two hundred and forty-eight francs until Tuesday.”

So what? - asked Lizochka.

Well, nothing.

And then?

She took the money and left. I never saw her again.

And you didn’t give it away?

What a child you are! After all, she took the money to somehow justify her visit to me. But she controlled herself and immediately broke this fiery thread that stretched between us. And I completely understand why she avoids the meeting. After all, there is a limit to her strength. Behold, my dear child, what dark abysses of voluptuousness I have opened before your frightened eyes. What an amazing woman! What an exceptional impulse!

Lizochka thought about it.

Yes, of course,” she said. - In my opinion, you’d be better off with a splash. More practical. A?

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Copyright: Nadezhda Teffi