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Chapter 12 Ovsenikov (1)
Imagine, dear reader, a stout man of about seventy, somewhat like Krylov, with bright and correct eyes under drooping brows, with a commanding presence, a deliberate tone of voice, a calm gait, This is Ovsenikov.He wore a large blue overcoat with long sleeves, buttoned all the way to the last, a lavender silk scarf around his neck, and a pair of well-polished tasseled boots underneath. Wealthy businessman.He had a pair of beautiful, soft, white hands, and it seemed that he used to touch the buttons of his coat with them to talk.Ovsenikov, with his majesty and poise, his alertness and indolence, his rectitude and obstinacy, reminded me of the Russian nobility in the days before Peter the Great... He must have fit well in the ancient collarless robe.This is one of the last figures of the old days.The neighbors respected him very much and considered it an honor to associate with him.The detached landowners of his generation adored him, took off their hats when they saw him, and were proud of him.Generally speaking, in our country, until today, the detached landowners are difficult to distinguish from the peasants. Their property is almost worse than the peasants.Ovsenikov is special among these laws, although he is not exactly a rich man.He and his wife lived together in a small, comfortable and clean house, with a few servants whom they dressed in Russian dress and called hired hands.They also farm for him.He didn't pretend to be a nobleman, he didn't pretend to be a landlord, he never had the so-called "forgetful disrespect", he didn't take the seat immediately when he was first invited, and when new guests came in, he would stand up, but with such dignity, Such solemn hospitality made the guests bow to him even lower without knowing it.Ovsenikov obeyed the old fashion not because of superstition (his mind was free), but simply because of habit.For example, he doesn't like carriages with spring seats. --because he didn't feel well--often in a horse-drawn buggy, sometimes in a nice pony with leather upholstery, and himself on a fine bay horse.

(He kept all bay horses.) The coachman, a rosy young fellow with curvy hair, blue coat, low sheepskin cap and belt around his waist, sat respectfully beside him. .Ovsenikov usually took a nap after meals, took a bath every Saturday, read religious books (with a round silver-rimmed spectacles solemnly on his nose), got up and went to bed very early.His beard, however, is shaved, with a German-style haircut.He entertained his guests very cordially and sincerely, without bowing deeply to them, running around in a hurry, or bringing any dried fruit or pickled treats to them. "Ma'am!" he said slowly, not getting up, but turning towards her a little, "bring some good food to treat." He considered selling grain sinful, because grain was a gift from God.In 1840, when famine was widespread and prices were skyrocketing, he distributed the entire store to nearby landowners and farmers; they gratefully returned the favor with food the following year.Neighbors often came to Ovsenikov to ask him to referee and mediate, and almost all obeyed his judgment and followed his advice.With the help of many people, he finally drew the boundaries of the fields... But after several conflicts with the female landowners, he made it clear that he would refuse all mediation with women.He could not bear haste, panic, gossip and idle chatter from women.Once his house caught fire for unknown reasons.A hired hand rushed into his room, shouting: "Fire! Fire!" "Well, what's your name?" Ovsenikov said calmly, "Give me my hat and stick..." He Enjoys training horses by myself.Once, he galloped down the mountain on a powerful Biquge horse and ran towards the valley. "Hey, come on, come on, young pony, you are going to be hurt." Ovsenikov said to it gently, and in an instant, he was with the horse-drawn carriage and the boy sitting behind. And the horse, all fell into the valley.Fortunately, there was sand on the bottom of the valley.No one was hurt, except for a dislocated leg of the pygmy horse. "Well, you see," Ovshenikov continued in his calm voice after getting up, "I told you." He found a wife who was very suitable for him.Tatiana Ilyinichna Ovsenikova was a tall, dignified, silent woman who always wore a brown silk scarf.Her manner was cold, but no one complained of her severity, but many poor people said she was a good mother and benefactor.With a regular face, big black eyes, and thin lips, she still retains her formerly famous beauty.Ovsenikov had no children.

The reader should know that I made the acquaintance of Rajilov at his home, and went to visit him about two days later.He happened to be at home.He was sitting on a large leather armchair reading hagiography.A gray cat snores on his shoulder.He received me with hospitality and dignity, as was his custom.Let's talk.

"Please tell me the truth, Luka Petrovich," I said in one of our conversations, "wasn't it better in your time?"

"It's better in some places, I tell you," replied Ovsenikov, "we live more securely, we are richer, yes... But it's better now; it will be better in the time of your children." .”

"Luka Petrovich, I thought you would praise me for the old days."

"No, I don't think there's anything particularly admirable about the times. Well, for example, you're a landowner now, like your late grandfather, only you don't have that kind of power anymore! Of course you're not like that at all. People. We are oppressed by other landowners now too, but it seems inevitable. Maybe the millet will turn into flour after being milled. No, the kind of things I saw enough in my youth, I can't see it today after all. "

"An example?" "For example, one more about your grandfather. He was indeed a man of authority! He bullied us. You probably know—your own field, you should have known— — Is that the plowed field from Chepulkin to Malinin?... Now you grow oats on it... You know, this field was ours before—exactly. Your grandfather took it from us , he came out on horseback, pointed with his finger and said: 'This is my territory.'—and it was taken by him. My late father (may he go to heaven!) was an upright man, but also an impulsive man, He couldn't stand it--nobody wants to lose their estate!--and filed a suit in court. But he was the only one who filed it, and the others were afraid to follow. So someone went and told your grandfather that Peter Ovsenikov sued you, claiming that you had robbed him of his land... Your grandfather immediately sent his hunter Bouchy to us with a team... They took my father , took him to your hereditary lands. I was only a little boy, and followed with my bare feet. Do you know? . . . They took him under the windows of your house, and beat him with sticks. Yours Grandfather is watching from the balcony, and your grandmother is sitting at the window watching. My father shouts: 'Old lady, Marya Vasilyevna, do me a favor, have pity on me!' But she just keeps In the end, they asked my father to renounce this piece of land, and ordered him to be grateful for the kindness that allowed him to survive. In this way, the land is yours. Go ask your farmers, this land is called What? It's called stick land, because it was won by beating with sticks. Therefore, we villains have no nostalgia for the old system."

I did not know how to answer Ovsenikov, and dared not look him in the face.

"At that time we had a neighbor named Stepon Nikolaikovsky Komov. He tormented my father with all his means. He was a drunkard and liked to entertain, and when he got drunk, Say 'C'est bon' in French (that's good) and lick your lips - then it's even worse! He sends for all the neighbors to come to his house. He doesn't even have a carriage Get ready, stop outside the door. If you don't go, he'll barge in himself right away... What a queer man! He doesn't lie when he's sober, but when he's drunk he starts saying that he has three houses in Petersburg On the Rue Fontanca: one is red with one chimney; Marriage): one in the infantry, the second in the cavalry, the last at home... and each son lived in the same house, the eldest son's house was visited by admirals, the second son's house was a general We often visit, and the youngest son's family is often visited by English! Then he got up and said: 'I wish my elder son health, he is the most filial to me!' Then he began to cry. If anyone refuses to raise his arms, it will be bad luck 'Shoot you!' he said, 'not to be buried!...' Sometimes he jumped up and cried: 'Dance, people of God, make yourself happy and comfort me!' And you just Can dance, but dance as hard as he can. He tortures his serf girls. They often sing together all night until dawn, and the one who sings the loudest is rewarded. But when they get tired, he holds them up with his hands. and lamented: 'Alas, I am a helpless orphan! People have abandoned me, my dear child!' The grooms hurried to encourage the girls. My father was also in love with him, there was no way! He Almost drove my father into a coffin, almost got driven in, but got drunk and fell off the pigeon coop to die... See, there used to be such a man in my neighbourhood!"

"Times are different!" I said. "That's right, that's right," said Ovsenikov firmly. "Well, in the old days, therefore, the nobles lived in a much more luxurious way. Of course, not to mention the dignitary. I see a lot in Moscow. I heard that there are no such people there now."

"Have you ever been to Moscow?" "Yes, a long time ago. I am 73 years old now, and I was 16 when I arrived in Moscow." Ovsenikov sighed. "Who did you meet there?"

"Saw a lot of dignitaries, all of them. They were amazingly rich. But there was one man who equaled the late Count Alexey Grigorevich Olov Chesminsky. I I used to see Alexey Grigorevich, my uncle was a housekeeper in his house. The count lived in Shapolovka near the Kaluga Gate. This is a dignitary! Such a style, such a The sincere politeness is simply unimaginable and indescribable. Just saying that he is tall, powerful, and has bright eyes! When you don't know him or get close to him, you will feel scared and timid; but you always Approaching him, he warms you like the sun and makes you feel very happy. He meets everyone personally and loves everything. He goes to the races himself, races with everyone; man, does not hinder others, only surpasses others at the end; and so amiably comforts his opponents and praises his horses. He feeds the best turning pigeons. Often walks out in the yard, sits in an easy chair, and makes people Put the doves away; servants stand around with guns on the roofs to keep out the hawks. There is a great silver basin of water at the count's feet, and he watches the doves in the water. Poor and beggars, there are many Live on him...he looses a lot of money! Once he gets angry, it's like thunder, very scary, but you don't have to be afraid, he laughs after a while. When he throws a party, he will definitely throw the whole The people of Moscow are drunk! ... And he is very clever! He beat the Turks. He loves wrestling. Strong men came to him from Tula, from Kharkov, from Tambov, from everywhere Here. He rewards those who are knocked down by him; but if someone knocks him down, he gives him a lot of presents and kisses him on the lips... Also, when I stayed in Moscow, he held He held a hunting dog competition that had never been seen in Russia: he invited all hunters from all over the country to his house to set a date, and gave him three months. They all gathered, brought many dogs and soldiers— —Ah, it looks like the army is coming! First there is a big feast, and then we set off to the outskirts of the city. Everyone runs to see, and it's a huge crowd!... Guess what?... Your grandfather's dog is stronger than all the dogs. "

"Is it Milovitka?" I asked. "Yes, it was Milovitka, yes ... and the Count began to beseech him, saying: 'Sell me your dog, whatever you want.' 'No, Count,' he said, 'I I'm not a merchant, I don't sell useless rags, but as a token of respect, even my wife can give it away, only Milovitka can't... I can be a prisoner." Alexey Grigorevich They praised him and said: 'Well said.' Your grandfather took the dog back in a carriage. Then Milovitka died, and they played music and buried him in the garden—the dog buried, and erected there a stele with an inscription."

"It seems that Alexey Grigorevich never bullies anyone," I said.

"It's always like this: the king of hell is easy to see, but the little devil is hard to be." "Then what kind of person is Wu Xi?" After a little silence, I asked.

"Why do you know Milovitka, but not Bausch? . People who are afraid, no matter what your grandfather orders him, he can do it immediately, even if he is asked to climb the knife mountain... He called the hounds, and there was a roar in the forest. Once he suddenly made a fuss In a fit of temper, he jumped off his horse and lay down on the ground... The hounds would do nothing if they could not hear his voice! They would not follow new tracks, nor chase after anything good. Hey, your grandfather Angry! 'I can't live until I hang the bad boy! Skin the traitor! Pull up the heel of the bad man and put it down his throat!' But in the end always send someone to ask him What, why didn't you call the hound? Most of Bawuxi wanted to drink at this time, and when he finished drinking, he stood up and called the hound loudly again."

"It seems that you like hunting too, Luka Petrovich?" Because of our status, it’s not easy to deal with. People like us can’t be compared with nobles. Indeed, there are also people in our class who like to drink but are unable to drink, and often deal with adults and gentlemen... But this What's the fun! . . . It's just self-defeating. Give him a poor horse, and he'll throw his hat on the floor and beat him lightly with the whip like a horse, but he's always pretending Smiling faces make others laugh. No, let me tell you: the lower the status of a person, the more strict his conduct must be, otherwise, he will be humiliating himself."

(End of this chapter)