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Chapter 2 Hall and Kalinich (1)
Anyone who has come to Zhizdra from Polkhov seems to be surprised at the apparent difference in character between Orel and Kaluga provinces.The peasants of Orel Province were not tall, stooped, gloomy, frowning, lived in poor poplar farmhouses, did not trade, did not eat well, and wore straw sandals during labor. .But it is not the case with the rent farmers of Kaluga province, who live in spacious pine-wood farmhouses, are strong, have brave and cheerful eyes, and fresh and fair faces; boots.The villages of Orel province (we are now referring to the eastern part of Orel province) are mostly located in the middle of cultivated land, surrounded by valleys where grasslands have turned into sludge ponds.Except for a few firecracker willows and two or three emaciated birches, there is not a single tree in sight; the houses are closely connected; the roof is covered with rotting straw... Kalu The villages in Canada are not like this, most of them are surrounded by woods; the houses are more harmonious and tidy, and the roofs are covered with wooden planks; Pigs came in and spoiled... Kaluga was better in the hunter's opinion.After five years in the province of Orel, the last forests and shrubbery will disappear, and the swamps will disappear; in Kaluga province, on the contrary, the forests will stretch for hundreds of versts, the swamps will be tens of versts, and the precious grouse Not yet extinct, the good-natured woodcock still lives there, and the busy partridge takes flight, to the delight of hunter and dog.

I once went hunting in Zhizdra County and met Poludkin, a small landowner from Kaluga province.He loved hunting very much and was a wonderful man.He certainly has some weaknesses.For example, he once wooed all the rich and rich girls in the province, was rejected, and was not allowed to enter, so he complained sadly to all his friends and acquaintances. fruit as a gift to the girl's parents; he never tires of telling the same joke, which, though Mr. Porudkin thought it funny, never made anyone laugh; he praises Akim Nakhimov He stuttered, he called his dog an astronomer; he said "but" instead of "but"; he used French cooking at home, the secret of which, according to The understanding of his cook is to completely change the natural taste of each food. After his cooking, the meat tastes like fish, the fish smells like mushrooms, the macaroni smells like gunpowder, and the carrots in the soup must be diamond-shaped or Trapezoidal.Apart from these few and insignificant faults, of course, Mr. Porudkin was, as I said, an excellent man.

On the first day I met Mr. Porudkin, he invited me to spend the night at his house.

"It's about five versts from my house," he said. "It's a bit of a walk, but let's go to Hall's first." (The reader will certainly allow me not to convey his stutter.) "Who is Hall ?”

"It's my sharecropper . . . his house is nearby." We walked over to Hall's.An isolated manor sits on a groomed and cultivated clearing in the middle of the woods.The manor consisted of several pine-wood houses connected by walls. In front of the main house was an open shed supported by thin pillars.A tall and handsome young man about 20 years old stood there.

"Oh, Figa! Where's Hall?" Mr. Porudkin asked him. "Not at home, he has gone into the city," the young man replied with a smile showing a row of white teeth, "Do you want a carriage?" "Yes, brother, I want a carriage, and bring us some kvass. "We went inside.On the clean walls of logs, no pictures of Suzdal were pasted; in the corner, in front of the heavy ikon clad in silver, was a magic lamp; a table of linden trees; Between the round wooden slats and on the side frames of the windows, there are no unlucky tea bugs crawling around, and no nasty cockroaches hiding.The young man quickly brought a large white mug full of excellent kvass, a large loaf of wheat bread, and a wooden bowl with some pickles.He put all the food on the table, leaned against the door, and looked at us from time to time with a smile.Before we finished our side dishes, the carriage had already arrived at the steps.As we stepped out, a pink-cheeked curly-haired boy of about fifteen sat in the cart as a groom, struggling to rein in a fat dappled stallion.Beside the carriage stood six burly young men who looked a lot like Figa. "They're all Hall's children!" said Porudkin. "It's all little Hall," added Figa, who followed us up the steps, "not all come yet, Potap is in the woods, Siddor has gone into town with old Hall... Be careful, Huaxia." He said to the coachman: "Run fast, there is a master on it! But be careful when you reach the mound, and walk slowly; otherwise, you will break the car and shake the car. Broke the master's stomach!" The other little Halls smiled slightly when they heard Figga's joke. "Pick up the astronomer!" Mr. Porudkin commanded proudly.Figga happily picked up the barely smiling dog and put it in the car.Huaxia let go of the horse's reins.Our carriage moved on. "This is my office," said Mr. Porudkin suddenly, pointing to a small house, "would you like to see it?" After finishing, he climbed out of the car, "But it's still worth going in and taking a look." There are two vacant rooms in this office.The watchman was a one-eyed old man who ran out of the back yard. "Well, Meneitch," Mr. Porudkin said to him, "is there any water?" The one-eyed old man went in, and returned quickly with a bottle of water and two glasses. "Taste it," Porudkin said to me, "my water is a fine spring." We each drank a glass, and the old man bowed low to us. "Well, let's go back now," said my new friend. "I made a good fortune selling four dessiatins of woodland at this office to the merchant Alirouyev." We got into the carriage, After half an hour, he was already in the courtyard of the lord's mansion.

"Excuse me," I asked Porudkin at dinner, "why doesn't your Hall live with your other tenants?"

"He was a clever tenant farmer. About 25 years ago, when his house burned down, he came to my late father and said: 'Nikolai Kuzimich, please allow me to live in the moor in your woods Go up. I'll give you a high rent.''Why did you move to the moor?''I think so; only you, Mr. Nikolai Kuzimich, please don't make me do any work , As for the rent, it is up to you to calculate.''50 rubles per year!''Yes.''I am not allowed to owe rent!''Of course, there must be no rent owed...'In this way, he moved to the moor On. From then on they nicknamed him Hall."

"So, is he rich now?" I asked.

"Of course. He's paying me 100 rubles now, and I'm probably going to pay more. I always say to him: 'Redemption, Hall, hello, redemption! . . .' But he This old fox insisted that he had nothing to do, saying that he had no money...in fact, it may not be true!..."

The next day, after drinking our tea, we set out at once to hunt.Passing the village, Mr. Poludkin stopped the coachman beside a low farmhouse and shouted: "Kalinitch!" A voice came from inside, "I'm tying straw sandals." Our car continued to drive; after leaving the village, a middle-aged man with a slender figure and a small head thrown back caught up with us.He is Kalinich.His mild, dark, pockmarked face made me like him at once.Kalinitch (I learned later) went hunting every day with his master, carried his hunting bag, sometimes carried his gun, watched where the birds were, fetched water, picked strawberries, built a shed, ran with the wagon; Mr. Rudkin couldn't move an inch.Kalinitch was a most cheerful and docile man, singing in a low voice, looking around merrily, speaking in a nasal voice, always squinting his pale blue eyes when he smiled, and often Touching his thin pointed beard.He is not fast, but has a long stride, and he leans steadily on a slender cane.The two of us talked several times that day, and there was no subservience in serving me; it was just that he looked after his master like a child.When the bursting heat of noon forced us to seek shade, he took us to his bee-house deep in the woods.Kalinich helped us open a hut hung with bunches of dried herbs, let us lie down on fresh hay, while he himself put on a helmet with mesh like a sack, took knives, jars and Burning chips, go to the apiary and cut honey for us.We joined the spring water, drank the clear and warm honeydew, and fell asleep to the hum of the bee's wings and the chatter of the leaves. —I was awakened by a breeze... Opening my eyes, I saw Kalinitch sitting on the threshold of the half-open door, carving a gourd with a knife.I admired his pleasant face for a while.Mr. Porudkin also woke up.We don't get up right away.Lying motionless on the hay after a long walk and a sweet sleep, it was pleasant, comfortable and languid, with a slight heat in the face, and a luscious languor that made one not want to open one's eyes.Finally we got up and went for another walk until evening.At dinner I talked again about Hall, and about Kalinitch. "Kalinitch is a good peasant," Mr. Porudkin said to me, "a hardworking, simple peasant. But he can't work hard because I keep calling him away. He keeps me company every day." Go hunting... how about farming, you think." I agreed with him, and soon we were sleeping.

On the third day, Mr. Porudkin had to go to town because of a lawsuit with his neighbor Bizhukov.The neighbor Bizhukov plowed his field and beat one of his peasant women on it.I went hunting alone, and I went to Hall's house before evening, and I saw a bald little but strong old man at the door-he was Hall himself.I looked at this hall curiously.His appearance is very similar to Socrates.The high forehead with bumps, small eyes, and perforated nose are all the same as Socrates.We went into the house together.Figa brought me milk and black bread.Hall was sitting on a bench, slowly stroking his curly beard, and talking to me.He seems to feel his superiority, speaks and moves slowly, and sometimes smiles under his long mustache.

We talked about sowing, about harvest, about farm life... He seemed to agree with me all the time; but then I felt embarrassed, and I felt that what I said was inappropriate... There seemed to be something strange about our conversation .Hall's speech is sometimes vague, probably because of caution... The following is an example of our conversation:
"Then, Hall," I said to him, "why don't you redeem yourself from your master?"

"Why should I redeem myself? Now I am happy with my master, and my rent can be paid on time...Our master is very good."

"But that's not free," I said.Hall glanced sideways at me. "Naturally," he said. "So, why don't you redeem yourself?" Hall shook his head. "Master, what do you want me to redeem myself with?" "Oh, forget it, old man..."

"If Hall becomes a free man," he continued in a low voice, as if talking to himself, "anyone without a beard can control Hall."

"Then, just shave off your beard." "What's a beard? It's grass, and it can be cut off at any time." "Then what else is there?"

"Perhaps Hall has become a merchant anyway; a merchant makes a good life and grows a beard."

"But don't you already do business there?" I asked him. "It's just a sale of cheese and tar... How about it, sir, do you want a carriage?" "No," said I, "I don't need a carriage. To-morrow I want to walk around your estate, and if you will allow me to sleep in your hay-house."

"You're welcome, but won't you feel comfortable living in a hayloft? Let me tell the girls to make it up for you. Hey, girls!" he called, rising up, "Come here, girls! . . . Let them go together. Women are fools."

(End of this chapter)