hunter notes

Chapter 26 Office (2)
the fat man murmured. "Then there, Mistress, it's six and a half rubles, Nikolay Yeremitch—is it okay to sell millet for six and a half rubles?"

"Six and a half have been agreed upon."

"Then it's a high five, Nikolay Yeremitch (the merchant spreads his fingers and slaps the head of the office on the palm). God bless you! (The merchant stands up.) Then I, Nikolai Master Yeremitch, I'm going to see the mistress right now, and I'll tell you that Nikolai Yeremitch has negotiated with me for six and a half rubles."

"Speak so, Gavrila Antonitch."

"Then please accept it." The businessman handed a small stack of bills to the director of the office, bowed, shook his head, picked up his hat with two fingers, shrugged his shoulders, and twisted his head in a wave. Slumped down and walked out, his boots creaked.Nikolai Yeremych went up to the wall, and I saw him examining the bills the merchant had handed him.A head with a bushy beard and fiery red hair poked through the door.

"How is it?" asked the head. "Is everything settled?"

"It's all settled."

"How much?" The fat man waved his hand angrily, pointing to my room. "Ah, good!" replied the head, and disappeared.

The fat man went to the table and sat down, opened the book, took the abacus, and moved the beads, using the middle finger instead of the index finger of the right hand, because it looked more dignified.

The watchman came in. "What do you want?" "Sidore is from Goloplyok."

"Ah! Well, tell him to come in. Wait a minute, wait a minute .

The attendant walked softly into my room.I put my head on the hunting bag that I used as a pillow and closed my eyes.

"Fall asleep." The duty officer returned to the office and said in a low voice.The fat man mumbled some complaints. "Well, let Sidore come in," he said at last.I got up again.In came a large peasant, about thirty, muscular, rosy-cheeked, with hazel hair and a short, curly beard.He prayed before the icon, then bowed to the director of the office, and stood erect, holding his hat in both hands. "Hello, Sidall." The fat man said while flicking his abacus.

"Hello, Nikolay Yeremych." "Well, is the road all right?" "Yes, Nikolay Yeremych. It's just a little muddy." (The peasant speaks slowly , very light.) "Is your wife in good health?" "She is naturally fine!"

The farmer took a breath and moved one foot forward.Nikolai Yeremitch put his pen to his ear and blew his nose.

"Well, what are you doing here?" he went on, stuffing the checked handkerchief into his pocket.

"That's what happened, Nikolai Yeremitch, the superiors are asking us for a carpenter."

"Why, don't you have a carpenter?" "Why don't we have one, Nikolai Yeremitch, we are in a forest area—everybody knows that. But it's busy time, Nikolay Eremych." Yeremitch."

"Busy season! That's right, you all like to work for others, not your mistress... are they all the same!"

"It is true that the work is the same, Nikolai Yeremitch . . . but . . . "

"What?" "The salary is too...that..."

"What's the matter! Hey, you're too presumptuous, forget it!" "It's obvious, Nikolai Yeremych, that we always put off a month for a job that can be done in a week. After a while, the wood is not enough, and then we are sent to the garden to clean the road."

"What's the matter! The hostess personally ordered it down, what can I talk to you about?"

Sidall fell silent, stepping on both feet alternately.Nikolai Yeremych, with his head on one side, was absorbed in turning the beads of the abacus.

"Our . A trifle..." (He puts his big hand into his coat pocket and pulls out a red-patterned handkerchief from there.) "What are you doing, what are you doing, fool, are you crazy?" the fat man hurriedly called Cut him off. "Go, go to my house," he said, almost pushing the startled farmer out, "you go and find my wife . . . Don't be afraid, do you hear me? Go ahead."

Sidall went out.

"What a... daredevil!" the director of the office muttered behind his back, shaking his head, thinking again.

Suddenly there was a shout from the street: "Cuploe! Kupulo! Kupulo is not to be trifled with!" The shouts approached the steps, and after a while a man entered the office, a small man, He looked as if he had a lung disease, his nose was very long, his eyes were large and dull, and his expression was very arrogant.He wore a battered jacket with a velveteen collar and tiny buttons.He carried a bundle of fagots on his shoulders.Five or six servants gathered around him, and they all shouted, "Kuplio! Kupulo is not to be trifled with! Kupulo is a fireman! A fireman!" But the man in the velvet collar He didn't pay attention to the noise of his companions at all, and didn't change his face.He walked evenly to the stove, unloaded the weight on his shoulders, lifted himself up, took out a snuffbox from his back pocket, and started to stuff the powdered sweet-scented osmanthus into his nose with his eyes wide open. to go.

The fat man frowned and got up from his seat when the rowdy company came in; but when he saw what was going on, he smiled, and only told them not to shout, because there was a hunter in the next room sleeping. "What kind of hunter?" The two asked in unison.

"It's a landlord." "Ah!"

"Let them make trouble," said the man with the velvet collar spreading his hands, "it's none of my business! As long as you don't mess with me. I've become a stoker..."

"Being a fireman, becoming a fireman!" The crowd went on happily. "This is an order from the mistress," he went on, shrugging his shoulders. "You just wait. . . You will be appointed as swineherds. I used to be a tailor, a good one, with a first-class master in Moscow." I learned the crafts and sewed clothes for the generals... No one can take away my skills. But what are you so proud of?... What's so great about it? Have you got rid of the power of your master? You are all just Freelancers, idlers, what else! If you let me be free, I won't starve to death, I won't die. Give me a citizenship certificate, and I'll pay the rent to my master's satisfaction. But what about you? Die , finished like a fly, that's all!"

"Nonsense," interrupted a pockmarked, fair-haired young man in a red tie with tattered elbows, "you went out with your citizenship papers, and the master didn't get you a kopek rent, you I couldn’t earn a single penny, so I barely dragged my legs to go home, and from then on I only had a piece of rags to live on.”

"Then what can you do, Konstantin Narkizitch!" Kupulo replied, "when a man falls in love, it's bad luck, it's over. When you live to my age, Konstantin Narkizitch!" Erji Zeqi, come and judge me at that time."

"Who are you in love with! Look at her ugly face!" "No, you can't say that, Konstantin Narkizitch." "Who can believe you! I saw her, I saw her last year Moscow saw it with his own eyes." "She was a little worse last year," said Kupulio.

"No, gentlemen," said a lanky man with pimples, curly and well-greased hair (probably a servant), in a contemptuously casual tone, "let Kupulo Afanasych take his Sing us a little song. Now, sing it, Kupulo Afanasych!"

"Yes, yes!" went on the others, "what a Alexandra! - so hard on Cuprio that there's nothing to say... Sing, Cuprio! . . . Alexandra Well done Della! (Servants often call men with feminine endings to make them more familiar.) Sing!"

"This is not a place to sing," Kupulio replied forcefully, "this is the master's office."

"What does it matter to you? Perhaps you want to be a clerk!" Constantine replied with a wild laugh. "It must be so!"

"Everything is at the command of the master," said the poor man. "Look, look, he's making up his mind, look at him like this. Woo! Woo! Ah!" Everyone laughed, and some jumped up.The loudest laugh came from a boy of about fifteen, probably the son of a nobleman in the servants.He wore a vest with brass buttons and a lavender tie, and his belly had grown round.

"Hey, Kupulo, to tell you the truth," said Nikolai Yeremych, evidently amused, triumphantly, "it might not be a good thing to be a stoker? Maybe it's a boring thing?"

"Come on, Nikolai Yeremych," said Kuplio, "it's true that you are now the director of our office, but you have been unlucky and have lived in What about the farm house?"

(End of this chapter)