childhood, on earth, my university

Chapter 15: In the world (8)
My master and I rowed the boat and sailed the streets of the market.It was spring flood season, and the brick shop was completely submerged below the second floor.

"Hey, the water is so big, hell! Many projects can't be started." The owner was full of resentment.He kept pointing out to me which shops needed to be repaired after the water receded.Our boat passed between two rows of dark green trees and headed for the old church along the main street.At Kunavino, the master disembarked to run errands.I paddled back along the market to Pointer Street, tied the boat to a spot, and sat on it with a magnificent view of the confluence of the two rivers, the passing steamships, and the sky.I saw enough of everything before returning home.In the house where Queen Margot once lived, now lived a large family.There are five girls in this family.In addition, there are two middle school students who often lend me books.I devoured Turgenev's works.These works are easy to understand, like the endless clear sky in autumn, which is refreshing.

The life of the master's family is still boring.The old housewife is still as fierce as ever, and the young housewife still doesn't trust me.Victor's freckles grew more and more, his face became redder, and he got angry at every turn.The master spent all day drawing on the table and was so busy that he invited my stepfather to be a helper.

The relationship between my stepfather and I was cautious and delicate.He called me by my first name and paternal title as if he were his peers.He has been suffering from lung disease and will not live long.He knows it himself.He said to me calmly and quietly:
"My illness can't be cured, but eating more meat may make me recover, maybe I can get better."

So I bought him sausages, ham and sardines every day.He has an amazing appetite, and he keeps smoking, only when he eats.

My grandmother's younger sister often gloated and said:

"No amount of food can feed Death, don't try to lie to him, don't even think about it!"

The master's family cares about his stepfather on the surface, but the housewives often ridicule him behind the scenes:

"Like a nobleman! What do you say to clean up the bread crumbs on the table, and the flies breed from the bread crumbs. The clothes are worn out and shiny, and you have to use a brush. How particular!"

Their petty bourgeois dislike for nobility for no reason made me get closer to my stepfather.I'm beginning to think that stepfathers, like "good things," have certain qualities that I'll never forget.Both he and Good Thing are lonely, unlovable people.He treats everyone in the family equally, doesn't speak first, and answers questions succinctly and politely.I love watching the stepfather teach the master.He leaned over the table, tapped the thick paper with his dry nails, and said calmly:
"There must be hooks in this place to hook the gable beams to reduce the pressure on the wall, otherwise, the beams will crush the wall."

"That makes sense, hell!" muttered the master.

But as soon as the stepfather went away, the young mistress said to her master:
"Strange thing, he actually taught you!"

My stepfather would sometimes come to find me in the back doorway.once.I am reading a book on the stairs facing the window.He came and asked:
"Reading? What book?"

I showed him the book.

"Ah, I seem to have seen it." He glanced at it, "You can't study. It's a pity, you seem to be very talented..."

"I'm studying and reading now..."

"That's not enough, you have to go to school to study systematically... You'd better leave here, staying here is neither meaningful nor beneficial to you..."

I took the initiative to talk to him about reading, but he wasn't interested.He also advised me:
"Don't read too hard. The things in the books are exaggerated and don't fully reflect the reality. Many people who write books are as small as our masters."

He dared to express his opinion, which made me have a good impression of him.He suggested that I read Flaubert's "The Temptation of St. Anthony" which was being serialized in the "New Era".Later, he brought a bundle of supplements, and I started reading Flaubert's novel.However, this work did not leave a particularly deep impression on me.I told my stepfather about these feelings, and he said quietly:

"It's too early for you to read such a book! But don't forget this book..."

Sometimes, he and I would sit together for a long time without saying a word, smoking desperately, and occasionally coughing dryly.I looked at him secretly, completely forgetting that this loyal, simple, and uncomplaining man in the face of death had been close to and insulted my mother before.I know he is living with a seamstress.

Once, when I asked him about God, he glanced at me and said calmly:

"I don't know. I don't believe in God, I don't have faith..."

I don't think he's dying out of pity.

On a rainy day, my stepfather said to me:

"You know, I'll be lying down soon, I'm too weak to hope..."

He didn't show up for work two days later.The next day, the old lady stuffed me a big envelope and said:

"It was sent by a woman at noon yesterday. I forgot to give it to you. Take it." There is a piece of hospital note in the envelope, on which it is written in big letters:

"Come and see me. I'm at the Martynov Hospital. Ye? Ma"

The next morning, I came to my stepfather's hospital bed, and there was a woman sitting on the stool beside the bed.

"It's time to get a priest!" she said softly, "but he won't agree...his brains aren't working at all..."

The stepfather woke up for a while, looked at the ceiling, frowned, as if thinking of something, then stretched out a thin hand to me:

"Is that you? Thank you. Look... I'm so sorry..."

"Let's get to know each other." He glanced at her and said to me, "He's a good person..."

He didn't speak any more, his mouth opened wider and wider, and suddenly he let out a cry like a crow.

The stepfather died soon after.I helped the woman out of the hospital.She reeled and wept like a sick man.Suddenly, she stopped and stretched out her tear-stained hand:
"Good-bye. He admired you very much. Burial tomorrow."

I didn't have time to attend my stepfather's funeral the next day.Since then, I have never seen that woman again...

17
Every morning at six o'clock, I go to the market to do my work.There, I met many interesting people: Osip, the carpenter, with white hair, dexterous hands and feet, and a good sense of humor; Yefimushka, the bricklayer, a hunchback; Li, with a yellow beard, blue eyes, a dignified appearance, and a friendly manner.

I think these guys are really nice guys.Of course, I liked Grigory the plasterer best and even asked to be his apprentice, but he said wait a few years.

These people came to the master's house early on Sundays, sat around the kitchen table, talked, and waited for the master to come out.As soon as the master came and said hello, they took out their workbooks and bills, and began to settle the accounts for the week.

While the master was amused with them, he was calculating how to pay less wages, while they tried their best to get the master to pay more.Sometimes, everyone quarrels because of this, but most of the time it is kind, talking and laughing.After the calculation, everyone was sweating profusely and exhausted.So, they asked the host to drink tea at the snack bar.

My job at the market is to keep them from stealing boards, bricks, nails, whatever.In addition to the master's project, they also take on private work, so they all want to steal something from here.However, this position makes it difficult for me to be a human being.I feel very uncomfortable in their presence.Osip the carpenter soon noticed this.One day, he pulled me into a corner and said to me:
"Let me tell you, the thief among us is Peter the stonemason, and you have to be careful with him. Yefimushka is a bit of a flirt, but she has a good temper and won't give you trouble. Grigory is not very smart." So, not to mention stealing things, he would like to give his things to others. But he never cheats, and he doesn’t use his brain to tell stories! "He is not bad, right? "I was a little surprised.

"Others are nice, and lazy people are the easiest to be good. You don't need to use your brains to be a good man..." said Ossip thoughtfully.

"What about you?" I asked him.

"I'm like a girl, let's talk about myself when I become a wife in the future." He said with a smile, "But, think about it, where is the real me?"

His words changed my opinion of him and his friends.I cannot doubt the truth of this statement.Because his friends all admit that he is smart and has insight into everything in the world.They often consulted with him and listened to his advice, but they would ridicule him behind his back.I find it difficult to really get to know them.In my impression, the most honest and pious man is Peter the stonemason, but Osip says he likes to steal things.Grigory is dutiful and kind, but in the eyes of Osip, he is a person with a bad brain.Grigory had seven workers under his command.The workers treated him casually and never treated him like a boss.When he went to the construction site, he saw them being lazy, so he took the pallet and shovel, took the lead, and shouted:

"Boys, come on!"

Once, the master was dissatisfied with the workers and asked me to take care of them, so I said to Grigory:

"The people under you don't work hard..."

He seemed surprised:

"is it?"

"The work should have been done yesterday morning, but it was delayed until today..."

"It's not done yet," he agreed.After a moment of silence, he whispered again: "Of course, I know this too, but I'm embarrassed to urge them. They are all from the same village. I have done less than them, so how can I urge them?"

As for Osip, it is even more puzzling to me.He has his own opinions, but what he agrees with and what he opposes is confusing.Sometimes he seems to agree with everyone, more often he hates everyone and treats everyone else as a fool.

My master gave me five kopecks a day for bread, but that did not fill my stomach.The workers took me to have breakfast and supper together.Sometimes, the foreman invited me to drink tea in the small restaurant, and I went with pleasure.I like to sit among them and listen to their slow talk and quirky stories.

I have read many novels about civilians, and found that the civilians in the books are very different from the civilians in real life.The common people in the book are not as rich in language and thought as the common people in reality.Real-life civilians are neither bad nor bad, and they're a lot of fun.No matter how much he confides in front of you, he will have reservations.

Among the civilians described in the book, my favorite is Peter in "The Carpenter's Workshop".I take this book to market.When work was over, I had dinner with them, and after lighting the lamps, I began to read the book to them.After reading for a while, Ardalion, the apprentice of the stonemason Peter, refused to listen and left.Then Grigory fell asleep, and everyone else fell asleep, too.The stonemason Peter, Osip and another young man Foma sat down and listened attentively.

When I finished reading, it was already midnight, and Osip immediately blew out the lamp.Everyone lie down.In the distance came the roar of trains, the clatter of iron wheels and the chuck of buffers.There was a lot of snoring in the shed.I felt very uncomfortable. I originally expected them to talk about their views, but in the end it was in vain.

Suddenly Osip said in a low but clear voice:
"Boys, read more books, but don't follow them blindly. They can write anything, don't believe in that. Books are meant to expose people's background, not just written casually. It must represent the position of some people... "

He patted my foot again, and went on:
"You should understand the purpose of books and articles. Books will not be written for no reason. You need to use your brain to do things, otherwise you won't be able to chop things with an axe, and you won't even be able to weave a pair of straw sandals..."

He talked for a long time, lay down and got up again.Finally, it was daylight.Osip said to me:
"Look, I can talk! I didn't think carefully about what I said tonight. Boy, don't take it seriously. I can't sleep, I just talk about it. Hey, go to sleep, I'm going to get up soon..."

18
Ossip has two minds: when he is working with people during the day, his mind is active, simple, down-to-earth, and easy to understand; when he cannot sleep, his mind is different, like the light of a street lamp, with many aspects.But which aspect is his true face?Where is the real him?But while he's unpredictable, he's not one to be fickle.He will always remain his true self among those who are less determined.It makes me think he's one of the smartest people I've ever met.But Grigory and his worker Foma, and the stonemason Peter's workers Ardalion and Osip are completely different.Their vacillation used to make me feel sorry for them.

Grigory had a wife in the country.Whenever other foremen went to find women, he never went with them.But one day in early July, he was lying drunk in a broken carriage, brought a woman to the construction site, and then left in the carriage drunk again.The workers made fun of him in good faith, and only Foma felt sorry for his gaffe, grunting:

"It's also called a foreman! The work was completed in less than a month, and I'm going home soon..."

I feel sorry for Grigory too.

Foma was a stout, fair lad with bright gray eyes, educated, and in charge of keeping accounts and budgets for the foreman at the market.He is a man with a heart, always thinking.He intended to go to the Abbey of Orange if he had the chance, because he knew that many people had good luck after becoming monks in the Abbey.But when the market was built and opened, he unexpectedly went to a small restaurant as a waiter.His companions laughed at him.I asked him why he was a waiter instead of a monk.He said:

"I don't intend to become a monk, and I won't be a waiter for long..."

Four years later, when I saw him again, he was still working as a waiter.It was later learned from the newspapers that he had been arrested for attempted theft.

The experience of the stonemason Ardalion shocked me the most.He was the oldest and best skilled of the gang of masons.He rarely drank, and was hardly ever drunk.Always energetic when working.He plans to go to Tomsk next spring.His brother-in-law contracted a major project to build a church there and asked him to work as an overseer.He also invited me to go with him.I said yes, and he was overjoyed.

The workers were all envious of him, saying:

"If we had a backer like your brother-in-law, we would also go to Siberia..." However, Ardalion suddenly disappeared.He left on Sunday, two or three days, no one knows where he went.Everyone was anxious and speculated.

Unexpectedly, the mason Yefimushka brought back a surprising news: "Aldalion was drinking outside and looking for women..."

"Nonsense!" Peter the stonemason didn't believe it.He went to Ardalion, only to be beaten back.

Then Osip called me to go and see Ardalion.We went to a sleazy hotel in "Kunavino Pleasure Village" and found him there.In a small and closed room, Ardalion was lying on the bed, with his swollen face on the pillow, and his shaggy black beard curled up in disorder.

"What's the matter with you?" Osip said quietly, without a trace of reproach.

"I'm dizzy." Ardalion quickly explained, his voice hoarse, and he kept coughing.

"It doesn't seem very good..."

"Maybe……"

As Ardalion said, he picked up an opened bottle of vodka from the table and drank it.Then he turned his face to me, "Brother, I've gotten to this point..."

I thought Osip would scold him, and he would be ashamed to confess.However nothing happened.They sat side by side, talking nonchalantly.

"Have you run out of money..." asked Osip.

"Peter still owes me..."

"It's time for you to go to Tomsk..." Osip said.

"So what?"

"Changed my mind..."

"It would be fine if outsiders asked me to go."

"why?"

"That's my sister and brother-in-law..."

"What's the matter?"

"Begging one's own relatives is not a taste."

"Don't stumble!" Osip warned him, and then he stood up and took his leave.On the way back, I asked Osip:

"What do you want him for?"

"Look at him, acquaintance. I've seen this kind of thing a lot: someone is alive and well, but suddenly falls."

(End of this chapter)