childhood, on earth, my university

Chapter 16: In the world (9)
Ardalion did not return to the construction site after all.He came to work for a few days, and soon disappeared again.When I saw him in the spring, he was chiseling ice for a wooden boat with a group of bums.We went to a small restaurant for tea together.He drank and boasted:
"In the masonry trade, my skills were first-rate, and I could earn several hundred rubles..."

"But you didn't earn it!"

"Not earned!" he said arrogantly. "I'm tired of doing it! Building brick houses for others and wooden coffins for yourself, that's work!"

Since then, every holiday, I often go to Million Street outside the city, where homeless people live.I saw that Ardalion was soon making love with the tramps.A year ago, he was serious and lively, but now he is chattering, walking swagger, and looking aggressive, as if he was about to fight someone.These tramps who have been abandoned by life seem to have created an unfettered happy life for themselves.They have nothing to worry about, and they dare to do things.When there was no work to do, they stalked the barges and steamers.When working, they are very devoted and willing to bear the burden of hard work.

Osip, seeing me and Ardalion, warned in a paternal tone:
"How can you make friends with people on Million Street? Be careful, don't hurt yourself..."

I said I liked them, they had a good life without a job.

Osip sneered when he heard this, and said:
"They are in this situation because they are lazy and incompetent, and they regard work as suffering!"

"What about work? I can't afford to build a brick house!" I blurted out.

Unexpectedly, Osip lashed out at me:

"Who says such things? Fools and idlers. You associate with such people, and I will tell your master!" He said what he said.The next day the master said to me in front of his face:

"Don't go to Wanwan Street in the future! The final destination of those people is either a prison or a hospital! Don't go in the future!"

I still couldn't resist sneaking to Million Street, but soon I didn't want to go myself.

Once, I went to Wanwan Street to look for Ardalion, and there I accidentally ran into Natalia, the clever, optimistic and pungent laundryman from before.Her face was haggard, and her speech was as rude and quick-tongued as the women on that street.She told me that her daughter, who had worked so hard to provide for, abandoned her after receiving higher education.She had nowhere to rely on, so I had no choice but to become a "street girl" on this street. Staying with her gave me an indescribable feeling.So after talking with her for a while, I quickly said goodbye to her.

Since then, I no longer go to Million Street.

19
In winter, it is difficult to find work in the market.In the master's house, I was the same as before, doing all kinds of work.I was so busy during the day that I was free at night.I read to my master the novels in the magazine "Field" and "Moscow Tabloid".At night, I secretly read some good books and learned to write poems.

However, recently the master has become cautious and preoccupied, even afraid of the doorbell ringing, and sometimes loses his temper over trivial matters and runs out, only to come back smelling of alcohol in the middle of the night.I felt that there were sad events in his life that only he knew about.Later I found out that at that time he met a woman he liked but couldn't be together.

In my spare time I like to go to a little restaurant on Coach Street.The restaurateur loves to sing.He sometimes traveled all over the city, looking for singers himself, and even among the country folks at the market, and invited anyone who could sing to his restaurant.

Among these singers, the saddler Kleshov was the best.He looked listless and ungroomed.When singing, he often closes his eyes, leans the back of his head against the Volga barrel, and sings with a resonant tenor voice, which is shocking.The heartbreaking lyrics, tone and call sign conquered all the people in the restaurant, and everyone became unusually serious, silently looking at the table in front of them.Only at this time, I feel the real life!
After Krechev sang, he sat down modestly. The restaurant owner handed him a glass of wine and said with a satisfied smile:
"Okay, good singing! You are a master, there is nothing to say!"

Kleshev finished his drink slowly, coughed, and said calmly:

"Everyone has a voice and can sing, but only I can sing with that flavor."

"Come on, stop bragging." The restaurant owner was a little dissatisfied.

"Incompetent people don't brag." Klechev said still calmly.

"You are crazy, Kleshov!" the restaurant owner was angry.

In fact, it can be seen that the boss likes Kleshov's songs, but he has a lot of opinions on him.So he said Kleshov's fault whenever he saw anyone, and even laughed at him in public.Everyone knows this.Sometimes the boss specially finds someone to compete with him.Some singers sang well, but no one could sing as simple and touching as him.

Each time, Kreshev said to his boss calmly and politely:
"Forget it, you will never find a singer who can beat me, my talent is given by God..."

I envy this man, envy his talent.I wanted to get acquainted with him very much, but I had no courage, because he always looked at everyone strangely with indifferent eyes, as if he didn't care about anyone.Once, when I sat next to him and asked a question, he didn't look at me at all and said:
"Go away, boy!"

In contrast, I prefer the bass singer Mitropoliski.As soon as he entered the restaurant, he walked to the corner with heavy steps, kicked off the chair and sat down.With his elbows on the table and his disheveled head in his hands, he quietly drank two or three glasses of wine, and then coughed loudly, causing the customers to look back at him in fright.But he still held his head, looked at everyone with challenging eyes, and asked in a rough voice:
"Look at what? See what?"

His voice was as bright as a bell.Shake the glass windows.

He is easy to approach, just treat him to a meal.After I asked him out a few times, he became softer with me.It is said that he went to the seminary in Kazan, and he is expected to be a bishop.I do not believe.However, once when I mentioned the bishop Khrisanf I met when I was studying at school, he said that the bishop was his teacher.

In any case, he left an imprint on my heart, and I admire his courage to imitate the prophet Isaiah to rebuke people after drunk.His roar reminds one of "Good job!, Natalia who went astray, and Queen Margaux...

However, my relationship with him soon ended.

I met him once in a field near the barracks, where he was walking alone.We walked a few steps silently together, and suddenly found a person in a tunnel.The man sat sideways on the bottom of the pit, his shoulders against the wall, his face hidden in his coat.On the green grass in his hand, there was a pistol, a hat not far away, and a few sips of vodka beside him.We stood for a while, and Mitropolsky said:
"Suicide."

He told me to go to the city to call the police, and then he sat down by the pit and wrapped his coat tightly.I came back to call the police and saw him finish the bottle and greet me waving the empty bottle.A policeman came soon.Then came a large crowd of townspeople.The chief of the police station also came.He lifted the dead man's coat and looked at the dead man's face. Someone next to him recognized the dead man as a civil servant on their street.The police chief asked:

"Who saw it first?"

"It's me," Mitropolsky said.

The sub-bureau chief looked at him, and said in a drawn-out voice, viciously:

"Well, my sir!"

Mitropolsky took off his hat and got into a drunken quarrel with the sub-chief.The branch chief pushed him in the chest, and he swayed and sat on the ground.The police calmly took out a rope and tied him up.He was led slowly towards the city.

Soon I heard that he was escorted out of the city.Then Klechev disappeared.It is said that he married and moved to the city to open a harness workshop.

20
In the city, I worked as a "supervisor" for three years.In autumn, I watched the workers tear down the dull brick houses; in spring, I watched them rebuild.

My master gave me five rubles a month to do my best.The workers and foremen tried their best to deceive me, tried to steal things openly, and when they were caught, they didn't care.They also found my behavior very strange, saying:
"You work so hard, as if you were getting twenty rubles instead of five. How funny!"

The master suspected that I was with them, which made me feel disgusted with him.But I'm not angry.Stealing is common now, and the master's own hands and feet are not clean.After each market, the master inspected the shop he was responsible for repairing, and when he saw the samovars, tableware, scissors, and sometimes boxes, goods and other things left there, he said to me: "Make a list, Move them all to the warehouse!"

Afterwards, he moved these things from the warehouse to his home, and asked me to revise the list many times.

I think life is a mess and absurd.Many things are stupid.For example, the shops we repaired in autumn were submerged in water again in spring.For decades, the market has been flooded every year, and houses and streets have been washed away every year.Everyone sighed and sighed, and it went on and on again.

I asked Osip on this subject, and though I knew he would often tell his master some of the thoughts I had said to him, I was willing to speak to him.He thought I was weird and worried about me.I also told him that the forests on the other side of the Volga are on fire every summer.In July, thick yellow smoke covers the sky and the sun.

"The woods are nothing," said Osip, "that is the property of the nobles.It hurts only when villages are burned. I don’t know how many villages are burned every summer, maybe no less than a hundred. "

I know this old man is the wisest man I've ever met.I was thinking about it when he said:

"If a house burns down, it can be rebuilt, but if a good peasant dies, there's no way to fix it! Look, Ardalion, Grigory, just died!"

I didn't ask any more questions, just asked him curiously:

"Why did you tell the master what I thought about you?"

He said calmly:
"I did this to let him know that you have dangerous thoughts and let him discipline you. I mean no harm, this is to protect you. You are a man of sense, but the devil is at work in your head. Your thoughts are too Out of line, I will tell your master, be careful..."

"Then I won't talk to you in the future!"

He was silent for a while, looked at me kindly and said:

"This is not your truth. If you don't tell me, who else can you tell? No one..." I knew that what he said was right, he was the only one who could talk.Every time I talked, he seemed to listen with great interest, and then he said calmly:

"I advise you to enter a monastery and comfort those pilgrims when you grow up. I don't think you can adapt to the society..."

I don't want to go to a monastery, but I feel trapped in the maze of life, very distressed.

I just turned 15 and sometimes feel like middle-aged.Because I have tasted the ups and downs of life, read all kinds of books, and thought about various problems uneasily, but I have no way and ability to sort out these problems clearly.

I feel that there are two people in me: one person is timid because he knows too much dirty things, and longs for a life of solitude with books for company; the other has read a lot of books full of truth and wisdom. , Baptized by the holy spirit of the book, like a hero in a French novel, always ready to fight against evil forces.

I often go to the city wall of Xianshang in the evening, when I come back from the market, to enjoy the scenery of the sun setting on the other side of the Volga River.In the sky, the fiery red river is constantly rushing; on the ground, the slow river sometimes sparkles red and sometimes sparkles blue.Sometimes, I suddenly feel that the whole world is like a huge ship carrying prisoners, being dragged somewhere by an invisible hand.

I feel that the life described by foreign writers is nobler and more relaxed than the monotonous and sluggish life around me, which arouses my strong desire for another possibility of life.

One day, I was sitting on a bench by the city wall when my uncle Yakov suddenly appeared beside me.I didn't recognize him at first glance.For several years, although we lived in the same city, we seldom saw each other.I learned from my grandmother that he has been bankrupt in the past few years and has eaten and used up.He had been a deputy warden in a detention center until he was fired and nearly got himself into a lawsuit.The reason was that when the guard was sick, the uncle would entertain the prisoners in his residence, which was very lively, and a prisoner was arrested on the spot when he took advantage of the night to blackmail the deacon.So the uncle was fired and charged.Later, both the prisoner and the guards excused him, so that he could not be held accountable.Now he has no job and relies on his son to support him.The son was a singer in the famous Lukavishnikov church choir.

My uncle is much older, covered with stains, his hair is falling out, and his face is covered with bloodshot eyes.I'm happy to talk with him.We came to a small restaurant and sat down by the window.He poured wine into the glass and said thoughtfully:
"Hey, I've lived my whole life and done stupid things, but not many. Do you drink? Don't drink, the future will be long. Do you often see your grandfather? He is always unhappy, as if he is going crazy."

I asked him about the prisoner.

"You've heard that too?" He looked around and said in a low voice:

"What about the prisoners? I think they are ordinary people, and the prison is too boring. After the roll call, they come to my place immediately, eat and drink, sometimes I host, sometimes they invite, it is very lively. I like to sing and dance, and there are some good singers and dancers among them. It is true that I allowed them to loosen their shackles and dance. As for the claim that I let them enter the city to rob, it is completely fabricated..."

He was silent for a while, turned his eyes to the valley outside the window, and said softly:

"It is true that there is a prisoner who goes out every night. But he is not wearing fetters. He is a common thief. He has a lover in a village not far away. As for blackmailing the deacon, it is a complete misunderstanding. He mistook the deacon for a businessman. Winter In the evening, it was snowing again, and they were all wearing fur coats, who could tell whether they were deacons or merchants?"

After a pause, he suddenly became angry inexplicably:
"Everyone stole from each other, and then caught each other. They all ended up in prison, exiled to Siberia to serve hard labor. It's none of my business...I have a clear conscience!"

"Do you feel sorry for the prisoner?" I asked.

"Such a good boy, anyone who sees them will feel sorry! Sometimes I look at them and think, although I am their boss, compared with them, I am far behind them. They are all outstanding. I think about my I feel ashamed all my life, and I can’t do anything generously. The old man scolded me for being too reckless, and my wife scolded me for being incompetent. As for me, I spend a ruble in fear. , serving him. What am I doing alive? How many days have I been blessed?"

I listened casually, not wanting to speak, but I couldn't help but say:

"I don't know how to live..."

He sneered and said:
"Huh... who knows? I haven't met anyone who knows! People always live according to their own habits..."

I don't want to ask my uncle any more, I feel uncomfortable with him, I feel a little pity for him, and I can't help but think of his cheerful ditties and guitar sounds intertwined with sorrow and joy.

"I should go," said the uncle.

At the entrance of the small restaurant, he shook my hand vigorously and persuaded me jokingly:

"You seem to be a little worried, think about it, you are still young, remember: 'No matter what your fate is, you must always pursue happiness!' This is the most important thing. Goodbye."

I came to the field alone, walked around the city along the field, came to the slope of the Volga River, lay down on the dusty grass, and looked at the grassland and the quiet land on the other side for a long time.It was a full moon night, and cloud shadows slowly crossed the Volga River and cast on the pasture.Everything around me gradually fell asleep, and there was no sound.I really want to kick the ground and myself, and let everything spin happily.

I think:

"You must change yourself, or you will die..."

In the autumn of this year, I went to Kazan in the hope that I might manage to go to school.

(End of this chapter)