childhood, on earth, my university

Chapter 3 Childhood (2)
When I recovered, I understood that the "little gypsy" had a special place in the family.My grandfather talked about him behind his back, always saying that he has a pair of hands that are inexhaustible, and that he will definitely have great promise in the future.The uncles are also very kind and friendly to "Little Gypsy", and they seldom make jokes like they do with Grigory, the master in the workshop.Grigory had bad eyesight, and almost every night they played tricks on him: either burned the handles of his scissors over the fire, or stuck a nail in his chair with the point pointing upwards , or smuggled fabrics of different colors into his hands, he would surely sew them into a whole piece of cloth, for which he received a lot of scolding from his grandfather.However, when the two uncles talked about "Little Gypsy" behind their backs, they were always very angry and contemptuous, picking on his work and calling him a thief and a slacker.

I asked my grandmother why the uncles treated "Little Gypsy" like this.Grandmother said:
"They will open their own dyeing houses in the future, and they all want to pull 'Little Gypsy' to their side, so they say this on purpose. In fact, they are lying and playing tricks." She laughed softly again:
"Both of them are always playing tricks and clever tricks, and God thinks it's funny!"

I know from my grandmother that "Little Gypsy" is an abandoned child. 19 years ago, my grandfather found him on the bench at the gate and picked him up.Grandma liked "Little Gypsy" very much, and I liked him too.Every Saturday, my grandfather beat up all the children who made mistakes this week, and then went out to go to evening prayer.As soon as he left, the kitchen immediately began to be indescribably cheerful and lively. "Little Gypsy" caught a few cockroaches from the stove, made a set of harness with thread, cut a sled with paper, and tied the cockroaches.So four "dark horses" ran around on the yellow table.He will perform with little mice.Under his command, the mice walked around on their hind legs, dragged their long tails, and blinked their nimble black eyes comically.He can also juggle with cards or coins.

During the holidays, whenever my grandfather and Uncle Mikhailo went out to visit, Uncle Yakov would take the guitar to the kitchen, and my grandmother would set up a table of sumptuous refreshments, cold platters and vodka. "Little Gypsy" was dressed in festive costumes and was so busy spinning around like a top.Grigory, the master dyer, and Yevgenia, the nurse, also came.

After everyone had eaten and drank enough, Uncle Yakov plucked the strings lightly, and an exciting tune sounded in the kitchen immediately.It is like a creek rushing from afar, oozing out of the floor and walls, stirring people's hearts, causing an inexplicable feeling, sad and uneasy.

Everyone listened quietly and attentively.Uncle Yakov was even more forgetful, his hands were plucking nimbly.After a few sips of wine, he began to sing:
A beggar exposed his footcloth,

Another beggar stole the footcloth,

Wang Wang, how boring I am!

Wang Wang, how sad I am!

The uncontrollable pain made me cry out loud.Grandmother sighed and said:

"Yasha, your heart is broken..."

Then, the guitar began to sound crazily. "Little Gypsy" danced passionately like a fire, he danced tirelessly and unrestrainedly.Everyone moved involuntarily, as if being burned by fire, and yelled and shouted from time to time.Grigory said into my ear:
"If God could send your father back here, he would have lit another fire! He was such a happy man, a man of comfort." He stood up again, and addressed his grandmother explain:
"Akulina Ivanovna, please dance and let everyone have fun." "What's the matter with you, dear Grigory Ivanovitch?" said the grandmother, smiling.
"What else can I dance? It just makes people laugh..."

However, everyone begged her, and the grandmother jumped up.Her whole tall body danced softly, with a smile and a kind face on her face.

However, this happiness is short-lived.There is very little laughter in this family. They often yell at each other and threaten each other. The children are very depressed.I feel like an outsider here, I look at people suspiciously, and I look at everything with caution.However, my friendship with "Little Gypsy" is constantly increasing.My grandmother was busy with housework from morning to night, and I walked around "Little Gypsy" almost all day long.When my grandfather whipped me, he still blocked the whip with his arm.

Every Friday, "Little Gypsy" would put the maroon gelding "Sharap" on a large sled, and drive the sled to the market to buy food.Every time he came back, he brought back a cart full of food.However, my grandmother told me unhappily that when "Little Gypsy" went to the market, he always bought less than he stole.If caught, they would beat him to death.

The next day, I begged "Little Gypsy" to stop stealing "They will beat you to death..."

"They can't catch me, and I will escape vigilantly." He smiled, and said sadly, "Actually, I also know that stealing is not good and dangerous. But I always steal, and I just want to steal things." Relieve the boredom. I can't save any money, and your two uncles will always cheat me out of my money. I don't feel sorry, just take it, anyway, I can have enough to eat."

But soon, he died.

The thing is this: Beside the gate of the yard, there is a large oak cross with a thick trunk and many branches against the wall.Uncle Yakov bought it for his wife's grave.He once said that on her anniversary, he carried the cross to the cemetery himself.But after an autumn, it was blackened by rain and sun, and gave off a pungent musty smell.It was a Saturday in the first part of winter, cold and windy, with snow falling from the roof.Two uncles, Grigory and a stranger struggled to lift the cross from the ground and put it on the broad shoulders of "Little Gypsy". "Little Gypsy" staggered and carried the cross out of the yard. Two uncles supported the two wings of the cross.But when Grigory and I were talking, "Little Gypsy" was carried back and lay motionless in the middle of the kitchen floor, with blood flowing from the corners of his mouth and his back. flow to the threshold.Crouching there the nurse tried to push a candle into his hand, but he did not take it.I was cold and scared, so I crawled under the table to hide.

"He stumbled and fell," said Uncle Yakov calmly and indifferently. "The cross crushed him, hitting him on the back. Fortunately we threw the cross in time. Otherwise, we would have been crushed too." disabled."

"You smashed him to death," said Grigory in a muffled voice.

"So what?"

"you!"

Grandfather came in with heavy steps, followed by grandmother, Uncle Mihailo and others.The grandfather threw the coat on the ground and shouted:
"Braves! What a fine fellow you've ruined. I know he's a thorn in your throat..."

The grandmother stroked the face, head and chest of "Little Gypsy", and rubbed his hands.After a while, she stood up heavily, and with her eyes terrified, said, "Get out, you bastards!"

Everyone withdrew from the kitchen except grandfather.

"Little Gypsy" was silently buried and silently forgotten.

4
On days of upset, quarrels, and fights, my grandmother always prayed for a long time.It was interesting to hear her pray, her hulking body kneeling like a small hill.She prayed to God in great detail about everything that happened at home.Then, with a deep sigh, she said kindly and contentedly:
"Dear Lord, you know it all, God, you know it all." I love my grandmother's God very much, he and my grandmother are so close.I often beg her:
"Tell me a little about God!"

When she talked about God, she spoke in a very soft voice and went on and on until I was about to fall asleep.When she had finished speaking, she crossed herself and said:

"Thanks to Our Lady, everything is fine!"

However, I feel that everything here is not good.

Once, passing Uncle Mihailo's door, I saw Aunt Natalia, in white, praying in a low voice: "God, call me back, take me away..."

Grigory also often muttered: "One day if I go blind, I will go to beg for food, it will be better than here..." I really hope that he will go blind soon, then I will lead him the way, and we can go together to beg.I told him this thought, and he replied with a smile:

"What a great idea, let's go begging together! I yelled along the city: this is the bath of the grandson of Vasily Kashirin, the head of the dyeing guild, that would be interesting..."

However, all this became "everything is fine" in my grandmother's prayer.In addition to telling me stories about God, she also likes to tell ghost stories.She is not afraid of ghosts, but she is very afraid of black cockroaches, and can feel their existence even from a long distance. She often wakes me up at night to trample cockroaches to death.If I don't find this insect, she won't be able to sleep.

"Why are you afraid of cockroaches?" I asked her puzzled.

She said with good reason:
"God has a mission for every kind of bug. And these ghost cockroaches know what God sent them for?"

One night, when my grandmother was praying to God, the dyeing room caught fire.I ran into the kitchen, only to see the windows facing the yard glowing golden from the fire.The roof of the dyeing house was burning, and the four walls of the dyeing house were reflected by the fire like the holy walls in the church, trembling and shaking in the firelight.There was a crimson glow on the snow in the yard.

Grandfather wailed in a low voice:
"Hey-hey-huh!"

Uncle Yakov jumped back and forth among the yellow light spots with his bare feet and boots on, shouting at the top of his voice:

"It was Mihailo who set it on fire! Set it on fire and slipped away. Aha!"

"Shut up!" Grandma pushed Uncle Yakov towards the door, commanding everyone sternly and loudly.Then, with an empty bag on her head and a horse quilt wrapped around her body, she rushed into the flames of the dyeing room desperately, shouting:

"Get out of the sulphate bath sulphate will explode..."

"Grigory, stop her!" cried the grandfather frantically, "she must die now..."

But out came Grandma, smoking all over, bent over, holding a bottle of sulfate the size of a bucket in her hands.With a hoarse voice, she coughed and shouted:
"Help me untie the quilt quickly, I'm on fire, don't you see?"

Grigory took off the burnt quilt from her.My grandfather ran around my grandmother, throwing snow on her.Grandmother stuffed sulfate bottles into snowdrifts.Then she bowed to the people who ran into the yard to watch:
"Neighbors, please help! Let's do it together, God will bless you!"

The fire was quickly suppressed, doused, stamped out.The police came and sent people away.Grandmother walked into the kitchen.Grandfather sat next to grandmother, sighed and said:
"God has always been merciful to you, and has given you amazing wisdom..."

Grandma smiled, stood up, and walked out of the kitchen.My grandfather asked me:

"Did you see the whole fire? How was your grandmother doing, huh? An old lady . . . tortured, useless .

That night, I couldn't sleep at all.Suddenly, I heard a horrible wail.I ran into the kitchen, jumped onto the kang stove, and hid in a corner.Grandfather and uncle ran around like crazy, and grandmother shouted to drive them out and ordered Grigory to set up the kang stove to boil water.Grigory put the tin pot full of water on the fire, and climbed up on the stove to look for me.

"What happened?" I asked him.

"Your aunt Natalia is going to have a baby," he said. "Your grandmother is so badly burned, how can she still deliver the baby? Listen, your aunt is in so much pain that everyone has forgotten her. When the fire started, she Just twitched, frightened, oh..."

I dozed off.I was woken up by noises, by doors closing, by Uncle Mihailo's drunken shouts.The stove was unbearably hot, I climbed down, and as soon as I got to Uncle Mihailo, he grabbed me and pushed me hard, I fell on my back, I cursed him, he grabbed me angrily, Throw me in the air.

When I woke up, I found myself lying in front of the icon in the vestibule, on my grandfather's lap.Seeing me wake up, he asked Uncle Yakov who was standing by the door frame to take me to sleep.When I climbed into bed, Uncle Yakov whispered to me: "Your Aunt Natalia is dead..."

5
As spring approached, the uncles separated.Uncle Yakov stayed in the city, Uncle Mikhailo moved across the river, and my grandfather bought a big house on Field Street.The house was a tavern downstairs and a cozy little room in the attic with a garden.

Grandfather only reserved a large room upstairs for himself and receiving guests, and my grandmother and I lived on the top floor.The other rooms are full of tenants.The windows of the attic were open to the street, and every evening and on holidays one leaned over the windowsill and saw drunks crawling out of the taverns and staggering down the street, shouting and falling down from time to time.

The grandfather went to the dyeing workshop of the sons early in the morning to help them get ready. When he came back at night, he was tired and depressed, and often full of anger.Grandma cooks and sews clothes at home, and digs in the vegetable garden and the garden. She is busy all day long, like a big spinning top, being whipped around by an invisible whip.I walked around her in the garden and vegetable garden all day long, and she sniffed snuff from time to time, wiped the sweat from her face, and said to me:

"Ah, Alyosha, my darling, you see how peaceful we are now! Thanks to Our Lady, how much better things have become!"

I don't think we're having a peaceful time.From morning to night, the tenants ran about in the yard and in the house, the neighbor's women came here now and then, and the grandmother was equally friendly and amiable to all of them.She also delivered babies, mediated family disputes, treated children, and told women about "The Dream of Our Lady".I also often went to the house of the female neighbor with her, where she drank tea for hours and told various stories non-stop.

Once, I asked my grandmother:
"Are you a wizard?"

"Well, you can really think nonsense!" She laughed and said, "How can I have such a skill, and I can't read.Our Lady did not give me wisdom. "

Then she told me about her childhood:
"My mother is a poor farmer with no land and no land. She lost a hand, so she had to go begging for food and begging for alms. Every autumn and winter, my mother and I would beg along the streets, walking wherever we saw. When I was just over nine years old, my mother felt that it was not decent to take me along the street to beg for food, so she lived in Balahan City. She went to beg, while I learned lace weaving at home. I learned it angrily, hoping to help my mother as soon as possible. In a little over a year, I learned how to do it, and I became famous all over the city. I wanted to help my mother, but she let me save money to buy a dowry. Soon, your grandfather appeared. A very nice young man, only 22 years old. Already a foreman of a big ship."

She smiled sincerely and looked at me tenderly with her eyes.

One night, my grandmother and I were drinking tea in my grandfather's room. My grandfather got a small new book from somewhere, slapped it on the palm of his hand, and called me excitedly: "Hey, naughty ghost, come here! Sit down!" Next, do you see the letter? It's a pronounced a!'

He put one hot, sweaty arm around my neck, put the book under my nose, and pointed to the letters with one finger over my shoulder.He smelled of acetic acid, sweat, and roasted onions.

I learned to read very easily, and my grandfather cared more about me, and rarely beat me. I broke his rules and orders more and more often. He just scolded me a few words and raised his hand as if he wanted to beat me.

Before long, I was able to read poetry aloud syllables.Usually, after evening tea, I read a hymn aloud, though it is dull.

Once I finished reading a hymn and begged my grandfather to tell me a short story, but he couldn't resist my request and agreed.He told me about the French captives that happened to him when he was a boy.He sympathized with what had happened to the captives, even though they were French.There are many things my grandfather said that I don't want to remember, but these things are deeply imprinted in my mind.

However, when I first saw my grandfather beating my grandmother so ferociously in front of me, I thought he was disgusting, and I couldn't understand or forgive his behavior.I went back to the attic room to see my grandmother, but my grandmother comforted me and said: "Don't be too merciful, you know, he is also suffering. I'll go down and see him, maybe it's my fault..."

She kissed me and left.I feel extremely sad.

6
One evening, after tea and my grandfather and I sat down to read a hymn, my grandmother started washing the dishes.Uncle Yakov broke in suddenly, trembling all over, waving his hands like a machine gun, telling his grandfather that Uncle Mikhailo was mad at him and would be here soon, and threatened to kill his grandfather.

Grandfather stood up slowly and shouted contemptuously:
"I know, you got him drunk and you instigated him. Well, you do it now, you can kill whoever you want, you can kill me, you can kill him."

My grandmother told me in a low voice:

"Run upstairs, look out of the window, come down and say something as soon as your Uncle Mihailo appears in the street! Go, go..."

Uncle Mihailo actually appeared in the street.I ran down and knocked on my grandfather's door.He rudely chased me away.I had to go back to the attic again.After a while, I saw from the window my grandfather, Uncle Yakov, and the tavern waiter punching and kicking Uncle Mikhailo, and the street suddenly came alive.

Since then, almost every Sunday, groups of children would come to the gate of their grandfather's big house, happily shouting to the street like an announcement: "The Kashilin family is fighting again!"

Uncle Mihailo usually came in the evening and made noise all night, making the whole house restless.Sometimes he also brought along two or three helpers, all of whom were idle citizens.

My grandfather often stood by the window with a gloomy face and said nothing, quietly listening to the sound of those people smashing things.The grandmother was running around in the yard, begging loudly in the dark: "Misha, what are you doing, Misha!"

(End of this chapter)