in the world

Chapter 6

I also worked as a scullery on the ship "Perm".This is a white, swan-like wide fast liner.This time it was the "handyman" dishwashing worker, or "kitchen handyman," who was paid seven rubles a month and whose job it was to help the cook.

The canteen steward was a fat, haughty fellow with a head as bald as a ball.All day long he plodded up and down the deck, with his hands folded behind his back, like a pig looking for shade on a hot day.Standing in the cafeteria was his wife, who was over 40 years old, very beautiful, but languid, her face was so heavily powdered that it often left sticky powder that stuck to her gorgeous clothes .

In charge of the kitchen was my dear cook, Ivan Ivanovich, nicknamed "Little Bear," a fat little man with a nose like a hawk and funny eyes.

He was a dressy man, with a starched collar, a daily shave, blue cheeks, and a black beard that turned up.As soon as he was free, he twirled his beard with his fire-stained fingers to keep it from getting out of shape, and he kept looking at his face in a small round mirror with a handle.

The most interesting thing on board was the stoker Yakov Shumov, with his broad chest, square shoulders, snub nose, flat face like a shovel, and small bear-like eyes hidden under bushy eyebrows.Both cheeks are covered with beards that are curled into small circles, like moss on the swamp, and the hair on the top of the head is as tightly attached as a hat, and it takes a lot of effort to insert a bent finger into it.

He loves to gamble, plays good cards, and has a terrible appetite. He is always like a hungry dog, wandering around the kitchen, begging for a few pieces of meat and bones.In the evening, I drank tea with "Little Bear" Ivan Ivanovich and told about his strange life experience.

When he was young, he worked as a shepherd boy in a shepherd's house in Ryazan. Later, he was persuaded by a passing monk and entered a monastery, where he worked as a handyman for four years.

"I almost became a monk, God's black star," he joked articulately. "At this moment a pilgrim from Penza came to us. A very playful woman, who disturbed my heart. 'You are very nice and strong,' she said. 'I am a chaste widow, and lonely. , you go to my place to sweep the yard. I own a house, and I am in the feather business..."

"I said okay, she let me watch the yard, I hooked up with her, and ate hot bread at her house for three years..." "You can brag," "Little Bear" interrupted him, looking at his nose worriedly scrofula. "If bragging can make money, you must be rich!"

Yakov was chewing something, gray tendrils moved on his seemingly eyeless face, and so were his furry ears.After hearing what the chef said, he continued in a steady and rapid tone: "This woman is older than me, and it's tasteless and not exciting for me to get along with her.

I had sex with her niece again.When she found out, she kicked me out..." "You deserve it--it couldn't be better. "The chef spoke as briskly and fluently as Yakov.

The stoker put the sugar lump into his mouth, and went on:

"After hanging around for a while, I met another merchant, an old man from Vladimir City, and traveled the world with him. We have been to the Balkan Plateau, Turkey, Romania, Greece, Austria, and other countries. People come and go, buy here, sell there..." "Do you also steal?" the chef asked solemnly.

"That old man doesn't do this kind of business! He told me that in a foreign place, a person must be upright. Here is such a rule. If you do a little bit of bad things, you have to lose your head. But to be honest, I don't want to be a thief." Tried, but with bad results. I tried to get a horse out of a merchant's yard, failed, was caught, beaten and beaten, and sent to the police station. We were two, One is an old horse thief, but I am not smart, I just played secretly. I worked in the merchant's house and built a stove for him in the newly built bathroom. The merchant was sick and panicked when he dreamed of me He petitioned his superiors, saying: Let him (that is me) go, let him go, he said he dreamed of me, if you don't let me go, his illness will not be cured, and he also said that I seem to be a little bit magical They treated me as a magician. The businessman is very powerful in the local area, so he released me in the yamen..." "You should not be released, you should be submerged in the water for three days, then Your foolishness will be cured," put in the cook.

Yakov immediately took up his words:

"That's right, my stupidity is not small, to be honest, my stupidity is as big as a village..." The chef inserted his fingers into the tight collar, loosened it angrily, and shook his head , said dejectedly: "What nonsense! Let a prisoner like you live in the world, eat, drink, and hang out, why? Well, tell me, what are you doing alive?"

Chewing loudly, the stoker answered:
"I don't know about that either. To live is to live. Some people lie down, some run, and officials just sit, but everyone has to eat."

The cook got even more angry:

"That is to say, you are an indescribable pig! No, you are not as good as a pig! To be honest, it is pig food..."

"Why are you scolding me?" Yakov was surprised. "Men are all fruits of an oak tree, don't scold, scold, I won't get any better..." This man immediately attracted me firmly, I looked at him with amazed eyes, and opened my mouth to listen to him Speak; I feel he has a solid knowledge of life of his own in him.He called "Thou" to everyone, looked directly at everyone from under his shaggy eyebrows, whether it was the captain, the mess steward, or the first-class rich man, and he regarded them as himself, the sailor, the mess boy. , steerager same treatment.

I often saw him standing in front of the captain or the pilot, with his long orangutan arms folded behind his back, listening silently to being called lazy, or inadvertently beating others at cards.It could be seen that any scolding had no effect on him.He was not alarmed when people threatened him that he would be thrown ashore when the boat reached the next pier.

There was something different about him, like Mr. Good Thing.Probably, he himself knows his own characteristics very well, and he also knows that he will never be understood by others.

I have never seen him feel wronged and bored, and I don't remember him being silent for a long time.Words often flowed out of his hairy mouth, and it seemed that regardless of his own will, it was always flowing like an endless spring.Whenever someone scolded him, or heard someone say something interesting, his lips moved slightly, as if he was repeating what he had heard in his stomach, or continued to speak his own words softly.After he was on duty every day, he climbed up from the boiler room, barefoot, dripping with sweat, wearing an oily and sweaty gown without a belt, and ran over with his hairy chest bared.As soon as he came running, the deck was filled with his flat, monotonous and somewhat hoarse voice, and his words were scattered everywhere like raindrops.

"Hello, ma'am! Where are you going? Is it Chistopoli? I know, I was there, and I worked as a laborer in the home of a rich Tatar. The Tatar's name was Usan Gubayi. Dülin, had three wives. He was well built, with a red face. A young, very playful Tatar peasant girl, who made a fool of me..." He'd been everywhere, and fucked women everywhere. do.He seemed to have never been wronged or scolded in his life, and he said everything calmly and without malice.After 1 minute, somewhere in the back yard, I heard his voice again.

"The card players are the most disciplined, one dozen, three cards, the winner is immediately divided, really!

Playing cards is so much fun!It's just a businessman's job to sit and make money..." I could tell he didn't use words like good, bad, and terrible, and almost always said interesting, rare. In his opinion, beautiful women are interesting Butterfly, days of good weather are days of comfort; what he said most was: "I don't care! "

People say he is a slacker, but I think he is like everyone else, standing at the mouth of the furnace in the heat and smell of hell, doing his hard work honestly.But I don't remember him complaining about being miserable or tired like the other stokers.

One day, an elderly female guest lost her wallet.It was a clear and quiet evening, and everyone was living peacefully.The owner gave the old woman five rubles, and many of the passengers also gave a little.When the money was handed over to the old woman, she made the sign of the cross, bowed to the crowd, and said: "Fellows—here is three rubles and ten kopecks more than I lost."

Someone shouted joyfully:
"Grandma, take it all, what are you talking about? Three rubles is not much..." Someone said in a reasonable way: "Money is different from people, too much is not a problem..." Yakov walked up to the old woman, seriously Request: "Give me the extra money, I'll go play cards!"

Everyone thought the fireman was joking and laughed, but he begged the embarrassed old woman: "Give it to me, old woman! What's the use of taking it? You're going to the grave tomorrow..." Everyone scolded him and drove him away. He shook his head and said to me in great surprise: "These people are really strange! What do they want to do with other people's affairs? It's the old woman herself who said that the money is superfluous! But for me, three rubles are enough to make me happy." All at once..." As for money, he was probably happy just looking at it.While talking, he likes to wipe silver coins and copper coins on his trousers until they are shiny. Then he uses his curved fingers to hold the face with the upturned nostrils for a closer look, his eyebrows twitching.But he is not stingy with money.

One day, he asked me to bet with him.I said I would not.

"You won't?" He was surprised. "Why can't you? You can read and write! Then I'll teach you, let's gamble, bet on sugar..." He won half a pound of cubes of white sugar from me, and put them one by one into his furry mouth.Later, seeing that I already knew how to gamble, I said, "Now come to gamble for real money! Do you have any money?"

"Five rubles."

"I have two rubles."

Needless to say, he won all my money in no time.I bet on a coat worth five rubles, and lost, too, so I bet on new boots worth three rubles, and lost again.At that time Yakov was not happy, and said almost angrily: "No, you don't know how to gamble, you are too crazy-you lost the coat and boots at once! I don't want these things. I will return the clothes and boots. You, I'll give you back four rubles of the money, and you take it. I'll take one ruble, it's tuition fees... ok?"

I am grateful to him.

"I don't care!" he replied to my thanks. "Playing, this is playing, that is, for fun. But you are the same as fighting. Even if you fight, you can't do it if you are too impatient.

You have to see it before you start, don't be impatient!You are young, you must restrain yourself!Fail once, fail five times, give up seven times—go away.Come back when you've calmed down!This is for fun! "

I like and dislike him more and more at the same time.Sometimes he spoke very much like my grandmother.He has many things that attract me, but I don't like his extreme indifference towards people, which I'm afraid will never be changed in a lifetime.

Once, as the sun was setting, a second-class passenger, a tall Perm merchant, fell drunk and swam desperately in the red-gold water.Immediately the machine shut down and the boat stopped.Snow-like foam rolled out from under the ship's wheels, and was illuminated by the setting sun, dyed the color of blood.Amidst the boiling waves of blood, there was a dark human body far away from the stern of the ship, and a heart-pounding and ear-piercing cry came from the river.The guests crowded to the side of the boat and on the stern, shouting loudly.A companion of the drowning man was a red-haired and bald man who was also drunk. He beat everyone with his fists and squeezed to the side of the boat, shouting, "Go away! I'll go get him up right away..." There were already two sailors Jumped into the water, and swam towards the person who fell into the water with his hands.A lifeboat was lowered from the stern.At this time, among the shouts of the crew and the screams of the women, Yakov's calm, flowing voice was heard: "Drown, must drown, because he is wearing a jacket! Coats, they are sure to drown. Like women, why do they drown faster than men, because women wear skirts. Women sink as soon as they fall into the water, like a weighing hammer... Hey, look, he has already I've sunk, I'm not talking nonsense..." The merchant really sank into the water.After fishing for two hours, it didn't come out.

His companion was also sober, sitting on the back seat, panting, and murmured sadly: "What a disaster that flew from heaven! What will we do next? How will we tell his family? His family..." Ya Koff stood in front of the man, folded his hands behind his back, and comforted him: "Businessman, it doesn't matter! No one knows where they are going to die. Some people eat mushrooms and die instantly! Thousands of People eat mushrooms, but he is the only one who dies! Can this be blamed on the mushrooms?"

He was tall and strong, like a white stone mortar, standing in front of the merchant, and scattered his words to the merchant like chaff.At the beginning the businessman wept silently, wiped the tears from his beard with his big palm, listened quietly to his reply, and suddenly shouted: "Devil! Why are you torturing me? You orthodox believers, drive this guy away, or you will be killed." Something bad happened!"

Yakov walked away calmly, saying:

"What a strange man! People try to persuade him, but he comes to find trouble..." Sometimes I feel that the fireman seems a little silly, but I often think that he probably pretends to be stupid on purpose.I wanted to inquire about his experience and knowledge, but there was no good result.He raised his head, slightly opened his bear-like black eyes, stroked his furry cheeks with one hand, and slowly recalled: "Brother, people are like ants everywhere! Let me tell you! Busy. The most, of course, are peasants. They are like autumn leaves, all over the ground. Have you seen Bulgarians? I have seen Bulgarians. I have seen Greeks. Also, Serbs, Romanians, all Gypsy people——I have seen them all. There are many kinds of them! What kind of people are they? Do you know what kind of people they are? They are city people in the city and country people in the country. They are all the same as us here. They are exactly the same. There are many similarities. Some people even speak our language, but not very well, for example, the Tartars, or the Moldevas. The Greeks do not speak our language, they speak it quickly and without Clear, sounds like words, but you just don't understand. Talk to them, you have to sign. The old man I know, he pretends to understand the Greeks, he will talk about Calamala and Calimera. Old man You're so cunning, you've blinded them enough!

From the illustrations in the magazine, I know that Athens, the capital of Greece, is a very ancient and beautiful city in the world, but Yakov shook his head suspiciously and scolded Athens: "I lied to you, brother. There is no Athens, only Yafeng But it’s not a city, it’s a mountain; there’s a monastery on the mountain, that’s all. It’s called Mount Japon, and there are such pictures. The old man I just mentioned buys and sells such pictures. There’s a city called Belgorod , on the Danube, like Yaroslavl or Nijni. The city is not beautiful there, but the village is different! The women are also beautiful, and women are interesting as hell! For a woman, I almost didn't stay There. Wait a minute, what's her name?"

He rubbed his hands vigorously on the face that seemed to have no eyes, the bristles rustled, and a kind of laughter came from the back of his throat, like a broken tambourine: "People are the most memoryless things! That Befriend me... She cried when we broke up, and even I cried, really..." He began to teach me how to fuck a woman frankly and without shame.

We were sitting on the stern of the boat, and the warm moonlit night was coming towards us. On the other side of the silver wave, the cliffs of the grassland were faintly visible, and the dim lights were shining on the hills, like stars captured by the earth. Everything around us was in turmoil. , kept moving, living a quiet and stubborn life.In such a lovely sad silence, a hoarse voice came out: "Sometimes she leaps at me with open arms..." Yakov's words were rough, but not sensual.There is no exaggeration or cruelty in the words, only innocence, with a somewhat sad smell.The moon in the sky is not shy and the goblin is naked, touching people's hearts and causing a feeling of sadness.Reminds me of only the good things, the best things: Queen Margot and the hauntingly true poem: Only songs need beauty, but beauty needs no songs... I drive away like a slight drowsiness Let go of this fantasy, and ask the fireman again about his experiences and knowledge. "You're weird," he said. "What can I say? I've seen it all.

You ask, have I ever seen a monastery?I have seen it!What about low-class taverns?Also seen.

The life of a gentleman, the life of a peasant, you've seen it all.I also ate and drank a lot, and I was hungry..." He seemed to be walking on a rickety dangerous bridge in a deep valley, and he slowly recalled: "For example, when I stole a horse and was locked up in the police station, I thought I was bound to go to Siberia.I heard the sheriff swearing because the furnace in the new house was smoking.

I just said, 'Sir, I can fix this. ’ He knocked me down: “Shut up, even the best master can’t do anything with it...” I said: “Sometimes, the shepherd is smarter than the general.” 'I thought at the time that I was going to Siberia anyway, to be bold about anything.The sheriff said, "Then try to fix it, but if you make it worse, I'll break your bones." 'In two days and two nights, I have completely done this thing.The sheriff was taken aback, and shouted: 'Bastard, wood!You are such a clever craftsman, but you actually go to steal a horse, what's going on? ’ I said: ‘My lord, this is a stupid thing to do. ’ He said: ‘What a fool, I kind of pity you. 'Well, he said he had pity on me, you see, such a cruel man as a policeman has pity on others...'" What's the point? "I asked." Nothing, he pity me, what else? ""Why pity you, you are a stone without humanity! "

Yakov smiled kindly: "You are so weird, do you think I am a stone? Stone, you have to pity it. Stones also have their uses. Streets must be paved with stones. Everything should be cherished, there is nothing It exists in vain. What is the sand? Grass grows on the sand..." When the fireman said this, I became more aware: he knew something that I didn't understand. "What do you think of the chef?" I asked. "Did you say 'Little Bear'?" Yakov said dryly. "What do you think of him? There's nothing to say about that."

It is true that Ivan Ivanovitch was a very decent and perfect man, and there was nothing to blame.There was only one interesting thing about him, he didn't like the stoker, he used to scold him, but he always made him drink tea.

One day, he said to Yakov: "If there is still serfdom, and you call me your master, a lazy person like you, I will beat you seven times a week!"

Yakov said seriously: "Seven times—too many!"

When the cook scolded the fireman, he always gave him all kinds of food for some reason.

Shove him a piece roughly and say, "Shove it!"

Yakov chewed slowly and said: "Thanks to your old age, I have gained a lot of strength, Ivan Ivanovich!" "Slacker, what is the use of your strength?" "What? Useful? Live longer..." "Damn it, what are you doing alive?" Ah... "" What an imbecile!" "What?" Bleeding and sweating, roasting his bones in hell's hearth, and look at him, this imbecile eating like a pig!" "Well, there's something for everyone," said the stoker. , chewing food in his mouth.

I know that lighting a fire at the boiler door is much harder and hotter than working on a stove. Several times, I have tried the taste of "burning a fire" with Yakov at night, but why didn't he tell me about the pain of his work? Tell the chef!This is very strange.No, this man knows something special... Anyone, the captain, the pilot, the bosun, whoever wants to, can scold him; but it's strange, why isn't he fired?The stokers were nicer to him than the others, though they laughed at his chatter and card games, too.I asked them: "Is Yakov a good man?" "Yakov? Nothing. This is a good man. You can do anything to him, just put a red-hot coal in his arms." ... "He toils in the boiler room, eats like a horse, and sleeps little.Often after changing shifts, without changing clothes, and sweating all over, he would go to the back of the ship, chatting and playing cards with guests all night.

He stood before me like a locked box.I think this box contains what I need, and I always try to find the key to open it. "Brother, what do you want, I really don't understand?" He looked up and down at me with his invisible eyes hidden under his eyebrows. "Well, I have really traveled a lot in the world, what else is there? You are so weird! Well, let me tell you about my personal experience."

Then he said: "In a county town, there lived a young judge who was suffering from consumption. His wife was a German, very strong, and had no children. This German woman fell in love with a cloth merchant. The merchant himself had a wife, and she was very good-looking. She is very beautiful, and has three children. He saw that the German woman fell in love with him, so he tried to play tricks on her, and asked her to come to his garden at night, and invited two of his friends to hide in the garden. in the grove.

"Wonderful! The German woman came and told him this and that, and she said, I'm all yours! But he said to her, 'Madam, I can't do what you want, I have a wife, I Introduce you to two friends, one of them has a dead wife, and the other is a bachelor.' The German woman groaned and gave him a hard slap in the face. The man fell behind the bench, and she stomped on it with the heel of her leather shoe. His face. I brought this woman here, I work as a yard sweeper at this judge's house. I saw through the crack in the fence that there was a mess. At this moment, two friends jumped out and grabbed her hair. I jumped over the fence, pushed them away, and said to them, 'Oh, Mr. Trader, that's not right!' The lady ran up with all her heart, but he came up with this shameless trick. I took her back At home, they threw bricks at me and injured my head... The woman was so depressed that she walked in the yard as if she had lost her soul, and said to me: "Yakov, when my man dies, I will go back to China, I want to go.” I said: “Of course it is better to go back!” Sure enough, the judge died, and she also returned to China. This is a very gentle and reasonable woman, and the judge is also very kind. May God let him go to heaven..." I didn't understand the meaning of the story, and fell silent in bewilderment.I think there's a familiar, grim irrationality here.But what can I say?

"Is this a good story?" Yakov asked.

I said a few words and cursed angrily.But he explained it to me calmly.

"People who have food are satisfied with everything; sometimes, they just want to be happy. But they can't do it, they don't seem to be able to. Of course businessmen are decent people, and doing business requires a lot of scheming. But relying on scheming Life is too boring, so they want to play around."

Outside the boat, the river was foaming and flowing, and the sound of rushing water could be heard.The black banks of the river receded slowly with the river.On deck, the passengers were snoring.A shadow moved towards us stealthily between the bench and the sleeping figure.It was a tall, thin woman, dressed in black, with gray hair without a hood—the stoker touched me with his shoulder and said in a low voice, "Look, this woman is lonely..." I felt that other people's sorrows , aroused his joy.

He talked a lot, and I listened attentively.I remember all the things he said very well, but I can't think of him saying a happy thing.He was quieter than the book said.In books, you can often feel the author's feelings, anger, joy, and his sorrow and ridicule, but the fireman neither laughs nor blames others, and nothing obviously makes him angry or happy.He spoke as if he were a calm witness in court, having nothing to do with the plaintiff, the defendant, the judge... This indifference annoyed me more and more and made me feel an indignant dislike for Yakov.

Life burned before him like a fire under a boiler.He stood at the door of the boiler, holding a wooden hammer in his big bear-like hands, tapping lightly on the piston of the steam cabinet, adding and subtracting firewood.

"Is everyone bullying you?"

"Who bullied me? I have plenty of strength, so I'll give him a shot."

"I'm not talking about fighting, I'm asking if your soul has been bullied?"

"The soul will not be insulted, the soul will not be insulted..." he said, "no matter what you use...you can't touch the soul..." Guests on deck, sailors, everyone, talk about land, work , Bread, like women, often speak of the soul.The word "soul" comes out of the conversation of ordinary people as often as five kopecks.I don't like people using this word casually in small talk.It pains me every time men say foul language, whether it be in malice or kindness, to the soul.

I remember well how carefully my grandmother spoke of the soul as the secret repository of love, of beauty, of joy.I used to believe that after a good man died, an angel in white would hold his soul to the good God of my grandmother in the blue sky.God welcomed it with caress: "How, my dear, how, my holy, have you toiled and suffered?"

So he will give the soul the wings of the seraph, six white wings.

Yakov Shumov was as cautious as his grandmother, and he seldom and unwillingly talked about the soul, and he never touched the soul when he cursed.When others talked about the soul, he drooped his red neck like a cow and was silent.What is the soul?
I asked him, and he replied:

"The soul is a spirit, the breath of God..."

I felt dissatisfied and asked him again, but the fireman hung his head and said: "Boy, even priests don't know much about the soul. It's a secret..." He made me think about him often, and always try to understand him. , but such efforts have yielded no good results.And he always uses his thick body to cover my eyes so that I can't see anything but him.

The wife in charge of the cafeteria was suspiciously kind to me.Every morning, I have to wait for her to wash. This was originally the job of the second-class hostess Lusha. She is a lively and clean little girl.In the small cabin, standing next to the canteen steward's wife who is naked to the waist, looking at her yellow flesh that is as loose as stretched noodles, makes me sick from the heart, and thinks of Queen Margot's smile. Hei has a tight body, but the wife in charge of the cafeteria sometimes weeps, and sometimes talks about something half angry and half mocking.

I didn't understand what she meant, but I vaguely felt that this was pitiful, contemptible and shameful.But I don't care about it, I live far away from my wife who is in charge of the mess, and everything that happens on board, I seem to be behind a huge moss-covered rock, which blocks me and makes me I can't see this vast world that is drifting day and night, and I don't know where it is going.

"We Gavrilovna are simply in love with you," I heard Lusha laughing as if in a dream. "Open your mouth and swallow your happiness..." She wasn't the only one who made fun of me. The waiters in the cafeteria knew the hostess' weaknesses.The chef wrinkled his face and said, "This woman has eaten everything, and she wants to eat cakes again! There really is such a guy, Peshkov, you have to be careful..." Yakov also looked at me seriously like an old man. Said: "Of course, if you were two years older, I'd tell you something else, but you're only that age now. Well, better not take the bait! Well, it's up to you . . . "Come on," I said. "This is a dirty thing..." "Of course..." But he immediately scratched the hair that was close to his head with his fingers, and said smooth words: "Well, I have to think about her, her life Lonely, deserted... Even dogs like to be touched by others, let alone people! Women live by tenderness, just like mushrooms like moisture. Of course I am shy, but what can I do? The body needs caressing, there is no other way of..." I stared at his unfathomable eyes and asked, "Do you pity her?"

"Me? Is she my mother? People don't even pity their mothers, and you...how strange!"

He made the sound of a broken tambourine and laughed lowly.

Sometimes I looked at him as if I had fallen into a soundless void, into a black abyss without bottom.

"Other people have wives, Yakov, why don't you marry?"

"Why do you get married? I don't get married, and I can get women from time to time. Thank God, it's easy...Only farmers who stay on one side can have wives. But my land is very barren and very little. Even this A little bit was also occupied by my uncle. My brother returned home after serving as a soldier, quarreled with his uncle, filed a lawsuit, and even broke his head with a stick, bleeding. So my brother squatted in the prison One and a half years. There is only one way out of the prison, which is to go to the prison. But my sister-in-law is a very interesting young woman... Uh, needless to say this! In short, after getting married, you must stay in your own You can be the master of a small nest. But a soldier cannot be his own master."

"Do you pray to God?"

"Strange! Of course I pray..."

"How to pray?"

"Variety."

"What prayer do you read?"

"I don't know what a prayer is. I, brother, just pray like this: Lord Jesus, forgive the sins of life, rest the souls of the dead, Lord, keep me from harming you... and say something else..." "What ?”

"Say what you think of! No matter what you say, he hears it!"

He treated me with kindness and curiosity, the way you would treat a non-dumb trick puppy.Sometimes when I sit with him at night, his body often smells of smoked oil, burnt gas and scallions.He loves to eat green onions, chewing raw onions like eating apples.Sitting together, sometimes he suddenly asked: "Hey, Alyosha, read a poem and listen to it!"

I memorized a lot of poems, and I had a thick book, and I copied down my favorite poems.When I read "Ruslan", he held his slightly hoarse breath and listened quietly like a deaf-mute.After that, he whispered: "Very interesting, very smooth story! Did you come up with it yourself? Is it Pushkin? Yes, there is a Mr. Musin-Pushkin, I have seen him..." "Not that, I said That Pushkin of mine was beaten to death a long time ago!"

"why?"

I told him briefly what I had heard from Queen Margot.After hearing this, Yakov said calmly: "Many people died because of women..." I often told him the stories I read in books.These stories got mixed together in my head and made a long, long story.So my stories are not only of turbulent and beautiful life, but of fiery passions, violent dramas of all kinds, rich aristocratic tastes, dreamlike luck, duels, death, noble words and base deeds.In my story, Rocambol replaced the image of knights such as La Mole and Anibal Coconas, and Louis XI became Grandet's father, Otretaev's second lieutenant of cavalry Got mixed up with Henry IV.This kind of story of changing characters and changing events with inspiration is another world of my own.In this world, like my grandfather's God, I am a completely free person, and I can play with everything as I want.But this book chaos did not prevent me from observing the truth of reality, nor did it weaken my pursuit of understanding living people. It surrounded me like a transparent and impenetrable cloud, and made me wonder about many easily contagious people. There is a defense against the filth and toxins of a loathsome life.

Books have made me less susceptible to various viruses.I know how people love each other, how they suffer, and you can't go to whorehouses.This cheap depravity can only arouse my loathing for it, and pity for those who do not tire of it.Rocamball taught me to be a strong person and not to be succumbed to the environment; Dumas's hero made me have a desire to dedicate myself to a great cause.My favorite hero is the happy emperor Henry IV. I think the following famous song by Berengeri is in praise of Henry IV: he gave many benefits to the people, and he himself loved to drink too much; yes, since The people are happy, why can't the emperor get drunk?
The novel describes Henry IV as a good emperor who is close to the people.His bright personality like the sun convinced me that France is the most beautiful country in the whole world, a country of knights, whether they wear royal robes or peasant clothes, they are all equally noble; A knight like d'Artagnan.

When Henry was killed, I wept bitterly and hated Lavalillac with gnashing of teeth.

When I tell stories with my colleagues, I almost always regard the emperor as an important protagonist.Yakov also seems to have fallen in love with France and "Emperor Henry".

"Emperor Henry is a good man, and it's good to hang out with such people, catch fish, or do anything," he said.

He never ecstatically listened to the story, nor did he ask various questions to interrupt my speech.He silently lowered his brow and listened expressionlessly, like a mossy rock.

But sometimes my voice stopped for some unknown reason, and he immediately asked, "Is it over?"

"not yet."

"Then don't stop!"

About the French, he gasped:

"It's been so cool..."

"What, cool down?"

"You see, we live and work in the heat, but they live a cool life. They don't work, they just eat and drink and hang out—a nice life!"

"They work too."

"I can't see it from the story you tell!" The fireman gave a fair judgment.Then I realized at once that in most of the books I had read there was almost no mention of how the noble protagonists worked and what labor they depended on for a living.

"Ah, lie down for a while," Yakov said, lying on his back where he was sitting, and after a minute, he started snoring evenly.

In autumn, when the banks of the Kama River turned red, the leaves turned golden yellow, and the rays of the setting sun gradually turned white, Yakov suddenly left the ship.He also said to me the night before: "The day after tomorrow we will arrive in Perm, we will go to the bathhouse to have a nice bath, and then we will go to the tavern with the band. It's very pleasant! I love to listen to the harpsichord." play."

But on Sarapur came a fat man with a woman's face, beardless and loose skin.He wore a thick long coat and a fox fur hat with long ears, which made him more like a woman.As soon as he got on board, he immediately occupied a small table near the galley, where it was warmer. He asked for a tea set, and without unbuttoning his coat or taking off his hat, he drank the yellow drink, dripping with sweat.

The dense clouds in the autumn sky were constantly sprinkling drizzle. When this man wiped his face with a checkered handkerchief, the rain seemed to subside, but when he sweated again, the rain seemed to intensify again.

In a moment Yakov appeared beside him.They looked at the map in the almanac.The guest traced the map with his finger, and the stoker said calmly: "What is this? It doesn't matter. I don't care about that..." "That's all right," the guest whispered, putting the almanac in the open leather pouch at his feet inside.They drank tea and talked softly.

Before Yakov went to work, I asked him who this was.He replied with a sneer: "Looks like a pigeon. Of course it's castration. It's from Siberia. It's so far! It's very interesting. Live according to the plan..." He left me, his black and hard hooves He walked on the deck with his heels, but stopped, scratched his waist, and said: "I have decided to go to work with him. I will disembark as soon as the ship reaches Perm, and I want to part with you! Go by train, and then by water; It will take about five weeks to go on horseback, and this man lives far away..." "Did you know him before?" I didn't expect him to suddenly make up his mind, and asked in surprise.

"Where do you know him? I've never seen him before. I've never been to his place..." The next morning, Yakov was wearing a greasy short overcoat, bare feet with broken shoes, and worn "Little Bear" sweatshirts. Straw hat with a brim, came over and stretched out his iron-like fingers to hold my hand tightly.

"Come with me, will you? Just a word, and the dove will take you; I'll tell him if you like. They cut off the useless things from you, and give you money; that's what they like best. , They crippled people, and they rewarded..." With a white bundle under his arm, the castrationist stood by the rail, staring at Yakov with lifeless eyes, his body was heavy and swollen like a floating corpse.I cursed him in a low voice, and the stoker squeezed my hand once more.

"Leave it alone, it's none of your business! Everyone worships their own gods, what does that have to do with us? Well, goodbye, I wish you happiness!"

Yakov Shumov walked away, swaying like a bear, leaving a painful and complicated feeling in my heart. ——I can't bear to be a fireman, and I hate it.

In retrospect, I was a little envious, but when I thought about why he had to go to an unknown place, I felt even more uneasy.

Who is Yakov Shumov?
(End of this chapter)