Chapter 5 three

I only drink champagne, and in general I drink very little, not to make it my daily necessity, to avoid the habit of common people, I do not drink often, very little, and only champagne , I drink nothing but diet champagne, and, before drinking, I put the thin wire that holds the cap in place in a goblet and shake it a few times.At this time, the goblet will be foamy and hissing, and the needle-shaped, hard-to-drink wine will rise into the air, but my favorite champagne is Brut Brut, From the French brut, which refers to a dry champagne that does not contain much sugar... Ah, brut!You are a beast, you are a rogue, you are a bird Brock!You are holy, Brutt...

When there was no champagne, I was persuaded to drink a little brandy, and I drank whatever was poured over me, even the Bulgarian slop, but that was not the problem: I wanted to be understood, but they were pouring me with evil intentions, and I Also pretended to be ignorant, began to act like a baby, and began to despise everything.I don't want to drink Martell!I don't want your Conversey! ...I love Cotrau!Martell, Courvoisier and Cointreau are all wine names. —I said with a triumphant smile, trying to annoy everyone, but they replied: But that's not brandy! —Why not brandy?Can't brandy be orange? — they all laughed.The experts were disgraced.Don't take me for a fool!Come on, Grisha, they said to him, stop teasing.Bring Kotra!But Grisha didn't have Ketrao here, and it turned out to be very embarrassing. —I was with a gang once, and in that gang, you see, there was a Baron, a real Baron, gray-haired, no, it was real, Keshousha, was it? — Keshousha looked at me tenderly, as at a naughty child. — is the owner of this bottle of brandy. —What does the baron drink? ——A lice-covered Lumumba University in Moscow, the full name is "Lumumba University of Friendship of Peoples of All Nationalities", established in 1960.asked the professor. —drinking his own brandy? --No. ——The master blinked his eyes and said to the professor, the master has been hurt by me, and he already hates me for the matter of Ketrau, the master—what's his name? — Grisha, it is he who I and Kreusha came to, and it can be said that he has taken a lot of trouble.No, said Grisha sarcastically, whether he drank his own wine or his own piss was not the same thing! —Hey, that's very witty,—I said coldly.Not funny at all. —And then I feel with horror that no one here understands me, that I am an outsider in this festival of life, that I must drink, drink as soon as possible, that I must learn a foreign language in order not to cry, because Baron I can't speak Russian, even if I only learn 20 words a day, but I'm too lazy, too lazy, my laziness can infect the whole island as big as Iceland, so Iceland will become a desert ...it's all over! !It's not my business?I glanced around to find Ksyusha, but instead of Ksyusha, her shoes were on the floor, because Ksyusha was dragged into the kitchen by them, fascinated by her magical appearance , she just came here in that pink car, and when she arrived, she said: I can't stay in Russia.And I can't live without Russia... What shall I do, my little sun?

She has always called me "Little Sun", and there is too much warmth in this word!She was pulled into the kitchen barefoot.I walked in after her, and I saw: she was surrounded by two young directors from Mosfilm, and she was sitting there, drinking instant coffee impassively.I said, Ksyusha, let's get out of here!Here, they don't understand us, they just want to get us drunk.Let's go, little sun, she said to me, help me stand up!The men in the suede jackets grabbed both of our hands and asked us to dance.But I said: What kind of dance?Dance with these old things?Hey, thanks, I said, it's no fun dancing with you guys!We struggled to break free, and Grisha swayed in the doorway, watching us sternly as we got into the elevator.Girls, maybe you'll change your mind?I have melons here.And Ksyusha said: Bring melons here.We'll ship it back to you tomorrow.Grisha's face turned black with anger, and we pressed a button and went downstairs. —They are not our people,—I said,—not our ways. — but she replied: How did we come here?

Sitting in that pink car, we both thought, what do we do next?Ksyusha proposed to go to Anton.Who is Anton?I said, we won't make a mistake again, right?I never got to know all of her friends, who hung around her like grapes.Hello, I asked, how are you doing in France?Not much, she replied.Keshousha, who is married to a dentist, said with a smile that her teeth would never hurt again.This Genet came to Moscow to attend an academic conference, and she carried a video camera to interview him on TV. He was good at crossing his little hands like a Madonna,—oh, little sun, she told me, a piece of paper on his shirt One button unbuttoned, I saw his belly button, furry around it... My fate was sealed.She thought that in France, she could also work in a TV station, because she was proficient in French and could play the piano since she was a child, just like in the last century. However, the French man refused to let her work and let her live in the suburbs of Paris. Lived at a little railway station called Fontainebleau, where Napoleon was buried, but that's not what I'm talking about: Cressia lived in an empty house with a large garden in which Overgrown with pear trees, Kreusha lived in that house and wrote me those crazy letters.My tender little sun, she wrote, found that my husband Renai was, on closer inspection, a complete idiot.He drills his teeth all day long, every second of his time is put to good use, and the money is pinned up.Every evening, with a dignified look, he reads Le Monde, a Parisian evening paper that was launched in December 1944. , Discussing the unique path of socialism with French characteristics in bed.His stroking and the smell of the antiseptic make me always think of that dental office, and although his one doesn't look like a dental cone, it always doesn't work.I was so stuffed with pears that I had constant diarrhea.All the Russians I know who live here have diarrhea.They are foolish and have been crying for their country.It's pointless to argue with them: they're suspicious and clumsy.You've read that Soxhlet refers to Solzhenitsyn.Harvard speech? —What a shame.I blushed for the Ryazan rapper, and with great joy I heard an old party cliché: For everything in the past—give thanks, for everything today—you are responsible!And they decided that I was red-faced.An Emma formed around me.The basic combination of Bovary, I found myself a young truck driver, but he was also a nasty guy... In another letter, she still admitted that France is a very beautiful country, and out of boredom, she started Travel, Normandy is so beautiful, but sadly, it's full of fences, private property and French people, a bunch of nasty people!What pains me the most is the pseudo-gentleness of Paris, she writes, all people don't speak straight, are good at pandering to other people's wishes, thinking and thinking have nothing to do with life, a series of sophistry, a series of naphthalene!My husband and I have been to the home of an academician.The academician handed over two fingers to Renai, guess what? — Even if it’s a handshake.Renai is not angry!He sat on the edge of the chair with his buttocks bowed, showing the sweetest smiling face... Where is this immoral West?I despise it so much, writes Keshuisha!They were all annoying positives, and when they did their bad things, they had that sense of proportion, that delicacy, like the little guy in the sausage shop slicing ham.Also, the way they drink baijiu is to sip small sips, no more than two small glasses, and then, when they realize that they have done something bad, they will act more positively than before... I don't believe Kxiusha What was said in the letter, I think she is acting. — My only pleasure is masturbation, she wrote.My thoughts are all on you, my little sun! . . . I decided that Kreusha had her purpose, that she needed to write like this, and that I continued to feel fond of Europe.Ah, for example, the gray-haired Baron I met in the "Universe" restaurant, how wonderful!But Grisha thought I was lying.I looked at Grisha with a look of contempt that no man who doesn't feel worthless can bear.Oh, you, Grisha!Where did he come out of, still holding his stupid melon?Ksyusha, I said, Hey, please, where are we going, Ksyusha, you're totally drunk! . . . Fuck it, said Cshuisha, after all, I'm a Frenchman.What can they do to me? ——She fiddled with the car key for a long time, but couldn't get it into the keyhole for a long time.The car roared like it was about to explode.There was a lot of snow and it was dark all around.Ksyusha, I say, let's go take a taxi! —You sit still and listen to the music, said Ksyusha, turning on the switch and playing the music.A Brazilian female singer, whose name I forget, sang loudly, but her voice was very warm, as if she sang it for me and Kexiusha.I recalled Carlos.We hugged and cuddled each other.She wore a stylish wolf fur coat, which showed that the doctor wasn't necessarily mean, and I didn't even know the doctor until they were married, because, despite our love, Kreusha was always single , not letting anyone go to her, I feel sad, so I try to be like her.What I was wearing was an old fiery red fox fur coat, which was given to me by Carlos. Carlos is the president's younger brother. The previous article said that Carlos was the president's nephew. , but he is no longer in Moscow, perhaps, no longer in the world, because the president has been overthrown and another group of desperadoes have taken power.They recalled Carlos from Moscow, and he disappeared without a trace, without writing me a single letter.

I don't know if Carlos is a good ambassador, but I do know that he is a good lover!He turned his embassy into the happiest place in Moscow.He is very progressive, he has to, and no one is going to stop him.He is so advanced that when he goes to the reception, he will drive a Zhiguli jeep with his pajama-like bunting, and he will not bring a driver, but I know that he has a shiny one in his garage. A black Mercedes, that's the one we drive around at night, when I want to go for a drive.He converted the basement into a dance hall.He bought countless food and drink, cigarettes and liquor from the foreign exchange shop on Georgia Avenue, and often held crazy banquets.Moscow intellectuals have been there.Bella.Ahmadulina Ahmadulina (1937— ), a Russian poetess.It was there that it was said to me, boy, you are beyond description.Carlos danced well, but I danced better, and he soon discovered this and made the right assessment.I remained with him while the last of the guests dispersed towards dawn, and the police saluted them one by one.I am the ambassador,— Carlos, holding a glass and a bottle of Moskva vodka, said to the policeman guarding the house—I will be angry if you don't drink this glass. ——The policeman was afraid of offending the ambassador of a friendly country, so he drank it without hesitation.I stayed with him. It turned out that he was better at making love than dancing.We made love to classical music, and that night his huge writing desk became our bed, with a small stack of books and papers in the far corner containing the fleeting secrets of the Banana Republic, but he Not a man with dark hair, nor the black mustache that would suggest rude enthusiasm and false oaths.His Southern looks had been softened and tamed by the elegance of Oxford, where he had studied and lived for many years.I didn't meet a smash hit upstart.He won me over with that aristocratic quietness, and I didn't believe what Keshousha said.

Kreusha came back a year later, pretending to be on a business trip to collect materials for an exhibition, dressed so casually and beyond reproach that she didn't even have to look at the pattern on her skirts, boots, sweater, and pajamas. It can be concluded that they belong to the most famous fashion, not to mention the pink car that everyone will come to look at, but have not had time to get out of that car and rush out after a long journey. After taking a bath and changing clothes, she began to scold her husband, and she also scolded the pear garden along with it.I could have understood her meaning long ago, just a few words, just a hint, not even a word needed, and now, just looking at her incomparable face, I knew I was cheated, but I didn't say.And after all the fuss, after all the presents she always gave me, we finally lay down and I asked her for an explanation.I thought, is Keshousha really reborn?No, I said to myself, even then, I will love her as always, in fact, I will forgive her everything, I will not fight with her, but you know, I want to do more than forgive, to You know, I compared her behavior to mine more than once, and she didn't reveal her behavior to me until the eve of the wedding, so I asked her for an explanation, and she, yawning, get used to the good stuff and It's not difficult, little sun, but you still have to get used to it. Good things are no longer good, and become nothing. Everything starts from scratch, and there will be losses. ——What is this, is it nostalgia? — I asked.She protested feebly. — But what else do you say: loss... — Well, she said, we'll talk about it tomorrow, and then she kissed my temples, but the next day she was already angry for another reason Yes: last night, the windshield wipers of her pink car were ripped off, and two big characters were written on the hood of the car: "Dick".She swears foul language, which I understand.In the store, people yelled around her.Standing beside her gave me great satisfaction.She was about to make a phone call to Fontainebleau, chatting for a long time with the dentist.Strange people, she said.Want to have children before you are married, just like in our Central Asia.decadent.Moreover, he is such a jealous guy! ...Wait a minute,—I said. --how! —Ksyusha said defiantly.I didn't say anything, and instead we had a good time, and this was the fourth night we had been here with Anton, and Ksyusha noticed that Anton was a lot like Alexei when he was young.Tolstoy.Is this okay, or what? ——I asked, to be honest, whether it is a young Tolstoy or an old Tolstoy, I don't know what it looks like, only know the special Tolstoy Street. --It depends on the mood,--said Keshuisha,--I made the acquaintance of him in Paris. —what is he doing there? — fuck me a lot. — We drove beyond the limits of Moscow. — Keshousha! —I get excited. —Where are we going! —It was dark all around, but the snow had stopped falling.

At the checkpoint out of town, traffic police stopped us. —Don't worry,— said Kreusha, pulling down her little black knit hat.Kexiusa rolled down the car window and chatted affectionately with the traffic policeman.She was on good terms with them and used to send them disposable lighters, key chains, ballpoint pens, cigarettes, Swedish condoms, tapes, chewing gum, and little calendars with nude women on them—calendars that made their heads spin , - she is very happy.The glove box in her car is full of this precious junk.The traffic policeman, whose face was frozen brown, saluted beautifully, told us to be careful on the road, and then kept staring at us.We drove on and soon entered the forest. — This is impossible in Europe! — said Keshousha cheerfully.Then, after a moment of silence, she added: Barbarians...

She was inconsistent, my Kreusha, both on this night and later.The further she went, the more inconsistent she became.The longer she lived there, the more inconsistent she became. In the small village of villas, there are sparse lights and sparse dog barking, but the roads are cleaned very cleanly.We drank a few more sips on the way, so we couldn't walk at all.Ksyusha smiled and hugged my knees.We feel hot.Ksyusha honked the horn so loudly that it seemed she owned the place.Many dogs in all directions suddenly screamed, but no one came to open the door for us.The watch on the car read three o'clock.I didn't say anything, but I took a sip of Martell to cheer myself up.Finally, the gate opened, and we saw a bearded face in the beam of light from the headlights of the car. The bearded man was wearing a black leather jacket. An undisguised suspicion.Later, this bull-eyed gatekeeper was destined to play a role in my life, though I didn't expect it at the time.I don't know if the gatekeeper knew Keshuisha, or he had respect for the car in his heart, anyway, he thought for a while, and then let us in, so we drove into a courtyard, which I think is like a courtyard. Big garden.Ksyusha let the car coast to the house, the entrance was brightly lit, and we got out of the car full of music.Kexiusa took a few steps, then fell powerlessly into the snow.I rushed over to help her.The two of us lay in the snow, looking at the pine trees whose tops were howling. ——It’s so cool! — said Ksyusha, laughing.I sympathized, but surprised by the size of the house around me, I asked a question—Where are we, Keshuisha? --in Russia! — answered Keshousha, firmly convinced of it.It felt good on the snow, so we both lifted our legs in thin stockings into the air and kicked around.A man in only one shirt came up to the doorstep, looked at us, and called out: Keshousha! ——Anton Cheek Anton's pet name. ! — Ksyusha also cried out. ——We are taking a snow bath!Come to us quickly! —You're going to catch a cold, silly girls! — Antonczyk laughed friendly and rushed to drag us out of the snowdrift. — Antonczyk! —said Ksyusha, resisting to get up. —Would you fuck us both? --Will do! —Antonczek replied excitedly. —Okay then, let's go! —said Keshousha, no longer resisting.Anton took both of our arms and dragged us towards the steps. —In general, the word “dry,” — Kreusa reasoned, drenched from the snow bath, but in the little black cap that buckled ominously over her eyes, she looked It's beautiful, - the word, - Kreusha points out, - lightens the heavy business of making love in Russia... I admit in my heart that she's right, but I don't speak, in front of a strange man I'm still a little embarrassed.

On the steps, Anton introduced himself to me, and we quickly declared ourselves, and then we all rushed into the warm house.Taking off our fur coats, we went into the dining-room, where all sorts of people were sitting around the table, eating the scraps of dinner, but maybe they weren't sitting there or eating the scraps—there was no one there, Because, because of the heat and the new impressions, my brain was short-circuited, just like Keshousha, she forgot everything, even how we got here, how she talked to the traffic police, all forgot. Two clean. When you are short-circuited, when you start living in another dimension, you have mortgaged all of yourself, and you are willing to be guaranteed by a kind protector, but you have never met this guarantor, at this time , how to express your feelings?Sometimes, you suddenly come up to the surface, stay in the water, and then sink down again, and then just—bye!

And so, that night, in short-circuited moments, I floated up, and I found myself lying on the bed with Ksyusha flailing, her contorted face stretched out towards me, it stretched out. It was a long, hard bite, and I shuddered, undecided whether to disapprove or approve of the attitude, but distracted by a more absolute sight, which pressed against my cheek, become piping hot.It seems that I came up because of the fact that the other one caught me from the opposite direction, while Keshousha, like the moon, rose from somewhere on the right. stand up.It seemed that I was surrounded, I was puzzled, I only met Anton on the steps, Kreusha finally fell down, but she did not crawl away from me, so we both Hugged and flew into the air.Full of excitement and enthusiasm, we both spread our limbs and rose to the sky - we are flying!In flight!Stretching our heads, chasing each other, laughing, screaming, - we're flying!In flight!Then, again, I was short-circuited, and the memory fell asleep,—and suddenly there was a pain, and I let out a cry!I took a step towards the goblet, stabbed myself, and fell at my feet.

Anton stood there in a long gown, fiddling with a cup in his hand.Hey, drink some! ——I used my elbows to prop up my body, but I collapsed again, without the strength to support it.Anton sat next to me.His chin was fat and small and ugly, and I didn't like it, so I turned around and faced the window.There are a few purple and white alpine orchids on the window sill, and looking out, it is winter. --transom!Open the transom! — I begged, and took a sip of my wine.This is champagne.I drank it in one bite.He poured some more.I took another gulp and lay back, looking at the ceiling. -- you are great. ——Anton smiled and said softly.Champagne did the trick: I came alive. --You're good too. ——I said in a weak voice, trying to remember the double, remembering my flight with Kexiusha. —Where did Ksyusha go? —I didn't see Kexiusha, and I became anxious. —She left for Moscow early in the morning.She has something to do. ——Anton explained that his words strengthened my admiration for Keshousha. With the help of willpower, she can always wake up quickly and step into the daytime life.Instead, she became more energetic and active after a night of sleepless nights, and only those puffy eyes would have a cunning association in a man who knows how to do it.She remains herself in both lives, never falls apart, she can combine skill and tenderness, lend the same passion to night and day, and find her charm in both night and day.But I recovered quite slowly, and completely collapsed the next day, especially in winter, when the sky starts to get dark from noon, and in that twilight, people just want to sit there in warm fleece, The most important thing is to look quietly at the fireplace, and there is such a fireplace in this magical villa, with paintings, birch furniture, bookcases, knick-knacks, and rugs that weigh heavily on the on the parquet floor. - you are great! — I said to Anton that I was grateful for the sip of champagne, and he leaned over and kissed me, and after a moment's hesitation I beckoned him to come to me, despite his fat chin, It's very small, and it doesn't look like it. I freshen up in the sky-blue bathroom with a portrait of a beautiful woman bathing in a basin painted on the entire tiled wall. On their second floor, there is also a real Finnish sauna. I carefully go down the stairs Go, feel a little dizzy, because of the dizziness, I feel that everything is blurred and ethereal, but it is also very refreshing.Anton invited me to sit at the table, and he moved the chair for me, showing a somewhat hollow smile.The spread of hors d'oeuvres doesn't really appeal to me, but their hospitable abundance does.The tall, thin maid, the gatekeeper's wife, looked lovely, but with protruding eyeballs and a mouth like a dick's ass.She didn't know the ridiculousness of her mouth, she still painted her lips bright red.The porter himself poked half his face out of the kitchen, interested in me so that he and his wife could comment on me afterwards. I glanced at him and frowned, but Anton To invite the gatekeeper over, Anton was in a good mood. A man who had proved his ability would inevitably have such a mood. He and the gatekeeper called him brother and brother, and invited the gatekeeper to come over for a drink.The offer gave the doorman a look of dramatic terror: he clapped his hands, rolled his eyes, and then declined, on the pretext that he was going to pick up the coal that had been scattered in the garage.Only a drinker would say no to vodka like that, and I couldn't help laughing.The gatekeeper's wife, who also appeared to be a good drinker, accepted the persuasion first.I squinted around while they tried to persuade each other to drink.This is not an ordinary house, and I regret not asking Ksyusha who the owner is, though, he did not wear a wedding ring, which gave me a lot of information, and what led me to more information, was It was the line of green minions headed by a standard-bearer over the fireplace.Hot soup was served.I am delighted by the oily, hot soup, steaming in the white saucepan, which has been forgotten and no longer used at mealtimes, as galoshes have been forgotten. forget.How wholesome this hot soup is!The blood rushed to my face!No, there are bright moments in life after all, and not just snow and twilight! But that's not all: in the midst of the morning's drunken inertia, I'm happily sipping hot soup, and Anton brings his sallow face up to me with a rubber-stamp advertising smile, Adding compliments to me, which speak not only of his gallantry but also of his upbringing, while I sipped the hot soup, Anton was saying that he had seen many beautiful women, but very few of them Some people are beautiful when they sleep, because when they sleep, the face of a beautiful woman is slack and ugly, and there will be indelible traces of vulgarity and original sin on the face, but what he sees on my sleeping face But only sincerity and beauty,—and at this moment, in the drunken inertia of the morning, a new door opened in my life, with the December cold, with the firm steps of a successful man and celebrity, Leonardic walked through the door!