Chapter 6 Four

He walked in amidst my mellow and undulating laughter.I threw back my head and laughed, laughing at a blissful doubt that, in this drunken, made-for-love sleep, while I was still recovering, that is to say, in my I was beautiful and sincere in passing from one stupor to another, and this Antonczek, who turned out to be a rare stinking turd, turned to the door and said : Ah, hello! —I turned around, and I saw you, Leonardick! You don't come out of the cold, you don't come out of the dim hallway, loosening your thin leather driving gloves, because, despite your age, you're still a driving fanatic,—you're from the TV screen Come to me, walk in the blue of that shiny little box, walk in the cloud of calm words, you rose from the world of art, rose from the wreath of achievement and respect,— —It’s just that you are shorter than I expected, and you are also thinner than I imagined, but your face, with its full head of silver hair, slightly reddish forehead and fluffy perfect parted hair, is full of sparkle. But it was the unmistakable gleam of success in life, though in the depths of that face, as I later found out, there was already a certain bewilderment.

Alas, if I hadn't been in that fine school of manners in Cressusa, if I hadn't had Carlos and his Oxfordian elegance, if I hadn't been at the table in the "National" restaurant at the same time as Three ambassadors sitting together, not counting the charge d'affaires ad interim of Ethiopia, if I hadn't made friends with the big men, including Gavreyev, and the celebrities who are inferior to you, then , I will definitely be stunned when we meet each other!However, I am no longer a twenty-three-year-old silly girl who came to Moscow from the ancient city of my hometown. In my conscience, there is nothing good in my hometown city, neither has it in the past, nor will it ever have.

I didn't jump like a middle school girl.I didn't leave my chair, I was waiting for his gaze and a greeting which, I could swear, already contained interest rather than the abstract politeness and humanity of a particular person. — Let’s get to know each other! —Anton glowed, he saw it keenly, he was introduced to me, his name and paternal name were spoken, and his hand was extended. —And this one,—said Anton, and then they both admired my delicate neck, which emerged like a bird from the colorful, but mainly lavender dress, which The dress is a bit like a gypsy's dress, but it is perfect from the point of view of elegance. It was a gift from my traitor Keshousha, who threw me to Antoncik to perform this In the early scene, as a supplement to unseemly love, men need this supplement, not so much out of greed, as out of the body's subconscious need to recover from fatigue. —and this one,—they admired, V.Xie's stiff profile also softened, and that profile was like a badge stamped out during a victory celebration. Taking advantage of the heat, he was willing to give this badge to any fellow countryman, although, in his office His profile has been melted by the rising temperature in the inscribed photographs hung in the library, but in every one it is evident that he was a strong-willed, Shaggy-haired man: Look, here's Hemingway looking at Foo sharply.Thanks, hold F.Xie's hand, the background is a non-Russian southern city, and Vladimir.Xie was also looking at Hemingway keenly. ——And who is this old birthday star? ——This is Zhambul Zhambul (1846-1945), the legendary chanting poet at that time, a Kazakh folk chanting poet, who won the Stalin Prize for Literature in 1941...——I don’t know this person...the expression is polite and hands What about the one with a little box in it? —It was Kalinin Mikhail.Kalinin (1875-1946), Soviet state affairs and party activist, former chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the Soviet Union... That was the first medal I got.look.This is on the front lines.And Rokossovsky Rokossovsky (1896-1968), Marshal of the Soviet Union, served as Deputy Minister of Defense of the Soviet Union.together. ——What about this one? ——This one is boring, what kind of folk chorus...——Do you have a photo with Stalin? --Yes, I have. —He bent down and reached into the base cabinet of the table where he treasured the photograph. — look.It's in the Georgi Hall. --Where are you? —Look, in the left corner, Fadeyev and Cherkasov Cherkasov (1903-1966), Soviet actor, winner of the Lenin Prize.behind. —Oh, how short he is! —The great men were all no larger than middle height. —He was a little angry. ——So, you are also my great man! —He made a little joke: I think they'll write "outstanding" on my obituary. —he sees so well!On the obituary, they really wrote the adjective "outstanding". — This is me with Shostakovich. —He seemed ashamed? — must have made a mistake. ——he added, then looked at the photo and thought, and smiled silly, returning to the time of youth with disheveled hair, and at the same time, he was playing with an object in his hand, which he liked to turn back and forth A trifle: a locket, a candy wrapper, a fork, my brooch, or a lock of my hair,—it was not so hard to make a mistake then,—he added, thinking I was always his supplementary opinion Appropriate audience: I've made mistakes too... He meditates again, but not in pain, not in panic, not hopelessly, not irreversibly, not like all those little people who he calls rubbish, Chicken-heads, who spout random comments and judgments, say empty words, and make unforgivable generalizations, who don't use his medals to play that noisy game--children's play, for example. The kind of stick-throwing game of the . —But what did they figure out in this business? —He loves the word "business," and uses it when speaking of state affairs as well as of everyday life, and he even calls with affection "my business" some quite mundane things.I've always been a patriot at heart too, so I said: Just think, my girlfriend, the evasive Kreusha, writes me all those crazy letters from Fontainebleau! ——he listened to me very attentively, and twisted his earlobe with his hands, which was another habitual action of his. Generally speaking, his ears were beautiful and of noble blood, and his two The ears were neither protruding nor protruding, the lobes were not tucked in, nor too pointed,—his ears were curved, which fascinated me, suggesting they were musical.I quickly noticed the pair of ears, although in our place ears are just a superfluous object of conversation, there is nothing fashionable about ears, our people have not been spoiled, they only need breasts and thighs, there are many lovers of breasts , I can draw this judgment based on my own experience: big breasts can be interesting.I agree, it's never the last thing to consider, I've done the comparison myself, just take those photos, I subjectively think I'm still the winner, and those Ivanovichs will ask me: you What photos are you referring to? — as if he only resembled so many Hemingways!I found that their self-esteem was hurt. I said, don’t try to find it. You can’t find it even if you step through iron shoes. I’m not a fool, but the beauty of ears is still rarely paid attention to by people. : This is a unique organ.And it works.On the medallion, I might add, it is also visible.Clearer than eyes and eyebrows.That is, if it is profiled.Although, after the fashion of big breasts, I became so proud that I stopped wearing bras immediately, which caused Paulina to make a look of pain, and whether she was involved or not, she always made me unhappy, time and time again!As soon as she sees me, she gets angry. I complained to Kshyusha about it in Koktebel. Startled me, so as not to scratch me with impatient movements, she could see that I didn't understand anything, I was just a fool who came here to have fun, showed up on the beach in outrageous little swimsuits, and she felt for me Shy, my Keshousha, she thinks too highly of me!Paulina was hysterical, she didn't want to see anything, and once, she even grabbed a coat hanger and threw it at me, almost blinding me in one eye. It was useless, because my father is a one-eyed man!When things finally came to this point, she shouted in a shrill voice: You write a resignation report!However, the one who can always cure her is the Almighty Victor.The look on Harry Tonic's face, Victor.How did she behave when Harri Tonitch thought highly of me, and was my patron to a certain degree of adventure, when he allowed me to be late, or not to come to work at all, to live a life of considerable freedom? Cheers!How ruthless she is!However, when this degree of adventure was wiped out, her hatred scalded my feet like boiling water, but I still tried my best to hold on, as if even hatred can be used.But you never get used to it!But I never said a word before the incident mentioned above, that Haritonitch protected me, pampered me, etc., so that envy exists in the collective, and privilege Here comes, and what do you get?Of course, they will make all kinds of guesses, but we don't give them any excuses, and we can't make them public!Of course, there were oversights, but those were his oversights, not mine!Because he won't hold his own, he's going to risk it because of me, seduce me to the office like a soldier: Come, he said, let's talk.If I say no, he'll be pissed off and Paulina will yell, but in fact, he and I came up with a plan together - I'm supposed to go to the Grand Theater and dance there and play the Queen One Corner: It doesn’t have to be dancing, what matters here is manners and grace, it’s important to be good at bowing your head majestically, fanning yourself—all this has been genetically implanted to play it It's not too difficult, and besides, there is still a temptation: all those meritorious actors, even the people's actors, dance at your feet, so that the unsophisticated audience may be deceived by the sight from a distance, and take me for the lead dancer , then, why not follow their will?This issue has been partially agreed, at least some preliminary steps have been implemented, some people have been met, our network has begun to function, and I see a future in front of me: not only to fool those Provincial, and going on tour to scam foreigners, but at this juncture, Victor.Harry Tonic came to his senses and pulled the brakes. He thought that once I was out of his shelter, I would be unattainable, like the queen. Such a psychological barrier, he thought, was insurmountable: he Although he is stubborn, he does not like to hold grudges, and he is also getting old, and I did not bully him, even if I bullied him, it is not a disaster, he can bear it, and he will soon forget: his choice Big, everybody's gleefully waiting for the privilege, he'll be comforted, he'll be all right, but there's always something to be said, and I'm not suffering for nothing!When I was about to slowly break through this psychological barrier, because neither water nor anything could flow under a flat stone, and everything had to be done by myself, at this moment, I suddenly fell into my life. in that very different corner of absolute privacy, for it was here that my long patience came to an end and began with morning drunkenness, at the very moment when I was laughing at an accidental quip, and I turned Looking back, at this moment, he raised a question silently, he asked: Who is this? —This is,—Anton replied, hesitating, not knowing how to introduce him, and despite all the compliments he said, he couldn't remember my name, but I am very interested in the name. But I don't have any preconceived ideas. My principle is: as long as the person is good. — Ira, — I pronounced my name just in time and by accident, like picking a forget-me-not on the edge of a swamp. ——This is Ira! ——Anton echoed enthusiastically, but he may also recall this very common name. This name was given back to me by Kexiusha. From my point of view, it is not without hesitation, because, by Victor.Haritonitch made a start, and all, with a depressing vulgarity, called me "Irena," which even pleased me,—Irena! —But Kreusha looked terrified: that name is as bad as Crimplon! —I feel sad and dejected because, as a first-generation intellectual, years have passed before I have learned to distinguish real gems from fake ones.The rest sounded like carols.He said, calling me Ira means not calling me by any name, because I am a spirit of love, an insurmountable, divine, and fascinating genius! --Father! — cried Anton angrily, — don't believe her!It's just a show! ... He rolled his eyes and adjusted the long gown, which was opened by unnecessary movements. The gown seemed to have been bought in Paris. He went to Paris as often as I went to Tula, but I also went to Tula. Nothing to do.

Vladimir.Sergeyevich said nothing, went to the table, poured himself a glass of vodka, and drank it.In the kitchen, a maid in a white apron appeared at her post, and she suggested that the master should have something to eat.This suggestion was adopted by him, and he even had the eagerness of a hungry man. Although, as time went by, he later confessed with a smile that he had just returned from a visit and his stomach was very full, but I was not ready yet. Knowing that he was not hungry, I was surprised to see him sit down to the table, refusing all food except a small piece of salmon.I stared at him intently.He drank a second glass of wine, but did not clink our glasses, as the saying goes: pour yourself.

It's cold today,—he said. — Twenty degrees below zero. -It's cold. ——Anton frowned and drank a glass too. —I do like winter. ——I said, with a slightly provocative meaning, although I have never liked winter since I was born, and winter is what I dislike the most throughout the year.Vladimir.Sergeyevich glanced at me with a slow expression of approval: you like winter—he said with weight—that's very good.Every Russian should love winter. —Why should every Russian like winter? — asked Anton. ——Pushkin likes winter. — Vladimir.Sergeyevich explained. --so what? — said Anton. —What is Pushkin doing here?I don't like winter!I hate it. —Then you are not Russian. — Vladimir.Sergeyevich said. —Why am I not Russian? — Anton was surprised, — then who am I, am I a Jew? —Jews like winter too, —Vladimir.Sergeyevich said, - how can you not like such a beautiful scenery? — he said, glancing out of the window.

It was getting dark. I think Vladimir.Sergeyevich was a bit harsh, but I was happy to sit at the same table and talk with him. —Are you a Ukrainian? — he asked me with a touch of slyness. —I am a full-blooded Russian,—I answered, and then went on,—Happy winter.Ice skating is available in winter. ——Do you like skating? ——I like it very much! —I thought you were Ukrainian. — Vladimir.Sergeyevich said. —No, I am Russian. —I want him to be sure. —Has Yegor wiped the skates off? — he asked Anton. ——In winter, we water the tennis court into an ice rink. —he added to me: he thought then that I was the right audience for his addition! - Then who knows! — said Anton, — I don't skate anyway. —he got wiped out. —The maid interjected as she cleared away the dishes. —That's good,—Vladimir.Sergeyevich agreed,—then go skating after lunch! — Vladimir.Sergeyevich was almost giving me an order, and I returned him a grateful look that had only an indirect relationship to skating, and he smiled at me barely perceptibly, and I forced myself to do the same. Smiling perceptibly at him, he picked up his fork, tapped it on the table, lost himself in thought, then turned to Anton, and had a business-like conversation with Anton about the ringing of the phone. Talking, the phone has not rang, because Anton cut off the phone line yesterday.

I smoke, I hold the cigarette and keep it away from my body: I ​​want to make it clear that not only my posture is masterful, but my wrists are also incredibly slender.In the debate between nobility and standards, I still put nobility first in my mind, and my ankles are also very slender, but the men here are almost all peasants. In fact, breasts And thighs--that's all they had, though I never let hoodlums mess around, and was never left alone in their aggressive environment, on public transport, on suburban electric trains, at stadiums Here, from the creaking seats of the movie theater, I look wistfully at those mean faces: my ankles and wrists are to them a bathhouse for the dead!Distorted and overwhelmed by their cares, wave after wave of them, they slid by the tobacco and liquor store like gray ghosts, and no one could see the best in me, and I would sit on a Get a taxi and get away from these people, often spending the last ruble on it.My contempt for them was so great that I didn't even want to save them.Joan of Arc has been sleeping on me, and now she has finally woken up.I can't stand it anymore.

So what?Nothing good came out.But I have to point out that so far I'm still hot and alive, despite being pregnant, despite getting a fatal shot in my body that was worse than an atomic bomb.I live in hiding with Lidulla.The whole civilized world knows me.But what's the point?If the fear keeps creeping in, especially through the crack under the door, like a breeze, like the creaking of the floorboards, like the snoring of the refrigerator when it shudders and suddenly turns on the light in the dark.These beasts!brute!Look what they've got me into!Where would I be without Lidula, without her gentle, tender eyes, without her thoughtful touch, which for a moment dispelled my momentary shame and imposed fear?It would just be a tub full of blood with a dead body floating in it.But I pity Lidula and don't trust her completely.For Stanislav.Albertovich, I don't trust either, but since he wants to help, please!And you, Harritonitch, you are a shameless fellow, though you are accommodating to me, I am going to bed, until one o'clock, two o'clock, and then I lie in the dense In the foam, the masseur who asked for seven rubles would come over. His movements were very neat, although Lidula's massage skills were not inferior to his. Through the masseur's massage, I finally trembled.I never mentioned it to him, he did not show his face, he did not cross the threshold of general politeness, he always kept me updated on the actresses and dancers, and never once could he help me. Explain the cause of trembling.After all this, Harry Tonitch asked me to write a scathing reply to my patrons!No, dear, write it yourself.And then you beg me, and logically outraged that what was within your reach not so long ago is suddenly far away and does not belong to you!I'm laughing at you, beast!You are cramping!I am laughing!

Coffee was served.The conversation became empty and lively, but suddenly there was a heavy female footstep approaching the restaurant where we were, where the conversation was going on very casually, and in the middle of it, Vladimir.Sergeyevich looked at me now and then, though he had always been a very closed man, following the example of the classical age, unlike Antonček, whose mouth was full of spittle and stars, in order to get Deeply feeling that he also made too much noise while Vladimir.Sergeyevich, however, declined dessert and was enjoying a friendly conversation when the hostess entered the dining room.Full of pre-existing anger, but also full of perverse self-superiority, she glanced at the table and found me, she seemed disgusted, although I rose to meet her, as usual, with a respectful face. I saluted her, but she still looked at me like that, at most, as if she was looking at a bat! — Anton!Who is this? — she asked sharply. — This is Ira. ——Anton introduced coldly that he didn't find any doubts. —Would you like a cup of coffee? —Don't you know that coffee is bad for me? —everything is bad for her, this overfed turkey, this uneducated goose, in high society she pretends to be a cultured woman, a woman who is proficient in art, and at this moment, she puts I looked it up from head to toe, and it seemed that I was a thief who had stolen their family's silver with their coat of arms, but I had never seen the silver, and I was born without the slightest liking for material things, She got a disgusted impression about me and walked out.How could he live with her?He was a man of inner constitution who secretly yearned to get rid of his family, but what could he have in common with this pissed old woman?I admit that, judging from those few faded photos, although she was not beautiful or even outstanding when she was young, she was still attractive, for example, her knowledge, her dedication to her husband's ideals , are charming, Vladimir.Sergeyevich took the bait naively and carelessly, but the sweet life in which she was surviving ruined her completely.Not everyone is adapted to a life of idleness, though, on the other hand, in me and Vladimir.As Sergeyevich approached, I noticed that he was not an efficient lamp either, perhaps he was the one who broke his Zinaida's nerves by mocking her bright, fat face more than once. Fat little faces, though, life in their house with everything but reindeer seemed to a street spectator a joyous symphony in major key, if a musical term Because music was the only pleasure in my wandering life, but I never complained, never laid down my arms, and when I first came to Moscow, I was a poor painter Agafonov in the Boulevard. Model, he was illustrating a collection of folk fairy tales for children, and he wanted to use me as a model to draw fairies. I leaned out of someone's window and I saw: jingling trams, trees, roofs , and farther away is a pond, and another pond, from a height, people even look a little happy--nothing is needed, just to be able to sit like this all day, watching the sunset, wearing a white sheet.I expect widowhood and humiliation after this, though I'm not harmful.She accepted it all.At this moment, the coffee was gone, the brandy and the blood were mixed together, and the drunkenness seemed to be gone.I want to go skating! — Do you want to go? —I asked him directly.He declined, but he gave me a sly look.Antonczyk defended his own interests and invited me to go upstairs and sit on a leather chair for a while, but I knew the meaning of the invitation, and he said that he wanted to keep me, just in case my mother would misunderstand, she cared about the family very much Even though she has a bad relationship with her daughter-in-law, through this sentence, I know that Anton is a married man with another child! ——An irrelevant man, a passer-by, so I planned to go back to Moscow, reluctantly left my phone number, at this time, there was a coincidence: Vladimir.Sergeyevich is leaving too, and he intends to take me with him.A certain tacit understanding was detected, but I was not in a hurry to congratulate myself.Antonczek finally tricked me into going upstairs, where my clothes were scattered all over the place, and I gave in, why make him an enemy!However, what Antonczyk did was completely unworthy of being his dead father's son!Yes, yes, Antonczyk, I will write, I will not forgive.I feel very uncomfortable!Around nine o'clock in the evening, Vladimir and I.Sergeyevich left his hospitable home together.The gatekeeper Yegor made a gesture, as if he was just a gatekeeper. He looked at this heavenly life with wide eyes, waited on us humbly and courteously, just like in the old society, and blessed us all the way Ping An, then opened the door and stood there motionless with the beard pouted on her face, but, fortunately, Zinaida did not come out, claiming that she had a migraine and was lying on the Reading in bed—that's what Antonczek told me, and he kissed my hand in thanks.He looks so content, the bastard!