The turner Grigory Petrov, a well-known craftsman and the most unpromising peasant in Galchin, was driving his sick wife to Zemstvo in a sleigh. Bureau hospital.The distance was thirty versts, and the roads were so bad that even the government postman was hard to deal with, and Grigory the turner was a big slob.There was a biting cold wind blowing head-on.In the sky, no matter where you look, there are dense layers of swirling snow everywhere.The snow was so heavy that you couldn't tell whether it fell from the sky or was blown from the ground.Except for the vast expanse of snow, there are no fields, telephone poles and woods to be seen.Whenever a strong cold wind hit, Grigory could not see the yoke in front of him.The thin old horse struggled to pull the sled step by step.All its energy was spent pulling its legs out of the deep snow and pulling its head.The spinner hurried on his way.He often jumped up from the driver's seat uneasily, and from time to time he whipped the horse's back.

"You, Matrona, don't cry..." he murmured softly, "be patient. God help us, we'll get to the hospital. And then, in just a second, that sickness of yours... Veril Ivanitch will give you a potion, or order you to be bled, or he will rub your body with alcohol, if he pleases, and your lumbago will be cured. Pavel Ivanitch will do his best. Yes... he'll yell and stomp his feet, but he'll do his best... What a good sir, and kind, God bless him... He'll be out of his consulting room as soon as we get there, Then it goes on and on: 'What's the matter?' he'll yell, 'Why are you here now? Why don't you come on time? Am I a dog and have to hang around you shit all day? Why don't I come in the morning? Come back! Come back tomorrow!' Then I'll beg him: 'Master Doctor! Pavel Ivanitch! Good Sir' Oh, you're walking, I'll make you stupefied, you devil! !"

The turner whipped his scrawny horse, and without looking at his wife, continued to murmur to himself in a low voice: "'My lord! I'm telling the truth, as in God's presence... I swear by the cross: God hasn't In the morning, we are on our way. But how can we arrive on time? Since God... the Holy Mother... is angry and sent such a blizzard. Your old man knows that even the best horses can't make it, let alone My old horse. Your old man saw it too: it's not a horse, it's a disgrace!" But Pavel Ivanitch would frown and shout: "I know you guys. You can always find a reason." Come on! Especially you, Grishka! I knew what you were! I'm afraid I've stopped in five or six taverns along the way!' I answered him like this: 'Am I a villain, or a heretic? The old woman I'm dying, I'm dying, and I don't have the heart to go to the taverns! Forgive me for what you say! To hell with those taverns!' And Pavel Ivanitch ordered you to be carried away. to the hospital. I knelt down for him... and said to him: 'Pavel Ivanitch! Sir! We owe you a thousand thanks! Forgive us fools, bastards, and don't give birth to us peasants! Fury! You ought to throw us out, but you are still worried about us, old man, and your feet are covered with snow!" Pavel Ivanitch would look at me, as if to hit me, and say: "Instead of plopping down on your knees, fool, you'd better drink a few glasses of white wine, poor poor old woman. You should be beaten!" "That's right, you should be beaten, Pavel Ivanitch , you beat me up! Since you are our benefactor, dear father, how can we not kneel? Sir, I am speaking the truth... as in God's presence... If I lie , you will break my eyes: as long as my Matrona, that is, this old woman, is cured and can manage the housework again, then whatever your old man asks me to do, I will do it for you! Xiao Yan Boxes, if you want, I can make them out of Karelian sticks... And rough balls, and skittles, I can spin them as well as foreign ones... I'll do it all for you Do it! You won’t be charged a penny! In Moscow, such a small cigarette pack would sell for four rubles, but I don’t want a penny from you.” The doctor would smile and say, “Okay, yes, yes… ...I love it! It's a pity you're a drunkard...'I, my wife, know how to deal with those gentlemen, there is no gentleman I can't talk to for a while, only God help me, don't get lost. Look at this blizzard ! Blinded my eyes."

The turner muttered endlessly like this.He babbled and babbled, just trying to lighten his heavy heart a little.There are many words on the tongue, but many more thoughts and questions in the mind.Sadness hit the spinner suddenly, completely out of his expectation, so that he couldn't wake up now, calm down, and think seriously.Until then he had lived a carefree life, like one in a drunken stupor, knowing neither sorrow nor joy, but now he felt suddenly heavy and miserable.The carefree slob and drunkard somehow became someone else, busy, preoccupied, in a hurry, even against a blizzard.

Turner remembered that the misfortune started yesterday evening.He came home last night, drunk as usual, as usual, swearing and throwing old punches again.The old woman glanced at her enemy, a look he had never seen before.Her old eyes, once full of pain and tenderness, like those of a beaten and underfed dog, were hard and hard now, like a saint on an icon or someone dying. .Sadness begins with those strange, ominous eyes.The frightened turner hurriedly borrowed an old horse from a neighbor, and immediately sent the old woman to the hospital, hoping that Pavel Ivanitch could use some powder or ointment to restore the old woman's eyes.

"You, Matrona, that..." he muttered again, "if Pavel Ivanitch asks me whether I beat you, say: 'Never!' I won't beat you anymore. I swear to God by the cross! Besides, did I beat you because of my vicious nature? I beat you casually. There is no reason. I feel sorry for you. If it were someone else, I wouldn't be so sad, but now I I am in a hurry to take you to the doctor... I tried my best. Look at the snowstorm, how big it is! God, be angry! Just please protect us from getting lost... What, back pain? Matrona, why are you so old? Promise? Let me ask you: Is your waist still hurting?"

He wondered that the snow on the old woman's face didn't melt with age.Strangely, that face somehow looked particularly thin, with sallowness in the gray, stern and rigid. "Oh, stupid woman!" muttered the turner, "I'm telling you in good conscience, God bears witness...but you, that...well, what a stupid woman! If you do that again, I'll never send you to the hospital!" The spinner put down the rein and hesitated.He didn't dare to look back at the old woman: he was afraid!If you ask her anything, she will not answer, which is also scary.Finally, in order to find out, he didn't look back, but just touched her hand.The hands are cold, and after pulling them up, they fall down like whips.

"So she's dead. Trouble!" Now the spinner was crying.He not only pitied the old woman, but also felt depressed.He thought: Things are changing so fast in this world!His grief had just begun, but why did it immediately end.He hasn't had time to live a good life with the old woman, express his affection to her, love her, why she is dead.He had lived with her for forty years, but those forty years passed like a fog.Drinking, fighting, being poor, not having a good day.Moreover, as if deliberately annoying him, just when he realized that he had to love the old woman, he couldn't live without her, and he was really sorry for her, but the old woman died.

"Yes, she often begs for food!" He recalled the past, "I sent her to beg for bread, trouble! She, stupid woman, just wish she lived another ten years, otherwise, I'm afraid she thought I It’s really that kind of person. Holy Mother, where the hell am I going? There’s no need to see a doctor now, it’s time to be buried now. Go back!” The turner turned his horse's head and whipped his horse hard.The road becomes more and more difficult to walk.Now, not even the yoke was visible.Sometimes the sled bumped into a small tree, and the black thing scratched his hand and flashed before his eyes.The field of vision became white again, and the wind and snow swirled.

"Just live it all over again..." thought the spinner. He recalled that forty years ago Matrona had been a young, pretty, happy girl from a well-to-do family.Parents marry their daughter to him, hoping that he will have good craftsmanship.He could have lived a good life, but unfortunately, after the wedding, he was so drunk that he fell headfirst on the heating kang, and has been in a daze ever since, as if he hadn't woken up until this moment.He does remember the wedding, but what happened after the wedding—even if you beat him to death, you can't remember anything except drinking, lying down, and beating his wife.Forty years passed in this way.

The dense snow gradually turned gray.Dusk has come. "Where am I going?" Turner suddenly woke up, "I should bury her, but I went to the hospital... I feel like I've become stupid!" The turner turned the sled again, and drew the horse again.The old horse gathered all his energy, sniffed his nose, and began to trot.The turner slapped it on the back one after another... There was a crashing sound behind him, and although he didn't look back, he knew it was the dead old woman's head hitting the sled.The sky is getting darker, the wind is getting colder and biting... "I'll do it all over again..." thought the turner, "I'm going to get a new set of tools and take the order... and give the old woman the money... yes!" Then he accidentally lost the reins.He searched and tried to pick up the rein, but he couldn't.His hands can't move... "Forget it..." he thought to himself, "Anyway, the horse knows the way, and it will be pulled home. I really want to sleep now... Before the burial, before the requiem, it is best to rest." Rotary closed his eyes and began to doze off.Presently he heard the horse freeze.He opened his eyes and saw that there was a pile of dark things in front of him, like a small wooden house, or a big haystack... He really wanted to get out of the sledge and find out what was the matter, but he was too lazy to freeze to death rather than move... and he fell asleep peacefully. When he woke up, he found that he was lying in a large room with painted walls.Bright sunlight poured in from the window.Turner saw many people in front of the bed, and the first thing he did was to show that he was a steady and sensible person. "Come to the old woman's requiem, folks!" he said, "and tell my master..." "Oh, forget it, forget it! You lie down!" Someone interrupted him. "My God, it's Pavel Ivanitch!" said the turner, surprised when he saw the doctor beside him. "My lord! My benefactor!" He wanted to jump out of bed and kneel down to the doctor with a plop, but he felt that his limbs did not obey him. "Sir! Where are my legs? Where are my arms?" "You say good-bye to your arms and legs . "I am sad, sir, I am sad! Please forgive me magnanimously! I wish I could live another five or six years..." "why?" "The horse was borrowed and had to be returned... to bury the old woman... How things are moving so fast in this world! My lord! Pavel Ivanitch! The Karelian cigarette case is not yet done." , the croquet hasn't been done yet..." The doctor waved his hand and walked out of the ward.The turner—it's over.

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