Chapter 2 Part 1 6-10 (10 missing)

six Behind the house, under the barn wall, grew huge burdocks and tall nettles - "wild sesame" and stinging nettles, and some very gorgeous, crimson, stinging The corolla scallions, and some of the pale green species called rook alliums, all have their own particular appearance, color, and smell.We also finally found a shepherd boy, this shepherd boy is very interesting, his sackcloth shirt overlapped with the patch on the top of his shorts, his hands, feet and face were scorched and scorched by the sun, and his skin was molting everywhere.He often chewed sour rye bread, and ate burdock and jellyfish, and his lips were sore.But his sharp eyes were looking around in a sly way.He knows all the crimes of our friendship,--he has encouraged us to eat that damn thing, and yet how sweet is this sinful friendship!He looked back now and then, and told us stories in furtive, fitful fits, and it was all fascinating.In addition, he can whip, beat, throw, and play with a long whip very skillfully, which makes people dumbfounded.When we tried to do it too, the tip of the whip hit him in the ear, and the pain was unbearable. At this moment, he laughed wildly...

But of all the food that grows in the ground, it is the vegetable garden between the barn and the stable.You can follow the shepherd boy's example and collect some salty black bread crusts, try the green onion stalks with gray grainy stamens on the tips, try the red four-season radishes and white radishes, and eat the rough, knobby gherkins.The soft vegetable bed is covered with endless vines, looking for cucumbers in it, making rustling noises, how pleasant it is! ...why do we need all this, are we hungry?of course not.But the reason why we seek food is that even we are at a loss. We only know to accept the sacrament of the land itself, the sacrament of the flesh and matter that created the world.I remember one day the sun was scalding the grass and the laundry stones in the yard, the air was heavy, the sky was getting darker, the clouds were getting denser, slower and denser, and finally a sharp purple flash Arise, and the deepest heights begin to rumble.Then there was a dull rumble rolling in all directions, and then there was a thunderclap, lightning and thunder, and the sound became heavier, more majestic, and more magnificent... Oh, I have felt the wonderful beauty of this world, felt the dominion over this world The God of the world and the world he created with all his material power!Later, the sky was dark, lightning, strong winds, heavy rain, and crackling hailstones.Everything was churning and trembling, as if about to perish.Our family hastily closed the windows, drew the curtains, lit the "before Easter" candles, and then worshiped in front of the black statue of the god in the old silver cassock. O Lord of Armies!" When everything calmed down and quieted down, everyone felt relaxed and could breathe the fresh air of the moisture-rich fields completely freely.This humid air made people feel indescribably happy, so our windows and doors were opened wide again.Father sat by the study window, gazing at the dark clouds behind the vegetable garden, which still obscured the sun, rising like a black wall in the east.My father suddenly sent me to the vegetable garden to pull a bigger turnip for him!Rarely in my life has something as abrupt as this happened.At that time, I ran desperately along the watery grass, pulled up a radish, and greedily took a bite of the tail of the radish, with some blue sludge still sticking to it...

later.Gradually we grew bolder, got acquainted with the barn, the stables, the garage, the threshing floor, the Proval, the Vyserky, and the world grew larger and larger before us.But it is not people, not human life, but plant and animal life that increasingly attracts our attention, our favorite places are still those places that are not visited by people, and our favorite time is when people take their lunch breaks.The garden is pleasant and green, but we are all familiar with it.The garden, among other things, is interesting enough for its dense woods, bird's nests, and marlin bushes.In the soft and warm nest made of twigs, if there is something colorfully dressed and looking at something with bright black eyes, it will be even better.Marlings are incomparably more delicious than the milk and sugar stuff we eat after lunch!You see, this is the barn, the stable, the garage, the drying shed on the threshing floor, Proval...

seven Every place has beauty in every place! The barn was empty all day long.Whenever we pushed the door open a little with all our labor, it creaked with a lazy, obnoxious cry, and at the same time a strong, sour, but very disturbing The smell of dung and pigsty that people are fascinated by is coming. In the stables, the horses lived their own unique lives, where they stood chained and munched loudly on hay and oats.How and when do they sleep?They also sometimes lie down to sleep, said the coachman, but it is hard to imagine, and it is terribly frightening to think of, because it is so difficult and clumsy for a horse to lie down.The horses, it seemed, lay down to sleep only in the middle of the night, and usually stood in the stables all day, grinding oats into milk with their teeth, and pulling hay to their soft lips.Each one of them was handsome and strong, with a shiny buttock that was so satisfying to touch.Their stiff tails trailed to the ground, but their manes were very soft, and their large lavender eyes, which sometimes squinted majesticly and magically, reminded us of the dreadful tale told by the coachman: Every horse has its own year. Precious days, called Flores and Laforts days, the day when he willfully kills, and avenges himself for his hard labor, for the horse life he has led, for he is chained all day and is often waiting to be harnessed. Cars, to fulfill their mission of just carrying and running, such a mission is very rare and weird in the world... The stable smell is very strong, and it also smells like manure, but it is completely different from the barn.It was another kind of dung, and its smell was mingled with the smell of the horse itself, of the harness, of rotting straw, and other things that only horses have.

In the shed were some racing buggies, a four-wheeled carriage, and an old covered sled that my grandfather had used.It all adds up to all sorts of through-travel fantasies.At the rear of the wagon, there is a particularly interesting, concealed suitcase.The covered sleigh attracted our attention with its ancient, clumsy, and secret presence.It was something handed down from our grandfathers and bears no resemblance to what we have today.Some swallows flew back and forth like black arrows, sometimes from the shed to the vast sky, sometimes back to the gate of the shed, under the eaves of the shed, they built small nests containing lime, These sturdy, raised bird's nests are artistically beautiful and make people feel extra pleasant.Now I often think: "If you die, you will never see the sky again, the woods, the birds, and so many things that you have become so used to, so dear and attached to! "As for swallows, they are especially cherished.These "beauties" fly like lightning, and keep making happy feeding sounds. Their breasts are pink, their heads are dark blue, pointed and long, and their crossed wings are also dark blue. How beautiful they are what!It is elegant, lovely, gentle and pure.The door to the shed was always open—you could run in any time, and listen for hours to the feeding of swallows, and dream of catching one, sitting in a buggy, or climbing Get into a carriage or a covered sleigh, bump and bump to a distant, distant place... Why should a person yearn for things that are far away, vast, deep, high, strange and dangerous from childhood?Yearning for something that both lifts one's spirits and dedicates one's life to something or someone?Is the "God-given thing" just land and life, is this the only possible destiny of ours?Obviously, God has much more for us.When I think of the stories I read and heard in my childhood, I still feel that the strange and strange things in them are the most frightening. "In a kingdom, in a country unknown to man, in a very faraway place...in the deserted land, beyond the blue sea... there lived a beautiful queen, Vasilisa the most intelligent... ..."

The drying shed was charming and terrifying, a gray straw-roofed colossus so ominously empty.It was very dark inside, and if one crawled inside and hid under the gate, one could hear the wind going back and forth around it, searching and rustling in it.In one corner hung a dusty shrine, but it was said that ghosts still visited there every night, and that this shrine, so menacing to ghosts, was associated with ghosts and was particularly frightening.Proval was farther away, behind the drying shed, the threshing floor, a ruined drying house, and the millet field.It is a small, but very deep valley, with steep cliffs, and a famous "pit" at the bottom, in which weeds are overgrown and the grass is extremely deep.To me, this is the wildest place in the world.And yet what a wild wilderness it was!It seems that if I can stay in this valley for the rest of my life and fall in love with or pity someone!On the steep slopes of the valley, amidst the dense tall grass, a small crimson flower with brown slimy stems called Our Lady bloomed.This little flower is extremely chic no matter its appearance or name!In the weeds, a sparrow crow sang a short ditty sadly; chirp———————————

① "Proval" means "pit" in Russian. Eight Later, my childhood life gradually became rich and colorful.I have been paying more and more attention to the life of the estate, I have been to the Vyscherki Church more and more often, I have been to Rozhdestevo, Novoselki, to my grandmother's house in Baturino... At the manor, my father woke up every time the garden birds first chirped as the sun rose.He was quite convinced that everyone must wake up at the same time, so he coughed loudly and called out: "Bring the samovar!" and we all woke up.The sun was shining brightly in the morning, and I was very happy.Again, I still don't want and can't pay attention to other people.I am impatient to run to the cherry orchard as soon as possible, wanting to pick those beloved cherries that have been pecked by birds and reddened by the sun.In the barn, the morning is a lively scene.Then the gates creaked and the people yelled and screamed and whipped the herds of cattle and pigs, and the gray, stout, restless sheep to their morning's fresh feed, and the horses. The group rushed to the pond in the field to drink water, and the horses stepped on the ground vigorously and neatly, making a thumping sound.At the same time, in the snow-white kitchen in the lower room, the stove was already lit with an orange-yellow fire, and the cook's work began.Some puppies climbed onto the window sill, and some ran to the door, looking eagerly at and surrounding the cook, and they often ran away with a scream... After morning tea, my father sometimes took me in a buggy to the fields. to go.Some peasants with their boots and hats off were plowing in the fields. They walked step by step, sometimes looking at them, sometimes stepping on the soft furrows, shaking from side to side, and trying their best to match their efforts. The horses kept their balance to the heavy babbling wooden plow, the gray clods continually crawling up the plow's stock.Countless girls plucked millet stalks for a while, and potatoes for a while. They were all dressed up and looked very happy. They were lively and lively, laughing and singing loudly.Some reapers were tanned, they were sweating, their collars were open, their heads were wrapped with leather belts, and their hands were waving scythes, rustling, mowing in the scorching heat.Soon they sat down and stretched their legs.Then the yellow rye, which was warmed in the sun, was stacked into a thick wall.The peasant women, with their skirts tucked in, followed the men, working with rakes.They stooped, turned sideways, and struggled with the piercing sheaves of many ears.The golden-yellow wheat sheaves warmed by the sun smell of straw.The peasant women pressed the wheat sheaves with their knees, and tied the wheat sheaves tightly... The rustling sound of the sharp scythes is really indescribably fascinating!The small shovel, roughened by the sand and soaked in the water, flickered flexibly here and there, following the gleaming blade of the scythe.There was always a reaper who told something exciting—nearly mowed down a whole quail nest, nearly caught a baby quail, cut a snake in half.I also learned something about the work of peasant women.If there is a moon at night, they sometimes bind wheat at night, because it is too dry during the day, and the ears and grains tend to fall off.I feel a kind of poetic beauty in this kind of night work...

Do I remember many days like this?No, very little, very little.The scenes of the morning which I now imagine are flashes of memory, at various times, and incoherently.The scene of noon in my memory is like this: the hot sun, the fragrant smell of the kitchen, and the vigorous spirit of the people who return from the field because of the food.Among them was the father, and the tanned head waiter, with a big curly red beard, came swaggeringly on a sweaty trotter.Mowers with scythes came into the yard in carts.The cart was full of grass, mixed with flowers cut from the ridge of the field, and there were gleaming sickles on the grass.There were also people who drove back the bathed horses from the pond. The horses were shining like mirrors, and the black tails and manes were still dripping with water... At such a noon, I once saw brother Ni Gula, who also came in a cart, sat on the grass with flowers, from the mouth of the field, and with him was a girl Sashka from Novoselki.I had heard a little rumor about them both among the servants, but those words were buried in my heart for some reason.At this time, when I saw them sitting in the same big car, I suddenly thought they were beautiful, young and happy, and I was secretly happy for them.She is tall, with a melon-shaped face, and looks like a little girl, holding a jug in her hand, sitting with her back to her brother, hanging her bare feet from the cart, with her eyelashes drooping.The older brother was wearing a white cap and a linen slanted collar shirt with the collar open. His skin was dark and he looked neat and young.The elder brother holds the rein in his hand, looks at her with shining eyes, talks to her, smiles joyously and affectionately...

Nine I remember going to Mass once in Razhjestvo. Everything on this day is filled with extraordinary festive atmosphere: the coachman wears a yellow silk shirt and a cotton wool vest, and sits in the upper right driver's seat, which is a four-wheeled horse drawn by three horses. carriage.His father was clean-shaven, dressed like a city man, and wore a nobleman's cap with a red ring. Under the hat, a lock of swarthy combed hair was exposed from the temples to the eyebrows, revealing a simple and simple style.My mother was wearing a bright dress, the lightness of which was heavily wrinkled.I put on a satin shirt, put sesame oil on my hair, and felt happy and nervous all over my body and mind...

The fields are stuffy and hot, and among the tall, motionless crops, the narrow roads are dusty, and the coachman drives proudly past groups of peasants and peasant women, who are also dressed up and go to the festival in their carts. festival.We rushed down from a very steep rocky mountain and drove into a village. I saw many novel things in the village, and I was so happy that my heart seemed to stop beating.I have a lot of impressions: In this village, every family has a large courtyard, there are old oak trees on the threshing floor, and there are bee farms. The owners are very hospitable, tall and rich, and they are all rich A small landlord with a single family and a single family, he never depends on others.At the foot of the hill a deep, dark stream snaked in the shadow of tall vines, teeming with twittering rooks, and breathed the cool scent of the vines, and the dampness of the hollows where they grew.When you climb to the top of the opposite mountain and drive across a stone bridge across Qingxi, you will come to the pasture in front of the church, where many people dressed up are gathered.There were girls and peasant women, and stooped, lifeless old men.These old men all wore clean robes and conical fedoras.The church was very crowded.From the crowd, from the blaze of candles, from the sun shining on the dome, the church was permeated with a sweet, warm atmosphere.I was filled with pride that we stood in front of everyone and prayed so clearly, skillfully, and solemnly.After the mass, the priest asked us to kiss the bronze-smelling cross, and bowed humbly to us... Old man Daniela is a gentle eccentric with light gray curly hair and a brown neck like a cracked cat Open cork.We rested in his yard after Mass, drinking tea, hot cakes, and honey in a big wooden bowl piled up like a hill.Once, the old man grabbed a piece of dripping, amber honey with his stiff black fingers and put it in my mouth... I feel wronged all my life when I think about it!

I already knew that we were poor, that my father "spent" a lot of money during the Crimean War, and that he lost a lot of money in gambling when Tombov lived, and that he had no scruples and often threatened himself needlessly, saying, The last of our items are almost up for "auction".I know that the estate on the left bank of the Don has been "auctioned" and we no longer have this estate.But those days always retained in me the impression of contentment and peace.I remember now those happy moments in our house at noon, the rich greasy and nutritious dishes, the many servants, the hounds who crept into the house, the open windows to the trees and the sun and the shade of the garden, At the open gate, there were many flies and beautiful butterflies... I remember, during the long lunch break, how sweetly the whole estate slept...I remember walking with my brothers in the evening, remembering the enthusiasm of their youth, speeches, when they had begun to take me with them... I still remember one magical moonlit night.Under the moonlight, the southern sky is indescribably beautiful, thin and bright.In the night sky where the mirror hangs high, the rare blue stars are twinkling. "Brothers said, this is the world we don't know, maybe, it is the happiest and most beautiful world, maybe, we will go to that world one day... On nights like this, father doesn't sleep at home, but Sleeping on a wagon in the yard under the window. The wagon was full of hay and beds were made on the hay. I thought he must have slept warmly because the moon was shining golden on him and on the glass windows. This kind of sleep is the greatest happiness. You can dream of the moonlight all night, the night scene of the world and the countryside, the beautiful suburban fields and the hometown manor... ————— ① 1853-56, the war between Russia and the Allied Forces of Turkey, Britain, France, and Sardinia. Only one event overshadowed this happy moment, and it was a terrible momentous event.One evening, some shepherd boys came back from the fields with their draft horses, and ran into the courtyard of the manor, shouting that Seneca, the horse and the people, had rolled into Proval while galloping, and rolled into the deep. at the bottom, and rolled into the terrible reeds, which are said to be like rotten mud ponds.The workers, the father and the two older brothers all ran to the rescue and tried to drag them out.The whole manor was immersed in terror, and everyone was sweating: Can they be rescued?The sun was setting, the sky was getting dark, and there was still no news from "where".When those who went came back, everyone became more silent, because everyone lost... I remember a terrible sentence. "Report to the Chief of Police immediately, and send someone to guard the 'body'..." Why are these completely foreign words to me so terrifying?Could it be that I already knew what these words meant? ... ten (missing)