Chapter 6 Part 2 6-10

six It was a September evening, and I was walking around the town—they didn't dare to make me sit down to my lessons, as they did with Glebochka, and they didn't dare pull my ears.Glebochka was becoming more and more fierce, and therefore more lazy and obstinate.My heart has often grieved for the passing summer, as if it must be endless, as if it had promised a thousand wondrous plans to be realized.I am also distressed by the estrangement from the crowd, some of them wander the streets, some do business in the market, and some join the ranks near the small shops... Each has his own business, each has his own As far as the topic is concerned, everyone is living the life that adults are accustomed to——it is not at all like an inexperienced, lonely and sad middle school student.The city is about to be overwhelmed by its wealth and its sheer population.It is very rich and does business all year round with Moscow, Volga, Riga, Leville, etc.Richer now.The grain purchasing stations in the whole city are buying grain from morning to night, and all kinds of vegetables, melons and fruits are piled up in the market and square.You can often meet peasants hurrying through the streets, talking and laughing loudly, like contented people resting.They finally finished all their affairs in the city, drank two or three cups, and walked along the road to their carts, while nibbling on "pot helmets made of second-class gray flour".On the sidewalk, there are still some high-spirited people who talk to farmers all day long, trying to get a few good deals.These tanned, travel-stained, energetic second-class dealers went out of the city early in the morning to intercept the farmers, competed with each other, and then dragged a batch of grain back to the market and grain store.Now they are resting too, going to a restaurant for tea.And the long street, straight as an arrow, leading to the castles and monasteries outside the city, was being lost in the dust and the afterglow of the dazzling sunset facing the street.On this wide street, full of dust and golden lights, was full of people returning from the great horse race (for which the city is famous), - there were many dandies in it, clerks, clerks, stewards, clerks, There are many wives and ladies dressed like phoenix birds, and there are also many unusually exquisite two-wheeled carriages.There are some small bosses with big asses sitting in the carriage, accompanied by young wives, they rein in their fast horses and swagger through the market!And in the cathedral the bells of prayer are ringing all night, and those bearded, steady coachmen are pulling heavy, steady four-wheeled carriages with fat horses, and transporting old and elderly people holding candles. the proprietress.Some of their faces are swollen and full of jewels, which make you dumbfounded; some are pale and thin, which surprise you...

This is the "holiday", the day when Mass is solemnly celebrated in the cathedral.Our captain, before leading us off, checked every button of ours when assembled in the school yard.The teachers wore uniforms, medals and cocked hats.We walked down the street, glad that passers-by were coming to see us, as if some official, semi-military branch was going to celebrate a grand parade.Other "departments", also uniforms, medals, cocked hats, and greasy tasseled epaulets, also came from all directions to the cathedral door.The closer you are to the church, the louder, deeper, tighter, and more solemn the bell will sound.No sooner had we reached the steps of the church than there was a sound—"Hats off," and we broke up, and crowded each other, into the cool, stately, open door, while the great bell tolled more heavily. Booming overhead.Welcome you with the loudest voice and hug you.There are so many good men and women, from top to bottom the golden icon walls, the monks' golden cassocks, flaming candles, various ceremonies, and the high missionary platform covered with red cloth next to the steps, how grand and magnificent it all is grand!None of this is easy for a teenager at heart.Because of the long and solemn prayers, because of the recitation of scriptures, because of the burning of incense, because of the comings and goings, because of the high, sometimes soft, sonorous bass and mezzo-soprano of the well-dressed choir, because of the The hot and terrible body of a grown-up crowds you from all sides, clad in a short uniform and silver belt.The fat figure of the monstrous-looking chief of police towering over your head makes you dizzy...

In these days, every night, the city is brightly lit, filled with smoke, the lamps on the sidewalks emit a bad smell, and in the dark, the transparently lit letters and halos glow,-this is the most beautiful thing I have seen in the city. One of the unforgettable first impressions.At that time, there were often large-scale fairs in the city.One day Rostovtsev's son, who was also a middle school student, was in the sixth grade, took Glebochka and me to a city park to see such a fair.I was overwhelmed by the slow-moving, throbbing throng of people on a major boulevard, billowing with dust and smelling of cheap perfume.However, from the end of the boulevard.From the scalloped amphitheatre, blazed with colorful bowl lights, languid waltzes played.There was a marching band blaring and roaring with all the brass and timbre.Rostovtsev stopped suddenly on this avenue, and bumped into a pretty lady who was leading our girlfriend towards us.He blushed, and jokingly clicked the heels of his shoes to apologize to the lady, who smiled sweetly, her whole face shining brightly under the strange hat.In the square in front of the shell-shaped amphitheater, in the middle of a large flower bed, there is a fountain that sprays water, spraying cool, fireworks-like water. , Intoxicating fresh scent.I later learned that these flowers were only called "tobacco", and I was impressed because the smell was combined with a feeling of admiration that I felt at that time, the first time in my life.I was sweetly sick for several days afterwards because of this affection.Because of this lady in the county, I still can't be indifferent when I smell the smell of tobacco, but she will never understand me, I don't know that I have been thinking about her all my life, as long as I smell the smell of tobacco, I will always be there. Thinking of her, thinking of the cool air of the fountain, thinking of the singing of the military music...

seven It's the beginning of cold now, it's the desolate, dark, silent days of late autumn.Window frames were put up all over the city to keep out the cold, and people built stoves, warmed up in clothes, prepared everything they needed for winter, and prepared happily to feel the comfort of winter.This is an ancient way of life inherited from ancestors for centuries, and it is a custom of life-the regular repetition of the four seasons. "The geese are flying," said Rostovtsev cheerfully, as he entered the room, wearing a warm woolen coat and a warm cap, with the chill behind him. "I just saw a whole flock of geese flying... I bought two carts of cabbages from a peasant, Lyubov Andreyevna, go and pick them up, they'll be here soon. Very good cabbages, one is a..."

I feel happy for a while, and sad for a while.I put down the books of Wilde① and Scott② borrowed from the school library and began to meditate—I wanted to understand and express what was happening to me.I imagined and observed the city in my mind.On the other side into the city, there is an old men's monastery... Everyone says that in every monk's cell, there is vodka and sausage hidden behind the icon.Glebochka wondered very much whether the monks wore trousers under their robes.For my part, when I think of that monastery, I think of those moments of morbid excitement when I fasted and prayed and wanted to be a saint.Besides, I do not know why it troubles me to think of the city's past, how many times it has been besieged, captured, burned, and plundered by the Tartars.I feel something beautiful about this, and I really want to understand it and express it in poetry, in poetic ideas... Then, if you leave the monastery and go back into the city along that long street, there are some Poor and dirty lanes leading to ravines, to the foul-smelling tributaries of our great river.Men soak and corrode leather in this tributary.The bottom of the creek was filled with black silt.There are some brown and smelly things piled up on both sides of the river, and there are some black and sparse wooden racks along the river, where the leather is dried and processed.Here, a horrible mass of people - strong, extremely obscene and rough people, noisily working, smoking, talking dirty... The place is also very old, perhaps three or four hundred years old.I also want to say something about these obscene places, and I want to conceive something wonderful... Further on, on the other side of the tributary, is Chernaya-Sloboda.Algamatsa is on these steep overlapping cliffs, and below the cliffs, there is also a river that has flowed for thousands of years to the far south into the upper reaches of the Don.This river once drowned a young Duke of Tartar, about whom I would very much like to write a few verses.It is said that he was punished by a efficacious image of the Virgin, which is still preserved in one of our oldest churches, on the river, facing Algamatsa.In front of the statues of ancient gods, a few long-burning lamps were burning, and there was always a woman wearing a black shawl kneeling and praying. She pressed her three fingers tightly to her forehead, and stared sadly and persistently at the lights flashing under the warm light. In the clothing of the icon with dim golden light, one can see a right hand pressed on the chest in the hole of the clothing. On the hand is a small dark brown wooden board. At a slightly higher place, a small one A dull medieval icon, with a docile and mournful countenance slumped over his left shoulder, and a thorny wreath trimmed with silver lace, sparkling with diamonds, pearls, and rubies in many colors... On the other side of the river, behind the city, Zalechye occupies a large area of ​​low-lying land.This is a completely unique city, a kingdom of railroads.Here, the locomotives call to each other in the roaring bitter air, the call is at once commanding and appealing, both melancholic and presumptuous.The locomotive that is busy day and night pulls the train to the distant place, to the distant place where the geese and birds are flying in groups in the dark and cold sky.In this kingdom of railways, there is an equally busy railway station, which smells of fried buns, samovars, and coffee, mixed with the smell of soot from the locomotives.Locomotives pass through this station day and night, bound for all parts of Russia...

————— ①Oscar Wilde (1854-1900), British writer. ② Walter Scott (1771-1832), British writer. I remember many a day, dim and short, content with the comforts of home and brooding over the city's past and its free autumnal wilderness.In middle school where I was trying to learn.There was no end to such days in the boredom of the class, in the silence of the room of those two warm townspeople.In the room, Lyubov Andreyevna had an alarm clock on a display case covered with a knitted tablecloth, and Mania and Katsusha sat all day with small wooden reels weaving lace. The sound of the bell and the slight click of the small wooden shaft made it look extraordinarily quiet.Time passed slowly and uniformly like this, but one day such a day suddenly came to an end.On a particularly sad evening, the little outer fence door snapped unexpectedly, followed by the door of the passage house, the door of the front room--the father suddenly appeared in the doorway, wearing a hat with earflaps , with the raccoon fur coat open, I ran up to him with all my strength, put my arms around his neck, and kissed his lovely, warm lips passionately. And, God, he's not like anyone else in town, he's a complete, complete other than all the others!

Eight Our street ran through the city, but at our end it was deserted, save for a few brick houses of merchants who did not appear to be well-to-do.There is a market in the middle of the street, which is very lively: restaurants, shopping malls, the best shops, the best hotels, everything is really there.By the way, there is also a well-deserved "Noble Hotel" at the corner of the Long Street, where only some landowners rest.Passers-by can smell the fragrant kitchen fume from its windows exposed on the ground, and see a group of chefs wearing white pointed hats.Through the front glass door, a wide staircase with red carpet can be seen.

During my middle school years, my father was enjoying his last good days again.After he moved to Baturino, he sold Kamenka, put Baturino in order, and everything seemed to have a good economic plan.He felt himself a rich gentleman again.Therefore, once in the city, he only stayed in the "Noble Hotel", and always asked for the best room.You see, as soon as he came, I left the Rostovtsevs' house, and for a couple of days I fell into a completely different world, and for a while I was a young master again.Those "quick feet" standing by the gate, the doorman standing at the gate, and the hotel staff, the room cleaning lady, and even the shaven Mimi with swallowtail eyes and white tie. Heich himself bowed his hands and greeted me with a smile when he saw me.This Mikheich had been a serf from Seremidyevsky, a weather-beaten serf who had tasted life everywhere in his life.He had been to Paris, Rome, Petersburg, and Moscow, but now he just ended up in this remote city, working as a servant in the "noble hotel", and spent the rest of his life sadly.In this hotel, even the really good gentlemen can only put on a show, and the rest are, as Mikheich says, "county dandies." , behaved recklessly, and spoke not so much from the style of the gentleman, but from two glasses of vodka, and the tone was very obscene.

————— ① Sheretyevsky is a place near Moscow. "Hello, Aleksandr Sergeyitch," the "Fast Foot" next to the gate of the "Noble Hotel" scrambled to his father. "Please let me wait for you. You are going to the circus tonight?" Naturally, my father would not play the hypocritical role of himself as if he were a rich man, but such a plea satisfied him after all.So he ordered a carriage, although the coachman near the "Noble Hotel" was always on call, and he had as many as he wanted.so.There's absolutely no point in spending that extra waiting fee.

Inside the glass door at the main entrance is very warm and bright.The lights were blinding, illuminating all the best and most luxurious furnishings at once.The old hotels in various provinces are equipped with such decorations for the nobles and for the gatherings of the nobles.In the corridor leading to the first floor of the dining room, a loud voice and laughter could be heard, and someone shouted: "Mikheich, hell, tell the prince that we are waiting for him." On the stairs on the second floor, we met a burly man who looked like a farmer and a feudal lord, wearing a fur coat with fur inside and outside. A pair of cold, fierce eyes kissed my mother's hand with pretended hospitality.My father immediately took over his genteel accent, shook his hand and said:

"Duke, please come anytime! We are waiting for you!" A short-legged, fairly sturdy young man was walking quickly in the corridor. He was wearing a coat with pleats at the waist, a linen shirt with a slanted collar, his light white hair was combed smoothly, and a pair of bright light blue The yellow goldfish eyes are always drunk.He shouted hurriedly and hoarsely from afar, as if we were relatives, but there was no relationship between us. "Dear uncle, long time no see! I heard someone shout: 'Arsenyev, Arsenyev,' but I don't know if it is you..., hello, dear aunt," he eloquently said, Kissing my mother's hand like a relative, which made my mother have to kiss his temple. "Hi, Alexander," he said hastily, turning to me, often calling me by the wrong name. "You've grown into a full lad! Uncle, you know, I've been here five days, and I'm waiting for that damned Krichevsky - he promised to send a payment to the bank, and only Mo Erdahai knows... How about you, have you had lunch yet? Let's go downstairs, there's a big party there..." Father also kissed him willingly, and even himself suddenly invited him to lunch with us for no reason, dragged him into the room, and ordered Mikheich with great excitement a lot of cold dishes, stir-fries, vodka, wine... ...It's scary how much our false relative eats and drinks so much!He kept talking, shouting, laughing, and expressing surprise, and it was so noisy!I still hear his hoarse cry, his babbled, angry words: "But you, Uncle, do you really think I would do such a despicable thing?!" At night we sat in a big cold tent at the Trutz Brothers Circus, which gave off strong circus odors.comfortable.A few clowns with loose trousers, white faces, and yellow and red hair flew out of the stage under the laughter of the audience, suddenly screamed strangely like parrots, pretended to be clumsy, and made a plop with all their strength. Drop your belly onto the sand.Following them, an old white horse trotted out heavily, and on its wide concave beam stood a bright, short-legged woman wearing a pair of rose-colored tight trousers, dancing in a ballet dance. Under the skirt, a pair of rose-colored tight thighs were exposed.The band blared without hesitation: "Little willow, little green willow, my little green willow," and the handsome manager with the black beard, in tailcoat and cavalry boots, Wearing a top hat, standing in the middle of the stage, spinning, whipping evenly and miraculously with a long whip, the horse suddenly and stubbornly bent its neck, leaned its whole body, and galloped desperately around the round edge of the stage, standing on it The woman on her body is like a spring, rising and falling, waiting for the right time.Suddenly, with a short, coquettish cry, she jumped up and tore up the paper thrown in front of her by the horseman in his waistcoat.She tried her best to fly off the horse more lightly than a feather, and finally landed on the sandpit of the stage. Then she squatted in a very graceful posture, and made a few movements with her little hands, as if she wanted them The result of twisting is the same.Amidst the storm of applause, she ran backstage with uncharacteristic innocence, when the music stopped abruptly, (though the clowns were still staggering about the stage and looking like homeless fools. Littering Clearly shouting: "There is still half a Kamarin!").The whole circus fell silent, immersed in a kind of sweet terror.Several stewards were galloping across the stage with frightening quickness, dragging a large iron cage behind them, when suddenly there came from behind the curtain a great and strangely ferocious roar.It was as if someone was moaning and vomiting in pain, and then, a powerful exhalation shook the entire tent of the Trutz brothers... ten I remember so many gloomy and harsh winter days, so many dark and sordid days of thaw, when life in the Russian counties became so miserable, and everyone was sad and restless—how primitively the Russians were subject to the influences of nature. !Everything in the world, like life itself, afflicts man by becoming useless in itself... I remember, sometimes for weeks on end, black Asiatic blizzards blowing, when only a few of the city's clock towers could be seen looming.I remember the bitter cold around the Feast of the Baptism, which reminds one of the heartlands of ancient Rus, the cold that caused "a crack in the ground to burst a ten feet long."At that time the white city was completely covered in snowdrifts.At night, the white Sagittarius constellation shone majestically in the blue sky; In the air, the whole city slowly and timidly emits red smoke, and there are piercing creaking sounds due to the footsteps of pedestrians and the sliding logs of sledges... In such a severe winter, a man who has been running in the city for half a century Tonya, a beggar and fool, froze one day on the steps of the cathedral, and the city, which had always taunted her with the utmost cruelty, suddenly almost sent her west... Strange as it may be, I was immediately reminded of a dance at a girls' high school.It was the first dance I ever attended, and it was very cold that day.I was coming home from school with Glebochka, deliberately walking down the street from the girls' high school.In the courtyard of the secondary school, snow has been piled neatly on both sides of the corridor steps leading to the main entrance, and two rows of very dense and fresh fir trees have been inserted on the snow.The sun had gone down, and everything was clean and young, and everything was reddish - the snow-covered streets and thick roofs, the walls of the houses, the glass windows shining with golden mica, even the air itself was young and strong Yes, refreshing.A group of female students from this middle school walked towards them. They were wearing leather jackets, high-waisted boots, and beautiful leather hats or hoods. Their long eyelashes were coated with a layer of silver frost, and their eyes were shining. "Welcome to the ball!" said the lady, heartily and courteously, as she walked. And in the hood, in those tender, excited faces, in those long frozen lashes and eager quick glances—a feeling that has come to dominate me ever since. . . After the ball, I dwelled long on the memory of it and myself.Recalling a handsome middle school student wearing a new blue uniform and a pair of white gloves. Among a large group of beautiful girls, he felt both the joy of youth and the indifference of youth. He walked in the corridor Walking up and down the stairs, often drinking some cold almond cheese in the commissary, on the parquet floor sprinkled with talcum powder, he moved among the dancing crowd, under the school-shaped lamp stand, the pearly white In the hall, amidst the solemn military music of the band, he breathed in puffs of fragrant heat that would entice any newcomer to a ball.A pair of lightweight loafers.Short white shawls, black ribbons tied around the neck, satin bows tied into the braids, girls who were dazed with joy after waltzing, and their upturned breasts, all in his eyes As far as I can go, my heart is moved...