Chapter 3 The Story of the Quarrel Between Ivan Ivanovich and Ivan Nikiforovich - Chapter Two

From this chapter it is possible to know what Ivan Ivanovitch wanted, what the conversation between Ivan Ivanovitch and Ivan Nikiforovitch was about, and how it ended. One July morning, Ivan Ivanovitch was lying under the awning.It was hot, the air was dry, and it came in waves like waves.Ivan Ivanovitch had already gone out of town to see some lawnmowers and to the villages, had asked the peasants and peasant women whom he came across where they came from, where they were going, and what they were doing; He was tired from walking, so he came home to lie down and have a rest.As he lay, he looked long and long at the storeroom, at the yard, at the utility room, at the roosters running about in the yard, and thought to himself, "Lord, my God, what a rich master I am! What? I don't have anything? Poultry, house, barn, everything I like, distilled wine; there are pears and plums in the garden; poppies, cabbages, peas in the vegetable garden... What else do I lack? Wondering, what else do I lack?" Ivan Ivanovich, having asked himself such a meaningful question, fell into thought; Going to Ivan Nikiforovich's yard, he was involuntarily attracted by a strange sight.A thin woman took out moldy clothes that had been hidden for a long time, and dried them on a rope across the past.Presently an old uniform with frayed cuffs stretched out its sleeves in the air and embraced a brocade jacket, followed by a coat with heraldic buttons, A court coat with a moth-eaten collar, and a pair of speckled white woolen trousers, which once fitted Ivan Nikiforovich's leg, but now could not fit even one of his toes. .Immediately afterwards, some other things in the shape of the letter JI were hung out soon.

① means pants. Then there was the blue Cossack padded jacket that Ivan Nikiforovich had sewn for himself twenty years before, when he was preparing to join the police and wanted to grow a beard.They hung out one by one, and finally a sword appeared, like a steeple standing in the air.Then, the back skirt of a grass-green peasant coat with copper buttons the size of a five-copeck coin fluttered in the wind. Under the back skirt of that dress, a gold lace dress was exposed. , A vest with a large collar.The waistcoat was soon covered again by an old grandmother's skirt, which contained enough white bags to hold a watermelon.All this mixed together gave Ivan Ivanovich a very interesting spectacle, when the sun dappled the blue or green sleeves, the red turned-up sleeves, or the golden brocade. part of it, or shone on the edge of a steeple-shaped sword, making it appear unpredictable, like a puppet box carried by a tramp from village to village.It is especially reminiscent of the scene, when many people crowded tightly together to see King Herod wearing gold or Anton leading sheep, behind the puppet box, the violin hummed; a gypsy man played the drum instead , smacking his lips with both hands; the sun has set, and the brisk coldness of the southern night clings more forcefully to the bright shoulders and chests of the plump village women.The old woman soon came out of the storage locker, and wheezingly dragged out an old pair of saddles; together with the tattered stirrups, the frayed leather pistol holster, and the saddle mattress that was once red embroidered with gold and inlaid with copper. "Look at the stupid woman!" thought Ivan Ivanovich, "she's going to drag Ivan Nikiforovitch out to have fun too!" Wrong guess.Five minutes later, Ivan Nikiforovich's homegrown knickerbockers hung up and filled almost half the yard.After this she produced a hat and a rifle. "What's the matter?" thought Ivan Ivanovitch, "I never saw Ivan Nikiforovich own a rifle. What is he? He can't let go, the gun is hidden." He's got one! What's a gun to him? It's a nice fellow! I've longed to get myself one like that. I'd love to have that gun; I like to play with guns. Say, woman, woman! ' shouted Ivan Ivanovitch, waving his hands.

The old woman went up to the fence. "Grandma, what did you take?" "You see, a gun." "What kind of gun.?" "Who knows what! If it were my gun, I might know what it's made of. But it's master's." Ivan Ivanovitch stood up and began to look at the rifle from all sides, but forgot to reprimand the old woman for hanging it out with the sword in the air. "I think it must be iron," continued the old woman. "Hmph! Iron. Why is it made of iron?" said Ivan Ivanovitch to himself. "Has it been many days in the master's house?"

"I'm afraid it's been a long time." "It's a handsome fellow!" continued Ivan Ivanovitch. "I'm going to beg him to give it to me. What's the use of him keeping it! Or I'll trade him for something. What, Old lady, is master at home?" "at home." "What is he doing? Lying down?" "Lie down." "Very well then; I'll go and see him." Ivan Ivanovitch put on his clothes, took the sticky dog-beating stick in his hand, and went out, for on the streets of Mirgrad you can meet far more dogs than people.

Although Ivan Nikiforovitch's yard was next to Ivan Ivanovitch's, and he could have crossed the fence from one side to the other, Ivan Ivanovitch did not. Still walk from the street.From this street, one must turn into an alley. This alley is so narrow that if two one-horse carts meet here, they cannot cross each other. They must stay in that state until Hold the rear wheels and push them in opposite directions until you reach the street.Pedestrians have to walk aside, like flowers growing under the walls on both sides, like cows.Facing this alley were Ivan Ivanovitch's utility room on one side, and Ivan Nikiforovitch's barn, gate and dovecote on the other.Ivan Ivanovich went up to the gate and shook the latch: there was a great barking from within; but a pack of dogs of different colors saw that this was a regular visitor, and ran back wagging their tails.Ivan Ivanovich walked across the yard, where there was a colorful display: Indian pigeons fed by Ivan Nikiforovich himself, watermelon and melon rinds, vegetables, broken wheels, barrel hoops, An urchin rolling on the floor in a dirty shirt—a picture the painter loves!The shadow of the hanging clothes, covering almost the entire courtyard, brought him a moment of shade.The woman came up to greet him, saluted him, yawned, and then stood still in one place.Small steps protruded from the front of the house, with a canopy supported by two oak posts, a reliable defense against the sun, the Little Russian sun is no joke at such times, it uses heat Khan washes passers-by from head to toe, as can be seen from this, Ivan.So strong was Ivanovitch's desire to acquire the necessary object, that he decided to go out at such an hour, and even changed his usual practice of going out for walks only at dusk.

The room into which Ivan Ivanovich had entered was quite dark, for the shutters were closed, and the sunlight passing through the holes cut in the shutters cast iridescent colors) on the opposite wall, painting a A mottled landscape of thatched roofs, trees and clothes hanging in the yard, but everything is upside down.Thus, a wonderful gleam hung over the whole room. "God bless you!" said Ivan Ivanovitch. "Ah! Hello, Ivan Ivanovich!" answered a voice from the corner of the room.Only then did Ivan Ivanovitch see Ivan Nikiforovitch lying on a rug which had been spread on the floor. "Excuse me, I am naked in front of you." Ivan Nikiforovich lay naked, not even a shirt.

"Never mind, did you take a nap today, Ivan Nikiforovitch?" "Sleep. Have you slept too, Ivan Ivanovitch?" "Sleep." "So, you just got up now?" "I just woke up? Christ bless you, Ijan Nikiforovich! How can I sleep so late? I just came back from the village by car. The wheat grows beautifully along the way! It's full! The hay grows tall and soft and lush!" "Gorpina!" cried Ivan Nikiforovitch, "bring Ivan Ivanovitch vodka and pies with sour cream." "It's a fine day." "Stop praising it, Ivan Ivanovitch. Damn it! It's so hot there's nowhere to hide." "See how you like talking about ghosts. Hey, Ivan Nikiforovitch! Wait till It will be too late when you remember my advice: You will be punished in hell for all these ungodly words."

"How have I offended you, Ivan Ivanovitch? I have offended neither your father nor your mother. I don't know how I have offended you." "Enough, enough, Ivan Nikiforovitch!" "Really, I didn't offend you, Ivan Ivanovich!" "It's strange, why the quails don't come when the reed flute blows for a while?" "You can do whatever you want, anyway, I didn't offend you." "I don't know why the quail haven't come yet," said Ivan Ivanovitch, as if he hadn't heard Ivan Nikiforovitch. "I'm afraid the season is still here? But, it seems that the season is here."

"You say the wheat is growing well." "The wheat is so full, so full!" Then there was silence. "Ivan Nikiforovitch, why did you hang up your clothes?" said Ivan Ivanovitch at last. "Damn mother-in-law made the beautiful, almost brand-new clothes moldy. Now hang them out to dry, and the cloth is fine and beautiful. Just turn it over and you can wear it again." "I saw something there, Ivan Nikiforovich." "what?" "Tell me, what do you want with that rifle that you took out with your clothes to dry?" said Ivan Ivanovitch, offering snuff. "May I have a favor, please?"

"You're welcome, please! I'll smell mine!" said Ivan Nikiforovitch, groping around him, and brought out a horn-shaped snuffbox. "Stupid woman, she hangs out her rifle too! This fine snuff is made by the Jews of Solo Chingcha. I don't know what he puts in it. It smells good! It's like absinthe. Take it, Put a little bit in your mouth and chew it. Is it like wormwood? Take it, please use it!" "Tell me, Ivan Nikiforovitch, I'm still talking about the rifle. What do you want it for? It's useless to you." "Why no use? I happen to be out hunting."

"Come on, Ivan Nikiforovitch, why don't you go hunting? Unless you have to wait for the next life. As far as I know, and everyone else remembers, you haven't killed a duck yet, old man. God has not made you a hunter. You have a dignified posture and figure. How can you run about in the swamp? Now you have a heartache, get those clothes that are not good to say Come outside to hang out, when the time comes, will you still feel the pain? No, what you need is silence and rest. (As I said before, when someone needs to be enlightened, Ivan Ivanovich speaks It's very sweet. How eloquent he is! God, how eloquent he is!) Yes, you ought to be discreet. Listen, you give it to me." "How can this be done! It's a precious rifle. Where can you find such a fine rifle? I bought it from a Turk when I was preparing to become a militiaman. Now I want to give him away! How can it be done?" ? It's an essential thing." "Why is it necessary?" "What why? What if robbers break into the house...isn't it essential? Thank God! Now I'm at ease and I don't have to be afraid of anyone anymore. Why? Because it's my storeroom." There's a rifle inside." "It's a nice gun! But, Ivan Nikiforovitch, the bolt is out of order." "What's the point of a broken bolt? It can be repaired. Put some ramie oil on it to keep it from rusting." "From what you have said, Ivan Nikiforovitch, I do not at all see that you have any affection for me. You have no desire to show me friendship." "What do you say? Ivan Ivanovich, how can you say that I don't show you any friendship? You are not ashamed! Your cattle graze on my meadow, and I have never interfered." When you go to Poltava, you always ask to borrow my car, but what? Did I refuse? Your children climb over the fence, come to my yard, play with my dog, I Didn't say a word, let them play, as long as they don't touch things, let them play!" "Since you don't want to give it away, let's exchange it with something." "What would you give in exchange for it?" At this moment Ivan Nikiforovitch looked at Ivan Ivanovitch, resting his chin on his hand.I'll give you a brown pig for it, the one I raised in the pen.A fine pig!You see, it's no wonder it won't give you a litter of piglets next year. " "I don't know how you, Ivan Ivanovitch, can say that. What use is your pig to me? Unless it's for a ghost." "Again! You can't enjoy talking about ghosts! It's a crime, a crime, Ivan Nikiforovitch!" "Honestly, Ivan Ivanovitch, how can you trade the god knows what, pig, for a gun?" "Why the hell is it something, Ivan Nikiforovitch?" "What's so hard to understand? You see it clearly yourself. It's a pistol after all--a famous thing; but on your part, you exchanged it for the devil knows what: a pig, if talking Not you, I would take it as a great insult to me." "What do you think is wrong with pigs?" "Really, what do you take me for? Tell me to take a pig..." "Sit down, sit down! I won't... let you keep your gun, let it rot and rust in the corner of the storeroom—I won't mention it any more." Then there was silence. "I have heard it said," continued Ivan Ivanovitch, "that three kings have declared war on our tsar." "Yes, Peter Fyodorovitch told me; what kind of war is this? For what?" "I can't tell you exactly, Ivan Nikiforovitch, what kind of dispute this is. I suppose the kings want us all to accept the faith of Upper Turkey." "Those scoundrels, they have no good intentions!" said Ivan Nikiforovitch, raising his head a little. "So you see, our tsar declared war on them for that. He said, no, accept the faith of Christ yourselves!" "What? We can beat them, Ivan Ivanovich?" "Won the fight. Then, Ivan Nikiforovitch, you don't want to exchange that rifle?" "I am surprised, Ivan Ivanovitch, you seem to be a learned man, but when you talk Acts like a child. Takes me for a fool..." "Sit down, sit down. Let it go! Let it break; I'll never speak of it again!" At this time, the dessert was served. Ivan Ivanovitch drank a glass of wine and ate a pie with sour cream. "Listen, Ivan Nikiforovitch. Besides the pigs, I'll give you two sacks of oats. You don't grow oats. Anyway, you'll have to buy some oats this year." "Really, Ivan Ivanovich, I have to eat beans to be able to talk to you." (That's not enough, Ivan Nikiforovitch said more than that.) Where have you ever seen someone exchange a gun for two bags of oats?I'm afraid you have to add your fur coat. " "But you forgot, Ivan Nikiforovitch, that I gave you a pig as well?" "What! Two sacks of oats and a pig for a rifle?" "Why, don't you think it's too little?" "A different rifle?" "A different rifle, of course." "Two pockets for a gun?" "The sacks were not empty, but they contained oats; and, have you forgotten the pig?" "Kiss your pig, and if you don't want to, let the ghosts do!" "Oh! you're not easy to offend! Look at all this blasphemy, and when you die in the underworld, your tongue will be pricked with a red-hot needle. After talking with you, you must burn incense and bathe, To get rid of the stench." "I'm sorry, Ivan Ivanovitch; the rifle is a noble thing, a most amusing plaything, and a pleasing ornament to a room..." "You, Ivan Nikiforovitch, you look at your rifle like a fool guarding a brocade bag," said Ivan Ivanovitch angrily, for he could not help being angry . ①This is a common proverb, which means that a fool regards a brocade bag as a treasure, but the brocade bag is actually useless waste. "But you, Ivan Ivanovitch, are a real gander." If Ivan Nikiforovitch had not said this, they would have ended their quarrel as usual, and reconciled as before; but now the situation was quite different.Ivan Ivanovitch was simply annoyed. "What are you talking about, Ivan Nikiforovitch?" he asked, raising his voice. "I say you look like a gander, Ivan Ivanovitch!" "How do you, sir, forget politeness and respect for a man's title and family name, and dare to insult me ​​with such an indecent name?" "What's so obscene about it? Seriously, why are you waving your arms like that, Ivan Ivanovitch!" "I repeat, how dare you violate all the laws of propriety and call me a gander?" "I'm sneezing on your head, Ivan Ivanovich! Why are you yelling like that?" Ivan Ivanovitch could no longer control himself: his lips were trembling; his mouth had changed from the usual V to an O, and he kept rolling his eyes in such a way that horrible.Such cases were very rare among Ivan Ivanovitch.This will only happen if you make him anxious and angry. "Then to tell you the truth," said Ivan Ivanzhuvich, "I no longer consider you a friend." "What a misfortune! Really, I won't weep over it!" answered Ivan Nikiforovitch.Lie, lie, what a lie!In fact, it made him very upset. "I will never step through your door again." "Hey, hey!" said Ivan Nikisyrovitch, so angry that he didn't know what to do, and contrary to his usual habit, he stood up. "Hey, lady, boy!" Following the call, the thin woman and a short child wrapped in a wide and large gown appeared at the door. "Take Ivan Ivanovich's arms and throw him out!" "What! A nobleman?" cried Ivan Ivanovich with a feeling of majesty and anger. "If you dare: come! I will destroy you together with your foolish lords! Not even the crows will find a place to expose your corpse!" (Ivan Ivanovich speaks when his soul is shaken particularly menacing.) This group forms a striking picture: Ivan Nikiforovich stands unadorned in the middle of the room with his parents' bodies exposed!The mother-in-law opened her mouth, with a numb and fearful expression on her face.Ivan Ivanovitch raised his hand like a Roman tribune!This is a once-in-a-lifetime moment!A wonderful scene!And yet, there was only one audience: the kid in the oversized gown who stood quietly aside, picking his nose with his fingers. At last Ivan Ivanovich took up his hat. "How well you have treated me, Ivan Nikiforovitch! How well! One day I shall have my revenge on you." "Come on, Ivan Ivanovitch, let's go! Be careful out of my hands, I'm going to beat you, Ivan Ivanovitch, all over the face!" "Here you are, Ivan Nikiforovitch!" replied Ivan Ivanovitch, putting his thumb between his forefinger and middle finger, ①This is an insulting gesture. Raising his fist, he slammed the door shut, and then the door creaked and bounced open again.Ivan Nikiforovitch went to the door, looking for a supplement, but Ivan Ivanovitch ran out of the yard without looking back.