Portartur. 1940. Boris Trofimov
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Название: Portartur. 1940
Автор: Boris Trofimov
Издательство: Издательские решения
Жанр: Мифы. Легенды. Эпос
isbn: 9785449682581
isbn:
Japanese crawling close to the feet of Tikhon. He turned away in disgust.
The owner, as if noticing anything, continued:
– My Sasha-san is a thrifty person… Honestly working, and saving thousands and a half yen – he will leave me, go home and become a prolific mother…
– You’re lying. I do not need your money. I will serve you and your wife all my life. You’re evil!..
Two large tears appeared from under Sasha-san’s eyelashes.
– What art! Playing out in love!..
– Tikhona-san! – exclaimed the Japanese. – I love him, but he does not believe. My heart hurts, it hurts… When they made a contract, I thought he was an old man. They made me… They force us to do many things… Without him, I will kill myself.
Sasha-san sobbed. The guest, having moved closer to her, embraced her. Podkovin silently examined Japanese women.
– How do you look at my home life? – Lykov asked inquisitively.
“Pampering,” Tikhon said through clenched teeth. – Sheer hangover from you. After all, you can marry a Russian girl…
– The point is said!.. – Lykov shook his head, – There are many brides in Russia. And in my eye they are. For example, Valya Inova.
Tikhon flinched, straightened his legs and pulled the pillow under his side.
– Beautiful man, a rare girl, beautiful.
“That would have been the matchmaker,” said Podkovin, almost with malice.
– Dowager! The father is the servant. How much with her? Some thousand, many – two.
Podkovin laughed.
– Did you forget about the man again? Yes, there is no price!..
The owner approached the guest to pour him liquor.
– Stay here. We heap with you business. And in the fall you get married… I have a bride. Millionaire’s daughter. Young, beautiful, interesting, educated. The same musician, as well as Valya. Looking for a husband of a young official, not a merchant’s son.
“In the fall I am called for a call,” Tikhon answered evasively.
“Ahhhh… sorry,” Lykov said. His gaze faded, his face showed fatigue.
During the entire conversation, the men Sasha-san vigilantly watched Lykov. Noticing a sharp change in his mood, she crouched down and asked quietly:
– you what? Do you have a bad deal? Failed deal?
– Yes, dear Sasha. Broke down. I found a man, so it seems that yours is not there, “Lykov said in a falling voice. – It’s a shame… Come on, honey, play, and Cherry-san will dance.
Tikhon looked puzzled at the Japanese and Lykov. Sasha-san prepared to rise, her cheeks were covered with a blush. Moist eyes looked softly, and a kind smile lay in the corners of his lips. Tikhon reached for Sasha-san, and she stood beside him full-length, adjusting her kimono.
“No, this is a rare beauty,” he thought, and when Sasha-san moved away from the table, he turned his head to Cherry.
“My God, how is it painted,” he whispered under his breath, and barely restrained himself from the squeamish grimace.
Sasha-san began to play the Japanese guitar. The rattling, dull sounds of some motive torn into small pieces struck Tikhon’s consciousness, but did not irritate him. He tried to catch the melody and could not.
“Like smoke is perceptible, but elusive,” he thought.
Lykov poured himself brandy. Tikhon drank liquor. Cherry – san danced, slowly waving her arms and shaking her body. In the faint lighting of paper lanterns, a Japanese woman, dressed in a long blue, with large white kimono flowers, seemed to be a casual, airy Tikhon. Dance and music weary him.
“The Japanese still have beauty: in music, in dances… But they are not in our character. When Russians are dancing, people walk like a walk… I would cook them here, “flashed in Tikhon’s head.
From liquor he felt suddenly sick. He jumped up and ran out into the corridor. When he appeared, three people departed from the hanger: a Chinese servant and two strangers. Booster Jacket with unfolded floors rocked.
– What the hell… How do they like brass buttons!
The servant picked up the shoe under the arm and led it out onto the porch. The cool wind fanned Tikhon’s face, and his head began to spin. Cherry-san ran up to him with a glass of seltzer water. At a sign from Lykov, she led Tikhon into the room prepared for him.
“We will sleep, my Russian hero,” she said.
At the door, Podkovin stopped and set Vishnyu-san against himself.
– I am very grateful to you, Cherry-san, for dancing and affection.
The Japanese clung to Tikhon’s chest and, gently pushing him into the room, whispered:
– I love you, my hero… You are very blue. I love blue, strong…
– Thank you, goodbye… Go home to sleep, go home.
The girl just now realized that the young man had removed her. Embarrassed, she lowered her head and, inhaling the air, muttered:
– Cy-o-nara, con-ban-va…
As soon as Lykov and Tikhon fell asleep, both women retired to the living room, taking with them the skit. Emptying their pockets, they began to look at the paper. Sasha-san, dipping the brush in the ink, wrote in beautiful hieroglyphs on thin paper:
“Passport of Tikhon Stepanovich Podkovin, a peasant from the Nizhny Novgorod province., Lukoyanovsky district, Mareseveka volost, the village of Malaya Polyana. Minister of Justice”.
Chapter two
one
In November 1903, the Podkovin had to draw lots for the fulfillment of military service. He was frontal. A brother who was fourteen years older than Tikhon received a privilege on marital status in his family. According to the law of that time, the eldest son remained in the assistance of parents to feed and raise young children. There were three of them in the Podkovins family: Tikhon, his younger brother and sister.
Very often, recruits for the latest draw numbers were not taken СКАЧАТЬ