Shackles. S. Skitalec

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      – Perhaps, struck who?

      – No! – firmly, but Vukol said in low tones – hurt!

      – About a door! – someone prompted.

      – Yes, about a door! – the beginner confirmed.

      The teacher passed to department, developed the book and, having stroke-oared white the golden beard, told lingeringly and loudly:

      – On – ачнем – those!

      VII

      To Vukol’s brother Vovka there were only four years. On the middle of a forehead it from a scrofula still had scar with wrinkles extensively in the form of a radiant star. It was very beautiful – a star in a forehead – and Vovka was proud of it. In general after a disease during which it as to the patient in everything in a family was given preference, any privileges and advantages it became very ambitious, including itself (himself) the chosen nature.

      Thanks to sunny days of windy fall he also down the street ran without cap, in one shirt, barefoot, in the short panties which hardened on a lap and took a motionless and curved form. Such suit and whitish hair a cap did not distinguish it from the other rural children all day long spinning about church under construction at all. He saw many chips and the shavings dumped in one big heap there. Every evening mothers sent children behind church chips. Nobody forbade to make them it: the church was under construction on public country money. Elizar had many chips near the house, but Vovka in imitation companions gathered several chips in a shirt hem once and was only going to carry them mothers as suddenly behind the back of it the severe voice was distributed:

      – You what you do it?

      Vovka looked back. Behind there was a low priest with a long gray-haired beard, with a staff in a hand. Other children abandoned chips and ran up, having hardly caught sight of the priest, but Vovka was less, it is sillier and more self-confident: and did not come to its mind to run.

      – Throw chips! – imperatively the old man ordered.

      Vovka threw, having taken offense.

      – Where there lives your father?

      – And! – Vovka pointed to a fatherly log hut.

      – Well! Go!.

      The priest slightly knocked him the cane, turned away and went by church to the popovsky house, this time quickly walking small steps and swinging full sleeves of a cassock.

      Vovka skipping rushed home, sparkling barefoot heels, but told nothing the house about the meeting: all family sat at supper.

      In a few minutes the church watchman came, greeted, told: “bread yes salt”, sighed then and, having lowered a voice, added, addressing Elizar:

      – Tyatenka sent for you: ordered to come now!

      Elizar was surprised:

      – What for?

      – Do not know! Told only that it is rather, say without any delay!

      Elizar frowned. He did not love the archpriest: once the tyatenk was sent by a denunciation of it as to the harmful parishioner therefore the travel with a hand bell followed. It avoided a meeting with the archpriest, and went to church unless to easter matins, and became on a choir and tightened the chorister a pleasant, soft octave. The severe priest of words does not waste: means, something on construction business sponadobitsya.

      He took off an apron, washed up hands, brushed the curly head and the beard streaming curls, put on a jacket from “devil’s skin” and went, the benefit the house of the priest was near. Entered from a black porch, through kitchen, and told the cook:

      – Report on a tyatenka: Elizar supposedly came; it sent for me!

      The cook left kitchen and in a minute returned:

      – In a room calls!

      Elizar was surprised: seldom which of poor people allowed a tyatenk in a room, except dear and solid people.

      He entered a small, close hall and frostily grunted. In the doorway there was a stocky figure of a tyatenka in a lilac polukaftanye, prepoyasanny the wide belt embroidered multi-colored worsted sherstyam.

      The wrinkled face of a protopopitsa looked out of the side room and disappeared.

      – Elizar?

      – Yes sir, tyatenka.

      – Well, enter!

      Elizar approached under blessing and kissed a hairy hand of a tyatenka. Then became at doors.

      Tyatenka some time went on the room which is purely tidied up with upholstered ancient furniture, with carved legs and backs. The master determined by a skilled look its advantages: still serf masters work. Under a window in a cage the yellow canary hung. Smelled of a cypress. Tyatenka did not invite him to sit down.

      The archpriest stopped among the room, severely looked at the parishioner, having thrown hands for a back and tapping with heels.

      – Long ago it was turned back to the village?

      – Recently, tyatenka.

      – You work at construction?

      – Yes sir.

      – I know that you are Jack of all trades… I remember you… Yes, yes… well that! it was turned back – it is good! I ordered to give you work on an iconostasis… you have to appreciate it?

      – He is very grateful, a tyatenka, all of us here under your hand…

      – Here only in church seldom and before saw you and now I do not see… for it I will not praise… Orthodox Christian?

      – Not the conservative!. And to go to church not always there is time! Why sent?

      Tyatenka frowned. It did not like freely keeping parishioner.

      – Here that: badly you raise children, today I found your younger son behind stealing of church property. Stole a church tree and wanted to carry away home. Of course – the child, I do not blame him, but all answer falls on you: you sent the child to steal? and at whom? at church!

      Elizar shuddered and became straight.

      Tyatenka raised the voice, eyes sparkled from under the shifted gray-haired eyebrows…

      – What does it smell of? What it is necessary for theft of church property? Once I want – and tomorrow will be in prison again! You know – here the archpriest stuck himself with a finger into a breast – I am a chief here, nobody is more! That I will want – that and I will make over you!

      With each word of the archpriest Elizar turned pale more and more. At the words “I am a chief here” in his breast the old hostility flashed: too much he bore offenses from chiefs. Remembered СКАЧАТЬ