Sorochinskaya fair contents. The Red Scroll is a story from the story by N.V. Gogol "Sorochinskaya Fair" (1831)

Solopy Cherevik and his daughter Paraskaya are going to Sorochintsy for the fair. One of the guys he meets admires the beauty of the girl and mocks her stepmother Khivrey, who is sitting next to her on a cart. The angry woman showers the joker with abuse, and he throws a lump of dirt at Khivryu.

II

The family stops with godfather Tsybuli. The next day, Solopy and his daughter go to the fair. The father asks the price, Paraska follows him. Suddenly yesterday’s scoffer grabs her by the sleeve. The girl is ashamed of talking to him, but her heart skips a beat.

III

Solopiy listens carefully to the conversation of the traders, who are concerned that an “unclean place” has been chosen for the fair. Allegedly, the night before, the volost clerk saw a muzzle with a pig's snout look out of the window of a destroyed barn. If a “scroll of reds” appears, there will definitely be trouble.

Then Solopy notices that his daughter is hugging an unfamiliar boy. It turns out that this guy is the son of his friend Gritsko. Parubok immediately asks for Parasky’s hand in marriage, and Solopy happily agrees. They go to the tavern to celebrate the conspiracy.

IV

The wife greets the tipsy Solopy unkindly. Cherevik makes excuses; he had a reason. He found a groom for his daughter. Khivrya mocks his choice, suggesting that the groom is a drunkard and a hungry man. When it turns out that this is the same mocker who threw mud at her, she attacks her husband with her fists.

V

Under pressure from his wife, Solopiy is forced to take back his promise. The guy is sad. The gypsy Vlas approaches him and persuades the boy to sell the oxen, but he does not agree. Having learned about the reason for Gritsko’s bad mood, Vlas offers him a deal. He will help the guy marry Parask, and he will give him the oxen. Gypsy and Gritsko shake hands.

VI

While her husband is looking for buyers, Khivrya hosts Popovich. She treats “dearest Afanasy Ivanovich” to dumplings and donuts, pretending to be embarrassed by his advances. Suddenly there is a knock at the gate. Khivrya tells the frightened gentleman: a lot of people have come, so it’s better to hide. Popovich climbs onto boards laid out like shelves under the ceiling.

VII

By evening, a rumor spreads around the fair that the devil, in the form of a pig, was looking for something on the carts. Several acquaintances ask to stay with Tsybula for the night. They drink for courage. At Cherevik’s request, the godfather tells about the “scroll of hearts.” One day the devil sat down in a tavern and drank everything there was. Then he gave his scroll to the innkeeper, but promised to return for it in a year. The innkeeper did not wait and sold beautiful thing panu.

A year later the devil came, but the gypsy had already stolen the scroll from the master and sold it to a “reseller” at the fair. That one's trade immediately stopped. Realizing what was going on, the merchant slipped the damn clothes onto the man’s cart. They also stopped buying from the poor guy, so he chopped up the scroll with an ax and scattered it around. Every year the devil walks around the fair looking for pieces of his scroll.

Tsybuli’s story is interrupted by the sound of glass breaking and a pig’s muzzle sticking into the broken window.

VIII

A terrible scream rises in the room. Out of fright, one of the guests jumps up and hits his head on the boards on which Popovich is lying. He falls down, adding to the general commotion. Another guest climbs into the stove, the godfather climbs under his wife’s hem, and Cherevik pulls a pot down instead of a hat and runs until he falls exhausted. Someone falls on top of Solopy, and the light fades for him.

IX

The gypsies sleeping on the carts are awakened by a scream. They decide to see what's going on. Vlas and his partner go in the direction where the noise came from. Cherevik lies on the ground with a broken pot on his head, and on him is his portly wife. The gypsies laugh at the unlucky couple for a long time, and they come to their senses and stare at them in bewilderment.

X

In the morning, Khivrya forces Solopy to go sell the old mare. She hands her husband a towel to wipe his face, and suddenly finds a piece of red scroll in his hands. In horror, Khivrya throws away the flap.

Cherevik, trembling with fear, leads his horse on the reins. A gypsy approaches him and asks what he is selling. Solopy wants to pull the mare's bridle, but discovers that the horse has disappeared, and instead of it, a red flap is tied to the bridle. Throwing away the bridle, the frightened Cherevik runs away.

XI

In a narrow alley, Solopiy is grabbed by hefty guys. He is accused of stealing a mare. The poor guy is trying to prove that the mare was stolen from him. Cherevik is not believed, and the story about a piece of the “scroll of reds” only makes matters worse. Now he is also accused of spreading harmful rumors. The same strong guys are dragging their bound godfather towards him. He put his hand in his pocket to light a cigarette, but instead of a tobacco pouch he found a piece of a “scroll of reds”, and then started running screaming. Tsybulya is also accused of spreading panic.

XII

Cherevik and Tsybulya lie tied up. They complain to each other about the injustice of the accusations. Gritsko comes up and promises to free both of them if his wedding with Paraska takes place today. Solopy happily agrees. Parubok unties them and sends Cherevik home. Buyers are waiting for him there. Gritska stops the gypsies and asks if the guy is happy with the way they arranged everything. Parubok confirms: the matter was successful, and the oxen now belong to Vlas.

XIII

Paraska is alone in the house. She admires herself in the mirror, dreams of marrying Gritsko, hums and dances. Solopy enters and also starts dancing. Gritsko appears, and Cherevik hurries the young people. He is in a hurry to settle everything before his wife arrives. The wedding fun begins, which even the protests of the returning Khivri cannot prevent.

“Sorochinskaya Fair”, analysis of Gogol’s story

Mini is boring to live in a house.
Oh, take me away from home,
There's a lot of thunder, thunder,
All the divas are bashing,
The boys are walking!
From an ancient legend.

How delightful, how luxurious a summer day in Little Russia! How languidly hot are those hours when midday shines in silence and heat, and the blue, immeasurable ocean, bent over the earth like a voluptuous dome, seems to have fallen asleep, completely drowned in bliss, hugging and squeezing the beautiful one in its airy embrace! There's not a cloud on it. No speech in the field. Everything seemed to have died; only above, in the heavenly depths, a lark trembles, and silver songs fly along the airy steps to the loving land, and occasionally the cry of a seagull or the ringing voice of a quail echoes in the steppe. Lazily and thoughtlessly, as if walking without a goal, the oak trees stand under the clouds, and the dazzling blows sun rays they light up whole picturesque masses of leaves, casting over others a shadow dark as night, along which only when strong wind gold is spitting. Emeralds, topazes, and jahonts of ethereal insects rain down over the colorful vegetable gardens, overshadowed by stately sunflowers. Gray haystacks and golden sheaves of bread are encamped in the field and wander through its immensity. Wide branches of cherries, plums, apple trees, and pears bent over from the weight of fruit; the sky, its pure mirror - the river in green, proudly raised frames... how full of voluptuousness and bliss the Little Russian summer is!

"Sorochinskaya Fair". Musical, 2004

One of the days of hot August shone with such luxury one thousand eight hundred... eight hundred... Yes, thirty years ago, when the road, about ten miles to the town of Sorochinets, was seething with people hurrying from all the surrounding and distant farmsteads to the fair. In the morning, there was still an endless line of Chumaks with salt and fish. The mountains of pots, wrapped in hay, moved slowly, seemingly bored by their confinement and darkness; in some places only some brightly painted bowl or makitra showed boastfully from a fence perched high on a cart and attracted the tender glances of admirers of luxury. Many passers-by looked with envy at the tall potter, the owner of these jewels, who walked with slow steps behind his wares, carefully wrapping his clay dandies and coquettes in hated hay.

Gogol. Sorochinskaya fair. Audiobook

Lonely to the side was dragged by exhausted oxen a cart piled with sacks, hemp, linen and various household luggage, behind which its owner wandered in a clean linen shirt and soiled linen trousers. With a lazy hand he wiped away the sweat that was rolling down from his dark face and even dripping from his long mustache, powdered by that inexorable hairdresser who, without being called, appears to both the beauty and the ugly, and has been forcibly powdering the entire human race for several thousand years. Next to him walked a mare tied to a cart, whose humble appearance revealed her advanced years. Many people we met, and especially young guys, grabbed their hats when they caught up with our man. However, it was not his gray mustache and his unimportant gait that forced him to do this; you only had to raise your eyes a little upward to see the reason for such respect: sitting on the cart was a pretty daughter with a round face, with black eyebrows, even arches rising above her light brown eyes, with carelessly smiling pink lips, with red and blue ribbons tied on her head, which , together with long braids and a bunch of wild flowers, a rich crown rested on her charming head. Everything seemed to occupy her; everything was wonderful and new to her... and her pretty eyes constantly ran from one object to another. How not to get scattered! first time at the fair! An eighteen-year-old girl is at the fair for the first time!... But not a single one of the passers-by knew what it took for her to beg her father to take her with her, who would have been glad with his soul to do this before, if not for the evil stepmother, who had learned to keep him in hands as deftly as he held the reins of his old mare, who was now dragging herself for sale after a long service. A restless wife... but we forgot that she too was sitting at the height of the cart in an elegant green woolen jacket, on which, as if on ermine fur, there were red tails sewn on, in a rich plakhta, colorful as a chessboard, and in a chintz a colored eyeliner that gave some special importance to her red, plump face, across which something so unpleasant, so wild slipped, that everyone immediately hurried to transfer their anxious gaze to the cheerful face of their daughter.

Psel had already begun to open to the eyes of our travelers; From a distance there was already a breath of coolness, which seemed more noticeable after the languid, destructive heat. Through the dark and light green leaves of sedge, birch and poplar carelessly scattered across the meadow, fiery sparks, dressed in cold, sparkled, and the beautiful river brilliantly exposed its silver chest, onto which the green curls of the trees luxuriously fell. Willful, as she is in those ecstatic hours when the faithful mirror so enviably captures her forehead, full of pride and dazzling brilliance, her lily-colored shoulders and marble neck, overshadowed by a dark wave that has fallen from her fair-haired head, when with contempt she throws away only her jewelry to replace them others, and there is no end to her whims - she changes her surroundings almost every year, chooses a new path for herself and surrounds herself with new, diverse landscapes. Rows of mills lifted their wide waves onto heavy wheels and threw them powerfully, breaking them into splashes, sprinkling dust and filling the surrounding area with noise. The cart with the passengers we knew drove onto the bridge at that time, and the river in all its beauty and grandeur, like solid glass, spread out in front of them. The sky, green and blue forests, people, carts with pots, mills - everything overturned, stood and walked upside down, without falling into the blue, beautiful abyss. Our beauty became lost in thought, looking at the splendor of the view, and even forgot to peel her sunflowers, which she had been regularly doing throughout the entire journey, when suddenly the words “Oh, what a maiden!” struck her ears. Looking around, she saw a crowd of boys standing on the bridge, one of whom, dressed more dapper than the others, in a white scroll and a gray hat of Reshetilovsky smushkas, propped up on his sides, valiantly glanced at the passers-by. The beauty could not help but notice his tanned, but full of pleasant face and fiery eyes, which seemed to strive to see right through her, and lowered her eyes at the thought that perhaps the spoken word belonged to him. “Nice maiden! - continued the boy in the white scroll, not taking his eyes off her. - I would give my entire household to kiss her. But the devil sits in front!” Laughter arose from all sides; but the dressed-up cohabitant of the slowly advancing husband did not much appreciate such a greeting: her red cheeks turned fiery, and the crackle of choice words rained down on the head of the riotous young man:

May you choke, you worthless barge hauler! May your father get hit in the head with a pot! May he slip on the ice, damned Antichrist! May the devil burn his beard in the next world!

Look how he swears! - said the boy, widening his eyes at her, as if puzzled by such a strong volley of unexpected greetings, - and her tongue, a hundred-year-old witch, will not hurt to utter these words.

Centennial! - picked up the elderly beauty. - Wicked man! go wash yourself first! Worthless tomboy! I haven’t seen your mother, but I know it’s rubbish! and the father is rubbish! and your aunt is rubbish! Centennial! that he still has milk on his lips... - Then the cart began to descend from the bridge, and it was no longer possible to hear the last words; but the boy didn’t seem to want to end it with this: without thinking for long, he grabbed a lump of dirt and threw it after her. The blow was more successful than one might have expected: the entire new calico otchik was splashed with mud, and the laughter of the riotous rakes doubled with renewed vigor. The portly dandy seethed with anger; but the cart had driven quite far at that time, and her revenge turned on her innocent stepdaughter and her slow partner, who, having long been accustomed to such phenomena, maintained stubborn silence and calmly accepted the rebellious speeches of her angry wife. However, despite this, her tireless tongue crackled and dangled in her mouth until they arrived in the suburbs to an old friend and godfather, the Cossack Tsybula. The meeting with the godfathers, who had not seen each other for a long time, temporarily drove this unpleasant incident out of our heads, forcing our travelers to talk about the fair and rest a little after the long journey.

II

Oh God, you are my Lord! Why is there no one at this fair! wheels, sklo, tar, tyutyun, belt, tsybulya, kramari of all sorts... so, even if there were rubles in cash and about thirty, then even then I wouldn’t have purchased the fair’s supplies.
From a Little Russian comedy.

You probably happened to hear a distant waterfall lying somewhere, when the alarmed surroundings are full of roar and a chaos of wonderful, unclear sounds rushes like a whirlwind in front of you. Isn’t it true, isn’t it the same feelings that will instantly seize you in the whirlwind of a rural fair, when all the people merge into one huge monster and move their whole body in the square and along the narrow streets, screaming, cackling, thundering? Noise, swearing, mooing, bleating, roaring - everything merges into one discordant conversation. Oxen, sacks, hay, gypsies, pots, women, gingerbread, hats - everything is bright, colorful, discordant; rushes about in heaps and scurries before your eyes. Discordant speeches drown each other, and not a single word can be snatched out or saved from this flood; not a single cry will be spoken clearly. Only the clapping of traders' hands can be heard from all sides of the fair. The cart breaks, the iron clinks, the boards thrown to the ground rattle, and the dizzy one wonders where to turn. Our visiting man with his black-browed daughter had been jostling among the people for a long time. He approached one cart, felt another, applied to the prices; and meanwhile his thoughts were tossing and turning non-stop about the ten sacks of wheat and the old mare he had brought for sale. It was noticeable from his daughter’s face that she was not too pleased to rub around the carts with flour and wheat. She would like to go there, where red ribbons, earrings, tin and copper crosses and ducats are elegantly hung under the linen yats. But even here, however, she found many things to observe: she was extremely amused by the way the gypsy and the peasant beat each other on the hands, crying out in pain; how a drunken Jew gave jelly to a woman; how quarreling buyers exchanged curses and crayfish; like a Muscovite, stroking his goat beard with one hand, with the other... But then she felt someone tug her by the embroidered sleeve of her shirt. She looked around - and the boy, in a white scroll, with bright eyes, stood in front of her. Her veins trembled, and her heart beat as never before, with no joy, no sorrow: it seemed both wonderful and delightful to her, and she herself could not explain what was happening to her. “Don’t be afraid, my dear, don’t be afraid! - he said to her in an undertone, taking her hand, “I won’t say anything bad to you!” - “Maybe it’s true that you won’t say anything bad! - the beauty thought to herself, - only it’s strange to me... that’s right, it’s the evil one! You yourself seem to know that it’s not good to do this... but you don’t have the strength to take your hand from him.” The man looked around and wanted to say something to his daughter, but the word was heard from the side: wheat. This magic word forced him, at that very moment, to join two merchants talking loudly, and nothing could entertain the attention riveted to them. Here's what the merchants said about wheat:

III

What kind of guy are you talking about?
There are a few of these in the retinue.
Sivukhu so, mov mash, whip!
Kotlyarevsky. Aeneid

So do you think, fellow countryman, that our wheat will do poorly? - said a man who looked like a visiting tradesman, an inhabitant of some small town, in motley trousers, stained with tar and greasy, to another in a blue, already patched in places, scroll and with a huge bump on his forehead.

There’s nothing to think about here; I’m ready to throw a noose over myself and hang on this tree like a sausage before Christmas in the hut if we sell even one measure.

Who are you, fellow countryman, fooling? “I don’t bring anything except ours,” objected the man in colorful trousers. “Yes, tell yourself what you want,” our beauty’s father thought to himself, not missing a single word from the conversation between the two merchants, “but I have ten bags in stock.”

That’s just it: if there is devilry involved, then expect as much benefit as from a hungry Muscovite,” the man with a bump on his forehead said significantly.

What the hell? - picked up a man in colorful trousers.

Have you heard what people say? - he continued with a bump on his forehead, looking sideways at him with his gloomy eyes.

Well, that's it! The assessor, so that he wouldn’t have to wipe his lips after the master’s plum, set aside a damned place for the fair, where, even if you crack it, you won’t lose a grain. Do you see that old, crumbling barn that stands over there under the mountain? - (Here the curious father of our beauty moved even closer and seemed to turn all attention.) - In that barn, every now and then there are devilish tricks; and not a single fair in this place took place without disaster. Yesterday the volost clerk passed by late in the evening, but lo and behold, dormer window the pig's snout stuck out and grunted so hard that it sent a chill down his spine; just wait for it to appear again red scroll !

What is this red scroll ?

Here our attentive listener's hair stood on end; With fear, he turned back and saw that his daughter and the boy were standing calmly, hugging each other and singing some love stories to each other, having forgotten about all the scrolls in the world. This dispelled his fear and forced him to return to his former carelessness.

Hey, hey, hey, fellow countryman! Yes, you are a master, as I see, of hugging! Damn me if I didn’t learn to hug my late Khveska only on the fourth day after the wedding, and even then thanks to my godfather: the former friend, I’ve already thought of it.

The boy noticed at that very moment that his beloved’s father was not too far away, and in his thoughts he began to formulate a plan how to persuade him in his favor. “You are probably a good man, you don’t know me, but I recognized you immediately.”

Maybe he found out.

If you want, I’ll tell you your name, your nickname, and all sorts of other things: your name is Solopiy Cherevik.

So, Solopiy Cherevik.

But take a good look: don’t you recognize me?

No, I don't know. Don’t say it out of anger, I’ve seen so many different faces throughout my life that the devil can remember them all!

It’s a pity that you don’t remember Golopupenkov’s son!

Are you Okhrimov’s son?

And who? Is there only one bald didko, if not him.

Here the friends grabbed their hats, and kissing began; Our son Golopupenkov, however, without wasting any time, decided at that very moment to besiege his new acquaintance.

Well, Solopy, as you can see, your daughter and I fell in love with each other so much that we could live together forever.

“Well, Paraska,” said Cherevik, turning and laughing to his daughter, “maybe, in fact, so that, as they say, together and then... so that they can graze on the same grass!” What? deal? Come on, newly recruited son-in-law, let's go to Mogarych! - and all three found themselves in a well-known fair restaurant - under a Jewish woman’s yakka, strewn with a numerous flotilla of sulli, bottles, flasks of all kinds and ages. - Hey, grab! I love it for this! - said Cherevik, having walked a little and seeing how his betrothed son-in-law filled a mug, the size of half a quart, and, without wincing at all, drank to the bottom, then grabbing it to pieces. - What do you say, Paraska? What a groom I got for you! Look, look: how bravely he pulls the foam!.. - and, laughing and swaying, he wandered with it to his cart, and our boy went along the rows with red goods, in which there were merchants even from Gadyach and Mirgorod - two famous cities Poltava province - look out for the best wooden cradle in a smart copper frame, a flowery scarf on a red field and a hat for wedding gifts to the father-in-law and everyone who should.

IV

Even though the people don’t have it,
Yes, if you want zhintsi, then,
So please please...
Kotlyarevsky

Well, girl! and I found a groom for my daughter!

Now is the time to start looking for suitors. Fool, fool! It’s true that you were destined to remain like this! Where have you seen, where have you heard that a good man is now running after suitors? You would better think about how to sell the wheat from your hands; The groom must be good too! I think he is the most ragged of all the hunger workers.

Eh, no matter how it is, you should look at what kind of guy there is! One scroll is worth more than your green jacket and red boots. How about a sea lion important it's blowing... Damn me and you, if in my lifetime I've seen a guy pull out half a quart in spirit without wincing.

Well, so: if he is a drunkard and a tramp, then so is his suit. I bet it's not the same brat who followed us on the bridge. It’s a pity that I haven’t come across him yet: I would let him know.

Well, Khivrya, even if it’s the same one; Why is he a tomboy?

Eh! why is he a tomboy? Oh, you brainless head! do you hear! why is he a tomboy? Where did you hide your stupid eyes when we passed the mills; Even if his dishonor had been inflicted on the woman right there, in front of his tobacco-stained nose, he wouldn’t have needed it.

Still, I don’t see anything bad in him; guy anywhere! Only perhaps I covered your image with manure for a moment.

Hey! Yes, as I see, you won’t let me utter a word! What does it mean? When has this happened to you? That’s right, I’ve already managed to take a sip without selling anything...

Here our Cherevik himself noticed that he was talking too much, and in an instant covered his head with his hands, assuming without a doubt that the angry cohabitant would not hesitate to grab his hair with her marital claws. “To hell with it! Here's your wedding! - he thought to himself, dodging his heavily advancing wife. “You’ll have to refuse a kind person for no reason, no matter what.” Lord, my God, why such an attack on us sinners! and there’s so much rubbish in the world, and you’ve also given birth to little women!”

V

Don't fret the skylark,
You are still green;
Don’t scold the little Cossack,
You're so young!
Maloross. song

The boy in the white scroll, sitting by his cart, looked absentmindedly at the people murmuring around him. The tired sun departed from the world, having calmly blazed through its afternoon and morning; and the fading day blushed captivatingly and brightly. The tops of the white tents and yats shone dazzlingly, illuminated by some barely noticeable fiery pink light. The glass of the windows piled up in heaps was burning; the green flasks and glasses on the tables near the taverns turned into fiery ones; the mountains of melons, watermelons and pumpkins seemed cast from gold and dark copper. The conversation noticeably became less frequent and muffled, and the tired tongues of the bargaining chippers, peasants and gypsies turned lazier and slower. Here and there a light began to sparkle, and the fragrant steam from the boiling dumplings wafted through the quiet streets. “What are you upset about, Gritsko? - cried the tall, tanned gypsy, hitting our boy on the shoulder. “Well, give me the oxen for twenty!”

You should have all the oxen, yes the oxen. For your tribe, everything would be for self-interest only. To trick and deceive a good man.

Ugh, devil! Yes, you were seriously taken away. Was it out of annoyance that he forced his bride on himself?

No, it's not my opinion; I keep my word; what you have done once will remain forever. But the bastard Cherevik has no conscience, apparently, even half a half-shelf: he said, and back... Well, there’s nothing to blame him for, he’s a stump, and that’s it. All these things old witch, which the boys and I scolded on all sides today on the bridge! Eh, if I were a tsar or a great lord, I would be the first to hang all those fools who allow themselves to be saddled by women...

Will you let the oxen go for twenty if we force Cherevik to give us Paraska?

Gritsko looked at him in bewilderment. In the swarthy features of the gypsy there was something evil, caustic, low and at the same time arrogant: the person who looked at him was ready to admit that great virtues were seething in this wonderful soul, but for which there was only one reward on earth - the gallows. A mouth completely sunk between the nose and sharp chin, always overshadowed by a caustic smile, small but lively eyes like fire, and the lightning of enterprises and intentions constantly changing on the face - all this seemed to require a special costume, just as strange for itself as it was. then on it. This dark brown caftan, the touch of which seemed to turn it into dust; long black hair falling in flakes over the shoulders; shoes worn on bare, tanned feet - all this seemed to have grown into him and made up his nature. “I’ll give you not for twenty, but for fifteen, if you don’t lie!” - the boy answered, not taking his testing eyes off him.

Over fifteen? OK! Look, don’t forget: for fifteen! Here's a tit for you!

Well, what if you lie?

I'll lie - your deposit!

OK! Well, let's shake hands!

VI

From the bida, Roman, go, from now on, just like that, you’re going to annoy me bebekhiv, and you, Mr. Homo, won’t be without trouble.
From Little Russians. comedy

Here, Afanasy Ivanovich! Here is a lower fence, raise your leg, but don’t be afraid: my fool went with his godfather under the carts all night, so that the Muscovites wouldn’t catch something in case. - So Cherevik’s formidable roommate affectionately encouraged the priest, who was cowardly clinging to the fence, who soon climbed up the fence and stood there for a long time in bewilderment, like a long, terrible ghost, measuring with his eye where it would be best to jump, and finally fell noisily into the weeds.

What a disaster! Haven't you hurt yourself, haven't you, God forbid, broken your necks? - caring Khivrya babbled.

Shh! nothing, nothing, dear Khavronya Nikiforovna! - the popovich said painfully and in a whisper, rising to his feet, - turning off only the stings from nettles, this snake-like grass, in the words of the late father of the archpriest.

Let's go to the hut now; there is nobody there. And I was already thinking, Afanasy Ivanovich, what about you? sore or sleepyhead stuck. No, yes and no. How are you doing? I heard that my father now has quite a lot of all sorts of things!

A complete trifle, Khavronya Nikiforovna; During the entire Lent, the priest received a total of fifteen sacks of spring grain, four sacks of millet, about a hundred knishes, and if you count the chickens, there won’t be even fifty pieces, but the eggs for the most part rotten. But truly sweet offerings, roughly speaking, are the only ones to be received from you, Khavronya Nikiforovna! - Popovich continued, looking at her tenderly and leaning closer.

Here is your offering, Afanasy Ivanovich! - she said, putting the bowls on the table and coyly buttoning up her jacket, which seemed to be accidentally unbuttoned, - dumplings, wheat dumplings, donuts, tovchenichki!

I bet if this was not done by the most cunning hands of all Evin’s family! - said the priest, starting to eat the tovchenichki and moving the dumplings with his other hand. - However, Khavronya Nikiforovna, my heart yearns from you for food sweeter than all the donuts and dumplings.

Now I don’t even know what other food you want, Afanasy Ivanovich! - answered the portly beauty, pretending not to understand.

Of course, your love, incomparable Khavronya Nikiforovna! - the priest said in a whisper, holding a dumpling in one hand, and hugging her wide figure with the other.

God knows what you will come up with, Afanasy Ivanovich! - said Khivrya, shyly lowering her eyes. - What good! Perhaps you will start kissing again!

“I’ll tell you about this, even if only to myself,” Popovich continued, “when I was, roughly speaking, still in the bursa, that’s how I remember now...” Then I heard barking in the yard and knocking on the gate. Khivrya hurriedly ran out and returned all pale. “Well, Afanasy Ivanovich! we got caught with you; A bunch of people were knocking, and I thought I heard a godfather’s voice...” - The dumpling stopped in the popovich’s throat... His eyes bulged out, as if some person from the other world had just paid him a visit. - “Get in here!” - shouted the frightened Khivrya, pointing to the boards placed near the ceiling on two crossbeams, on which various household rubbish was piled. Danger gave spirit to our hero. Having come to his senses a little, he jumped onto the bench and carefully climbed out onto the boards. And Khivrya ran unconsciously to the gate, because the knocking was repeated at them with greater force and impatience.

VII

Yes, there are miracles here, mospans!
From Little Russians. comedy

A strange incident happened at the fair: everything was filled with rumors that somewhere between the goods there appeared red scroll. The old woman selling bagels seemed to imagine Satan, in the image of a pig, who was constantly bending over the carts, as if he was looking for something. This quickly spread to all corners of the already quiet camp; and everyone considered it a crime not to believe, despite the fact that the bagel seller, whose mobile stand was next to the shaver's yatka, bowed all day unnecessarily and wrote with her feet a perfect likeness of her tasty product. To this were added even more news about a miracle seen by the volost clerk in a collapsed barn, so that by night they huddled closer and closer to each other; the calm was destroyed, and fear prevented everyone from closing their eyes; and those who were not quite brave and had reserved accommodation for the night in huts, went home. Among the latter were Cherevik, his godfather and his daughter, who, together with the guests who asked to come to their house, made a strong knock that so frightened our Khivrya. Kýma is already a little confused. This could be seen from the fact that he drove his cart through the yard twice until he found the hut. The guests were also in a cheerful mood and entered without ceremony before the host himself. Our Cherevik’s wife sat as if on pins and needles when they began to rummage around in all corners of the hut. “What, godmother! - cried the godfather who entered, “are you still shaking with fever?” “Yes, I’m not feeling well,” answered Khivrya, looking worriedly at the boards placed under the ceiling. “Come on, wife, get the eggplant out of the cart!” - the godfather said to his wife who came with him, - we will get it with good people, otherwise the damned women scared us so much that it’s embarrassing to say. After all, by God, brothers, we drove here for nothing! - he continued, sipping from a clay mug. - I immediately put on a new hat if the women don’t think of laughing at us. Yes, even if it really is Satan: what is Satan? Spit on his head! If only this very minute he would take it into his head to stand here, for example, in front of me: if I were a son of a dog, if I didn’t put the blow right under his nose!” - “Why did you suddenly turn all pale?” - shouted one of the guests, who was taller than everyone else and always tried to show himself as brave. “I... The Lord is with you! I dreamed!” The guests chuckled. A satisfied smile appeared on the face of the eloquent brave man. “Where should he turn pale now! - picked up another, - his cheeks blossomed like a poppy; Now he’s not a little girl, but a Buryak - or better, like that one red scroll, which scared people so much.” The eggplant rolled across the table and made the guests even more cheerful than before. Here is our Cherevik, whom I have been tormenting for a long time red scroll and did not give rest for a minute to his curious spirit, he approached his godfather. “Say, be kind, godfather! I beg you, but I won’t ask you for a story about this damned scroll».

Eh, godfather! it would not be suitable to tell at night; Yes, perhaps in order to please you and good people (he turned to the guests), who, I notice, want to know about this wonder just as much as you do. Well, be it so. Listen! - Here he scratched his shoulders, wiped himself with his hollow, put both hands on the table and began:

Once upon a time, for what guilt, by God, I don’t even know anymore, they just kicked one devil out of hell.

How about it, godfather? - interrupted Cherevik, - how could it happen that the devil was kicked out of the heat?

What should we do, godfather? kicked out, and kicked out, like a man kicks a dog out of the hut. Maybe he was inspired to do some good deed, and the door was shown to him. Look, the poor devil has become so bored, so bored with the heat that he’s almost to death. What to do? Let's get drunk out of grief. He nestled in that very barn, which, you saw, had fallen apart under the mountain, and which not a single good person would pass by now without protecting himself with the Holy Cross in advance, and the devil became such a reveler as you will not find among the boys. From morning to evening, every now and then he sits in the tavern!..

Here again the strict Cherevik interrupted our narrator: “God knows what you are saying, godfather! How is it possible for someone to let the devil into a tavern? After all, thank God, he has claws on his paws and horns on his head.”

That's the thing, he was wearing a hat and mittens. Who will recognize him? I walked and walked - finally I got to the point where I drank everything I had with me. Shinkar believed for a long time, then he stopped. The devil had to pawn his red scroll, at almost a third of the price, to a Jew who was chopping at the Sorochinsky fair; pawned it and said to him: “Look, Jew, I will come to you for the scroll in exactly a year: take care of it!” - and disappeared, as if into water. The Jew took a good look at the scroll: the cloth is such that you couldn’t get it in Mirgorod! and the red color burns like fire, so I couldn’t see enough of it! The Jew found it boring to wait for the deadline. He scratched his little dogs, and tore off at least five ducats from some visiting gentleman. The Jew had completely forgotten about the deadline. One day, in the evening, a man comes: “Well, Jew, give me my scroll!” At first the Jew didn’t recognize it, but after he saw it, he pretended that he had never seen it: “What scroll? I don't have any scroll! I don’t know your scroll!” He, lo and behold, left; Only in the evening, when the Jew, having locked his kennel and counted the money in his chests, threw a sheet over himself and began to pray to God like a Jew, he heard a rustling... lo and behold, pigs' snouts were exposed in all the windows...

Here, in fact, some vague sound was heard, very similar to the grunting of a pig; everyone turned pale... Sweat appeared on the narrator’s face.

What? - Cherevik said in fright.

Nothing!.. - answered the godfather, shaking his whole body.

Hey! - one of the guests responded.

You said…

Who grunted that?

God knows why we were alarmed! Nobody here! - Everyone timidly began to look around and began to rummage in the corners. Khivrya was neither alive nor dead. - Oh, you women! women! - she said loudly, “should you become Cossacks and be husbands!” You should have a spindle in your hands and put it behind the comb! Someone, maybe, God forgive me... The bench creaked under someone, and everyone rushed around like half-witted people! - This brought shame to our brave men and made them take heart; the godfather took a sip from the mug and began to tell further: “The Jew died; however, the pigs, on legs as long as stilts, climbed into the windows and instantly revived him with wicker three-pieces, forcing him to dance higher than this bastard. The Jew stood at his feet and confessed everything... But the scrolls could no longer be returned soon. Pana was robbed on the road by some gypsy and sold the scroll to a reseller; she brought her again to the Sorochinsky fair, but since then no one has bought anything from her. The repurchase was surprised and amazed and finally realized: it’s true that the red scroll is to blame for everything. No wonder, when putting it on, she felt that something was pressing on her. Without thinking, without wondering for a long time, I threw it into the fire - the demonic clothes do not burn! Eh, this is a damn gift! She managed to outbid and slipped it into the cart of one guy who took it out to sell the oil. The fool was happy; But no one wants to ask for oil. Eh, unkind hands threw the scroll! He grabbed the ax and chopped it into pieces; lo and behold, one piece climbs into another, and again the whole scroll. Having crossed himself, he grabbed the ax another time, scattered the pieces all over the place and left. Only since then, every year, and just during the fair, a devil with a pig's face walks around the entire square, grunting and picking up pieces of his scroll. Now, they say, only his left sleeve is missing. Since then, people have been disowning that place, and it will be about ten years since there was a fair there. Yes, the assessor now had a hard time yanking about...” The other half of the word froze on the narrator’s lips:

The window rattled with noise; The glass, ringing, flew out, and a terrible pig's face stuck out, moving its eyes, as if asking: what are you doing here, good people?

VIII

...Pidzhav whistle, mov dog,
Mov Cain began to panic;
Tobacco began to flow from my nose.
Kotlyarevsky. Aeneid

Horror gripped everyone in the house. The godfather with his mouth open turned into stone. His eyes bulged, as if they wanted to shoot; the open fingers remained motionless in the air. The tall brave man, in invincible fear, jumped up to the ceiling and hit his head on the crossbar; the boards leaned in, and Popovich flew to the ground with a thunder and crash. “Ay! ah! ah!” - one shouted desperately, falling onto the bench in horror and dangling his arms and legs on it. - “Save!” - bawled another, covering himself with a sheepskin coat. The godfather, brought out of his petrification by secondary fright, crawled in convulsions under the hem of his wife. The tall brave man climbed into the oven, despite the narrow opening, and closed himself with the damper. And Cherevik, as if doused with hot boiling water, grabbed a pot on his head instead of a hat, rushed to the door and, like a half-witted man, ran through the streets, not seeing the ground beneath him; Fatigue alone only forced him to slow down his running speed a little. His heart was beating like a mill mortar, and his sweat was pouring out like hail. Exhausted, he was just about to fall to the ground, when suddenly he heard that someone was chasing him from behind... His spirit began to swell... “Damn! crap!" - he shouted without memory, tripling his strength, and a minute later he fell unconscious to the ground. "Crap! crap!" - they shouted after him, and he only heard how something noisily rushed at him. Then his memory fled from him, and he, like a terrible inhabitant of a cramped coffin, remained mute and motionless in the middle of the road.

IX

More early, and so, and so;
And from behind, to hell with it!
From the common people. fairy tales

Do you hear, Vlas! - one of the crowd of people sleeping on the street said, standing up, - someone mentioned the devil near us!

What do I care? - the gypsy lying next to him grumbled, stretching, - if only he remembered all his relatives.

But he screamed as if he was being crushed!

You never know what a person won’t lie when he’s asleep!

It’s your choice, at least you need to look; turn out the fire! - The other gypsy, grumbling to himself, rose to his feet; He illuminated himself twice with sparks, like lightning, fanned the tinder with his lips, and with a kagan in his hands, an ordinary Little Russian lamp consisting of a broken shard filled with lamb fat, he set off, illuminating the road. “Stop; there’s something lying here: shine here!”

Here several more people accosted them.

What lies there, Vlas?

So, as if there were two people: one at the top, the other at the bottom; I can’t even tell which one is the devil anymore!

Who's at the top?

Well, that’s what the devil is! - General laughter woke up almost the entire street.

Baba climbed onto the man; well, that's right, this woman knows how to drive! - said one of the surrounding crowd.

Look, brothers! - said another, lifting a shard from a pot, of which only the surviving half was held on Cherevik’s head, “what a hat this good fellow put on himself!” - The increased noise and laughter made our dead, Solopy and his wife, wake up, who, full of past fear, looked for a long time in horror with motionless eyes at the dark faces of the gypsies. Illuminated by a light that burned uncertainly and tremulously, they seemed like a wild host of gnomes, surrounded by heavy underground steam, in the darkness of an impenetrable night.

X

Tsur tobi, bake tobi, Satan's obsession!
From Little Russians. comedy

The freshness of the morning blew over the awakened Sorochintsy. Clouds of smoke from all the chimneys rushed towards the emerging sun. The fair was noisy. The sheep bleated, the horses neighed; the cry of the geese and merchant women rushed again throughout the camp - and terrible rumors about red scroll, which brought such timidity to the people, in the mysterious hours of twilight, disappeared with the advent of morning. Yawning and stretching, Cherevik dozed at his godfather's place, under a thatched barn, along with oxen, sacks of flour and wheat, and, it seems, had no desire to part with his dreams, when suddenly he heard a voice as familiar as the refuge of laziness - the blessed the stove of his hut or the tavern of a distant relative, located no more than ten steps from his threshold. “Get up, get up!” - the gentle wife rattled in his ear, pulling his hand with all her might. Cherevik, instead of answering, puffed out his cheeks and began to dangle his hands, imitating the beating of drums.

Crazy! - she screamed, dodging the swing of his hands, with which he almost hit her in the face. Cherevik stood up, rubbed his eyes a little and looked around: “Enemy take me, if I, my dear, didn’t imagine your face as a drum on which I was forced to beat out the dawn, like a Muscovite, those same pig faces that, as my godfather says...” - “Enough, enough of your nonsense! Go, quickly bring the mare for sale. Laughter, really, for people: they came to the fair and at least sold a handful of hemp ... "

“Why, Zhinka,” Solopy picked up, “they’ll laugh at us now.”

Go! go! They're laughing at you already!

You see that I haven’t washed my face yet,” Cherevik continued, yawning and scratching his back and trying, among other things, to gain time for his laziness.

It’s inopportune that the whim of being clean has come! When did this happen to you? Here is a towel, wipe off your mask... - Then she grabbed something rolled up into a ball and threw it away from her in horror: it was red cuff scrolls!

Go, do your job,” she repeated, gathering her courage, to her husband, seeing that fear had taken away his legs and his teeth were chattering against each other.

“There will be a sale now! - he grumbled to himself, untying the mare and leading her to the square. “It’s not for nothing that when I was getting ready for this damned fair, my soul felt so heavy, as if someone had dumped a dead cow on you, and the oxen turned home twice on their own.” And almost, as I remember now, we didn’t leave on Monday. Well, that’s all evil!.. The damned devil is restless: he would already wear a scroll without one sleeve; But no, you don’t need to give good people peace. If, for example, I were the devil, why God forbid: would I drag around at night for damned rags?

Here our Cherevik’s philosophizing was interrupted by a thick and harsh voice. A tall gypsy stood in front of him: “What are you selling, good man?” The seller paused, looked at him from head to toe and said with a calm look, without stopping and without letting go of the reins:

You can see for yourself what I'm selling!

Straps? - asked the gypsy, looking at the bridle in his hands.

Yes, straps, as long as the mare looks like straps.

However, damn it, fellow countryman, you apparently fed her straw!

Straw? - Here Cherevik wanted to pull the reins to lead his mare and expose the shameless slanderer in a lie, but his hand hit the chin with extraordinary ease. I looked - there was a cut bridle in it and tied to the bridle - oh horror! his hair stood up like a mountain! - piece red sleeve scrolls!.. Spitting, crossing himself and wagging his hands, he ran away from the unexpected gift and, faster than the young boy, disappeared into the crowd.

XI

For my life, I have lived there.
Proverb

Catch! catch him! - several boys shouted at the cramped end of the street, and Cherevik suddenly felt himself grabbed by strong arms.

Knit it! this is the same one who stole a mare from a good man.

The Lord is with you! Why are you tying me up?

He's asking! Why did you steal a mare from a visiting man, Cherevik?

You guys are crazy! Where have you ever seen a person steal something from himself?

Old things! old things! Why did you run at full speed, as if Satan himself was hot on your heels?

You will inevitably run when the satanic clothes...

Eh, darling! deceive others with this; There will be more for you from the assessor for not frightening people with devilry.

Catch! catch him! - a cry was heard from the other end of the street, - here he is, here is the fugitive! - and the godfather appeared in the eyes of our Cherevik, in the most pitiful position, with his hands folded back, led by several lads. “Miracles started! - said one of them, - you should listen to what this swindler is telling, who only has to look in the face to see the thief, when they began to ask what he was running away from, like a half-wit. He reached into his pocket, he said, to sniff some tobacco and, instead of a tavlinka, pulled out a piece of damn scrolls, from which a red fire flared up, and God bless his legs!

Hey, hey! Yes, these are both birds from the same nest! Knit them both together!

XII

“Why, kind people, have I done something wrong?
Why are you glaring? - said our gentleman,
“Why are you so concerned about me?
For what, for what? - saying, letting go of the patioki,
Patios of deep tears, clinging to their sides.
Artemovsky-Gulak. Pan that dog

Maybe, godfather, you actually picked up something? - Cherevik asked, lying tied together with his godfather under a straw yatka.

And you too, godfather! So that my hands and feet would dry out if I ever stole anything, except dumplings with sour cream from my mother, and even then when I was ten years old.

Why is this, godfather, attacking us like this? Nothing for you yet; you are blamed for at least what you stole from someone else; Why should I, an unfortunate man, receive such an unkind slander: as if I stole a mare from myself? Apparently, we, godfather, were already destined not to have happiness!

“Woe to us, poor orphans!” Here both godfathers began to sob bitterly. “What’s wrong with you, Solopy? - said Gritsko, who entered at that time. “Who tied you up?”

A! Golopupenko, Golopupenko! - Solopy shouted, delighted. - Here, this is the same godfather I told you about. Oh, grab! Behold, God kill me on this spot, if I didn’t dry off a kukhol not nearly as large as your head in front of me, and wince at least once.

Why didn’t you, godfather, respect such a nice guy?

“So, as you see,” Cherevik continued, turning to Gritsko, “God punished you, apparently, for having offended you. Sorry, good man! By God, I would be glad to do everything for you... But what do you order? The devil is in the old woman!

I'm not vindictive, Solopy. If you want, I will free you! - Then he blinked at the boys, and the same ones who were guarding him rushed to untie him. - For that, do what you need to do: the wedding! - and we’ll feast so much that our legs will hurt for a whole year from the hopak.

- Good! kindly! - said Solopy, clapping his hands. - Yes, I feel so happy now, as if the Muscovites had taken my old woman away. But what to think: it’s good or it’s not good - today is a wedding, and it’s all in the water!

Look, Solopy: in an hour I will be with you; and now go home: the buyers of your mare and wheat are waiting for you there!

How! was the mare found?

Found!

Cherevik became motionless with joy, looking after Gritsko as he left.

What, Gritsko, have we done our job badly? - said the tall gypsy to the hurrying boy. - The oxen are mine now?

Yours! yours!

XIII

Don't fight, matinko, don't fight,
Put on the red chobits,
Trample the enemies
Pid legs;
Let your nods be
They rattled!
So be your enemies
Movchali!
Wedding song

Resting her pretty chin on her elbow, Paraska thought, alone, sitting in the hut. Many dreams were wrapped around the fair-haired head. Sometimes, suddenly, a slight smile touched her scarlet lips, and some kind of joyful feeling raised her dark eyebrows; then again a cloud of thoughtfulness descended over their bright brown eyes. “Well, what if what he said doesn’t come true? - she whispered with some expression of doubt. - Well, what if they don’t extradite me? if... No, no; it will not happen! The stepmother does whatever she pleases; Can't I do whatever I please? I have enough stubbornness too. How good he is! how wonderfully his black eyes glow! as he so lovingly says: Parashu, my dear! how the white scroll stuck to him! If only the belt was brighter!.. let it be true, I’ll give it to him as soon as we move to a new house. “I won’t think without joy,” she continued, taking it out of her bosom. small mirror, pasted over with red paper, bought by her at the fair, and looking at it with secret pleasure - when I meet her somewhere then - I will never bow to her, even if she cracks herself. No, stepmother, stop beating your stepdaughter! The sand will sooner rise on the stone and the oak tree will bend into the water like a willow, than I will bend down before you! Yes, I forgot... let me try on the otchik, even my stepmother, somehow I’ll have to!” Then she stood up, holding a mirror in her hands, and, bending her head towards it, tremblingly walked around the hut, as if afraid of falling, seeing under her, instead of the floor, the ceiling with the boards laid under it, from which the priest had recently fallen, and the shelves, laden with pots. “That I really am like a child,” she cried out laughing, “I’m afraid to step foot.” And she began to stamp her feet further and further, bolder; finally left hand she sank and rested on her side, and she went to dance, rattling her horseshoes, holding a mirror in front of her and singing her favorite song:

Green periwinkle,
Stay low
And you, soapy, black-browed,
Get close!

Green periwinkle,
Go even lower!
And you, soapy, black-browed,
Get closer!

Cherevik looked at the door at that time and, seeing his daughter dancing in front of the mirror, stopped. He looked for a long time, laughing at the unprecedented whim of the girl, who, lost in thought, did not seem to notice anything; but when he heard the familiar sounds of the song, the veins in him began to stir; proudly putting his hands on his hips, he stepped forward and began to squat, forgetting about all his affairs. The loud laughter of the godfather made both of them shudder. “It’s good, dad and daughter started a wedding here themselves! Go quickly: the groom has come!” At the last word, Paraska flashed brighter than the scarlet ribbon tying her head, and her careless father remembered why he had come. “Well, daughter! let's go quickly! "Heaved with joy that I sold the mare, she ran," he said, fearfully looking around, "she ran to buy herself planks and sackcloth of all sorts, so everything needs to be finished before she arrives!" Before she had time to cross the threshold of the hut, she felt herself in the arms of a young man in a white scroll, who was waiting for her on the street with a bunch of people. "God bless! - Cherevik said, folding their hands. “Let them live like wreaths!” Then a noise was heard among the people: “I would rather crack than let this happen!” - shouted the cohabitant Solopia, who, however, was pushed away with laughter by the crowd of people. “Don’t be mad, don’t be mad, little girl! - Cherevik said coolly, seeing that a pair of hefty gypsies had taken possession of her hands, “what’s done is done; I don’t like change!” - "No! No! this won’t happen!” - Khivrya shouted, but no one listened to her; several couples surrounded the new couple and formed an impenetrable, dancing wall around it.

A strange, inexplicable feeling would take possession of the viewer at the sight of how, with one blow of the bow of a musician in a homespun scroll, with a long curled mustache, everything turned, willy-nilly, to unity and passed into agreement. People, on whose gloomy faces it seemed that a smile had not slipped for centuries, stamped their feet and trembled their shoulders. Everything was rushing. Everyone was dancing. But an even stranger, even more inexplicable feeling would awaken in the depths of the soul when looking at the old women, on whose decrepit faces the indifference of the grave wafted, jostling between a new, laughing, living person. Carefree! even without childish joy, without a spark of sympathy, which only drunkenness, like the mechanic of his lifeless machine, forces to do something similar to a human one, they quietly shook their drunken heads, dancing along with the merry people, not even paying attention to the young couple.

Thunder, laughter, songs were heard quieter and quieter. The bow was dying, weakening and losing unclear sounds in the emptiness of the air. There was also a sound of stamping somewhere, something similar to the murmur of a distant sea, and soon everything became empty and dull.

Isn’t it also true that joy, a beautiful and fickle guest, flies away from us, and in vain does a lonely sound think to express joy? In his own echo he already hears sadness and desert and wildly listens to it. Isn’t it so that the playful friends of a stormy and free youth, one by one, one after another, get lost around the world and finally leave one old brother behind them? Bored left! And the heart becomes heavy and sad, and there is nothing to help it.

A strange incident happened at the fair: everything was filled with rumors that somewhere between the goods there appeared red scroll. The old woman selling bagels seemed to imagine Satan, in the image of a pig, who was constantly bending over the carts, as if he was looking for something. This quickly spread to all corners of the already quiet camp; and everyone considered it a crime not to believe, despite the fact that the bagel seller, whose mobile stand was next to the shaver's yatka, bowed all day unnecessarily and wrote with her feet a perfect likeness of her tasty product. To this were added even more news about a miracle seen by the volost clerk in a collapsed barn, so that by night they huddled closer and closer to each other; the calm was destroyed, and fear prevented everyone from closing their eyes; and those who were not quite brave and had reserved accommodation for the night in huts, went home. Among the latter were Cherevik, his godfather and his daughter, who, together with the guests who asked to come to their house, made a strong knock that so frightened our Khivrya. Kuma is already a little confused. This could be seen from the fact that he drove his cart through the yard twice until he found the hut. The guests were also in a cheerful mood and entered without ceremony before the host himself. Our Cherevik’s wife sat as if on pins and needles when they began to rummage around in all corners of the hut. “What, godfather! - cried the godfather who came in, “are you still shaking with fever?” “Yes, I’m not feeling well,” answered Khivrya, looking restlessly at the boards placed under the ceiling. “Come on, wife, get the eggplant out of the cart!” - the godfather said to his wife who came with him, - we will get it with good people, otherwise the damned women scared us so much that it’s embarrassing to say. After all, by God, brothers, we drove here for nothing! - he continued, sipping from a clay mug. “I’ll immediately put on a new hat if the women don’t think of laughing at us.” Yes, even if it really is Satan: what is Satan? Spit on his head! If only this very minute he would take it into his head to stand here, for example, in front of me: if I were a son of a dog, if I didn’t put the blow right under his nose!” - “Why did you suddenly turn all pale?” - shouted one of the guests, who was taller than everyone else and always tried to show himself as brave. “I... The Lord is with you! I dreamed!” The guests chuckled. A satisfied smile appeared on the face of the eloquent brave man. “Where should he turn pale now! - picked up another, - his cheeks blossomed like a poppy; Now he’s not a little girl, but a Buryak - or better, like that red scroll, which scared people so much.” The eggplant rolled across the table and made the guests even more cheerful than before. Here is our Cherevik, whom I have been tormenting for a long time red scroll and did not give rest for a minute to his curious spirit, he approached his godfather. “Say, be kind, godfather! I beg you, but I won’t ask you for a story about this damned scroll» .

- Eh, godfather! it would not be suitable to tell at night; Yes, perhaps in order to please you and good people (he turned to the guests), who, I notice, want to know about this wonder just as much as you do. Well, be it so. Listen! “Here he scratched his shoulders, wiped himself with his hollow, put both hands on the table and began:

- Once upon a time, for what guilt, by God, I don’t even know anymore, they just kicked one devil out of hell.

- How about it, godfather? - interrupted Cherevik, - how could it happen that the devil was kicked out of the heat?

- What should we do, godfather? kicked out, and kicked out, like a man kicks a dog out of the hut. Maybe he was inspired to do some good deed, and the door was shown to him. Look, the poor devil has become so bored, so bored with the heat that he’s almost to death. What to do? Let's get drunk out of grief. He nestled in that very barn, which, you saw, had fallen apart under the mountain, and which not a single good person would pass by now without protecting himself with the Holy Cross in advance, and the devil became such a reveler as you will not find among the boys. From morning to evening, every now and then he sits in the tavern!..

“That’s the thing, he was wearing a hat and mittens.” Who will recognize him? I walked and walked and finally got to the point where I drank everything I had with me. Shinkar believed for a long time, then he stopped. The devil had to pawn his red scroll, at almost a third of the price, to a Jew who was chopping at the Sorochinsky fair; pawned it and said to him: “Look, Jew, I will come to you for the scroll in exactly a year: take care of it!” - and disappeared, as if into water. The Jew took a good look at the scroll: the cloth is such that you couldn’t get it in Mirgorod! and the red color burns like fire, so I couldn’t see enough of it! The Jew found it boring to wait for the deadline. He scratched his little dogs, and tore off at least five ducats from some visiting gentleman. The Jew had completely forgotten about the deadline. One day, in the evening, a man comes: “Well, Jew, give me my scroll!” At first the Jew didn’t recognize it, but after he saw it, he pretended that he had never seen it: “What scroll? I don't have any scroll! I don’t know your scroll!” He, lo and behold, left; Only in the evening, when the Jew, having locked his kennel and counted the money in his chests, threw a sheet over himself and began to pray to God like a Jew, he heard a rustling... lo and behold, pigs' snouts were exposed in all the windows...

Here, in fact, some vague sound was heard, very similar to the grunting of a pig; everyone turned pale... Sweat appeared on the narrator’s face.

- What? - Cherevik said in fright.

“Nothing!..” answered the godfather, shaking his whole body.

- Hey! - one of the guests responded.

- You said…

- Who grunted that?

- God knows why we were alarmed! Nobody here! “Everyone timidly began to look around and began to rummage in the corners. Khivrya was neither alive nor dead. - Oh, you women! women! “she said loudly, “should you become Cossacks and be husbands!” You should have a spindle in your hands and put it behind the comb! Someone, maybe, God forgive me... The bench creaked under someone, and everyone rushed around like half-witted people!

This put our brave men to shame and made them take heart; the godfather took a sip from the mug and began to tell further: “The Jew died; however, the pigs, on legs as long as stilts, climbed into the windows and instantly revived him with wicker three-pieces, forcing him to dance higher than this bastard. The Jew stood at his feet and confessed everything... But the scrolls could no longer be returned soon. Pana was robbed on the road by some gypsy and sold the scroll to a reseller; she brought her again to the Sorochinsky fair, but since then no one has bought anything from her. The repurchase was surprised and amazed and finally realized: it’s true that the red scroll is to blame for everything. No wonder, when putting it on, she felt that something was pressing on her. Without thinking, without wondering for a long time, I threw it into the fire - the demonic clothes do not burn! Eh, this is a damn gift! She managed to outbid and slipped it into the cart of one guy who took it out to sell the oil. The fool was happy; But no one wants to ask for oil. Eh, unkind hands threw the scroll! He grabbed the ax and chopped it into pieces; lo and behold, one piece climbs into another, and again the whole scroll. Having crossed himself, he grabbed the ax another time, scattered the pieces all over the place and left. Only since then, every year, and just during the fair, a devil with a pig's face walks around the entire square, grunting and picking up pieces of his scroll. Now, they say, only his left sleeve is missing. Since then, people have been disowning that place, and it will be about ten years since there was a fair there. Yes, the assessor now had a hard time yanking about...” The other half of the word froze on the narrator’s lips: the window rattled with noise; The glass, ringing, flew out, and a terrible pig's face stuck out, moving its eyes, as if asking: what are you doing here, good people?

Horror gripped everyone in the house. The godfather with his mouth open turned into stone. His eyes bulged, as if they wanted to shoot; the open fingers remained motionless in the air. The tall brave man, in invincible fear, jumped up to the ceiling and hit his head on the crossbar; the boards leaned in, and Popovich flew to the ground with a thunder and crash. “Ay! ah! ah!” - one shouted desperately, falling onto the bench in horror and dangling his arms and legs on it. - “Save!” - bawled another, covering himself with a sheepskin coat. The godfather, brought out of his petrification by secondary fright, crawled in convulsions under the hem of his wife. The tall brave man climbed into the oven, despite the narrow opening, and closed himself with the damper. And Cherevik, as if doused with hot boiling water, grabbed a pot on his head instead of a hat, rushed to the door and, like a half-witted man, ran through the streets, not seeing the ground beneath him; Fatigue alone only forced him to slow down his running speed a little. His heart was beating like a mill mortar, and his sweat was pouring out like hail. Exhausted, he was just about to fall to the ground, when suddenly he heard that someone was chasing him from behind... His spirit began to swell... “Damn! crap!" - he shouted without memory, tripling his strength, and a minute later he fell unconscious to the ground. "Crap! crap!" - they shouted after him, and he only heard something noisily rushing at him. Then his memory fled from him, and he, like a terrible tenant of a cramped coffin, remained mute and motionless in the middle of the road...

Gogol's story "Sorochinskaya Fair", a summary of which you will read today, is included in the collection "Evenings on a Farm near Dikanka". This is Gogol's first book. It was published in 1831. It consists of mystical stories, many of which are filled with colorful Ukrainian humor. So, Nikolai Gogol's story "Sorochinskaya Fair" in summary described below.

Sorochinsky fair

Warm August summer day in Little Russia. WITH early morning carts with goods are stretching along the road - people are going to the Sorochinsky fair. A little further from this line, the convoy train of the peasant Solopiy Cherevik is slowly moving. A pretty girl, Solopia’s daughter, is sitting on the cart. She attracts the attention of many young men. Next to Paraska on the wagon train was her stepmother Khavronya, an angry and scandalous woman.

One of the boys, a smartly dressed young man, gives Paraska a compliment, but immediately calls the stepmother sitting next to him a witch. The laughter of others and Khavronya’s curses can be heard for kilometers ahead. Meanwhile, the convoy moves on...

Incident at the market

Paraska walks with her father at the fair. Here her attention is captured by that same handsome boy. He whispers sweet words of love to her.

And Solopy accidentally overhears a conversation between two peasants: they say there will be no trade this year. An evil spirit has nestled in an abandoned barn under the mountain. The devil is looking for parts of his red scroll. That’s why not a single Sorochinskaya fair takes place in this place without disaster.

But then Solopy sees his Paraska being hugged by some fellow, and is distracted from the conversation. The boy turns out to be the son of his old friend, Golopupenko. The men go to the shinkarnya (tavern) and, after getting drunk, agree on the wedding of the lovers. Solopy is greatly impressed by the way the boy drinks a glass of beer without even wincing.

However, when Cherevik breaks the news to his wife, she does not share his enthusiasm. Accuses her husband of stupidity and forbids the wedding. Blames her husband for finding himself a drinking buddy. Solopius has to obey.

Conspiracy against Cherevik

The next chapter of “Sorochinskaya Fair”, a summary of which we are considering, tells about Gritska. This is the name of Golopupenko’s son. The young man is noticeably upset that Cherevik did not keep his word. At this moment, a gypsy approaches him with an offer to buy oxen “for twenty.” But Gritska has no time for that - he is in love. Then the cunning gypsy offers him a deal - he forces Solopy to play a wedding, and the boy sells him oxen. Gritsko promises that he will give the oxen “for fifteen” if the gypsy does not lie.

Guests in Cherevik's house

At this time, Khavronya Nikiforovna receives priest Afanasy Ivanovich in the hut. He fell into nettles while trying to climb over the fence. The woman cajoles the victim in every possible way. She serves him food, but the priest admits that he craves sweeter food from the incomparable Khavronya - her love...

However, the lovers are interrupted by the sudden appearance of Solopy with a whole company of guests. In the evening he went to spend the night under the carts so that the goods would not be stolen. The guests are already quite drunk - Solopy drove past the house several times before he found his home. With him are his daughter, godfather Tsybulya and his wife, and several visiting men.

Khavronya, having hidden her priest in a niche with all sorts of utensils, warmly welcomes guests. And Solopy finally decides to ask what this red scroll is, which he heard about the day before. Terrible rumors are spreading throughout the village, but Cherevik still doesn’t know anything! And he hears a mystical story from godfather Tsybuli.

About the red scroll...

This chapter of the "Sorochinskaya Fair" in brief (for reader's diary) tells the legend of the magical red scroll.

One day they kicked the devil out of hell for some fault. What he did wrong is unknown. He left hell and settled in a dilapidated barn. And he became so bored in the heat, he could even climb into a noose. He started drinking out of grief. The devil has become such a reveler that you will not find among the boys. From morning to night he sat in a tavern owned by an old Jew.

Finally, I drank everything I had with me. Debts appeared in the tavern. He had to pawn his red scroll. He promised the shinkar that he would return in a year for the scroll - and disappeared. Shinkar looked at the beautiful cloth from which the scroll was made and decided that the transaction was successful.

Forgetting about the deadline, the Jew quickly sold the scroll to some visiting gentleman. He slipped the goods to the gypsies. So the scroll returned to the Sorochinsky fair. But since then no one has bought anything from merchants. They managed to sell the scroll to some gullible man, who soon discovered that this thing was unclean. He chopped it into small pieces, but the pieces of fabric stuck together. Out of fright, he chopped the scroll again and scattered it throughout the fair.

The devil, having visited the tavern and scared the Jew to death, got him to admit that the scroll had been sold. But the Jew no longer knows where she is. Since then, the devil has been walking around the villages, collecting parts of his lost scroll.

The guests gathered at the table become noticeably uncomfortable.

"Crap!"

And then a grunt is heard in the hut. Afanasy Ivanovich, who was hiding in a niche, is having fun. Barely alive from fear, Khavronya shames the men for their cowardice, saying that it was the bench that creaked under her.

But suddenly a real panic begins in the house - the window breaks and a terrible pig's face looks in. The guests run away in all directions. The Chereviks, mad with horror, run into the field with heart-rending screams: “Damn!” It seems to him that something heavy is running after him... From fatigue and fear he loses consciousness. And he feels something heavy falling on him.

The gypsies who were sleeping on the street heard the screams and went in search of its source. A man was lying on the street, and his wife, Khavronya, fell on top...

I stole it from myself

The next chapter of the story “Sorochinskaya Fair” briefly tells about the cunning of the gypsies.

Solopy and Khivrya wake up in the house of godfather Tsybuli. The wife drives the lazy Cherevik to the fair to sell his mare, giving him a towel to wash. The towel turns out to be a red cuff of a scroll. The spouses are scared. Cherevik grumbles that there will be no sales that day. However, he obediently takes the horse by the bridle and leads him to the market.

On the way, gypsies block his path. He asks what Solopy is selling. He turns to the mare, but finds that he is holding in his hands a bridle with the sleeve of a red scroll tied to it. Solopy throws away the bridle and tries to run away.

But Solopy is unable to run far. Several stalwarts grab him, shouting that they have caught a thief. He is tied up and put in some kind of barn. It turns out that he is accused of kidnapping Solopy Cherevik’s mare. “Where have you ever seen a person steal something from himself?” the man wonders.

Tsybul’s godfather is also tied up nearby. He was caught running around the fair screaming in terror. The godfather says that instead of tobacco, he pulled out a piece of red scroll from his pocket. This incredibly frightened Tsybulya, and he started to run, not making out the road. But he was captured and accused of theft.

Golopupenka's son, as if by chance, walks into the barn. Seeing the deplorable state of his potential father-in-law, he promises to help. But he makes Cherevik promise to arrange a wedding for him and Paraska. The frightened Solopy agrees. The boys immediately free a couple of “thieves”. It turns out that Cherevik’s horse is already waiting for him at home.

The gypsies are happy - the oxen now belong to them.

Wedding

The next chapter of the Sorochinskaya Fair, a summary of which we are discussing, talks about Paraska. The girl sadly remembers the handsome young man who she liked so much. She starts a love song, at that moment Solopy returns to the hut and starts dancing with her. A happy groom is already waiting for the girl on the street.

Khavronya arrives. Having heard about the wedding, she tries to cause a scandal, but is pushed aside by a couple of fellows. The wedding begins, everyone is happy. However, Gogol notes that the end of fun, love, and life itself is inevitable. This pessimistic note will be even more noticeable in his future works.

Even in a short summary, "Sorochinskaya Fair" is a very fun and interesting work. It is filled with special Gogolian humor, welcoming and friendly, like Ukraine itself.

Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol

SOROCHINSKAYA FAIR

Mini is boring to live in a house.
Oh, take me away from home,
There's a lot of thunder, thunder,
All the divas are bashing,
The boys are walking!

From an ancient legend.

How delightful, how luxurious a summer day in Little Russia! How languidly hot are those hours when midday shines in silence and heat, and the blue, immeasurable ocean, bent over the earth like a voluptuous dome, seems to have fallen asleep, completely drowned in bliss, hugging and squeezing the beautiful one in its airy embrace! There's not a cloud on it. No speech in the field. Everything seemed to have died; only above, in the heavenly depths, a lark trembles, and silver songs fly along the airy steps to the loving land, and occasionally the cry of a seagull or the ringing voice of a quail echoes in the steppe. Lazily and thoughtlessly, as if walking without a goal, the oak trees stand under the clouds, and the dazzling blows of the sun's rays light up whole picturesque masses of leaves, casting over others a shadow dark as night, along which gold flecks only in a strong wind. Emeralds, topazes, and jahonts of ethereal insects rain down over the colorful vegetable gardens, overshadowed by stately sunflowers. Gray haystacks and golden sheaves of bread are encamped in the field and wander through its immensity. Wide branches of cherries, plums, apple trees, and pears bent over from the weight of fruit; the sky, its pure mirror - the river in green, proudly raised frames... how full of voluptuousness and bliss the Little Russian summer is!

Lonely to the side was dragged by exhausted oxen a cart piled with sacks, hemp, linen and various household luggage, behind which its owner wandered in a clean linen shirt and soiled linen trousers. With a lazy hand he wiped away the sweat that was rolling down from his dark face and even dripping from his long mustache, powdered by that inexorable hairdresser who, without being called, appears to both the beauty and the ugly, and has been forcibly powdering the entire human race for several thousand years. Next to him walked a mare tied to a cart, whose humble appearance revealed her advanced years. Many people we met, and especially young guys, grabbed their hats when they caught up with our man. However, it was not his gray mustache and his unimportant gait that forced him to do this; you only had to raise your eyes a little upward to see the reason for such respect: sitting on the cart was a pretty daughter with a round face, with black eyebrows, even arches rising above her light brown eyes, with carelessly smiling pink lips, with red and blue ribbons tied on her head, which , together with long braids and a bunch of wild flowers, a rich crown rested on her charming head. Everything seemed to occupy her; everything was wonderful and new to her... and her pretty eyes constantly ran from one object to another. How not to get scattered! first time at the fair! An eighteen-year-old girl for the first time at the fair!.. But not a single one of the passers-by knew what it cost her to beg her father to take with her, who would have been glad with his soul to do this before, if not for the evil stepmother, who learned to hold him in his hands as deftly as he holds the reins of his old mare, who was now dragging herself for sale after a long service. A restless wife... but we forgot that she too was sitting at the height of the cart in an elegant green woolen jacket, on which, as if on ermine fur, there were red tails sewn on, in a rich plakhta, colorful as a chessboard, and in a chintz a colored eyeliner that gave some special importance to her red, plump face, across which something so unpleasant, so wild slipped, that everyone immediately hurried to transfer their anxious gaze to the cheerful face of their daughter.

May you choke, you worthless barge hauler! May your father get hit in the head with a pot! May he slip on the ice, damned Antichrist! May the devil burn his beard in the next world!

From a Little Russian comedy.