The image and characteristics of Sanka in the story is Astafiev’s horse with a pink mane. “Horse with a pink mane Horse with a pink mane Sanka

Kuznetsova Yana, 6th grade.

Research work, the purpose of which is to analyze the speech characteristics of the characters, determine their role in the story of V.P. Astafiev "Horse with a pink mane".

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The role of speech characteristics in creating images of heroes in the story of V.P. Astafiev "Horse with a pink mane".

Introduction.

The speech of any person is of great importance. From it one can judge his level of upbringing, education, vocabulary and even temperament. I decided to prove this using the example of V.P.’s story. Astafiev "Horse with a pink mane".

The purpose of my research is to analyze the speech characteristics of the characters and determine their role in the story.

To achieve this goal, it is necessary to solve the following tasks:

• study the lines of the main characters of the story;
• determine the role of speech characteristics in creating images of heroes;
• characterize the characters based on an analysis of the features of their speech.

Main part.

P. Astafiev is an outstanding Russian writer of the twentieth century. His works amaze with their sincerity and sincerity. Among them, a significant place is occupied by works dedicated to his childhood. These include the story “The Horse with the Pink Mane.”

The main characters of the story are ordinary people: grandmother Katerina Petrovna, her grandson - the future author of the story, uncle Levontius and his children. In the depiction of their characters

V. P. Astafiev uses numerous techniques for creating a literary image:

1. description of nature;
2. portrait of a hero;
3. image of surrounding life;
4. description of the characters’ relationships to each other;
5. speech of heroes.

The object of my research is the speech of the characters in the story. It forms a speech characteristic in which “the writer generalizes such features of people’s speech that tell the reader about the level of culture and belonging to a certain speech environment, historical era, reveal his spiritual world, his psychology.”

Having studied the remarks of the characters in the story, I divided the lexical units into groups (dialectisms, jargon, colloquial and obsolete words, phraseological units, sayings) and presented the study in the form of a table.

Thus, most of all in the speech of the heroes of dialectisms, they are used by all the heroes of the story, since they have lived in the same area since birth. The author thereby shows the original life of the Siberian village, the peculiarity of people’s speech.

All dialectisms used in the story can be divided into four groups.

1. Lexico-phonetic dialectisms. They differ from literary words in their phonetic structure:settlement - freedom, God bless, ruble - ruble, run - run, oppressor - oppress, come out - come out, what - what.

2. Lexico-word-formative dialectisms. They differ from literary words in word-formation features:If you don’t lure, you won’t lure, a convict is a convict, theirs is theirs, a leshak is a goblin, from here is from here.

3. Lexical dialectisms. These are dialect names of any objects that have synonyms in the literary language:rustles - scares, badoga - logs.

4. Lexico-semantic dialectisms. They have a dialectal meaning of literary words: death - a lot.

Speech characteristics of grandmother Katerina Petrovna.

The main components of the grandmother's language are colloquial and dialect words. She, as a representative of a generation that is dying out, uses outdated words:child, father. There are many appeals in her speech:crazy, eyeless stuffed animal, child, orphan. The use of a large number of addresses characterizes the grandmother as a sociable, talkative person. All these words have an emotional connotation. So, having discovered that the “overzealous” aunt Vasenya is returning more money to her than she needs, the grandmother is rightly indignant: “How do you handle money,eyeless stuffed animal!” Addressing her grandson Vita, Katerina Petrovna uses words with diminutive suffixes:child, orphan, father.She loves her grandson, but while raising him, she is forced to be strict, demanding, and restless. These properties of her character are reflected in her speech, almost all sentences are accompanied by exclamatory intonation (“You need to count! I have a ruble! The other one has a ruble! There’s no point in peeking out! You’re not sleeping, you’re not sleeping! I see everything!”) Grandmother is the main one in the house, she is used to commanding, so her remarks contain a lot of verbs in the imperative mood (“Wait, you crazy thing! Take, take, what are you looking at! Sleep, don’t be afraid!”) However, when talking with a strawberry buyer in the city, the grandmother shows the ability to speak correctly, delicately, as befits a cultured person: “Please, you are welcome. I say, the poor orphan was picking berries..."

The use of phraseological units gives special expressiveness to the grandmother’s speech. Outraged by her grandson's deception, she threatens"take into circulation"Levontiev children who taught Vitya to deceive her.Katerina Petrovna knows very well another layer of folk speech - sayings. “They themselves have a louse on their lasso in their pocket,” she emphasizes the poverty and instability of the Levontiev family. And only once in the grandmother’s speech does a slang word appear: “Okay, wash your face and sit down.” crack !” The use of this word is justified. It was uttered at the climax, when Vitya confessed his action and asked for forgiveness. The grandmother was overwhelmed with feelings.

Speech characteristics of Sanka.

Sanka's speech contains jargon. He invites Vita to eat the berries and reproaches him for greed. “Weak!” - he says. Comforting Vitya after a crime, he uses a slang word not bad. By this he wants to emphasize his adulthood and independence. Sanka is brave and reckless. “And the housewife is thin, looks pitifully and moans. You can’t lure me, just come up and he’ll grab it and eat it. I hit her in the eye with a rock!..” he says about visiting a dark cave. Use of the word housewife in this sentence emphasizes his superstitiousness, shows a good knowledge of the folklore of the area and a rich imagination. He spent his entire life in the village, as evidenced by the large number of dialect words in his speech. It does not contain complex syntactic structures, but is bright and expressive. It is given a special flavor by interjections (“Ha-ha! And you are ho-ho!”) and phraseological units (“All in moss, gray, trembling-trembling - he’s cold.”) The use of interjections in this sentence demonstrates his malicious laughter at Vitya, so we can conclude that Sanka has a harmful character.

Speech characteristics of Uncle Levontius.

The author draws the image of Uncle Levontius only at the beginning of the story. From the first remark of Uncle Levontius, uttered by him in the story, we learn that he is a good-natured man who loves freedom and the sea: “I, Petrovna, love freedom! Fine! Like the sea! Nothing depresses the eyes!” He takes pity on Vitya, treats him kindly (“He’s an orphan, and you’re still with your parents!”) But he has a negative trait - drunkenness: “Whenever you come... night, midnight... “Lost... you’re a lost head, Levontius !” - he will say and... he’s hungover-and-it...” The abruptness of the phrases and pauses indicate that he is saying this in a drunken state. The lexical composition of his language is poor and not expressive. Being a representative of this area, Uncle Levontius uses dialect words in his speech.

Conclusion.

Observations of the peculiarities of the characters’ speech help to understand the individual characteristics of their characters, their attitude towards others, their level of culture, and reveal their spiritual world. So, grandmother Katerina Petrovna seems to us to be a fair, honest person. She loves her grandson and is responsible for his upbringing. Her speech is expressive, rich, and emotional, which indicates her high cultural level.

Sanka's speech characterization especially successfully reveals the image of a mischievous village boy, reckless, rude, and a little harmful. He tries to appear mature and independent. Sanka has a rich imagination.

His father, Uncle Levontius, is portrayed as a kind but drinking man. This is evidenced by the features of his speech.

Thus, V.P. Astafiev, a true master of speech characterization, knew all the layers of vocabulary of the Russian language perfectly. This allowed him to create unforgettable images of the heroes in the story “The Horse with a Pink Mane.”

Childhood and youth of V. P. Astafiev. "Horse with a pink mane"
Horse with pink mane with underlining 2017

Viktor Petrovich Astafiev was born in 1924 in the village of Ovsyanka near Krasnoyarsk. In 1931, his mother drowned in the Yenisei, and the boy was taken in by his grandparents. When his father and stepmother moved to the polar port of Igarka, Astafiev ran away from home, became a street child, and was brought up in an orphanage. Then he graduated from the FZO railway school and worked as a train compiler near Krasnoyarsk.

In the fall of 1942, Astafiev volunteered for the front, was a driver, artillery reconnaissance officer, signalman, and was wounded and shell-shocked. After the war, he settled in the Urals, changed many professions, worked as a mechanic, foundry worker, and loader. In 1951, he became an employee of the Chusovoy Rabochiy newspaper and began writing and publishing his own stories, then stories and novels. The first collection of stories, “Until Next Spring,” was published in 1953.
Astafiev wrote many stories and novels for adults. But the writer especially enjoyed working for children. One of his first children's stories is “Vasyutkino Lake.” Children's stories made up the famous collection “The Horse with a Pink Mane.”
— Remember which of the writers you know, like Astafiev, changed many professions until he started writing. Did this help or hinder the creative development of the writer?
Here are the words of Astafiev, which you read in a 5th grade textbook: “...A lot of meetings, a lot of impressions, a lot of events, different, pleasant and unpleasant - all this was put off, accumulated somewhere slowly until it asked to come out.”
— Why does even a small, insignificant event, told by a good writer, arouse interest?
It's not just the event itself, but also the how the author interpreted it, from what side he was able to show it to us.

II. "Horse with a pink mane"
Expressive reading

“Brightness and originality of heroes”, “Peculiarities of using folk speech”, “Speech characteristics of the hero”. Understanding the position of the author-narrator in the story also depends on how expressively and artistically the teacher reads this story, how much the grandmother’s, Sanka Levontiev’s remarks will be highlighted and the narrator’s various intonations will be presented.

— What surprised you in this story? What questions would you like to discuss in class?
Why did the grandmother still buy her grandson a gingerbread horse?

Homework
Re-read the story yourself. Prepare answers to 1-3 questions in the textbook and complete in writing the 3rd task of the rubric “Be attentive to the word.”
Individual task
Prepare an expressive reading of the episode “Going for berries on the ridge” from the words “Here with Uncle Levontius’s kids...” to the words “...it turned out to be even wild strawberries.”

A depiction of the everyday life of a Siberian village in the pre-war years. Features of the use of folk speech. True and false love. Episode "Going for berries on the ridge." The author and narrator of the work. Speech characteristics of the characters

I. Depiction of the life and life of a Siberian village in the pre-war years. Features of the use of folk speech. True and false love

— At what time and where do the events of the story take place? Remember the signs of this time.
The events of the story take place in a Siberian village before the start of the Great Patriotic War. The signs of this time are hungry life, individual farming, lack of cars and good roads, rare trips to the city by boat. Characteristic features of the place are the Yenisei, ridges, taiga near the village.
— From whose perspective is the story told?
Throughout the collection “The Horse with a Pink Mane,” the narrative is told on behalf of a seven-year-old boy named Mitya.

Vocabulary work
— What words seemed unusual to you?

Dialect - local dialect, dialect
Dialectisms - words or figures of speech from a dialect used in a literary language.
Words that denote objects or phenomena characteristic of the place and time the writer is talking about seemed unusual, for example: uval, tuesok, badoga, opposite the village, zapoloshnaya, shurunet, shanga, zaimka, poskotina. The meanings of these words are given in the footnotes.
Uval — a gentle hill of considerable length.
Tuesok — birch bark basket with a tight lid.
Badoga - long logs.
Zapoloshnaya - fussy.
Shanga - bun with cottage cheese, cheesecake.
Castle - a plot of land far from the village, developed (ploughed) by its owner.
Poskotina — pasture, pasture.
Yar - steep edge of the ravine.

It’s good if you noted not only those words that are given in the footnotes, but also others, for example: small, elder, potatchik, threw down, “gobbled”, “welcomed”; in the speech of Uncle Levontius - “I love freedom”, “Nothing depresses the eyes!”
The author uses dialectisms to accurately convey a picture of the life of a pre-war Siberian village in order to immerse readers in the atmosphere of this life.

Conversation
Speaking about the life of the village, Astafiev contrasts two worlds, two ways of life: the way of life of indigenous Siberians, peasants and good owners, and the way of life of the Levontev family, the head of which is a proletarian who works not on the land, but at a lime factory, the “red vents” of the stoves which was blazing “on the other side of the river.”
The author gives a concentrated description of the Levontevs' house, but the description of the house of Katerina Petrovna's grandmother is given gradually throughout the entire story, so it is not immediately possible to grasp this contrast.
— Tell us about Levontia's family. How was she different from other families?
- “Uncle Levontius himself went out on warm evenings in pants held on by a single copper button with two eagles, and in a calico shirt without buttons at all.” What detail in this phrase attracts the reader's attention? What attitude towards Levontius does the author convey with the help of this detail?
What feeling does the author convey to us by calling Levontius’s children “Levontiev’s eagles.”
Levontia's family differed from the families of economic and serious Siberians in their chaotic life. Levontiy was not a peasant, like the boy’s grandfather, but was a worker, harvesting badog for the factory. He drank after his payday, spent money recklessly and, when drunk, beat his wife and children, who ran away and hid in the neighbors. Levontius did not care about raising the children; they grew up like street children and ate whatever they needed.
— Find in the text a passage depicting Uncle Levontius’s house. Read it. What details indicate the unsettled life of this family?
The description of Levontius's house leaves the reader with the impression of disorder and absurdity. On the one hand, it seems good when nothing interferes with looking at the white light, but, on the other hand, a house that has neither platbands, nor shutters, nor even a canopy cannot be called a cozy home, one would not want to live in it. The unsettled state of the Levontev family is indicated by the absence of the most necessary parts of the house in village life, “somewhat glazed windows”, a description of the stove “splayed out in the middle of the hut”, and the story of how the family picked the ground around the house in the spring, erected a fence and burned it in the winter the fence was in the stove because there was no wood in stock.
— What proverb does grandma use when she talks about the Levontev family?
The narrator’s grandmother speaks about the Levontevs with a proverb: “...they themselves have a louse on a lasso in their pocket.”
— What does the phrase mean: “Someone’s Levontiev’s “got off” a pole...”?
One of the main problems of the story is the distinction between true and false love.
The narrator is a boy who narrates his life; the author is a mature person who does not give direct assessments, but with the help of arranging facts, he makes us understand the true essence of events. Throughout the analysis of the story, we will learn to distinguish between these two images .
The narrator says: “Uncle Levontius once sailed the seas, he loved the sea, and I loved it.” We hear childish intonations in the words: “My mother drowned. What good? I'm an orphan now. An unhappy person, and there is no one to pity me. Levontius only regrets being drunk, that’s all. But grandma just screams no, no, and gives in - she won’t last long.” We see that the boy thinks that his grandmother does not love him, but Uncle Levontius does.
— Is it really? What does the author want to tell us?
— Can Uncle Levontius’s drunken tears be called a manifestation of love for the boy?
— Have there been situations in your life when you thought that you were not loved, and then you realized that this was not the case at all?

II. Episode "Going for berries on the ridge." The author and narrator of the work. Speech characteristics of the characters
Conversation
The episode “Going for berries on the ridge” is key in the work.
Let's return to the paragraph: “With Uncle Levontius’s children... we soon came to the forest, to a rocky ridge.”
- Find the verbs in this passage. Write them down in your notebook.
* They threw, floundered, began to fight, cried, teased, jumped in, did not have time, laid on, ate, threw, left, squeaked, came.
— How do you understand the meaning of the expression “they layered the onion-batun”?
What does this mean: “they pulled onions into the hem of the shirt.”
— How do these verbs characterize the “Levontief eagles”?
The writer needed so many verbs to convey a large number of chaotic actions.
— Briefly list the events of this trip to the ridge .
In the morning, the children went to the ridge to pick berries. At first they collected in silence, but then they got tired of it, they began to tease, fight, and ate all the berries. Then they splashed around in the river, caught a sculpin, and then tore it to pieces on the bank. They shot down the swift and buried it in the pebbles, soon forgetting about the bird. Then they ran into the mouth of the cold cave and showed off to each other. Sanka scared his brothers and sisters. Then the Levontievskys went home, and left the boy alone in the taiga and without berries, knowing that he would be punished at home.
- Why did Mitya pour the berries into the grass? What feelings did he experience at this? Follow the text.
“- Do you want me to eat all the berries? “I said this and immediately repented: I realized that I had fallen into trouble.”
“Am I weak? I swaggered around, looking sideways into the tuesok. There were berries already above the middle. - Am I weak? - I repeated in a fading voice and, so as not to give up, not to be afraid, not to disgrace myself, I resolutely shook the berries into the grass...”
“I only got a few tiny berries. It's a pity for the berries. Sad. But I pretended to be desperate and gave up on everything. It’s all the same now.”
— Why does the author write: “The Levontief horde has fallen...”? What attitude does he convey towards the children of Uncle Levontius with these words?
- What made the boy say: “I’ll steal grandma’s roll!”?
- Who tells us about this day: the narrator or an adult? Who could say the phrase: “We spent such an interesting and fun day...”? How do you think the author feels about the events of this day?
On behalf of the boy, the author writes that the children spent the day “interesting and fun.” But the author himself does not believe that a day when not a single useful thing was done, when a fish was torn to pieces “for its ugly appearance,” stones were thrown at birds and a swift was killed, can be called cheerful. On behalf of the narrator, the author calls this day cheerful, but thus encourages readers to think about whether this is so.
— Which of the Levontief children does the author pay more attention to?

- Read Sanka’s portrait.
Among the Levontiev children, the author pays more attention to Sanka. Sanka was the second son of Uncle Levontius and, when the eldest left with his father, he felt like the leader among the children. Astafiev writes: “Scratched, with bumps on his head from fights and various other reasons, with pimples on his arms and legs, with red, bloody eyes, Sanka was more harmful and angrier than all the Levontiev boys.” This was really so, because it was Sanka who teased the boy, forcing him to pour out the berries, laughed at him, mocked him and demanded the rolls. The author seems to be studying Sanka, he makes us understand that the hero of the story is attracted and admired by Sanka’s energy and ingenuity and repelled by his anger and vile actions.
— What can you say about the author’s attitude towards the children of Uncle Levontius? What does the author call them?
The writer's attitude towards children is sad and ironic. He understands that these are children who are not being raised properly, and it is not their fault. They often go hungry and are poorly cared for by their parents. Then the author calls them “children.” The author’s irony is manifested in the name “Levontief eagles”. Indignation at their behavior is conveyed in the words “Levontiev horde.” Sanka calls his brothers and sisters the word “people”; this word cannot be considered an author’s characteristic.
Let's read several lines characterizing Sanka, then Tanka, asking if the students recognized the hero.
— The speech of each of Astafiev’s heroes differs from the speech of the other heroes. With the help of what signs do we distinguish who owns certain words?
Features of the use of words, intonation.
— Why does the author make the speech of each character distinguishable?
So that we can better imagine the character of the hero.
* Characteristics of the hero - description of the characteristics and properties of the hero using a portrait, a story about actions.
* Speech characteristics of the hero - description of the characteristic, distinctive properties and qualities of the hero using speech.
- What can we tell about Tanka and Sanka from their speech?

Homework
Prepare answers to questions 7-8 in the textbook.
Make a quotation plan for a story about Sanka Levontiev, about grandmother Katerina Petrovna (at the student’s choice).

The image of the main character of the story. The moral problems of the story are honesty, kindness, the concept of duty. The brightness and originality of the characters (Sanka Levontev, grandmother Katerina Petrovna)

I. The image of the main character of the story. The moral problems of the story are honesty, kindness, the concept of duty)
Conversation

— Why did the grandmother buy her grandson a gingerbread horse?
The grandmother bought her grandson a gingerbread horse because she understood that the child had been taught to act badly, and wanted to counter the evil act with understanding, kindness and forgiveness.
If you have already read the story “The Monk in New Pants,” you will be able to answer the question:
How did grandma fulfill her promise to take Levontiev’s “into circulation”?
Grandfather began to take Sanka Levontev with him and teach him to work, and grandmother “took patronage” of Tanka. Grandparents tried to influence the Levontyevs not with the help of evil and screaming, but with the help active kindness .
— What life lessons did the hero learn from this story?
The hero learned the main lesson from this story: a lesson of kindness, forgiveness and mercy. The lesson was embodied in the gingerbread that the grandmother bought for her grandson, despite the deception: a horse with a pink mane.

II. The brightness and originality of the characters (Sanka Levontev, grandmother Katerina Petrovna)

Quotation plan (option)
1) “— Sanka ate it too, so it’s okay...”
2) “Sanka howled and rushed at the elder.”
3) “Soon the Levontiev brothers somehow quietly made peace...”
4) “...Sanka was more harmful and angrier than all the Levontiev guys.”
5) “Sanka ran the furthest into the cave.”
6) “Sanka whistled and yelled, giving us heat.”
7) “- You know what? — After talking with the brothers, Sanka returned to me. “You push herbs into the bowl, and berries on top - and you’re done!”
8) “—...Bring the kalach, then I won’t tell you.”
9) “Sanka was getting ready to go fishing and was unraveling the fishing line.”
10) “...Sanka commanded recklessly.”
11) “Sanka put the fish on sticks and began to fry them.”
12) “- Nice! - Sanka consoled me. “Don’t go home, that’s all!”

Katerina Petrovna

Quotation plan (option)
1) “—You’ll pick up some tuesok.” I’ll take my berries to the city, I’ll sell yours too and buy you gingerbread.”
2) “Grandma counted carefully and for a long time, looking at every ruble.”
3) “Grandma knows all my habits.”
4) “Grandma’s labored breathing could be heard from below.”
5) “But grandma just screams no, no, and gives in - she won’t last long.”
6) “And then I saw another person sitting on the gazebo. A half shawl is on the head, the ends are passed under the arms, and tied crosswise on the back.”
7) “— He always spoiled his own! - the grandmother made noise. - Now to this! And he’s already cheating!”
8) “- And my little one!.. What did he do!..”
9) “For a long time my grandmother denounced and shamed me.”
10) “- Take it, take it, what are you looking at? Look, but even when you deceive your grandmother...”

— What episode is depicted in the illustration in the textbook? What do you think was conveyed particularly well?
The illustration depicts an episode when a boy, after a night in the pantry, sat down at the table: “The grandmother poured milk into a glass in one fell swoop and placed the vessel in front of me with a knock.” The movement of the grandmother is most successfully conveyed. She feels sorry for her grandson, and at the same time she understands that he must be punished. The artist managed to reflect this.
— What would you like to depict in the drawings for the story?

III. Plot and composition of the story
When working with A. S. Pushkin’s novel “Dubrovsky,” we studied the concepts of “plot” and “composition.”
- What's happened plot, composition?
You can use the “Concise Dictionary of Literary Terms” at the end of the textbook.
— Do the sequence of events in the plot and the composition coincide in the story?
— Why did the author place the story about the Levontiev family not at the beginning, but after the readers learned that Mitya should go to hell with the Levontiev children?

V. P. Astafiev. Collections of stories “The Horse with a Pink Mane”, “The Last Bow”

Extracurricular reading lesson

Story

Grandmother returned from the neighbors and told me that the Levontiev children were going to the strawberry harvest.

“Go with them,” she said. - You'll get some trouble. I will take my berries to sell, I will also sell yours and buy you gingerbread.

- A horse, grandma?

- Horse, horse.

Gingerbread horse! This is the dream of all village kids. He is white, white, this horse. And his mane is pink, his tail is pink, his eyes are pink, his hooves are also pink.

Grandma never let me run around with a piece of bread. Eat at the table, otherwise it will be bad. But gingerbread is a completely different matter. You can put the gingerbread under your shirt and hear, while running, how the horse hits its bare belly with its hooves. Cold with horror - lost! - to grab his shirt and with happiness make sure that he is here, here, the horse-fire. With such a horse, you will immediately appreciate how much attention! The Levontyevsky guys are all around you, this way and that, they caress, and they let the first one hit the siskin, and shoot with a slingshot, so that only they will then be allowed to bite off the horse or lick it.

When you give the Levontevsky Sanka or Tanka a bite, you must hold with your fingers the place where you are supposed to bite and hold it tightly, otherwise Tanka or Sanka will bite; what will be left of the horse is the tail and mane.

Levontius, our neighbor, worked on the Badogs. We call badogami long firewood for lime kilns. Levontii harvested timber for badogi, sawed it, chopped it and delivered it to the lime plant, which was opposite the village on the other side of the Yenisei.

Once every ten days, or maybe fifteen, I don’t remember exactly, Levontius received money, and then in Levontius’s house, where there were only children and nothing else, a huge feast began.

Some kind of restlessness, a fever or something, then gripped not only the Levontievsky house, but also all the neighbors. Even early in the morning, Levontikha and Aunt Vasilisa ran to see my grandmother, out of breath, exhausted, with rubles clutched in a fistful:

- Stop, you freak! - Grandma called out to her. - You have to count!

Aunt Vasilisa obediently returned and, while grandmother was counting the money, she walked with her bare feet, like a hot horse, ready to take off as soon as the reins were let go.

Grandmother counted carefully and for a long time, smoothing out each ruble. As far as I remember, my grandmother never gave the Levontevs more than seven or ten rubles from the “rainy day reserve”, because this entire “reserve”, it seems, consisted of ten. But even with such a small amount, the alarmed Levontikha managed to shortchange herself by a ruble, or even three. The grandmother attacked Levontikha with all severity;

- How do you handle money, you eyeless scarecrow?! A ruble for me, a ruble for another. What does this mean?!..

But Levontikha again made a swirl with her skirt and rolled away:

- She did!

Grandma spent a long time blaspheming Levontiikha, Levontii himself, hitting herself on the thighs with her hands, spitting, and I sat down by the window and looked longingly at the neighbor’s house.

He stood by himself in the open space, and nothing prevented him from looking at the light through the white, somehow glazed windows - no fence, no gate, no porch, no frames, no shutters.

In the spring, having dug up a little soil in the garden around the house, the Levontevskys erected a fence from poles, twigs, and old boards. But in winter, all this gradually disappeared into the insatiable womb of the Russian stove, which sadly squatted in the middle of Levontius’s hut.

Tanka Levontevskaya used to say about this, making noise with her toothless mouth:

“But when the guy snoops at us, you run and don’t miss a beat.”

Levontius himself went out into the street in trousers held on by a single old copper button with two eagles, and in an untucked shirt with no buttons at all. He would sit on an ax-marked block of wood that represented a porch, and complacently respond to his grandmother’s reproaches:

- I, Petrovna, love weakness! – and moved his hand around himself. - Fine! Nothing depresses the eyes!

Levontius loved me and pitied me. The main goal of my life was to break into Levontius’s house after his payday. This is not so easy to do. Grandma knows all my habits in advance.

- There’s no point in peeking out! - she thunders.

But if I manage to sneak out of the house and get to the Levontevs, that’s it, that’s a holiday for me!

- Get out of here! - the drunken Levontius sternly ordered one of his boys. He reluctantly crawled out from behind the table, Levontius explained this action to the children in an already limp voice: “He is an orphan, and you are still with your parents!” Do you even remember your mother? – he roared, looking pitifully at me. I nodded my head affirmatively, and then Levontius recalled with a tear: “Badogi was injected with her for one year!” - and, completely bursting into tears, he remembered: - Whenever you come... night, at midnight... lost... your lost head, Levontius, will say and... make you hangover...

Here Aunt Vasilisa, Levontia’s children and I, together with them, began to shout loudly, and it became so amicable and pitiful in the hut that everything and everything spilled out and fell out on the table, and everyone treated me together, and ate with all their might.

Late in the evening or completely at night, Levontius asked the same question: “What is life?!” After which I grabbed gingerbread cookies and candies, the Levontevsky children also grabbed whatever they could get their hands on and ran away in all directions. The last move was made by Aunt Vasilisa. And my grandmother “welcomed” her until the morning. Levontii smashed the remaining glass in the windows, cursed, thundered, and cried.

The next day, he used shards of glass on the windows, repaired the benches and table, and, full of darkness and remorse, went to work. Aunt Vasilisa walked around the neighbors after three or four days and no longer made a swirl with her skirt. She again borrowed money, flour, potatoes, whatever she needed.

So I went with Uncle Levontius’s kids. for strawberries in order to earn gingerbread with your labor. The Levontievsky children carried in their hands glasses with broken edges, old ones, half torn for kindling; birch bark tueskas and even a ladle without a handle. They threw these dishes at each other, floundered, started fighting twice, cried, teased. On the way, they dropped into someone's garden and, since nothing was ripe there yet, they piled onions, ate until their saliva was green, and threw away the rest of the onions. They left only a few feathers for the pipes. They squeaked into the bitten onion feathers all the way, and to the music we soon arrived in the forest, on a rocky ridge. They began to take strawberries that were just ripening, rare, white-sided, and especially desirable and expensive.

I took it diligently and soon covered the bottom of a neat little glass by two or three. Grandmother used to say that the main thing in berries is to close the bottom of the vessel. I breathed a sigh of relief and began to take the berries faster, and I came across more and more of them higher up the ridge.

The Levontiev children also walked quietly at first. Only the lid, tied to the copper teapot, jingled. This teapot belonged to the eldest boy of the Levontevs, and he rattled it so that we could hear that he, the eldest, was here, nearby, and we had no one to fear and no need to fear.

But suddenly the lid of the kettle rattled nervously, and a fuss was heard:

- Eat, right? Eat, right? What about home? What about home? – the elder asked and gave someone a kick after each question.

- A-ha-a-a! - Tanka sang, - Sanka ate it too, so it’s okay...

Sanka was also hit, he got angry, threw the vessel and fell into the grass. The eldest took and took berries, and, apparently, he felt offended that he was taking, trying for the house, but they were eating the berries or even lying in the grass. He jumped up to Sanka and kicked him again, Sanka howled and rushed at the elder. The kettle rang and berries splashed out. The Levontiev brothers are fighting, rolling around, crushing all the berries.

After the fight, the elder man gave up too. He began to collect the spilled crushed berries and put them in his mouth.

– You can, but I can’t? - he asked ominously until he had eaten everything he could collect.

Soon the Levontiev brothers somehow quietly made peace, stopped calling each other names and decided to go to a small section to splash themselves.

I also wanted to splash, but I did not dare to go from the ridge to the river. Sanka began to grimace:

- Grandma Petrovna was scared! Oh you... - And Sanka called me a bad, offensive word. He knew a lot of such words. I also knew them, learned them from the Levontiev guys, but I was afraid, and maybe even embarrassed to use them, and only said:

- But the woman will buy me gingerbread with a horse!

- I?

- You!

- Greedy?

- Greedy!

– Do you want me to eat all the berries?! – I said this and immediately repented, I realized that I had fallen for the bait. Scratched, with bumps on his head from fights and various other reasons, with pimples on his arms and legs, Sanka was more harmful and angrier than all the Levontiev boys.

- Weak! - he said.

- Am I weak? – I swaggered, looking sideways into the tuesok. There were berries already above the middle. - Am I weak? - I repeated in a fading voice and, so as not to give up, not to be afraid, not to disgrace myself, I decisively shook the berries into the grass: - Here! Eat with me!

The Levontievskaya horde fell, and the berries instantly disappeared.

I only got a few berries. Sad. But I had already become desperate and gave up on everything. I rushed with the kids to the river and boasted:

- I’ll steal grandma’s kalach!

The guys encouraged me, come on, they say, and more than one kalach, maybe, they say, you’ll grab another shaneg or a pie.

- OK! – I shouted with enthusiasm.

We splashed cold water from the river, wandered along it and caught a sculpin pika with our hands. Sanka grabbed this disgusting-looking fish, called it shameful, and we tore it to pieces on the shore for its ugly appearance. Then they fired stones at flying birds and hit a swift. We fed the swift water from the river, but it bled into the river, but could not swallow the water and died, dropping its head. We buried the swift and soon forgot about it, because we got busy with an exciting, creepy business - we ran into the mouth of a cold cave, where evil spirits lived (this was known for certain in the village). Sanka ran the furthest into the cave. Even evil spirits didn’t take him!

We spent the whole day so interesting and fun, and I completely forgot about the berries. But the time has come to return home. We sorted out the dishes hidden under the tree.

- Katerina Petrovna will ask you! He'll ask! – Sanka giggled. - We ate the berries. Ha ha! They ate it on purpose! Ha ha! We're fine! Ho-ho! And for you, ha-ha!..

I myself knew that to them, the Levontievskys, “ho-ho!”, and to me, “ha-ha!” My grandmother, Katerina Petrovna, is not Aunt Vasilisa.

I pathetically followed the Levontiev children out of the forest. They ran ahead of me and in a crowd drove a ladle without a handle along the road. The ladle clanked, bounced on the stones, and the remains of the enamel bounced off it.

- Do you know what? – After talking with the brothers, Sanka turned to me. “You push some herbs into the bowl, and berries on top - and you’re done!” “Oh, my child! – Sanka began to accurately imitate my grandmother. “God helped you, orphan, help you.” - And the demon Sanka winked at me, and rushed further, down the ridge.

And I stayed.

The voices of the Levontiev children died down behind the vegetable gardens. I stood with the tuesk, alone on a steep ridge, alone in the forest, and I was scared. True, you can hear the village here. But still the taiga, the cave is not far away, and there is evil spirit in it.

He sighed and sighed, almost cried, and began to tear up the grass. I picked some berries, laid the top of the tueska, and it even turned out to be a heap.

- You are my child! - my grandmother began to cry when I, frozen with fear, handed her my vessel. - May God help you, little orphan. I’ll buy you a huge gingerbread. And I won’t pour your berries into mine, but; I’ll take you away right in this car...

It relieved a little. I thought that now my grandmother would discover my fraud, give me what was due for it, and I was already detachedly preparing for punishment for the crime I had committed.

But it worked out. Everything worked out fine. My grandmother took my tuesok to the basement, praised me again, gave me something to eat, and I thought that I had nothing to be afraid of yet and life was not so bad.

I ran outside to play, and there I felt the urge to tell Sanka about everything.

- And I’ll tell Petrovna! And I'll tell you!..

- No need, Sanka!

- Bring the kalach, then I won’t tell you.

I secretly snuck into the pantry, took the kalach out of the chest and brought it to Sanka under my shirt. Then he brought more, then more, until Sanka got drunk.

“He cheated his grandmother and stole the rolls!” What will happen? - I was tormented at night, tossing and turning on the bed. Sleep did not take me as a completely and utterly confused criminal.

- Why are you messing around there? – the grandmother asked hoarsely from the darkness. - I suppose he was wandering around in the river again? Are your legs hurting?

“No,” I responded pathetically, “I had a dream...

- Well, sleep with God. Sleep, don't be afraid. Life is worse than dreams, father...” Grandma was already muttering indistinctly.

“What if I wake her up and tell her everything?”

I listened. From below came the labored breathing of a tired old man. It's a shame to wake up grandma. She has to get up early. No, I’d rather stay up until the morning, watch over my grandmother, tell her about everything - about the tueski, and about the rolls, and about everything, about everything...

This decision made me feel better, and I didn’t notice how my eyes closed. Sanka’s unwashed face appeared, and then strawberries flashed and fell asleep, she covered up Sanka, and everything in this world.

The floors smelled of pine and berries, and unique childhood dreams came to me. In these dreams you often fall down with a sinking heart. They say - because you grow.

Grandfather was at the village, about five kilometers from the village, at the mouth of the Mana River. There we sown a strip of rye, a strip of oats and a strip of potatoes. Talk about collective farms was just beginning at that time, and our villagers were still living alone. I really loved visiting my grandfather’s farm. He’s calm there, somehow thorough. Maybe because grandpa never makes noise and even works quietly, unhurriedly, but very quickly and pliably.

Oh, if only the settlement were closer! I would have left, hidden. But five kilometers for me then was a huge, insurmountable distance. And Alyosha, my deaf and mute cousin, is gone. Recently, Augusta, his mother, came and took Alyoshka with her to the rafting site where she worked.

I wandered around, wandered around the empty hut and could not think of anything else how to go to the Levontevskys.

- Has Petrovna swam away? – Sanka grinned cheerfully and splashed his saliva onto the floor into the hole between his front teeth. He could easily fit another tooth in this hole, and we were terribly envious of this Sanka hole. How he spat through it!

Sanka was getting ready to go fishing and was unraveling the fishing line. The little Levontevskys walked near the benches, crawled, hobbled just like that on their crooked legs. Sanka gave out slaps left and right because the little ones were getting under the arm and tangling the fishing line.

“There’s no hook,” he said angrily, “he must have swallowed something.”

- He will die!

“Nice,” Sanka reassured me. - If you would give me a hook, I would take you fishing.

- It's coming! - I was delighted and rushed home, grabbed a fishing rod, some bread, and we went to the stone bulls, behind the cattle, which went straight down into the Yenisei below the village.

Senior Levontevsky was not there today. His father took him with him to the badogi, and Sanka commanded recklessly. Since he was the eldest today and felt great responsibility, he almost didn’t get cocky and even pacified the “people” if they started to fight...

Sanka set up fishing rods near the bullheads, baited worms, spat on them and cast out the fishing lines.

- Sha! - Sanka said, and we froze.

It didn't bite for a long time. We were tired of waiting, and Sanka sent us off to look for sorrel - sorrel, coastal garlic and wild radish.

The Levontiev children knew how to feed themselves “from the earth”, they ate everything that God sent, they did not disdain anything, and that is why they were all red-faced, strong, dexterous, especially at the table.

While we were collecting greens suitable for food, Sanka pulled out two ruffs, one gudgeon and a white-eyed dace.

They lit a fire on the shore. Sanka put the fish on sticks and began to fry them.

The fish were eaten without salt and almost raw. The children had already threshed my bread and were busy doing what they could: pulling swifts out of their holes, throwing stone tiles in the water, trying to swim, but the water was still cold, and everyone quickly jumped out of the river to warm up by the fire. We warmed up and fell into the still low grass.

It was a clear summer day. It was hot from above. Near the cattle, the frying flowers blazed fieryly, in the spoon, under the birches and boyars, the speckled cuckoo tears drooped to the ground. Blue bells dangled from side to side on long, crisp stems, and probably only the bees heard them ring. Near the anthill, striped gramophone flowers lay on the warmed ground, and bumblebees poked their heads into their blue mouthpiece. They froze for a long time, sticking out their shaggy bottoms; they must have been listening to the music. The birch leaves glittered, the aspen tree grew drowsy from the heat and did not flutter. The boyarka blossomed and littered the water, the pine forest was fumed with a transparent haze. There was a slight flicker over the Yenisei. Through this flickering, the red vents of the lime kilns blazing on the other side of the river were barely visible. The forests on the rocks stood motionless, and the railway bridge in the city, visible from our village in clear weather, swayed like a thin cobweb and, if you looked at it for a long time, completely collapsed and fell.

From there, from behind the bridge, the grandmother should swim. What will happen? And why, why did I do this?! Why did you listen to the Levontevskys?

What a good life it was! Walk, run and don't think about anything. And now? Maybe the boat will capsize and grandma will drown? No, it’s better not to tip over. My mother drowned. What good? I'm an orphan now. Unhappy man. And there is no one to feel sorry for me. Only when Levontius is drunk, he will regret it and that’s all, but grandma just screams no, no, no, and gives in - she won’t last long. And there is no grandfather. He’s not a borrower, grandpa. He wouldn't hurt me. Grandma shouts at him: “Potatchik! I’ve indulged my own people all my life, now this!..”

“Grandfather, you are a grandfather, if only you could come to the bathhouse to wash, if only you would just come and take me with you!”

- Why are you whining? – Sanka leaned towards me with a concerned look.

- Nice! – Sanka consoled me. – Don’t go home and that’s it! Bury yourself in the hay and hide. Petrovna saw your mother’s eye slightly open when she was buried. Now he is afraid that you will drown too. Here she will scream, wail: “My child is drowning, the orphan monk threw me off,” and you’re right there...

- I won’t do that! – I protested. – And I won’t listen to you!..

- Well, to hell with you! They want you better... Wow! Got it! You're hooked! Pull!

I rolled down from the ravine, alarmed the swifts in the holes and pulled the fishing rod. I caught a perch. Then another perch. Then the ruff. The fish came up and the bite began. We baited worms and cast them.

– Don’t step over the rod! - Sanka superstitiously yelled at the Levontiev kids, who were completely crazy with delight, and carried the fish. The kids put them on a willow rod and lowered them into the water.

Suddenly, behind the nearest stone bullock, forged poles clicked on the bottom, and a boat appeared from behind the toe. Three men threw poles out of the water at once. Flashing with polished tips, the poles fell into the water at once, and the boat, burying itself up to its very edges in the river, rushed forward, throwing waves to the sides.

Another swing of the poles, a swing of the arm, a push - and the boat got closer, closer. The stern one pushed with his pole, and the boat nodded its bow away from our fishing rods. And then I saw another person sitting on the gazebo. A half shawl is on the head, the ends are passed under the arms, and tied crosswise on the back. Under the shawl is a jacket dyed burgundy, which was taken out of the chest only on the occasion of a trip to the city and on major holidays...

After all, this is grandma!

I rushed from the fishing rods straight to the ravine, jumped up, grabbed the grass and hung, sticking my big toe into the swiftlet's hole. Then a swift flew up, hit me on the head, and I fell down onto lumps of clay. He jumped off and started running along the shore away from the boat.

- Where are you going?! Stop! Stop, I say! - Grandma shouted.

I ran at full speed.

- I'm going home, I'm going home, you swindler! – my grandmother’s voice rushed after me. And the men turned up the heat, shouting:

- Hold him!

And I didn’t notice how I ended up at the upper end of the village.

Only then did I discover that it was already evening, and willy-nilly I had to return home. But I didn’t want to go home and, just in case, I went to my cousin Vanka, who lived here, on the upper edge of the village.

I'm lucky. Near the house of Kolcha Sr., Vanka’s father, they were playing lapta. I got involved in the game and ran until dark.

Aunt Fenya, Vanka’s mother, appeared and asked me:

- Why don’t you go home?

Grandma will lose you, won't she?

“Nope,” I answered nonchalantly. - She sailed to the city. Maybe he spends the night there.

Then Aunt Fenya offered me something to eat, and I happily ground up everything she gave me. And the thin-necked, silent Vanka drank boiled milk, and his mother said to him:

- Everything is milk and milk. Look how the boy eats, and that’s why he’s strong.

I was already hoping that Aunt Fenya would leave me to spend the night, but she asked more questions, asked about everything, then took me by the hand and took me home.

There was no longer any light in the house. Aunt Fenya knocked on the window. Grandmother shouted: “It’s not locked.” We entered a dark and quiet house, where all we could hear was the multi-winged buzzing of flies, spiders and wasps hitting the glass.

Aunt Fenya pushed me into the hallway and pushed me into the storage room attached to the hallway. There was a bed made of rugs and an old saddle in the heads - in case someone was overwhelmed by the heat during the day and wanted to rest in the cold.

I buried myself in the rugs and became quiet.

Aunt Fenya and grandmother were talking about something in the hut. The closet smelled of bran, dust and dry grass stuck in all the cracks and under the ceiling. This grass kept clicking and crackling, and that’s why, apparently, it was a little mysterious and creepy in the pantry.

Under the floor, a mouse was scratching alone and timidly, starving because of the cat. Silence, coolness and night life established themselves in the village. The dogs, killed by the daytime heat, came to their senses, crawled out from under the canopy, porches, and kennels and tried their voices. Near the bridge that runs across a small river, an accordion was playing. Young people gather on the bridge, dance and sing there. Uncle Levontius was hastily chopping wood. Uncle Levontius must have brought something for the brew. Did the Levontievskys “gobble” someone’s pole? Most likely ours. They have time to go far now.

Aunt Fenya left, tightly closing the door in the entryway. The cat sneaked stealthily under the porch, and the mouse disappeared under the floor. It became completely dark and lonely. The floorboards did not creak in the hut, and the grandmother did not walk. She must be tired. I felt cold. I curled up and fell asleep.

I woke up from a ray of sunlight breaking through the dim window of the pantry. In the beam, dust fluttered like a midge; I looked around, and my heart jumped joyfully - my grandfather’s old sheepskin coat was thrown over me. Grandpa arrived at night! Beauty!

I listened. In the kitchen, grandma said loudly and indignantly:

- ...a cultured lady, in a hat. He says: “I’ll buy all these berries from you.” I say: “Please, you are welcome. The berries, I say, were picked by a poor orphan..."

Then I seemed to have fallen through the ground together with my grandmother and could no longer make out the last words, because I covered myself with a sheepskin coat and huddled in it in order to die quickly.

But it became hot, deaf, it became unbearable to breathe, and I opened up.

– ... always spoiling his own people! - the grandmother made noise. - Now this! And he's cheating! What will become of it later? There will be a Qatari! He will be an eternal prisoner! I’ll also take Levontievsky into circulation! This is their certificate!..

- You’re not sleeping, you’re not sleeping! I see everything!

But I didn't give up. Grandma’s niece ran into the house and asked how grandma swam to the city. Grandmother said that thank God, and immediately began to tell:

- My little one! What have you done!..

That morning many people came to us, and my grandmother said to everyone: “And my little one!”

The grandmother walked back and forth, watered the cow, drove her out to the shepherd, did her various things, and every time she passed the pantry door, she shouted:

- You’re not sleeping, you’re not sleeping! I see everything!

Grandfather turned into the closet, pulled the leather reins out from under me and winked: “It’s okay, don’t be shy.” I sniffled. Grandfather stroked my head, and the tears that had been accumulating for so long poured out in a torrent.

- Well, what are you, what are you? - Grandfather reassured me, wiping away the tears from my face with his large, tough and kind hand. - Why are you lying there hungry? Ask for forgiveness... Go, go,” my grandfather gently nudged me.

Holding my pants with one hand and pressing the other to my eyes with my elbow, I stepped into the hut and began:

“I’m more... I’m more... I’m more...” and he couldn’t say anything further.

- Okay, wash yourself and sit down to crack! – still irreconcilably, but without a thunderstorm, without thunder, the grandmother said.

I obediently washed my face. He wiped himself with a towel for a long time and very carefully, shuddering every now and then from the still lingering sobs, and sat down at the table. Grandfather was busy in the kitchen, winding the reins around his hand, and doing something else. Feeling his invisible and reliable support, I took the crust from the table and began to eat it dry. Grandmother poured milk into a glass in one fell swoop and placed the glass in front of me with a knock:

- Look, he’s so humble! Look how quiet he is, and he won’t ask for milk!..

Grandfather winked at me - be patient, he said. Even without him, I knew that God forbid I should contradict my grandmother now or even raise my voice. She must speak out, must discharge herself.

For a long time my grandmother denounced and shamed me. I roared repentantly again. She shouted at me again.

But then the grandmother spoke up. Grandfather left somewhere. I sat, smoothed out the patch on my pants, and pulled the threads out of it. And when he raised his head, he saw in front of him...

I closed my eyes and opened my eyes again. He closed his eyes again and opened them again. A white horse with a pink mane galloped on pink hooves across the washed, scraped kitchen table, like across a vast land with arable fields, meadows and roads. And an angry voice was heard from the stove:

- Take it, take it, what are you looking at?! Look, for this, even when you deceive your grandmother...

How many years have passed since then! Grandmother has been gone for a long time, and grandfather is no longer here. But I still can’t forget that horse with a pink mane, that grandmother’s gingerbread.

CHUSOVOY,

Perm region

)

Grandmother returned from the neighbors and told me that the Levontiev children were going to the strawberry harvest, and told me to go with them.

You'll get some trouble. I will take my berries to the city, I will also sell yours and buy you gingerbread.

A horse, grandma?

Horse, horse.

Gingerbread horse! This is the dream of all village kids. He is white, white, this horse. And his mane is pink, his tail is pink, his eyes are pink, his hooves are also pink. Grandmother never allowed us to carry around with pieces of bread. Eat at the table, otherwise it will be bad. But gingerbread is a completely different matter. You can stick the gingerbread under your shirt, run around and hear the horse kicking its hooves on its bare belly. Cold with horror - lost, - grab your shirt and be convinced with happiness - here he is, here is the horse-fire!

With such a horse, I immediately appreciate how much attention! The Levontief guys fawn over you this way and that, and let you hit the first one in the siskin, and shoot with a slingshot, so that only they are then allowed to bite off the horse or lick it. When you give Levontyev’s Sanka or Tanka a bite, you must hold with your fingers the place where you are supposed to bite, and hold it tightly, otherwise Tanka or Sanka will bite so hard that the horse’s tail and mane will remain.

Levontiy, our neighbor, worked on the badogs together with Mishka Korshukov. Levontii harvested timber for badogi, sawed it, chopped it and delivered it to the lime plant, which was opposite the village, on the other side of the Yenisei. Once every ten days, or maybe fifteen, I don’t remember exactly, Levontius received money, and then in the next house, where there were only children and nothing else, a feast began. Some kind of restlessness, a fever, or something, gripped not only the Levontiev house, but also all the neighbors. Early in the morning, Aunt Vasenya, Uncle Levontiy’s wife, ran into grandma’s, out of breath, exhausted, with rubles clutched in her fist.

Stop, you freak! - her grandmother called out to her. - You have to count.

Aunt Vasenya obediently returned, and while grandma was counting the money, she walked with her bare feet, like a hot horse, ready to take off as soon as the reins were let go.

Grandmother counted carefully and for a long time, smoothing out each ruble. As far as I remember, my grandmother never gave Levontikha more than seven or ten rubles from her “reserve” for a rainy day, because this entire “reserve” consisted, it seems, of ten. But even with such a small amount, the alarmed Vasenya managed to shortchange by a ruble, sometimes even by a whole triple.

How do you handle money, you eyeless scarecrow! the grandmother attacked the neighbor. - A ruble for me, a ruble for another! What will happen? But Vasenya again threw up a whirlwind with her skirt and rolled away.

She did!

For a long time my grandmother reviled Levontiikha, Levontii himself, who, in her opinion, was not worth bread, but ate wine, beat herself on the thighs with her hands, spat, I sat down by the window and looked longingly at the neighbor’s house.

He stood by himself, in the open space, and nothing prevented him from looking at the white light through the somehow glazed windows - no fence, no gate, no frames, no shutters. Uncle Levontius didn’t even have a bathhouse, and they, the Levont’evites, washed in their neighbors, most often with us, after fetching water and ferrying firewood from the lime factory.

One good day, perhaps even evening, Uncle Levontius rocked a ripple and, having forgotten himself, began to sing the song of sea wanderers, heard on voyages - he was once a sailor.

A sailor sailed down the Akiyan from Africa, He brought a baby mupe in a box...

The family fell silent, listening to the voice of the parent, absorbing a very coherent and pitiful song. Our village, in addition to the streets, towns and alleys, was also structured and composed in song - every family, every surname had “its own”, signature song, which deeper and more fully expressed the feelings of this and no other relatives. To this day, whenever I remember the song “The Monk Fell in Love with a Beauty,” I still see Bobrovsky Lane and all the Bobrovskys, and goosebumps spread across my skin from shock. My heart trembles and contracts from the song of the “Chess Knee”: “I was sitting by the window, my God, and the rain was dripping on me.” And how can we forget Fokine’s, soul-tearing: “In vain I broke the bars, in vain I escaped from prison, my dear, dear little wife is lying on another’s chest,” or my beloved uncle: “Once upon a time in a cozy room,” or in memory of my late mother , which is still sung: “Tell me, sister...” But where can you remember everything and everyone? The village was large, the people were vocal, daring, and the family was deep and wide.

But all our songs flew glidingly over the roof of the settler Uncle Levontius - not one of them could disturb the petrified soul of the fighting family, and here on you, Levontiev’s eagles trembled, there must have been a drop or two of sailor, vagabond blood tangled in the veins of the children, and it - their resilience was washed away, and when the children were well-fed, did not fight and did not destroy anything, one could hear a friendly chorus spilling out through the broken windows and open doors:

She sits and yearns all night long and sings this song about her homeland: “In the warm, warm south, in my homeland, friends live and grow and there are no people at all...”

Uncle Levontiy drilled the song with his bass, added rumble to it, and therefore the song, and the guys, and he himself seemed to change in appearance, became more beautiful and more united, and then the river of life in this house flowed in a calm, even bed. Aunt Vasenya, a person of unbearable sensitivity, wetted her face and chest with tears, howled into her old burnt apron, spoke out about human irresponsibility - some drunken lout grabbed a piece of shit, dragged it away from his homeland for who knows why and why? And here she is, poor thing, sitting and yearning all night long... And, jumping up, she suddenly fixed her wet eyes on her husband - but wasn’t it he, wandering around the world, who did this dirty deed?! Wasn't he the one who whistled the monkey? He's drunk and doesn't know what he's doing!

Uncle Levontius, repentantly accepting all the sins that can be pinned on a drunken person, wrinkled his brow, trying to understand: when and why did he take a monkey from Africa? And if he took away and abducted the animal, where did it subsequently go?

In the spring, the Levontiev family picked up the ground around the house a little, erected a fence from poles, twigs, and old boards. But in winter, all this gradually disappeared in the womb of the Russian stove, which lay open in the middle of the hut.

Tanka Levontyevskaya used to say this, making noise with her toothless mouth, about their whole establishment:

But when the guy snoops at us, you run and don’t get stuck.

Uncle Levontius himself went out on warm evenings wearing trousers held on by a single copper button with two eagles, and a calico shirt with no buttons at all. He would sit on an ax-marked log representing a porch, smoke, look, and if my grandmother reproached him through the window for idleness, listing the work that, in her opinion, he should have done in the house and around the house, Uncle Levontius scratched himself complacently.

I, Petrovna, love freedom! - and moved his hand around himself:

Fine! Like the sea! Nothing depresses the eyes!

Uncle Levontius loved the sea, and I loved it. The main goal of my life was to break into Levontius’s house after his payday, listen to the song about the little monkey and, if necessary, join in with the mighty choir. It's not that easy to sneak out. Grandma knows all my habits in advance.

There’s no point in peeking out,” she thundered. “There’s no point in eating these proletarians, they themselves have a louse on a lasso in their pocket.”

But if I managed to sneak out of the house and get to the Levontievskys, that’s it, here I was surrounded by rare attention, here I was completely happy.

Get out of here! - the drunken Uncle Levontius sternly ordered one of his boys. And while one of them reluctantly crawled out from behind the table, he explained to the children his strict action in an already limp voice: “He is an orphan, and you are still with your parents!” - And, looking at me pitifully, he roared: - Do you even remember your mother? I nodded affirmatively. Uncle Levontius sadly leaned on his arm, rubbing tears down his face with his fist, remembering; - Badogs have been injecting her for one year each! - And completely bursting into tears: - Whenever you come... night-midnight... lost... your lost head, Levontius, will say and... make you hangover...

Aunt Vasenya, Uncle Levontiy’s children and I, together with them, burst into roars, and it became so pitiful in the hut, and such kindness swept over the people that everything, everything spilled out and fell out on the table and everyone vying with each other treated me and ate themselves through the force, then they started singing, and tears flowed like a river, and after that I dreamed about the miserable monkey for a long time.

Late in the evening or completely at night, Uncle Levontius asked the same question: “What is life?!” After which I grabbed gingerbread cookies, sweets, the Levontiev children also grabbed whatever they could get their hands on and ran away in all directions.

Vasenya made the last move, and my grandmother greeted her until the morning. Levontii broke the remaining glass in the windows, cursed, thundered, and cried.

The next morning, he used shards of glass on the windows, repaired the benches and table, and, full of darkness and remorse, went to work. Aunt Vasenya, after three or four days, again went to the neighbors and no longer threw up a whirlwind with her skirt, again borrowing money, flour, potatoes - whatever was necessary - until she was paid.

It was with Uncle Levontius’s eagles that I set off to hunt for strawberries in order to earn gingerbread with my labor. The children carried glasses with broken edges, old ones, half torn for kindling, birch bark tueskas, krinkas tied around the neck with twine, some of them had ladles without handles. The boys played freely, fought, threw dishes at each other, tripped each other, started fighting twice, cried, teased. On the way, they dropped into someone's garden, and since nothing was ripe there yet, they piled on a bunch of onions, ate until they salivated green, and threw away the rest. They left a few feathers for the whistles. They squealed in their bitten feathers, danced, we walked merrily to the music, and we soon came to a rocky ridge. Then everyone stopped playing around, scattered through the forest and began to take strawberries, just ripening, white-sided, rare and therefore especially joyful and expensive.

I took it diligently and soon covered the bottom of a neat little glass by two or three.

Grandmother said: the main thing in berries is to close the bottom of the vessel. I breathed a sigh of relief and began to pick strawberries faster, and I found more and more of them higher up the hill.

The Levontiev children walked quietly at first. Only the lid, tied to the copper teapot, jingled. The older boy had this kettle, and he rattled it so that we could hear that the elder was here, nearby, and we had nothing and no need to be afraid.

Suddenly the lid of the kettle rattled nervously and a fuss was heard.

Eat, right? Eat, right? What about home? What about home? - the elder asked and gave someone a slap after each question.

A-ga-ha-gaaa! - Tanka sang. - Shanka was wandering around, no big deal...

Sanka got it too. He got angry, threw the vessel and fell into the grass. The eldest took and took berries and began to think: he is trying for the house, and those parasites over there are eating the berries or even lying on the grass. The elder jumped up and kicked Sanka again. Sanka howled and rushed at the elder. The kettle rang and berries splashed out. The heroic brothers fight, roll on the ground, and crush all the strawberries.

After the fight, the elder man gave up too. He began to collect the spilled, crushed berries - and put them in his mouth, in his mouth.

That means you can, but that means I can’t! You can, but that means I can’t? - he asked ominously until he had eaten everything he had managed to collect.

Soon the brothers somehow quietly made peace, stopped calling each other names and decided to go down to the Fokinskaya River and splash around.

I also wanted to go to the river, I would also like to splash around, but I did not dare to leave the ridge because I had not yet filled the vessel full.

Grandma Petrovna was scared! Oh you! - Sanka grimaced and called me a nasty word. He knew a lot of such words. I also knew, I learned to say them from the Levontiev guys, but I was afraid, maybe embarrassed to use obscenity and timidly declared:

But my grandmother will buy me a gingerbread horse!

Maybe a mare? - Sanka grinned, spat at his feet and immediately realized something; - Tell me better - you’re afraid of her and you’re also greedy!

Do you want to eat all the berries? - I said this and immediately repented, I realized that I had fallen for the bait. Scratched, with bumps on his head from fights and various other reasons, with pimples on his arms and legs, with red, bloody eyes, Sanka was more harmful and angrier than all the Levontiev boys.

Weak! - he said.

I'm weak! - I swaggered, looking sideways into the tuesok. There were berries already above the middle. - Am I weak?! - I repeated in a fading voice and, so as not to give up, not to be afraid, not to disgrace myself, I decisively shook the berries onto the grass: - Here! Eat with me!

The Levontiev horde fell, the berries instantly disappeared. I only got a few tiny, bent berries with greenery. It's a pity for the berries. Sad. There is longing in the heart - it anticipates a meeting with grandmother, a report and a reckoning. But I assumed despair, gave up on everything - now it doesn’t matter. I rushed along with the Levontiev children down the mountain, to the river, and boasted:

I’ll steal grandma’s kalach!

The guys encouraged me to act, they say, and bring more than one roll, grab a shaneg or a pie - nothing will be superfluous.

We ran along a shallow river, splashed with cold water, overturned slabs and caught the sculpin with our hands. Sanka grabbed this disgusting-looking fish, compared it to a shame, and we tore the pika to pieces on the shore for its ugly appearance. Then they fired stones at the flying birds, knocking out the white-bellied one. We soldered the swallow with water, but it bled into the river, could not swallow the water and died, dropping its head. We buried a little white, flower-like bird on the shore, in the pebbles, and soon forgot about it, because we got busy with an exciting, creepy business: we ran into the mouth of a cold cave, where evil spirits lived (they knew this for certain in the village). Sanka ran the farthest into the cave - even the evil spirits did not take him!

This is even more! - Sanka boasted, returning from the cave. - I would run further, I would run into the block, but I’m barefoot, there are snakes dying there.

Zhmeev?! - Tanka retreated from the mouth of the cave and, just in case, pulled up her falling panties.

I saw the brownie with the brownie,” Sanka continued to tell.

Clapper! Brownies live in the attic and under the stove! - the eldest cut off Sanka.

Sanka was confused, but immediately challenged the elder:

What kind of brownie is that? Home. And here is the cave one. He's all covered in moss, gray and trembling - he's cold. And the housekeeper, for better or worse, looks pitifully and moans. You can’t lure me in, just come and grab me and eat me up. I hit her in the eye with a rock!..

Maybe Sanka was lying about the brownies, but it was still scary to listen to, it seemed like someone was moaning and groaning very close in the cave. Tanka was the first to pull away from the bad spot, followed by her and the rest of the guys fell down the mountain. Sanka whistled and yelled stupidly, giving us heat.

We spent the whole day so interesting and fun, and I completely forgot about the berries, but it was time to return home. We sorted out the dishes hidden under the tree.

Katerina Petrovna will ask you! He'll ask! - Sanka neighed. We ate the berries! Ha ha! They ate it on purpose! Ha ha! We're fine! Ha ha! And you are ho-ho!..

I myself knew that to them, the Levontievskys, “ha-ha!”, and to me, “ho-ho!” My grandmother, Katerina Petrovna, is not Aunt Vasenya; you can’t get rid of her with lies, tears and various excuses.

I quietly trudged after the Levontiev boys out of the forest. They ran ahead of me in a crowd, pushing a ladle without a handle along the road. The ladle clanked, bounced on the stones, and the remains of the enamel bounced off it.

You know what? - After talking with the brothers, Sanka returned to me. - You push some herbs into the bowl, add berries on top - and you're done! Oh, my child! - Sanka began to accurately imitate my grandmother. - I helped you, orphan, I helped you. And the demon Sanka winked at me and rushed further, down the ridge, home.

And I stayed.

The voices of the children under the ridge, behind the vegetable gardens, died down, it became eerie. True, you can hear the village here, but still there is a taiga, a cave not far away, in it there is a housewife and a brownie, and snakes are swarming with them. I sighed, sighed, almost cried, but I had to listen to the forest, the grass, and whether the brownies were creeping out of the cave. There's no time to whine here. Keep your ears open here. I tore up a handful of grass and looked around. I stuffed the tuesk tightly with grass, on a bull so that I could see the house closer to the light, I collected several handfuls of berries, laid them on the grass - it turned out to be strawberries even with a shock.

You are my child! - my grandmother began to cry when I, frozen with fear, handed her the vessel. - God help you, God help you! I’ll buy you a gingerbread, the biggest one. And I won’t pour your berries into mine, I’ll take them right away in this little bag...

It relieved a little.

I thought that now my grandmother would discover my fraud, give me what I was due, and was already prepared for punishment for the crime I had committed. But it worked out. Everything worked out fine. Grandmother took the tuesok to the basement, praised me again, gave me something to eat, and I thought that I had nothing to be afraid of yet and life was not so bad.

I ate, went outside to play, and there I felt the urge to tell Sanka about everything.

And I’ll tell Petrovna! And I'll tell you!..

No need, Sanka!

Bring the kalach, then I won’t tell you.

I secretly snuck into the pantry, took the kalach out of the chest and brought it to Sanka, under my shirt. Then he brought another, then another, until Sanka got drunk.

“I fooled my grandmother. Kalachi stole! What will happen? - I was tormented at night, tossing and turning on the bed. Sleep did not take me, the “Andelsky” peace did not descend on my life, on my Varna soul, although my grandmother, having made the sign of the cross at night, wished me not just any, but the most “Andelsky”, quiet sleep.

Why are you messing around there? - Grandma asked hoarsely from the darkness. - Probably wandered in the river again? Are your legs hurting again?

No, I responded. - I had a dream...

Sleep with God! Sleep, don't be afraid. Life is worse than dreams, father...

“What if you get out of bed, crawl under the blanket with your grandmother and tell everything?”

I listened. The labored breathing of an old man could be heard from below. It’s a pity to wake up, grandma is tired. She has to get up early. No, it’s better that I don’t sleep until the morning, I’ll watch over my grandmother, I’ll tell her about everything: about the little girls, and about the housewife and the brownie, and about the rolls, and about everything, about everything...

This decision made me feel better, and I didn’t notice how my eyes closed. Sanka’s unwashed face appeared, then the forest, grass, strawberries flashed, she covered Sanka, and everything that I saw during the day.

On the floors there was a smell of pine forest, a cold mysterious cave, the river gurgled at our very feet and fell silent...

Grandfather was at the village, about five kilometers from the village, at the mouth of the Mana River. There we have sown a strip of rye, a strip of oats and buckwheat, and a large paddock of potatoes. Talk about collective farms was just beginning at that time, and our villagers were still living alone. I loved visiting my grandfather’s farm. It’s calm there, in detail, no oppression or supervision, run around even until the night. Grandfather never made any noise at anyone, he worked leisurely, but very steadily and pliantly.

Oh, if only the settlement were closer! I would have left, hidden. But five kilometers was an insurmountable distance for me then. And Alyoshka is not there to go with him. Recently, Aunt Augusta came and took Alyoshka with her to the forest plot, where she went to work.

I wandered around, wandered around the empty hut and could not think of anything else but to go to the Levontyevskys.

Petrovna has sailed away! - Sanka grinned and snorted saliva into the hole between his front teeth. He could fit another tooth in this hole, and we were crazy about this Sanka hole. How he salivated at her!

Sanka was getting ready to go fishing and was unraveling the fishing line. His little brothers and sisters jostled around, wandered around the benches, crawled, hobbled on bowed legs.

Sanka gave slaps left and right - the little ones got under his arm and tangled the fishing line.

“There’s no hook,” he muttered angrily, “he must have swallowed something.”

Nishta-ak! - Sanka reassured me. - They'll digest it. You have a lot of hooks, give me one. I'll take you with me.

I rushed home, grabbed the fishing rods, put some bread in my pocket, and we went to the stone bullheads, behind the cattle, which went straight down into the Yenisei behind the log.

There was no older house. His father took him with him “to the badogi”, and Sanka commanded recklessly. Since he was the eldest today and felt great responsibility, he did not get cocky in vain and, moreover, pacified the “people” if they started a fight.

Sanka set up fishing rods near the gobies, baited worms, pecked at them and threw the fishing line “by hand” so that it would cast further - everyone knows: the further and deeper, the more fish and the larger it is.

Sha! - Sanka widened his eyes, and we obediently froze. It didn't bite for a long time. We got tired of waiting, started pushing, giggling, teasing. Sanka endured, endured, and drove us out to look for sorrel, coastal garlic, wild radish, otherwise, they say, he can’t vouch for himself, otherwise he’ll screw us all. The Levontief boys knew how to get their fill from the earth, ate everything that God sent them, did not disdain anything, and that is why they were red-faced, strong, and dexterous, especially at the table.

Without us, Sanka really got stuck. While we were collecting greens suitable for food, he pulled out two ruffs, a gudgeon and a white-eyed spruce. They lit a fire on the shore. Sanka put the fish on sticks and prepared them to fry; the children surrounded the fire and did not take their eyes off the frying. “Sa-an! - they soon whined. - It’s already cooked! Sa-an!..”

W-well, breakthroughs! W-well, breakthroughs! Can’t you see that the ruff is gaping with its gills? Just want to gobble it up quickly. Well, how does your stomach feel, did you have diarrhea?..

Vitka Katerinin has diarrhea. We don't have it.

What did I say?!

The fighting eagles fell silent. With Sanka it’s not painful to separate the turuses, he just stumbles into something. The little ones endure, they toss their noses at each other; They strive to make the fire hotter. However, patience does not last long.

Well, Sa-an, there’s coal right there...

Choke!

The guys grabbed sticks with fried fish, tore them on the fly, and on the fly, groaning from the hotness, they ate them almost raw, without salt or bread, ate them and looked around in bewilderment: already?! We waited so long, endured so much, and only licked our lips. The kids also quietly threshed my bread and got busy doing whatever they could: they pulled the banks out of their holes, “flailed” stone tiles on the water, tried to swim, but the water was still cold, and quickly ran out of the river to warm up by the fire. We warmed up and fell into the still low grass, so as not to see Sanka frying fish, now for himself, now it’s his turn, and here, don’t ask, it’s a grave. He won’t, because he loves to eat himself more than anyone else.

It was a clear summer day. It was hot from above. Near the cattle, speckled cuckoo shoes were leaning towards the ground. Blue bells dangled from side to side on long, crisp stems, and probably only the bees heard them ring. Near the anthill, striped gramophone flowers lay on the warmed ground, and bumblebees poked their heads into their blue horns. They froze for a long time, sticking out their shaggy bottoms; they must have been listening to the music. The birch leaves glittered, the aspen tree grew dim from the heat, and the pine trees along the ridges were covered in blue smoke. The sun shimmered over the Yenisei. Through this flickering, the red vents of the lime kilns blazing on the other side of the river were barely visible. The shadows of the rocks lay motionless on the water, and the light tore them apart and tore them to shreds, like old rags. The railway bridge in the city, visible from our village in clear weather, swayed with thin lace, and if you looked at it for a long time, the lace thinned and tore.

From there, from behind the bridge, the grandmother should swim. What will happen! And why did I do this? Why did you listen to the Levontievskys? It was so good to live. Walk, run, play and don't think about anything. Now what? There is nothing to hope for now. Unless for some unexpected deliverance. Maybe the boat will capsize and grandma will drown? No, it’s better not to tip over. Mom drowned. What good? I'm an orphan now. Unhappy man. And there is no one to feel sorry for me. Levontius only feels sorry for him when he’s drunk, and even his grandfather - and that’s all, the grandmother just screams, no, no, but she’ll give in - she won’t last long. The main thing is that there is no grandfather. Grandfather is in charge. He wouldn't hurt me. The grandmother shouts at him: “Potatchik! I’ve been spoiling mine all my life, now this!..” “Grandfather, you’re a grandfather, if only you’d come to the bathhouse to wash, if only you’d just come and take me with you!”

Why are you whining? - Sanka leaned towards me with a concerned look.

Nishta-ak! - Sanka consoled me. - Don't go home, that's all! Bury yourself in the hay and hide. Petrovna saw your mother’s eye slightly open when she was buried. He is afraid that you will drown too. Here she starts to cry: “My little child is drowning, he threw me off, little orphan,” and then you’ll get out!..

I won't do that! - I protested. - And I won’t listen to you!..

Well, the leshak is with you! They are trying to take care of you. In! Got it! You're hooked!

I fell from the ravine, alarming the shorebirds in the holes, and pulled the fishing rod. I caught a perch. Then the ruff. The fish approached and the bite began. We baited worms and cast them.

Don't step over the rod! - Sanka superstitiously yelled at the kids, completely crazy with delight, and dragged and dragged the fish. The boys put them on a willow rod, lowered them into the water and shouted at each other: “Who was told - don’t cross the fishing line?!”

Suddenly, behind the nearest stone bullock, forged poles clicked on the bottom, and a boat appeared from behind the cape. Three men threw poles out of the water at once. With their polished tips flashing, the poles fell into the water at once, and the boat, burying its sides in the river, rushed forward, throwing waves to the sides. A swing of the poles, an exchange of arms, a push - the boat jumped up with its bow and moved forward quickly. She's closer, closer. Now the stern one moved his pole, and the boat nodded away from our fishing rods. And then I saw another person sitting on the gazebo. A half shawl is on the head, its ends are passed under the arms and crosswise tied on the back. Under the short shawl is a burgundy-dyed jacket. This jacket was taken out of the chest on major holidays and on the occasion of a trip to the city.

I rushed from the fishing rods to the hole, jumped, grabbed the grass, and stuck my big toe into the hole. A shorebird flew up, hit me on the head, I was frightened and fell onto lumps of clay, jumped up and ran along the shore, away from the boat.

Where are you going! Stop! Stop, I say! - the grandmother shouted.

I ran at full speed.

I-a-avishsha, I-a-avishsha home, swindler!

The men turned up the heat.

Hold him! - they shouted from the boat, and I didn’t notice how I ended up at the upper end of the village, where the shortness of breath, which always tormented me, disappeared! I rested for a long time and soon discovered that evening was approaching - willy-nilly I had to return home. But I didn’t want to go home and, just in case, I went to my cousin Kesha, Uncle Vanya’s son, who lived here, on the upper edge of the village.

I'm lucky. They were playing lapta near Uncle Vanya's house. I got involved in the game and ran until dark. Aunt Fenya, Keshka’s mother, appeared and asked me:

Why don't you go home? Grandma will lose you.

“Nope,” I answered as nonchalantly as possible. - She sailed to the city. Maybe he spends the night there.

Aunt Fenya offered me something to eat, and I gladly ground everything she gave me, thin-necked Kesha drank boiled milk, and his mother said to him reproachfully:

Everything is milky and milky. Look how the boy eats, that’s why he’s as strong as a boletus mushroom. “I saw Aunt Fenina’s praise, and I began to quietly hope that she would leave me to spend the night.

But Aunt Fenya asked me questions, asked me about everything, after which she took me by the hand and took me home.

There was no longer any light in our hut. Aunt Fenya knocked on the window. “Not locked!” - Grandma shouted. We entered a dark and quiet house, where the only sounds we could hear were the multi-winged tapping of butterflies and the buzzing of flies beating against the glass.

Aunt Fenya pushed me into the hallway and pushed me into the storage room attached to the hallway. There was a bed made of rugs and an old saddle in the heads - in case someone was overwhelmed by the heat during the day and wanted to rest in the cold.

I buried myself in the rug, became silent, listening.

Aunt Fenya and grandmother were talking about something in the hut, but it was impossible to make out what. The closet smelled of bran, dust and dry grass stuck in all the cracks and under the ceiling. This grass kept clicking and crackling. It was sad in the pantry. The darkness was thick, rough, filled with smells and secret life. Under the floor, a mouse was scratching alone and timidly, starving because of the cat. And everyone crackled dry herbs and flowers under the ceiling, opened boxes, scattered seeds into the darkness, two or three got entangled in my stripes, but I didn’t pull them out, afraid to move.

Silence, coolness and night life established themselves in the village. The dogs, killed by the daytime heat, came to their senses, crawled out from under the canopy, porches, and out of the kennels and tried their voices. Near the bridge that spans the Fokino River, an accordion was playing. Young people gather on the bridge, dance, sing, and scare the late kids and shy girls.

Uncle Levontius was hastily chopping wood. The owner must have brought something for the brew. Did someone's Levontiev poles get "gotten off"? Most likely ours. They have time to hunt for firewood at such a time...

Aunt Fenya left and closed the door tightly. The cat sneaked stealthily towards the porch. The mouse died down under the floor. It became completely dark and lonely. The floorboards did not creak in the hut, and the grandmother did not walk. Tired. Not a short way to the city! Eighteen miles, and with a knapsack. It seemed to me that if I felt sorry for my grandmother and thought well of her, she would guess about it and forgive me everything. He will come and forgive. Well, it just clicks once, so what a problem! For such a thing, you can do it more than once...

However, the grandmother did not come. I felt cold. I curled up and breathed on my chest, thinking about my grandmother and all the pitiful things.

When my mother drowned, my grandmother did not leave the shore; they could neither carry her away nor persuade her with the whole world. She kept calling and calling her mother, throwing crumbs of bread, silver pieces, and shreds into the river, tearing hair out of her head, tying it around her finger and letting it go with the flow, hoping to appease the river and appease the Lord.

Only on the sixth day was the grandmother, her body in disarray, almost dragged home. She, as if drunk, muttered something deliriously, her hands and head almost reached the ground, the hair on her head unraveled, hung over her face, clung to everything and remained in tatters on the weeds. on poles and on rafts.

The grandmother fell in the middle of the hut on the bare floor, with her arms outstretched, and so she slept, naked, in scrambled supports, as if she was floating somewhere, without making a rustle or sound, and could not swim. In the house they spoke in whispers, walked on tiptoe, fearfully leaned over their grandmother, thinking that she had died. But from the depths of the grandmother’s insides, through clenched teeth, there came a continuous groan, as if something or someone there, in the grandmother, was being crushed, and it was suffering from unrelenting, burning pain.

The grandmother woke up from sleep immediately, looked around as if after fainting, and began to pick up her hair, braid it, holding a rag for tying the braid in her teeth. She didn’t say it in a matter-of-fact and simple manner, but instead breathed out of herself: “No, don’t call me on Lidenka, don’t call me. The river does not give it up. Close somewhere, very close, but doesn’t give away and doesn’t show...”

And mom was close. She was pulled under the rafting boom against Vassa Vakhrameevna’s hut, her scythe caught on the boom’s sling and tossed and dangled there until her hair became unstuck and the braid was torn off. So they suffered: mother in the water, grandmother on the shore, they suffered terrible torment for someone unknown whose grave sins...

My grandmother found out and told me when I was growing up that eight desperate Ovsyansk women were crammed into a small dugout boat and one man at the stern - our Kolcha Jr. The women were all bargaining, mostly with berries - strawberries, and when the boat capsized, a bright red stripe rushed across the water, and the raftsmen from the boat, who were saving people, shouted: “Blood! Blood! It smashed someone against a boom...” But strawberries floated down the river. Mom also had a strawberry cup, and like a scarlet stream it merged with the red stripe. Maybe my mother’s blood from hitting her head on the boom was there, flowing and swirling along with the strawberries in the water, but who will know, who will distinguish red from red in panic, in the bustle and screams?

I woke up from a ray of sunlight filtering through the dim window of the pantry and poking into my eyes. Dust flickered in the beam like a midge. From somewhere it was applied by borrowing, arable land. I looked around, and my heart jumped joyfully: my grandfather’s old sheepskin coat was thrown over me. Grandfather arrived at night. Beauty! In the kitchen, grandma was telling someone in detail:

-...Cultural lady, in a hat. “I’ll buy all these berries.” Please, I beg your mercy. The berries, I say, were picked by a poor orphan...

Then I fell through the ground along with my grandmother and could no longer and did not want to understand what she was saying next, because I covered myself with a sheepskin coat and huddled in it in order to die as soon as possible. But it became hot, deaf, I couldn’t breathe, and I opened up.

He always spoiled his own! - the grandmother thundered. - Now this! And he's already cheating! What will come of it later? There will be Zhigan! Eternal prisoner! I’ll take the Levontiev ones, stain them, and I’ll take them into circulation! This is their certificate!..

The grandfather went into the yard, out of harm’s way, baling something under the canopy. Grandma can’t be alone for long, she needs to tell someone about the incident or smash the swindler, and therefore me, to smithereens, and she quietly walked along the hallway and slightly opened the door to the pantry. I barely had time to close my eyes tightly.

You're not sleeping, you're not sleeping! I see everything!

But I didn't give up. Aunt Avdotya ran into the house and asked how “theta” swam to the city. The grandmother said that she “sailed, thank you, Lord, and sold the berries,” and immediately began to narrate:

Mine! Little one! What have you done!.. Listen, listen, girl!

That morning many people came to us, and my grandmother detained everyone to say: “And mine! Little one!” And this did not in the least prevent her from doing household chores - she rushed back and forth, milked the cow, drove her out to the shepherd, shook out the rugs, did her various chores, and every time she ran past the pantry doors, she did not forget to remind:

You're not sleeping, you're not sleeping! I see everything!

Grandfather turned into the closet, pulled the leather reins out from under me and winked:

“It’s okay, they say, be patient and don’t be shy!”, and he even patted me on the head. I sniffled and the tears that had been accumulating for so long, like berries, large strawberries, stained them, poured out of my eyes, and there was no way for them to stop them.

Well, what are you, what are you? - Grandfather reassured me, wiping away the tears from my face with his big hand. - Why are you lying there hungry? Ask for some help... Go, go,” my grandfather gently pushed me in the back.

Holding my pants with one hand and pressing the other to my eyes with my elbow, I stepped into the hut and began:

I’m more... I’m more... I’m more... - and couldn’t say anything further.

Okay, wash your face and sit down to chat! - still irreconcilably, but without a thunderstorm, without thunder, my grandmother cut me off. I obediently washed my face, rubbed my face with a damp rag for a long time, and remembered that lazy people, according to my grandmother, always wipe themselves with a damp one, because they wake up later than everyone else. I had to move to the table, sit down, look at people. Oh my God! Yes, I wish I could cheat at least once again! Yes I…

Shaking from the still lingering sobs, I clung to the table. Grandfather was busy in the kitchen, wrapping an old rope around his hand, which, I realized, was completely unnecessary to him, took something out of the floor, took an ax out from under the chicken coop, and tried the edge with his finger. He looks for and finds a solution, so as not to leave his miserable grandson alone with the “general” - that’s what he calls his grandmother in his heart or in mockery. Feeling the invisible but reliable support of my grandfather, I took the crust from the table and began to eat it dry. Grandma poured out the milk in one fell swoop, placed the bowl in front of me with a knock, and put her hands on her hips:

My belly hurts, I'm staring at the edges! Ash is so humble! Ash is so quiet! And he won’t ask for milk!..

Grandfather winked at me - be patient. I knew even without him: God forbid I should contradict my grandmother now, doing something not at her discretion. She must unwind and must express everything that has accumulated in her heart, she must release her soul and calm it down. And my grandmother put me to shame! And she denounced it! Only now, having fully understood into what a bottomless abyss cheating had plunged me and what “crooked path” it would lead me to, if I had taken up the ball game so early, if I was drawn to robbery after the dashing people, I began to roar, not just repenting, but afraid that he was lost, that there was no forgiveness, no return...

Even my grandfather could not stand my grandmother’s speeches and my complete repentance. Gone. He left, disappeared, puffing on a cigarette, saying, I can’t help or cope with this, God help you, granddaughter...

Grandma was tired, exhausted, and maybe she sensed that she was trashing me too much.

It was calm in the hut, but it was still hard. Not knowing what to do, how to continue living, I smoothed out the patch on my pants and pulled out the threads from it. And when he raised his head, he saw in front of him...

I closed my eyes and opened my eyes again. He closed his eyes again and opened them again. A white horse with a pink mane galloped along the scraped kitchen table, as if across a vast land with arable fields, meadows and roads, on pink hooves.

Take it, take it, what are you looking at? You look, but even when you fool your grandmother...

How many years have passed since then! How many events have passed? My grandfather is no longer alive, my grandmother is no longer alive, and my life is coming to an end, but I still can’t forget my grandmother’s gingerbread - that marvelous horse with a pink mane.

Astafiev’s work “The Horse with a Pink Mane” has great literary value, since it has a unique style of writing the story that is told in the work, so clearly and vividly conveying details to a person that it becomes immediately clear that the author focused specifically on the details and images described in the work, in particular on the characters. Although the work contains a large number of diverse and interesting characters, it is worth focusing on the boy Sanka.

Sanyok is a boy who is the ringleader of local hooligans, forcing them to do various dirty tricks, which is why the adults around him do not want their children to hang out with someone like him. Due to the fact that he is a very nasty person, many children try not to communicate with him, so as not to succumb to his influence, since he knows how to influence the still fragile minds of young children like him.

Sanyok's character is a very unpleasant person. He is selfish, arrogant, very, very greedy, considers himself an order of magnitude superior to others, since he can tell them what to do and how. He appears before the reader as a very disgusting person who will do everything for his well-being, even if he has to force others to please himself. He will not disdain the most disgusting and vile methods to achieve his goal. This is one of the things about his character that turns the reader off the character.

Astafieva intentionally made him this way in order to create a villain character who would show all human vices in his entire image, even at such a young age, which creates a contrast, further highlighting the good characters against his background, making them much more noticeable, and also , emphasizing their good features, darkening the bad ones.

This expresses the entire image of Sanka in the work “The Horse with a Pink Mane.” He is a contrasting character, with the help of which the author focuses attention on the other characters in the work.

I believe that it was precisely these thoughts that Astafiev tried to convey to us through the image of Sanka in the work “The Horse with a Pink Mane.”

Option 2

Sanka is a minor character in the story “The Horse with a Pink Mane.” But he occupies far from the last place in the fate of the main character. After all, if it weren’t for Sanka with his disgusting hooligan character, Vitka, the main character, would not have made many mistakes in the few days described in the story.

Sanek is the second oldest son of Levontius, and this is very clearly seen from how this boy “builds” the younger ones when his older brother is not at home. Despite his age, the author characterizes Sanka as the most harmful and the most evil of all the Levontiev boys. Also, in my opinion, he can be called the serpent-tempter of the entire story. After all, if it weren’t for Sanka’s character, the main character would not have done this, after which he would have had to think and suffer for a long time. If Vitka had not listened to his friend Sanka for the very first time to eat all the collected berries, by the way, together with all the Levontiev children, he would not have had to lie further and further, to extricate himself from the current situation. And lies, as you know, always come in a clump: first you lied for the first time, then you lied again to hide the first lie; after - the third lie should already hide the first two. And, as can be seen from the story, the further you go, the more difficult it is to admit to your family about your deception.

From the work it becomes clear that Sanka had many abrasions and bruises from fights. This is what can confirm that he has a hooligan character. However, despite this, the main character often played with them. Sometimes he even envied the feasts that took place in the Levontiev house after receiving his salary.

In the story, Sanka for me became the personification of all children who to this day grow up in not very prosperous families. He, just like his brothers and sisters, was strong and dexterous because he “knew how to feed himself from the earth,” ate everything that God sent, and did not disdain anything.” In addition, the family often had no money, so there was hunger. Perhaps it is for this reason that Sanka grew up with such a bad character. After all, everything that happened in a few days that was bad with the main character was advised to him by Sanek. Vitka deceived his grandmother by putting grass instead of berries at the bottom of the tueska, and did not tell Katerina Petrovna about it. And then he also stole rolls from the pantry for Sanka’s silence. In addition to all this, so that Vitka would not get hurt from his grandmother after her return from the city, Sanka advised him not to go home to spend the night so that Katerina Petrovna would be afraid for him (he would suddenly drown).

As you know, all the lies could have been avoided. But Sanya knew what to put pressure on so that Vitka would pour out all the berries and treat the Levontiev children. The main character simply did not want to be, as Sanka said, “cowardly and greedy.”

From all this we can conclude that Sanka is a hooligan, harmful; that is, the most negative character of the work. Because if Sanka hadn’t been next to Vitka, the main character wouldn’t have done so many things. However, in my opinion, as mentioned above, if it were not for the situation of Levontia’s family, Sanka might not have been the way the author described him.

Essay Istroiya Sanka

Viktor Petrovich Astafiev is a Russian writer and essayist. The main themes of his stories were military-patriotic and rural. He wrote his first work while still at school; it was later published under the title “Vasyutkino Lake.” The writer dedicated many short stories to the amazing and unforgettable time of his youth and growing up.

The story by Viktor Petrovich Astafiev “The Horse with a Pink Mane” tells about the most wonderful and magical time in every person’s life - the time of childhood. It is in childhood that a person’s character is formed, the child learns from his mistakes, recognizes and discovers a new world for him.

Sanya is one of the sons of Uncle Levontius and Aunt Vesena, who live next door to the main character, the boy Vitya. Sanka is the second child in the family, but as the narrator notes, he is the most mischievous and hooligan of the Levontiev children. The children of Levontius do not know pity; they can torture a fish or kill a siskin with a stone. The author compares them to a small horde.

Sanka is the strongest and bravest of Uncle Levontius’ children, so the rest of the children strive to obey him in everything and imitate him. From the boy’s appearance, the reader knows that from numerous fights he is covered with abrasions, Saracens and bruises. Sanka also had red, bloody eyes and red skin. The boy was much angrier than the other children.

One day, Vitya’s grandmother, Katerina Petrovna, sent the boy with the Levotievsky children to buy strawberries. On the way back, Tanka and Sanka quarreled and ate all the strawberries from each other. Then Sanek saw that Vitya still had some berries and tricked the boy into giving them to himself. Vitya did not want to be considered greedy, and gave all the berries to Sanka, who immediately ate them. Levontius's children, who had started a quarrel, quickly measured each other and went to the river for a swim. Returning home and seeing Vitya’s dejected state, Sanka advised the boy to stuff more grass into the box and sprinkle berries on top. Vitya did just that.

The feeling of guilt did not leave the boy for a long time, and Sanek decided to take advantage of this. He threatened Vita that he would tell Katerina Petrovna about the berries if he did not bring him kalachi from home.

The image of Sanka repels readers due to his actions. Cunning and lies are characteristic of this character; one can only hope that over time the boy will realize the wrongness of his actions and change for the better.