ANGLE m. fracture, kink, knee, elbow, protrusion or crease (depression) about one edge. Linear angle, any two opposing lines and their interval; angle plane or in planes, meeting of two planes or walls; the angle is thick, body... Dictionary Dahl
FUR COAT
The damp highway, striped by wheels, choosing where it is best, rises in a wide arc onto the slope. On the road and arable land, traces of recent sleepless, hot work are still visible, when everything that it managed and managed to give birth to people in a short summer was pulled out and torn out of the ground. Now we came across beets crushed by wheels in a rut, now a link from a tractor caterpillar, or some other unknown piece of iron dropped in a hurry by a machine, now to the side, among the black, whitish stacks of young straw. And at the side of the road stood a dry sunflower, accidentally not touched by a plow, hunched over like an old man. The wind rustled the tatters of his leaves, and he kept nodding and bowing to the travelers with his uncovered, disheveled head.
The suffering had ceased, and now on both sides of the highway the earth, stilled in autumn, turned black, lumpy and awkwardly laying down to rest.
Dunyashka and Pelageya, hurrying, walked along the side of the road. The empty fields did not give them any thought: they lived here, and everything was familiar and unnoticeable, like the autumn field air they breathed. They walked side by side and chatted animatedly about all their everyday affairs.
Pelageya, still a nimble, lean woman, walked lightly in a gray checkered scarf and Styopka's cotton jacket with crossed tin hammers in her buttonholes. Styopka studied at mechanization school, came home on Sunday, and Pelageya begged him for a jacket so she could go to the city. From under the jacket protruded a white, frilly apron, worn for a special occasion, which the oncoming wind either blew into bubbles or shoved between Pelageen’s thin knees. But she didn’t stop, and just walked on, the wide tops of her rubber boots slapping against her skinny calves.
Dunyashka tried to keep up. Although she was taller than her mother, her teenage coat with short sleeves hugged her shoulders and somehow seemed shorter and younger, concealing two years - precisely those during which Dunyashka managed to grow up, become prettier and already attract someone’s attention.
Carried away by the conversation, they kept speeding up and speeding up the pace until, out of breath, Pelageya could no longer say anything coherently except for individual words, interrupted by rapid breathing, after which she stopped and looked back at the village in surprise, saying:
- Why are we... running? Look, where it’s already... the courtyards. Probably... not for a fire.
But, after resting for a moment, they turned again and walked quickly and hastily. This is such a rural road: from childhood we are not accustomed to waddle along it. The woman always has some urgent business at the end of this road: whether it’s children, or a kneading bowl of dough, or an unfed pig, if she’s coming from the field, and if she’s in the field, then that’s even more important than anything else, especially when suffering arrives. No matter how rich the collective farm is in equipment - combines, and cultivators, and all sorts of seeders and winnowers, and tractors with eighty horsepower - and yet there are still so many gaps that every smart chairman, if he wants the business to go without a hitch, will certainly will throw out a cry: “Come on, ladies, let’s help!” - and adds for encouragement: “Technology is technology, but still the women on the collective farm are a great force!” And the women pile in. The men drive a tractor back and forth through the beet fields, pull levers, turn the steering wheel, and dig out beetroot with a cultivator. And the women, like jackdaws behind a plow, with a galdt, if they are not yet tired, or are already silent at sunset, collect and collect the beets in baskets and hems and drag and drag them, in clods of heavy earth, across the plowed field in heaps. And then, having gathered in a circle, interspersed with empty talk and gossip, they unnoticed and again turned over many tons of beetroot, stripped them from the ground, cut off the tops, trimmed the tails and put them in heaps. And only when it gets dark and you can’t tell whether it’s beets or just a pile of earth, they rise in a motley flock and run, run along the field road, at the other end of which other urgent household chores await them.
Is it possible to do without it on current? Or in the hayfield? On a farm? Where can you get by without it? A simple machine - a woman, easy to use, not picky about food, doesn’t drink like a man, and doesn’t bother with calculations. A guy takes a day and a half to turn the steering wheel on a tractor, even though he works with a shift worker, she agrees without any shift and for half the share, because she understands that you need to turn the steering wheel wisely. Where can a woman get the brains? The men got all the brains.
But she is especially in a hurry if, having escaped from work, she is going to the city. This doesn’t happen often, and therefore visiting the city is almost a holiday. Hang around in stores, look at chintz, and if you have money, unwrap their prickly, untouched, joyfully colorful freshness - with daisies and forget-me-nots - choose and get excited, figuring out in your mind how it would suit a grown-up girl, or even yourself. I want it for myself too!
And what scarves! Silk is scary to handle: it sticks to your hands. The hands are rough, and the matter is like your smoke - it blew and flew! And all kinds of shoes, and combs. Sweets and gingerbread - it’s already dazzling in the eyes. All day long, dazed, joyfully engrossed, she walks around the shops and stalls, without eating or sitting down, because there is nothing more exciting for her than various goods and new items.
Whether she buys a cap for a boy or a peasant, she doesn’t hide it in a basket, but puts it on top of a scarf and carries it all the way, so that it doesn’t get wrinkled for an hour, and more so, so that people can see the new one. The cap costs two rubles, but she carries it as if she had bought God knows what. And if there is a sitch or a staple on a dress, then he stops all the way, looks into the basket, feels, whispers something over it, and suddenly blushes in embarrassment if he accidentally catches his acquaintances performing this sacrament...
“Yes, I bought a new one,” he will say more seriously. “And I don’t know whether I liked it or not?” - But then she decides: - If it fits, it fits. Not a lady.
And Pelageya had an even more important reason to hurry: they were going to buy Dunyashka a coat. Not some simple one. And the good, real winter stuff. So that with a fur collar, on a silk lining, and so that the cloth is good. It's not often that you have to make such expensive upgrades. I don’t even remember when I bought it. With a collar - the same. I think she lived for fifty years and never wore a fur collar. Yes, somehow they didn’t exist before, except for sheepskin ones. I threw on a scarf - that’s the whole collar. Now all sorts of things have gone. Under a different animal. In their entire family, Dunyashka will be the first to put it on. Her friends have already fixed it, but she still runs around in this mess. It's awkward against people. And even then, she’s already a bride. The day before yesterday, Pelageya came out to milk the cow in the evening, looked through the fence, and Dunyashka was standing at the gate with a guy. It's okay with the guy. Already independent. This fall I earned two thousand on the collective farm. Five hundred rubles have already been spent, we bought a pig, a penny of hay, and so on, in small things, we spent it. If you don't buy it, they'll sell out. Then wait until next year. Otherwise she will be dressed.
That’s why Pelageya was busy with her boots, like a matchmaker, preoccupied and excited about the upcoming serious matter. Somewhere out there, like in a fairy tale, behind the mountains, behind the valleys, in who knows what store, in what department store, who knows what else - blue, black or brown, or maybe even more beautiful, hangs that one and only thing with a fur collar, which Pelageya has to find, choose, and not make any mistakes, so that Dunyashka has it just right. It's not that simple.
All these thoughts and worries swirled in Pelageeva’s head along with the words that Dunyashka was pronouncing as she walked. Thoughts are on their own, words are on their own.
Dunyashka, calling to her mother, was also thinking about her own things. Her life is shorter, there are fewer worries, but with the purchase of a coat she has many of her girlish thoughts connected, from which her eyes joyfully turn blue and her cheeks glow ruddy all the way.
Having climbed to the very top of the slope, where the road again met telephone poles, running up the mountain straight along the very steepness, Pelageya stopped for a breath of air. Both looked back and, resting, looked at the village. It was still visible as a gray strip of thatched roofs among the black plow and spacious strips of grown winter crops. The village seemed very small between the vast expanse of land, reared up by hills, and an even larger sky, grayly swirling with autumn clouds.
Pelageya, running her eyes over a row of huts similar to one another, unmistakably found hers and, preoccupied, said:
— I ordered Styopka to go to the general store to get kerosene. He runs around but doesn’t leave...
And Dunyashka found a long white block of her poultry farm on the outskirts of the village, wondered if grandfather Alexey would think of dragging the brought fish meal under the shed, remembered her beloved chicken Mota, who had disappeared yesterday, which she knew how to distinguish among hundreds of other white ones. Motya was slow and a pusher, but she laid large eggs. Then Dunyashka, like Pelageya, began to look over the huts with her eyes. But she was not looking for her own, but for another... Here she is, under a young red poplar tree that has not yet flown around. My heart swayed and flowed with warmth... Under this poplar tree on the bench last time- God forbid, my mother finds out! - Sashka kissed her. She, internally burning with shame and happiness, jumped off the bench and ran, bowing her head. Only her legs didn’t obey her, and her heart was pounding so loudly under her coat that she didn’t hear him catch up with her and walk next to her...
Dunyasha, having forgotten herself, looked for a long time with clouded eyes at the red poplar tree, until Pelageya called:
- Let's go, girl! Are you something?
And having come out on level ground and dispersed a little, she asked:
- Was there someone standing under us yesterday?
- Who are you talking about, mother? - Dunyashka asked as simply as she could, and she just puffed, fortunately there was nowhere else to puff.
“Well, don’t be stupid,” Pelageya became angry. “I’m sure she’s not deaf.” The voice seemed familiar, but she didn’t recognize it.
“Sashka was standing,” Dunyashka said evasively. “So, he was walking past.”
- Whose is this? Akimikhin, or what?
- Aunt Frosya... Like a hut under a poplar tree.
- Ahh! Well, well!.. He served his service, then?
— He served in Germany.
- Well, did you bring anything?
- I don’t know, I didn’t ask. What do I care?
“I must bring it,” Pelageya decided.
They ran around a large puddle, filled with rain, in which both paths trodden side by side were drowned: Pelageya - on the right, Dunyashka - on the left. And when they got together again, Pelageya asked:
- Will he live with his mother or move to the city?
- I don’t know.
- You should have asked.
- I didn’t ask.
- How can you not ask about this? - Pelageya was surprised.
— He told me about Germany. So interesting! But there was no discussion about this.
- Look! - Pelageya slapped herself on her apron. “Yes, this is the first thing to ask.” So, what's the point of seeing him off?
Dunyashka blinked her eyes and turned away, looking at the bare roadside bushes.
- Well, well! - Pelageya said conciliatoryly. “But just if he comes again, try.” There is nothing shameful here.
“I won’t ask,” Dunyashka shook her head angrily.
“If you don’t, I’ll find out for myself,” Pelageya said decisively, deftly jumping over the ditch.
- What a shame! And don't you dare! Don't even think about it!
- A fool is a fool.
- Let it go! But don't you dare! I need him badly!
“You’re standing at the gate, so you need it.”
- I insisted a lot! - Dunyashka shrugged her shoulders and ran forward, trying to overtake Pelageya and go alone. “I only know: to the farm and home.”
- Do I forbid it? He's a quiet guy. I studied to be a tractor driver. Stop. But you just need to stand wisely. It's a girl's thing... Let's buy a coat...
But Pelageya didn’t finish, because she herself didn’t know what would happen when they bought the coat.
We got out onto the highway just in time for the bus itself, drove for an hour and a half, separated by the cramped conditions, patiently enduring the crush and shaking, and finally fell out at the bus station. Pelageya - without one pair of tin knockers in her buttonhole, Dunyashka - with a knitted scarf fluffed up on the back of her head and looking as if she had taken a bath with a birch broom. She immediately began to look around, marveling at the colorful bustle of the city, and Pelageya immediately put her hand into the bosom of Stepka’s jacket and scratched the jacket under the chest: “Are you safe? Intact... Oh!
They went out onto the main street, and the city captured them with its whipping human whirlpool.
Caps and headscarves, overcoats and overalls, scarves and shawls walked past Dunyashka. Passing glasses glanced sideways at Pelagein's apron in surprise and myopia. The fidgety berets looked more at Dunyashka. She even heard one beret say to the other: “Look, what a cherry! Shine! Natural drink! And she grew stiff with timidity and embarrassment. All sorts of hats passed by, sullenly pulled down and jauntily twisted. And all sorts of hats. Dunyashka marveled at the flower pots and pots for buckwheat porridge, small plates and enamel bowls that were simply unlike anything else. String bags with potatoes and bread swayed, nets with tangerines swayed smoothly, cloth boots propped up with a crutch shuffled timidly. And above all this stream of people, houses rose like steep stone banks.
Dunyashka rarely visited the city, and each time it opened up in a new way. When she came with her mother as a little girl, she was so amazed by the heaps of sweets, gingerbread cookies and a lot of all kinds of dolls that she didn’t remember anything else, and then for a long time in the village she dreamed of a gingerbread city in which funny, beautiful dolls lived. As an older woman, she read the signs, looked at the policeman as he waved his striped stick and turned back and forth, and while Pelageya stood in line for something, she looked at the cash register machine that was knocking out receipts.
But now what occupied her most was people.
“There are so many of them, and they are all different!” - Dunyashka marveled, pushing past her mother. Thousands have passed by, but none are similar! And not just in face, clothes or years. And something else that Dunyashka could not understand, but vaguely felt this dissimilarity. In their village, people are somehow even - in face, and in clothes, and in life.
Along the way, Pelageya and Dunyashka went into shops, looked at the clothes, but did not try them on. Pelageya said:
- Let's go and see the main thing.
It seemed to her that the best coat should be in a department store. But she didn't want to go straight there. You can’t do this: he came running, sent the money - and goodbye! Who buys this? Pelageya was flattered by how the saleswomen - beautiful, white-faced - took one coat and another from the hanger, threw it out on the counter in front of her, and although she knew that she would not buy yet, and there was no suitable price, she busily shook the coat, I felt the top, blew on the collar, examined the lining. Meanwhile, Dunyashka stagnated in the haberdashery.
My God, there is so much here! Plain stockings, stockings with an elastic band, thin stockings, with cobwebs, like their teacher’s. Monista! Blue, with a round bead, red rowan, green transparent gooseberry, and ribbed, and faceted, and in one thread, and in a whole bunch... And brooches! And the earrings! What blouses! The combs are completely unprecedented! Dunyashka looked at all this, and even the sellers noticed how their eyes widened from the unprecedented beauty, how Dunyashka’s plump lips naturally opened in admiration. Pelageya approached slowly, looked at all this wealth, full of inner pride that if she wanted, she could buy everything.
The sellers looked at Dunyashka, waiting to see what she wanted and what she would choose. And Dunyashka hurriedly whispered to Pelageya:
- Look at those earrings! Not expensive, but like gold! — and pleadingly tugged at the mother’s sleeve.
- Let's go, let's go! No time here! - Pelageya said worriedly.
And Dunyashka:
- Mom, at least a comb!
But Pelageya was heading towards the exit and only beyond the threshold, so that people would not hear, she said in a goose whisper:
“We’ll buy a comb, but we won’t have enough for a coat.” You need to understand!
They reached the department store only after lunch. True, they themselves had not eaten anything yet: they had no time and did not want to. At the entrance to the store, people were swirling like water in a mill pool. Here dozens of people were sucked in, circling and thrown out at once. From the doors of the department store came a dull, continuous hum, as if millstones were turning heavily there.
Pelageya and Dunyashka pushed their way inside and hurriedly ran around the first floor, but they weren’t selling what they needed, so they went higher. On the landing, between the first and second floors, they saw themselves in a huge mirror embedded in the wall. The mirror silently told everyone passing by what exactly they needed to replace or what was missing in their clothes.
Pelageya climbed the stairs, kicking her frilly apron high with her knees. She looked at herself aloofly and suddenly said:
- Fathers, I lost my hammers! Now the little guy will kill...
Dunyashka climbed one step lower. She looked in the mirror with all her eyes, because she saw herself like this, all at once, for the first time in her life. In her knitted scarf, which made her head round and ordinary, in her short, narrow-shouldered gray coat, from under which protruded long, strong legs in chrome, spattered boots, Dunyashka looked like a young gray hen, whose elegant comb had not yet properly erupted, The goiter has not become rounded, the tail has not risen upward, but strong, resilient legs have already grown. But her cheeks were still burning tirelessly, and the mirror whispered: “Is it possible to walk under a red poplar tree in such a coat?” There weren’t very many people in the women’s outerwear department; coats and fur coats hung behind the counter in a huge long salon in reverent silence and the pungent smell of furs and mothballs. They were placed in long rows, like cows in stalls on a model state farm, sleeve to sleeve, color to color, breed to breed. Each one had cardboard tags on it. Buyers walked between the rows in solemn respect, talking in low tones, taking tags in their palms and asking prices.
- For a girl? — Looking carefully at Dunyashka, asked a plump elderly saleswoman in glasses and a robe, looking like a veterinarian from a neighboring state farm department. “Please come in.” Forty-sixth to the right.
Pelageya, followed by Dunyashka, timidly entered behind the barrier upholstered in red plush and began their inspection from the edge. But Dunyashka whispered: “I don’t want black,” and they went to the beige ones. The beige ones were good. Large horn buttons. Soft brown collar. Cream silk lining. Pelageya crushed the corner of the floor in her fist - it didn’t wrinkle.
- Dunya, come on, read it.
- One thousand two hundred.
“Well, well,” Pelageya knitted her eyebrows. “It’s very branded.” Over there at the agronomist's. I was driving in the car and it got stained. Now at least give it up.
- Mom, look, they’re dark blue! - Dunyashka whispered.
- It’s okay! - Pelageya approved.
- The collar is beautiful! Just fluff! - Dunyashka whispered.
- And the price? Read the price.
- One thousand nine hundred and sixty.
— I guess this is the year indicated?
- No... rubles.
- Ahh... rubles... Something too expensive. The coat is so-so. And the collar is probably a dog's one. Neither the fox nor the cat.
“I suppose they’re also expensive,” said Pelageya, “about fifteen hundred thousand, no less.”
- Well, did you pick up anything? - asked the saleswoman.
“Yes, there’s something I don’t like,” Pelageya said worriedly. “Sometimes they’re easily soiled, sometimes the cut is not ours.”
The saleswoman, casting a barely noticeable glance at Pelagein’s apron, asked:
— What price would you like?
Pelageya thought about it.
“But I don’t know myself,” she said. “Taking something expensive is risky.” My daughter will still grow. Bye for seven hundred rubles. Or it could be cheaper.
“Of course, of course,” the saleswoman nodded her glasses in understanding. “The girl is still growing.”
- Please try your best.
- We have a magnificent coat for her! - said the saleswoman. - Inexpensive, but very decent. Let's go. We'll dress her up like this now.
The saleswoman went to the very end of the row and, after rummaging around, handed over:
- Here you are.
The coat was indeed good. Brown herringbone. The collar is black. The cotton wool is not quilted inside, but properly. Warm coat! Pelageya blew on the collar - the fur fluttered, brushed it over the fur - the fur lay down and sparkled like a raven's wing.
“Drap, seal collar,” explained the saleswoman, turning the coat on her finger. “Silk twill lining, please.” Clean. Do you like it? - she asked Dunyashka.
Dunyashka smiled shyly.
- Well, that’s great! — the saleswoman also smiled. “Let’s try it on.” Here's a mirror.
Dunyashka put on her coat with joyful trepidation. He smelled of new fabric and fur. Even through her dress, Dunyashka felt how smooth the lining was. She was cool only at first, but then her body was immediately enveloped in a cozy warmth. The collar fits fluffy and affectionately around the neck. With trembling fingers, Dunyashka fastened the tight buttons, and Pelageya, flushed with concern, rushed to help her. As soon as the buttons were fastened, Dunyashka immediately felt fit and slender. There was no pressure in her chest, as in an old coat, and on her hips and waist she felt that same harmony of well-fitting clothes, when it is neither tight nor loose, but just at the right time.
Almost all the buyers who were behind the barrier came to see the fitting. Some old man with a white, seemingly washed beard, a pilot with his wife. A lady in a black coat and a smoky black fox with a very decent-looking man in a red scarf also approached the fitting room.
Dunyashka looked in the mirror and was stunned. She and not her! She immediately matured, straightened out, and became rounder where she should be. She saw hers own eyes, shining with a happy blue, and for the first time I felt like an adult!
- Just a bride! - said the old man.
“It suits you very well,” remarked the pilot’s wife. “Take it, don’t hesitate.”
- What a lovely girl! — the lady in the fox smiled. “What does it mean to dress a person properly!” It’s not for nothing that they say: “They meet you by their clothes...” Allow me, dear, I’ll tuck in your braid. Like this! A miracle, not a coat.
— Write out? — the saleswoman finally asked and took a checkbook out of her pocket.
“Since people praise it, then we’ll take it,” said Pelageya. “My daughter is eighteen years old.” How not to take it.
- Please: six hundred ninety-three rubles twenty-one kopecks. The cashier is nearby.
Pelageya ran to pay, and Dunyashka, reluctantly parting with her new coat, pulled on her old one and tied a scarf.
“It’s a happy time for this girl,” the lady sighed. “First coat, first shoes... Everything’s a first.”
The saleswoman deftly wrapped the purchase in paper, wrapped it with twine with a few strokes of her hand, and, snapping the scissors, handed it to Dunyashka.
- Wear it for your health.
“Thank you,” Dunyashka thanked quietly.
“Thank you, kind people, for your advice and help,” said Pelageya. “Thank you, daughter, for kind words“,” she said to the lady.
- Well, what are you talking about! — the lady smiled. “It was nice to look at your girl.” What class are you in?
“I’m at the farm,” Dunyashka said shyly and stared at her big red hands holding the purchase.
“She works as a poultry worker on our collective farm,” Pelageya explained. “She worked three hundred days.” They bought the coat with her money.
- Well, that's really cute! - said the lady and looked at Dunyashka again in fascination.
I didn't want to leave the store right away. Pelageya and Dunyashka had not yet cooled down from excitement and jostled for a long time in different departments. After buying a coat, which Dunyashka carried under her arm, looking at it all the time, she wanted something else. And they, looking at the goods, said that it would be nice to also buy boots for such a coat. “Those ones over there with the edge.” - “They say they’re non-nose.” - “What about non-nose? Katka Aboldueva is in her third winter.” — “Okay, we’ll buy it. We have these in the general store.” — “Mom, look at those hats!” - “Are you crazy? You will wear it! - “Yes, I’m so simple.” - “You should have a down scarf now.”
So they walked around the entire floor and again, passing by the outerwear department, they stopped to take a farewell look at the hanging coats.
Behind the barrier they saw a lady trying on a fur coat. A man in a red scarf stood nearby. He held her coat.
The fur coat was made of some small skins with dark brown backs and red edges, which made it look striped. The saleswoman, unwrapping the fur coat, threw it over the lady, and she immediately drowned from head to toe in a mountain of light red fur. All that was visible was a comb of hair the color of strong tea, worn out on the top of his head, and from below, from under the edge of his fur coat, the ankles of his feet and black shoes.
“It’s very wide,” Pelageya remarked in a whisper. “You can’t see a person at all.”
Dunyashka also thought the fur coat was very spacious and long. It hung from the shoulders in wavy folds, the sleeves were wide, with large cuffs, and the collar stretched from shoulder to shoulder. Maybe it seemed so after the black coat that fit the lady very well?
The coat was very good, completely new - both the material and the fox collar. It can still be worn and worn, and if Dunyashka had such a thing, she would not take a fur coat, but would buy a down scarf and boots.
Dunyashka wanted to tell the lady about this, she wanted to show concern, to advise something, as they had just advised her during her fitting. But, of course, she would never dare. This is just how she does it, to herself. She did not know what words to say, and in general she was shy in front of this, although friendly, but still somewhat inaccessible woman.
The lady shrugged her shoulders, causing her fur coat to form wide folds on her back, and looked at herself in the mirror. Dunyashka saw her beautiful, slightly pale face at that moment, covered with a wide red collar. Lively light brown eyes looked attentively and sternly, and her painted lips smiled slightly.
- Philip, do you like it? — the lady asked, running her curved palm over her cheek and hair.
“In general, nothing,” said the man. “Perhaps even better than that one...”
- What's it like in the back?
- Three folds. Just what you like.
- Maybe we won’t take it? I don't really like the collar.
- Why? A fur coat suits you. And the collar - invite Boris Abramovich. Will redo it.
- I don’t want him for some reason. Marina Mikhailovna said that he ruined her fur coat. I’ll call Pokrovskaya - she has a good furrier.
The lady looked at herself in the mirror again.
“Okay, I’ll take it,” she said. “If anything happens, Elka will blow it.”
- May I write it out? — the saleswoman asked politely.
- Yes, yes, honey...
The man went to pay. He unzipped his briefcase and placed two gray hundred-dollar bricks, secured with paper tape, on the cash register plate.
- This is all for one fur coat?! - Dunyashka gasped.
The fur coat was wrapped in paper. The saleswoman with a serious face, on which all the solemnity of the moment was written, with a few habitual waves of her hand, wrapped the package with twine and, handing it to the lady, wished, just like Dunyashka:
- Wear it for your health.
- Thank you.
- Here we are with you and new clothes! — the lady smiled, noticing Dunyashka and affectionately patted her on the cheek.
In her hands was a package exactly the same as Dunyashkin’s, almost the same size, in the same white paper with red triangles, also crossed crosswise with twine. Put it next to it and you won’t be able to tell it apart.
The man took the package from her and they left.
A light rain was falling outside. The asphalt glistened. Dunyashka and Pelageya saw how the lady and the man got into a wet, shiny black car and drove off. A fox face with a collar and a red mouth flashed through the back window.
— good people, - said Pelageya. - Courteous.
Dunyashka looked at her package. The rain drummed heavily on the wrapper, and the paper became stained. Dunyashka unbuttoned her coat and hid the purchase under the floor.
“Mom, I’m hungry,” she said.
With the change from their coats, they bought a loaf of bread and ice cream from the hawker, and hid the rest of the change for the road. We went behind a newspaper booth and started eating. They ate greedily and silently, because they were hungry, and also because it was awkward to eat in public. And everyone walked by with raised collars and hats, caps and overalls, glasses and berets, shoes clicking and cloth boots shuffling. From time to time, bloated briefcases passed by, and it seemed to Dunyashka that they were filled with hundreds of dollars. Sometimes foxes swam by, nestled under umbrellas. It didn't drip on them.
- Well, let's go, shall we? - said Pelageya, shaking crumbs from her jacket. - I don’t know if Styopka bought kerosene...
They got off the bus before dark. The rain had stopped, but the highway was slimy and gleamed dully among the black, heavily settled wet earth. Pelageya tucked her apron under her jacket and, pushing her boots along the dead path, walked ahead of Dunyashka. Now she was in a hurry home, because she still had time to wash Stepka’s underwear. Tomorrow it’s too early for him to go to mechanization school. Dunyashka ran after. She also wanted to go home quickly.
Just before the slope the sun suddenly appeared. It struck a beam of rays into the narrow gap between the earth and the sky, and the highway sparkled with countless puddles and flooded ruts.
Having reached the steepest point, they stopped to rest. After the rain it became quiet and warmer. The city tired Dunyashka with its bustle, but here, in the field, it was quiet, good, and everything was so familiar. There was a calf standing near a sunflower that stood alone by the road. He pulled off the damp, limp leaves and slowly chewed them, sticking the stem with his tongue. Having stopped eating and spreading his ears, he thoughtfully stared at Pelageya and Dunyashka. A half-eaten stalk protruded from his moist pinkish lips.
“We’ll be there soon,” said Pelageya. “Come on, give it here...”
She took the package from Dunyashka and pierced the paper with her finger. The lining showed through the hole. It was the color of milk liver and shimmered silkily in the light.
- Good lining! - Pelageya approved. - Well, look.
- At least on a dress! - said Dunyashka. “Mom, what’s the top?” I forgot...
We picked the paper in another place and got to the top.
- And the top is good! - Dunyashka was convinced once again.
- Well, the top - no demolition! Say that you gave a thousand.
- It can be worse for a thousand. Do you remember that hanging thing, beige?
- And there’s nothing to look at!
- Mom, let's look at the collar. We haven't looked at the collar yet.
The collar was soft and black, like a raven's wing. Wonderful collar!
- What did she say - what collar?
- Like a cat.
- A-ah... Look! Dear I guess.
- Mom, it’s warm!
“It’s warm, daughter.” Pelageya weighed the bundle in her hand. “There’s nothing to say about warmth.” What about the fur coat? Just the name. No warmth, no beauty. Like a zipun. She would be whole. And then from patches. Just behold, it will burst at the seams. Yes, and it will wipe itself off. And this is beauty! And to your face. And he sits fine.
“I feel like an adult in it,” Dunyashka smiled shyly.
- Shut up, girl, we’ll sell the calf - we’ll make a down scarf.
- And boots! - Dunyashka lit up all over.
- Let's handle the bots too! Let's do it!
It was easy to run downhill. To shorten the road, we went straight along the grassy slope. Ahead, snatched by the sun from the dark arable land, a village whitened with huts. Dunyashka, melting with quiet, secret joy, looked for the red poplar tree with her eyes.
What is an angle?
An angle is a figure formed by two rays emanating from one point (Fig. 160).
Rays forming corner, are called the sides of the angle, and the point from which they emerge is the vertex of the angle.
In Figure 160, the sides of the angle are the rays OA and OB, and its vertex is point O. This angle is designated as follows: AOB.
When writing an angle, write a letter in the middle to indicate its vertex. An angle can also be denoted by one letter - the name of its vertex.
For example, instead of “angle AOB” they write shorter: “angle O”.
Instead of the word “angle” the sign is written.
For example, AOB, O.
In Figure 161, points C and D lie inside angle AOB, points X and Y lie outside this angle, and points M and N - on the sides of the angle.
Like everyone else geometric shapes,angles are compared using overlay.
If one angle can be superimposed on another so that they coincide, then these angles are equal.
For example, in Figure 162 ABC = MNK.
From the vertex of the angle SOK (Fig. 163) a ray OR is drawn. He splits the angle SOK into two angles - COP and ROCK. Each of these angles is less than the angle SOC.
Write: COP< COK и POK < COK.
Straight and straight angle
Two complementary to each other beam form a straight angle. The sides of this angle together form a straight line on which the vertex of the unfolded angle lies (Fig. 164).
The hour and minute hands of the clock form a reverse angle at 6 o'clock (Fig. 165).
Fold a sheet of paper in half twice and then unfold it (Fig. 166).
The fold lines form 4 equal angles. Each of these angles equal to half unfolded angle. Such angles are called right angles.
A right angle is half a turned angle.
Drawing triangle
To build right angle use drawing triangle(Fig. 167). To construct a right angle, one of the sides of which is the ray OL, you need to:
a) position the drawing triangle so that the vertex of its right angle coincides with point O, and one of the sides follows the ray OA;
b) draw ray OB along the second side of the triangle.
As a result, we obtain a right angle AOB.
Questions to the topic
1.What is an angle?
2.Which angle is called turned?
3.What angles are called equal?
4.What angle is called a right angle?
5.How do you build a right angle using a drawing triangle?
You and I already know that any angle divides the plane into two parts. But, if an angle has both sides lying on the same straight line, then such an angle is called unfolded. That is, in a rotated angle, one side of it is a continuation of the other side of the angle.
Now let's look at the figure, which exactly shows the unfolded angle O.
If we take and draw a ray from the vertex of the unfolded angle, then it will divide this unfolded angle into two more angles, which will have one common side, and the other two angles will form a straight line. That is, from one unfolded corner we got two adjacent ones.
If we take a straight angle and draw a bisector, then this bisector will divide the straight angle into two right angles.
And, if we draw an arbitrary ray from the vertex of the unfolded angle, which is not a bisector, then such a ray will divide the unfolded angle into two angles, one of which will be acute and the other obtuse.
Properties of a rotated angle
A straight angle has the following properties:
Firstly, the sides of a straight angle are antiparallel and form a straight line;
secondly, the rotated angle is 180°;
thirdly, two adjacent angle form a deployed angle;
fourthly, the unfolded angle is half full angle;
fifthly, the full angle will be equal to the sum two unfolded corners;
sixth, half of a turned angle is a right angle.
Measuring angles
To measure any angle, a protractor is most often used for these purposes, whose unit of measurement is equal to one degree. When measuring angles, remember that any angle has its own specific degree measure and naturally this measure greater than zero. And the unfolded angle, as we already know, is equal to 180 degrees.
That is, if you and I take any plane of a circle and divide it by radii into 360 equal parts, then 1/360 part of this circle will be an angular degree. As you already know, a degree is indicated by a certain icon, which looks like this: “°”.
Now we also know that one degree 1° = 1/360 of a circle. If the angle is equal to the plane of the circle and is 360 degrees, then such an angle is complete.
Now we will take and divide the plane of the circle using two radii lying on the same straight line into two equal parts. Then in this case, the plane of the semicircle will be half the full angle, that is, 360: 2 = 180°. We have obtained an angle that is equal to the half-plane of a circle and has 180°. This is the turned angle.
Practical task
1613. Name the angles shown in Figure 168. Write down their designations.
1614. Draw four rays: OA, OB, OS and OD. Write down the names of the six angles whose sides are these rays. How many parts do these rays divide into? plane?
1615. Indicate which points in Figure 169 lie inside the angle COM. Which points lie outside this angle? Which points are on the OK side and which are on the OM side?
1616. Draw the angle MOD and draw the ray OT inside it. Name and label the angles into which this ray divides the angle MOD.
1617. Minute hand in 10 minutes it turned to angle AOB, in the next 10 minutes - to angle BOC, and in another 15 minutes - to angle COD. Compare the angles AOB and BOS, BOS and COD, AOS and AOB, AOS and COD (Fig. 170).
1618. Using a drawing triangle, draw 4 right angles in different positions.
1619. Using a drawing triangle, find right angles in Figure 171. Write down their designations.
1620. Identify right angles in the classroom.
a) 0.09 200; b) 208 0.4; c) 130 0.1 + 80 0.1.
1629. What percentage of 400 is the number 200; 100; 4; 40; 80; 400; 600?
1630. Find the missing number:
a) 2 5 3 b) 2 3 5
13 6 12 1
2 3? 42?
1631. Draw a square whose side is equal to the length of 10 cells in the notebook. Let this square represent a field. Rye occupies 12% of the field, oats 8%, wheat 64%, and the rest of the field is occupied by buckwheat. Show in the figure the part of the field occupied by each crop. What percentage of the field is buckwheat?
1632. For academic year Petya has used 40% of the notebooks purchased at the beginning of the year, and he has 30 notebooks left. How many notebooks were purchased for Petya at the beginning of the school year?
1633. Bronze is an alloy of tin and copper. What percentage of the alloy is copper in a piece of bronze consisting of 6 kg of tin and 34 kg of copper?
1634. The Alexandria Lighthouse, built in ancient times, which was called one of the seven wonders of the world, is 1.7 times higher than the towers of the Moscow Kremlin, but 119 m lower than the building of Moscow University. Find the height of each of these structures if the towers of the Moscow Kremlin are 49 m lower Alexandria lighthouse.
1635. Use a microcalculator to find:
a) 4.5% of 168; c) 28.3% of 569.8;
b) 147.6% of 2500; d) 0.09% of 456,800.
1636. Solve the problem:
1) The area of the garden is 6.4 a. On the first day, 30% of the garden was dug up, and on the second day, 35% of the garden was dug up. How many ares are left to dig up?
2) Serezha had 4.8 hours of free time. He spent 35% of this time reading a book, and 40% watching TV programs. How much time does he still have left?
1637. Follow these steps:
1) ((23,79: 7,8 - 6,8: 17) 3,04 - 2,04) 0,85;
2) (3,42: 0,57 9,5 - 6,6) : ((4,8 - 1,6) (3,1 + 0,05)).
1638. Draw the corner BAC and mark one point each inside the corner, outside the corner and on the sides of the corner.
1639. Which of the 172 points marked in the figure lie inside the angle AMK. Which point lies inside the angle AMB> but outside the angle AMK. Which points lie on the sides of the angle AMK?
1640. Using a drawing triangle, find the right angles in Figure 173.
1641. Construct a square with side 43 mm. Calculate its perimeter and area.
1642. Find the meaning of the expression:
a) 14.791: a + 160.961: b, if a = 100, b = 10;
b) 361.62c + 1848: d, if c = 100, d =100.
1643. A worker had to produce 450 parts. He made 60% of the parts on the first day, and the rest on the second. How many parts did you make? worker on the second day?
1644. The library had 8,000 books. A year later, their number increased by 2000 books. By what percentage did the number of books in the library increase?
1645. The trucks covered 24% of the intended route on the first day, 46% of the route on the second day, and the remaining 450 km on the third. How many kilometers did these trucks travel?
1646. Find how many are:
a) 1% of a ton; c) 5% of 7 tons;
b) 1% of a liter; d) 6% of 80 km.
1647. The mass of a walrus calf is 9 times less than the mass of an adult walrus. What is the mass of an adult walrus if, together with the calf, their mass is 0.9 tons?
1648. During the maneuvers, the commander left 0.3 of all his soldiers to guard the crossing, and divided the rest into 2 detachments for the defense of two heights. The first detachment had 6 times more soldiers than the second. How many soldiers were in the first detachment if there were 200 soldiers in total?
N.Ya. VILENKIN, V. I. ZHOKHOV, A. S. CHESNOKOV, S. I. SHVARTSBURD, Mathematics grade 5, Textbook for general education institutions
Many Russian girls When planning to participate in a large family feast, you probably heard from older relatives: “Don’t sit on the corner, you won’t get married for seven years.” Where did this superstition come from?
Corners in a peasant house
From century to century, Russian people arranged life in their homes according to ancient traditions. And they said that in the hut the right corner is considered “red”, and the left is considered “black”. In the red corner there was always an iconostasis or at least one icon with a lamp hung. There was usually a chest of drawers or a chest in which the owners kept relics, on it different holidays They put either Easter cake, or illuminated apples, honey, ears of bread, etc.
In addition, on Sundays they placed in the red corner dining table. Eating food in the red corner was considered honorable, and the most desirable and dear guests were seated there. After death, the deceased was placed with his head in the red corner, because it was believed that the soul of the deceased was in this corner for forty days after death.
The left corner in the house is “black” and it was considered destiny dark forces. According to legend, a brownie lived in it and a low bench was placed in this corner for him, on which various treats were left. The owners usually kept a broom there, fed the domestic cat, and when they punished the child by standing in the corner, he was sent to the “black” corner. It was believed that if you hang a mirror in this place, it will serve as a window into the world of the dead and then you can use it to tell fortunes, but it was always forbidden to keep a mirror in a black corner. The owners knew very well that, together with the spirits of the dead, misfortune and death could penetrate through the mirror in the black corner.
Corner for old maids
Since ancient times, Russian people believed that any corner in the house, including the corner of furniture, was “bad” or “good,” depending on its location. The left corner of the table, which looked in the “black” direction, really promised possible misfortunes, and at feasts old maids and hangers-on who did not have their own families were seated there.
But the right corner, which was located under the images, was supposed to bring good luck, and if during a meal a girl or boy sat there of her own free will, then knowledgeable people They told them: “Soon you will be with the corner.” It was meant that the young man would build own house, and the girl will get married and become the mistress of her husband’s house. Gradually, village traditions lost their significance, and the general atheism of the early 20th century and the mass exodus of peasants to the cities completely reduced them to nothing, leaving the Russians with superstitions combined from them.
Why are Russians superstitious?
Russian sociologists have also conducted research into prejudices associated with “table corners.” It turned out that more than half of the respondents under the age of thirty were not only familiar with this belief, but also strictly followed it, refusing to sit at the table if a seat was offered on the corner.
At the same time, almost all the girls declared that they had completed or were just receiving secondary specialized or higher education. Sociologists note that such a worldview among educated Russian women is associated not only with the ethnocultural environment, in which older relatives may record in their perception cases of confirmation of various signs in life.
Superstitions, as a rule, are always strong in an economically unstable society, while the cultural origins of superstitions are deeply patriarchal and any young Russian woman still believes that getting married is the most important thing she should do in life.
However, based on the experience of the people around her, and her own, every girl knows how difficult it is to do this, especially from the point of view of happiness and good luck. That is why Russians are massively ready to follow any signs and attach great importance to even the most absurd superstitions, just to attract at least a little fortune to their side.
And the most surprising thing is that many Russian women confirmed that the superstitious rituals they perform “really work” and without them they experience psychological discomfort.
He stood up and sat down on the edge of the bed, with his back to the window. “It’s better not to sleep at all,” he decided. From the window, however, it was cold and damp; Without getting up, he pulled the blanket over himself and wrapped himself in it. He didn't light the candles. He didn't think about anything, and didn't want to think; but dreams arose one after another, fragments of thoughts flashed, without beginning or end and without connection. It was as if he was half asleep. Whether it was the cold, the darkness, the dampness, or the wind that howled outside the window and shook the trees, aroused in him some stubborn fantastic inclination and desire, but he began to imagine flowers. He imagined a lovely landscape, a bright, warm, almost hot day, a holiday, Trinity Day. A rich, luxurious country cottage in the English style, all overgrown with fragrant flower beds, planted with ridges running around the entire house; a porch covered with climbing plants and filled with rows of roses; a bright, cool staircase covered with a luxurious carpet, furnished with rare flowers in Chinese jars. He especially noticed in jars of water, on the windows, bouquets of white and delicate daffodils, bending on their bright green, plump and long stems with a strong fragrant smell. He didn’t even want to leave them, but he climbed the stairs and entered a large, high hall, and again, everywhere, at the windows, near the open doors to the terrace, on the terrace itself, there were flowers everywhere. The floors were strewn with freshly cut fragrant grass, the windows were open, fresh, light, cool air penetrated into the room, birds chirped under the windows, and in the middle of the room, on tables covered with white satin shrouds, stood a coffin. This coffin was upholstered in white grodenpaple and trimmed with thick white ruffle. Garlands of flowers surrounded him on all sides. There was a girl lying in it, covered in flowers, in a white tulle dress, with her hands folded and pressed on her chest, as if carved from marble. But her loose hair, light blonde hair, was wet; a wreath of roses wrapped around her head. The stern and already ossified profile of her face was also as if carved from marble, but the smile on her pale lips was full of some kind of childish, boundless sorrow and great complaint. Svidrigailov knew this girl; there was no image or lighted candles at this coffin and no prayers were heard. This girl was a suicide - a drowned woman. She was only fourteen years old, but it was already broken heart, and it destroyed itself, offended by the insult that horrified and surprised this young child consciousness, flooded with undeserved shame, her angelic pure soul and pulled out the last cry of despair, not heard, but brazenly scolded in dark night, in the darkness, in the cold, in the damp thaw, when the wind howled...
Svidrigailov woke up, got out of bed and stepped towards the window. He groped for the latch and opened the window. The wind rushed furiously into his cramped closet and, as if with frosty frost, covered his face and chest, covered with only a shirt. Under the window there must really have been something like a garden and, it seems, also a pleasure garden; probably during the day there were also singers singing here and tea being brought out to the tables. Now splashes were flying from the trees and bushes into the window, it was dark as in a cellar, so that it was barely possible to distinguish only some dark spots that indicated objects. Svidrigailov, bending over and leaning his elbows on the window sill, had been looking for five minutes, without looking away, into this darkness. In the darkness and night, a cannon shot was heard, followed by another.
“Ah, signal! The water is rising, he thought, by morning it will pour out, where the place is lower, it will flood the streets, it will flood basements and cellars, basement rats will emerge, and in the midst of the rain and wind, people will begin, swearing, wet, dragging their rubbish to the upper floors... And What time is it now? And just as he thought this, somewhere nearby, ticking and as if hurrying with all his might, a wall clock struck three. “Hey, in an hour it will already be dawn! What to expect? I’ll go out now, I’ll go straight to Petrovsky: there somewhere I’ll choose a large bush, all drenched in rain, so that if I barely touch my shoulder, millions of splashes will hit my whole head...” He walked away from the window, locked it, lit a candle, and pulled it over himself. a vest, a coat, put on a hat and went out with a candle into the corridor in order to find somewhere a ragamuffin sleeping in a closet between all sorts of rubbish and candle stubs, pay him for his room and leave the hotel. “The best moment, you couldn’t have chosen better!”
He walked for a long time along the entire long and narrow corridor, not finding anyone, and was about to click loudly, when suddenly in a dark corner, between an old wardrobe and a door, he saw some strange object, something that seemed to be alive. He bent down with a candle and saw a child - a girl of about five years old, no more, in a dress as wet as a rag, shaking and crying. She seemed not to be afraid of Svidrigailov, but looked at him with dull surprise with her big black eyes and occasionally sobbed, like children who had been crying for a long time, but had already stopped and were even consoled, and yet, no, no, and suddenly they would sob again. The girl's face was pale and exhausted; she was numb from the cold, but “how did she get here? So she hid here and didn’t sleep all night.” He began to question her. The girl suddenly perked up and quickly babbled something to him in her children's language. There was something about “mama” and that “mama is plibing”, about some cup that she “lazbilya” (broke). The girl spoke without stopping; it was somehow possible to guess from all these stories that this was an unloved child, whom his mother, some always drunk cook, probably from the local hotel, had beaten and intimidated; that the girl broke her mother’s cup and that she was so frightened that she ran away in the evening; For a long time, she probably hid somewhere in the yard, in the rain, and finally made her way here, hid behind a closet and sat here in the corner all night, crying, trembling from the dampness, from the darkness and from the fear that she would now be beaten painfully for all this. He took her in his arms, went to his room, sat her on the bed and began to undress her. Her shoes with holes, on her bare feet, were so wet, as if they had lain in a puddle all night. Having undressed her, he put her on the bed, covered her and wrapped her head completely in the blanket. She immediately fell asleep. Having finished everything, he again fell into gloomy thought.
“I thought I’d get in touch! - he suddenly decided with a heavy and angry feeling. “What nonsense!” In annoyance, he took a candle to go and find the ragamuffin at all costs and get out of here as quickly as possible. “Oh, girl!” - he thought with a curse, already opening the door, but returned to look at the girl again, is she sleeping and how is she sleeping? He carefully lifted the blanket. The girl slept soundly and blissfully. She warmed herself under the blanket, and color was already spreading across her pale cheeks. But it’s strange: this color seemed to be brighter and stronger than an ordinary child’s blush could be. “This is a feverish blush,” thought Svidrigailov, it’s like a blush from wine, as if she had been given a whole glass to drink. The scarlet lips are definitely burning and puffing, but what is it? It suddenly seemed to him that her long black eyelashes seemed to tremble and blink, as if they were lifting and from under them a sly, sharp, unchildish winking eye was peeking out, as if the girl was awake and pretending. Yes, that’s right: her lips part into a smile; the tips of the lips tremble, as if still holding back. But now she completely stopped holding back; This is already laughter, obvious laughter; something impudent and defiant shines in this not at all childish face; this is debauchery, this is the face of a camellia, the impudent face of a corrupt camellia of French women. Now, no longer hiding at all, both eyes open: they look around him with a fiery and shameless gaze, they call him, laugh... There was something infinitely ugly and offensive in this laughter, in these eyes, in all this abomination in the child’s face. "How! five year old! - Svidrigailov whispered in real horror, “this... what is this?” But now she completely turns to him with her whole flaming face, stretches out her arms... “Ah, damned one!” - Svidrigailov cried out in horror, raising his hand over her... But at that very moment he woke up.
He is on the same bed, also wrapped in a blanket; the candle is not lit, and the whole day is white in the windows.
"Nightmare all night!" He rose angrily, feeling that he was completely broken; his bones ached. There is a completely thick fog outside and you can’t see anything. It's almost five o'clock; overslept! He stood up and put on his jacket and coat, which were still damp. Feeling for the revolver in his pocket, he took it out and adjusted the primer; then he sat down, took a notebook out of his pocket and wrote a few lines large on the title page, the most visible one. After re-reading them, he thought, leaning his elbows on the table. Revolver and notebook lay right there, at the elbow. The awakened flies stuck to the untouched portion of veal, which stood right there on the table. He looked at them for a long time and finally free right hand I started catching one fly. For a long time he was exhausted in his efforts, but could not catch it. Finally catching myself on this interesting activity, woke up, shuddered, stood up and resolutely walked out of the room. A minute later he was on the street.
A milky, thick fog lay over the city. Svidrigailov walked along the slippery, dirty wooden pavement towards the Malaya Neva. He imagined the water of the Malaya Neva rising high during the night, Petrovsky Island, wet paths, wet grass, wet trees and bushes and, finally, that very bush... With annoyance, he began to look at the houses in order to think about something else. Neither a passer-by nor a cab driver was seen along the avenue. The bright yellow wooden houses with closed shutters looked sad and dirty. Cold and dampness permeated his entire body, and he began to shiver. Occasionally he came across shop and vegetable signs and read each one carefully. The wooden pavement has already ended. He has already caught up with the big one stone house. A dirty, shivering dog, with its tail between its legs, ran across his path. Some dead drunk man in an overcoat, face down, was lying across the sidewalk. He looked at him and walked on. A tall tower flashed to his left. “Bah! - he thought, - this is the place, why go to Petrovsky? At least in front of an official witness...” He almost grinned at this new thought and turned into -skaya street. Standing here big house with a tower. At the locked large gates of the house, leaning his shoulder against them, stood a small man, wrapped in a gray soldier's coat and wearing a copper Achilles helmet. With a dozing look, he glanced coldly at the approaching Svidrigailov. On his face one could see that eternal grumpy sorrow that was so sourly imprinted on all the faces of the Jewish tribe without exception. Both of them, Svidrigailov and Achilles, looked at each other in silence for some time. Finally, it seemed to Achilles that it was out of order that the man was not drunk, but was standing three steps in front of him, looking straight at him and saying nothing.
- A-ze, are you here and here? - he said, still not moving or changing his position.
- Nothing, brother, hello! – answered Svidrigailov.
- This is no place.
- I, brother, am going to foreign lands.
- To foreign lands?
- To America.
- To America?
Svidrigailov took out his revolver and cocked the hammer. Achilles raised his eyebrows.
- A-ze, sto-ze, these days (jokes) have no place here!
- Why not a place?
“And that’s why there’s no place.”
