My mother's condition gradually improved, but I continued to spend the night by her bed. Pokrovsky often gives me books. I read books, at first to avoid dozing off, but later I saw some smell and I was eager to read books. There were suddenly many novel things I had never known before me. New ideas and new impressions are like rolling rapids, pouring into my heart all at once. The more difficult these new ideas and new impressions are to grasp and understand, the more intimate and attractive they appear, the sweeter they will shake my whole heart. They poured in quickly, making my heart rush and I could no longer be calm. A terrible commotion began to penetrate my body. But this kind of mental pressure does not and cannot crush me. I love fantasy so much that it saved me.
Mom's illness has been cured, and our meeting and long talks at night have stopped. Sometimes when we talk a few words, it is often a few ordinary and empty words, but I always like to think of some special meaning. My life is happy, I am very happy, quietly immersed in happiness. After a few weeks like this...
Once, Old Pokrovsky came to see us. He talked to us for a long time. He was very happy, vigorous and talkative; he smiled and said his own whispers, and finally revealed his happy mystery: he told us that in another whole week it would be Pekinca's birthday, and that day he must see his son, he will wear a new vest, and his wife has promised to buy him a new pair of boots. In short, the old man was so happy that he said whatever he thought.
His birthday! This birthday has disturbed me day and night. I made up my mind to give a gift to express my friendship with Pokrovsky. But what to give? Finally, I finally came out and gave him a book. I knew he wanted a newest version of Pushkin's Complete Works, so I decided to buy Pushkin's Complete Works. My private money totals thirty rubles , all of which are earned by doing needlework. I saved this little money, originally planning to buy new clothes. I immediately sent our female chef, Matrena, to inquire about the price of "The Complete Works of Pushkin". What awful! The eleven volumes of the complete collection, plus the binding cost, will cost at least sixty rubles. Where did you get so much money? I thought about it, but I don't know what to do. I don't want to ask my mother for it. Of course, my mother would definitely help me, but in this way, everyone in the house knew about our gifts, and the gift became a reward for Pokrovsky as a whole year's tuition fee. I want to give him a gift alone, quietly, and not let others know. He tried to teach me, and I just wanted to thank him with my friendship, and didn't want to pay any compensation. Finally, I finally came up with a good solution to the problem.
I know there are old book stalls in the mall. As long as you can get the price, you can sometimes buy very cheap books. Book prices are often discounted in half, but books have never been used much, and they are almost new. I decided to go to the mall. Things went smoothly, and the next day, we happened to be both and Anna Fedorovna wanted to buy something. My mother was in poor health, and Anna Fedorovna was too lazy to walk around, so the purchase errand fell on me. I went with Martrena.
I was very lucky and found a set of "Pushkin's Complete Works" all at once, and the binding was very beautiful. I started bargaining for prices. At the beginning, the old bookseller asked for a price that was more expensive than the store. Later, I spent a lot of talk and walked away several times, and finally he cut the price down, only ten silver rubles. I think the price is really interesting! ... Poor Martrena didn't understand what was going on with me, and didn't understand why I wanted to buy such books. But, it's really unlucky! My entire property is only thirty rubles, and the old bookseller is reluctant to cut the price. I could only ask him repeatedly. I tried to persuade him, and finally moved his heart. He gave in, but was willing to reduce the paper ruble by only two and a half. He also swore to God that he gave in to me because I am a very cute lady and he refused to give in to others. There are still two and a half paper rubles missing! I was so upset that I was about to cry. However, a completely unexpected encounter helped me get out of the predicament.
I saw old Pokrovsky next to another old book stall not far from me. Four or five old booksellers surrounded him and tangled with him, causing him to wander around. Each of them sold his own books to him, handed him everything, and he wanted to buy everything! The poor old man stood among them, stunned, not knowing which book they had given him was good. I walked up to him and asked him what he was doing here. He was very happy to see me. He likes me very much, maybe not worse than Pekinka. "I'm buying books, Valvala Alexeyevna," he replied to me, "I'm buying books for Pekinka. His birthday is coming soon, and he likes books, so I want to buy books for him..." The old man always makes people laugh when he speaks, but now he looks panicked and looks embarrassed. He had to ask the price of any book, and the answer was always one silver ruble, two silver ruble or three silver ruble. He no longer asked the price of the big books, but just looked at them with jealousy, flipped through a few pages with his fingers, turned them in his hand and turned them over, and then put them back to their original place. "No, no, this is too expensive," he muttered, "maybe you can pick out good books from here." So he began to look through the thin books, song books and almanacs, which were all very cheap. "What are you buying these?" I asked him, "It's all useless books." "Oh, no," he answered me, "No, just take a look, what a good book here, a very good book!" He spoke in a long tone of sadness. I felt that he was so upset that he was about to cry for good books that were too expensive, and tears were about to flow from his pale cheeks to his red nose. I asked him if he had a lot of money. "Look," the poor old man took out all his money, and the purses were in a greasy old newspaper. "This is half a silver ruble, this is twenty silver kobbies, and twenty copper kobbies." I immediately pulled him to my old bookseller. "There is a complete set of eleven books, which costs thirty and a half rubles in total. I have thirty rubles, and you add two and a half rubles. Let's buy this set of books and we will give it together." The old man was so happy that he took out all his money. The old bookseller handed him the set of books we bought together. The old man stuffed the book into all his pockets, held it in both hands, and held it under his armpits, so he moved the whole set of books back to his home. He assured me that he quietly delivered the book to me the next day.
The next day, the old man came to see his son, sat there for an hour as usual, then came to our room, sat next to me, and a mysterious spirit seemed very funny. At first, because he had some secret in his heart, he rubbed his hands proudly and told me with a smile: He had quietly moved all the books to us and placed them in the corner of the kitchen, kept by Martrena. Later, the topic naturally turned to the coming festive days. The old man talked about us happily about giving gifts. The more he talked about this topic, the more clearly I felt that there was something in his heart. He couldn't, didn't dare, and was even afraid to say it. I kept waiting, without a sound. Before this, I could easily see his inner happiness and complacent from his actions of making strange looks, making faces, making left eye, etc.; but at this moment this happiness and complacent disappeared all of a sudden. He became more and more anxious, and finally he couldn't help it.
"Listen to me," he whispered timidly, "Listen to me, Valvara Alexeyevna... Do you know, Valvara Alexeyevna?..." The old man looked very nervous, "I think, on his birthday, you will give it to him in person, that is, you will give it to him, in your name. I will give it to him on that day, and the eleventh book will be given to him, that is, in my name. In this way, you see, you gave it to him, and I will give it to him, and we both gave it to him." At this time, the old man was panicked and silent. I glanced at him, and he was waiting for my verdict in a hurry.
My mother's condition gradually improved, but I continued to spend the night by her bed. Pokrovsky often gives me books. I read books, at first to avoid dozing off, but later I saw some smell and I was eager to read books. There were suddenly many novel things I had never known before me. New ideas and new impressions are like rolling rapids, pouring into my heart all at once. The more difficult these new ideas and new impressions are to grasp and understand, the more intimate and attractive they appear, the sweeter they will shake my whole heart. They poured in quickly, making my heart rush and I could no longer be calm. A terrible commotion began to penetrate my body. But this kind of mental pressure does not and cannot crush me. I love fantasy so much that it saved me.
Mom's illness has been cured, and our meeting and long talks at night have stopped. Sometimes when we talk a few words, it is often a few ordinary and empty words, but I always like to think of some special meaning. My life is happy, I am very happy, quietly immersed in happiness. After a few weeks like this...
Once, Old Pokrovsky came to see us. He talked to us for a long time. He was very happy, vigorous and talkative; he smiled and said his own whispers, and finally revealed his happy mystery: he told us that in another whole week it would be Pekinca's birthday, and that day he must see his son, he will wear a new vest, and his wife has promised to buy him a new pair of boots. In short, the old man was so happy that he said whatever he thought.
His birthday! This birthday has disturbed me day and night. I made up my mind to give a gift to express my friendship with Pokrovsky. But what to give? Finally, I finally came out and gave him a book. I knew he wanted a newest version of Pushkin's Complete Works, so I decided to buy Pushkin's Complete Works. My private money totals thirty rubles , all of which are earned by doing needlework. I saved this little money, originally planning to buy new clothes. I immediately sent our female chef, Matrena, to inquire about the price of "The Complete Works of Pushkin". What awful! The eleven volumes of the complete collection, plus the binding cost, will cost at least sixty rubles. Where did you get so much money? I thought about it, but I don't know what to do. I don't want to ask my mother for it. Of course, my mother would definitely help me, but in this way, everyone in the house knew about our gifts, and the gift became a reward for Pokrovsky as a whole year's tuition fee. I want to give him a gift alone, quietly, and not let others know. He tried to teach me, and I just wanted to thank him with my friendship, and didn't want to pay any compensation. Finally, I finally came up with a good solution to the problem.
I know there are old book stalls in the mall. As long as you can get the price, you can sometimes buy very cheap books. Book prices are often discounted in half, but books have never been used much, and they are almost new. I decided to go to the mall. Things went smoothly, and the next day, we happened to be both and Anna Fedorovna wanted to buy something. My mother was in poor health, and Anna Fedorovna was too lazy to walk around, so the purchase errand fell on me. I went with Martrena.
I was very lucky and found a set of "Pushkin's Complete Works" all at once, and the binding was very beautiful. I started bargaining for prices. At the beginning, the old bookseller asked for a price that was more expensive than the store. Later, I spent a lot of talk and walked away several times, and finally he cut the price down, only ten silver rubles. I think the price is really interesting! ... Poor Martrena didn't understand what was going on with me, and didn't understand why I wanted to buy such books. But, it's really unlucky! My entire property is only thirty rubles, and the old bookseller is reluctant to cut the price. I could only ask him repeatedly. I tried to persuade him, and finally moved his heart. He gave in, but was willing to reduce the paper ruble by only two and a half. He also swore to God that he gave in to me because I am a very cute lady and he refused to give in to others. There are still two and a half paper rubles missing! I was so upset that I was about to cry. However, a completely unexpected encounter helped me get out of the predicament.
I saw old Pokrovsky next to another old book stall not far from me. Four or five old booksellers surrounded him and tangled with him, causing him to wander around. Each of them sold his own books to him, handed him everything, and he wanted to buy everything! The poor old man stood among them, stunned, not knowing which book they had given him was good. I walked up to him and asked him what he was doing here. He was very happy to see me. He likes me very much, maybe not worse than Pekinka. "I'm buying books, Valvala Alexeyevna," he replied to me, "I'm buying books for Pekinka. His birthday is coming soon, and he likes books, so I want to buy books for him..." The old man always makes people laugh when he speaks, but now he looks panicked and looks embarrassed. He had to ask the price of any book, and the answer was always one silver ruble, two silver ruble or three silver ruble. He no longer asked the price of the big books, but just looked at them with jealousy, flipped through a few pages with his fingers, turned them in his hand and turned them over, and then put them back to their original place. "No, no, this is too expensive," he muttered, "maybe you can pick out good books from here." So he began to look through the thin books, song books and almanacs, which were all very cheap. "What are you buying these?" I asked him, "It's all useless books." "Oh, no," he answered me, "No, just take a look, what a good book here, a very good book!" He spoke in a long tone of sadness. I felt that he was so upset that he was about to cry for good books that were too expensive, and tears were about to flow from his pale cheeks to his red nose. I asked him if he had a lot of money. "Look," the poor old man took out all his money, and the purses were in a greasy old newspaper. "This is half a silver ruble, this is twenty silver kobbies, and twenty copper kobbies." I immediately pulled him to my old bookseller. "There is a complete set of eleven books, which costs thirty and a half rubles in total. I have thirty rubles, and you add two and a half rubles. Let's buy this set of books and we will give it together." The old man was so happy that he took out all his money. The old bookseller handed him the set of books we bought together. The old man stuffed the book into all his pockets, held it in both hands, and held it under his armpits, so he moved the whole set of books back to his home. He assured me that he quietly delivered the book to me the next day.
The next day, the old man came to see his son, sat there for an hour as usual, then came to our room, sat next to me, and a mysterious spirit seemed very funny. At first, because he had some secret in his heart, he rubbed his hands proudly and told me with a smile: He had quietly moved all the books to us and placed them in the corner of the kitchen, kept by Martrena. Later, the topic naturally turned to the coming festive days. The old man talked about us happily about giving gifts. The more he talked about this topic, the more clearly I felt that there was something in his heart. He couldn't, didn't dare, and was even afraid to say it. I kept waiting, without a sound. Before this, I could easily see his inner happiness and complacent from his actions of making strange looks, making faces, making left eye, etc.; but at this moment this happiness and complacent disappeared all of a sudden. He became more and more anxious, and finally he couldn't help it.
"Listen to me," he whispered timidly, "Listen to me, Valvara Alexeyevna... Do you know, Valvara Alexeyevna?..." The old man looked very nervous, "I think, on his birthday, you will give it to him in person, that is, you will give it to him, in your name. I will give it to him on that day, and the eleventh book will be given to him, that is, in my name. In this way, you see, you gave it to him, and I will give it to him, and we both gave it to him." At this time, the old man was panicked and silent. I glanced at him, and he was waiting for my verdict in a hurry."Why don't you want us to send it together, Zahar Petrovic?" "That's it, Valvala Alexeyevna, that's it...I, you know, that..." In short, the old man was panicked, his face flushed, his mouth stuttered, and he could no longer speak.
"You have to know," he said at the end, "Valvara Alexeyevna, sometimes I can't control myself... I tell you, I almost often can't control myself, always can't control myself... I have bad habits... That is to say, you have to understand that sometimes the weather is very cold outside, sometimes all kinds of unpleasant things happen, or feel uncomfortable, or encounter something unlucky, at such occasions I often can't help myself, and sometimes I drink too much. Pekinka is not very good at this matter. Xing. Valvala Alexeyevna, look, he was very angry, scolded me, told many truths, and taught me a lesson. So now I want to give him a gift, show him that I am correcting my mistakes, and I am starting to learn well. In order to buy him books, I saved money, and saved for a long time, because I almost never had money unless Pekinka sometimes gave me a little. He knew this. So, he would see how my money was spent, and he would understand that I did it alone for him."
I am very pitiful to the old man. I thought about it for a while. The old man looked at me uneasy. "Listen, Zahar Petrovic," I said, "you give it all to him!" "What all? That is to say all the books?" "Yes, it is all the books." "I give it?" "I give it alone? That is to say all the ones?" "Yes, it is to give it in my name..." I was not vague at all, but the old man didn't understand what I said for a while.
"Yes," he pondered for a while and said, "Yes! This is very good, this is really great, but what should you do, Valvala Alexeyevna?" "Well, I won't give it." "What!" The old man was surprised and said loudly, "Then you give nothing to Pekinka, do you want to give nothing to him?" The old man was stunned. At this moment, he really wanted to change his original method so that I could give something to his son. This old man has such a good heart! I explained it to him repeatedly that I was very happy to give some gifts, but I was unwilling to take away his happiness. "If your son is satisfied," I added, "you will be happy, and I will be happy, because I understand in my heart, it's like I've really given a gift, too." So the old man felt relieved. He stayed here for two more hours, but he couldn't sit still, stood up, walked around, shouted at the top of his throat, teased Sasha, secretly kissed me, pinched my hand, and quietly grimaced at Anna Fedorovna. Later, Anna Feodorovna finally drove him out of the house. In short, the old man was a little carried away, and maybe he had never been so happy.
It was a happy day. He came at about 11 o'clock. He came directly after the day prayer. He wore a neatly stitched suit, and indeed put on a new vest and new boots. He held two bundles of books in both hands. We were all sitting in Anna Feodorovna’s living room for coffee (it was Sunday). The old man seemed to talk about Pushkin at the beginning. He was a great poet. When he talked, he suddenly turned to another topic and said that he must learn well by himself. If a person does not learn well, it means that he will fall into depravity, and he also said that bad habits will ruin a person. He also gave several examples of mistakes, and finally said that he had changed his evil from some time, and he has changed very well now. He said that he thought his son's persuasion was very reasonable in the past, and he had already kept it in mind, and now he has done it down to earth. What proves this is that he used the money he had saved for a long time to buy books and give them to his son.
I couldn't help crying and laughing when I heard this poor old man say these words. He wants to brag, how sensible! The book has been moved to Pokrovsky's room and placed on the bookshelf. Pokrovsky immediately guessed the truth of the matter. The old man was invited to lunch.We were all very happy this day. After the meal, we played Fantasy [1] and played poker. Sasha was playing with her heart, and I didn't fall behind her. Pokrovsky was very kind to me and always looked for opportunities to talk to me alone, but I avoided it. This was the best day of my life in four full years.
(poor-5)
(poor-5)
