Narrow mountain paths, from one dacha village to another, made their way along the southern coast of the Crimea, a small wandering troupe. In front of him, with his long pink tongue dangling to one side, Artaud, a white poodle with a lion-like haircut, usually ran. At crossroads, he stopped and, wagging his tail, looked back inquiringly. According to some signs known to him alone, he always unmistakably recognized the road and, gaily chattering his shaggy ears, rushed forward at a gallop. The dog was followed by a twelve-year-old boy Sergei, who held a rolled-up carpet for acrobatic exercises under his left elbow, and in his right he carried a cramped and dirty cage with a goldfinch trained to pull out multi-colored pieces of paper with predictions for a future life. Finally, the senior member of the troupe, grandfather Martyn Lodyzhkin, trailed behind, with a hurdy-gurdy on his gnarled back.

The hurdy-gurdy was an old one, suffering from hoarseness, coughing, and having undergone more than a dozen repairs in its lifetime. She played two things: Launer's dull German waltz and the gallop from Journeys to China, both of which were in fashion thirty or forty years ago, but are now forgotten by everyone. In addition, there were two treacherous pipes in the hurdy-gurdy. One - treble - lost her voice; she did not play at all, and therefore, when her turn came, all the music began, as it were, to stutter, limp and stumble. Another trumpet, which made a low sound, did not immediately close the valve: once it hummed, it pulled the same bass note, drowning out and knocking down all other sounds, until it suddenly had a desire to be silent. Grandfather himself was aware of these shortcomings of his machine and sometimes remarked jokingly, but with a hint of secret sadness:

- What can you do? .. An ancient organ ... a cold ... If you start playing, the summer residents are offended: “Fu, they say, what a disgusting thing!” But the pieces were very good, fashionable, but only the current gentlemen of our music do not adore at all. Give them “Geisha” now, “Under the double-headed eagle”, from “The Birdseller” - a waltz. Again, these pipes ... I wore the organ to the master - and I can’t repair it. “It is necessary, he says, to install new pipes, and best of all, he says, sell your sour rubbish to a museum ... sort of like some kind of monument ...” Well, that's all right! She fed us with you, Sergey, until now, God willing and still feed.

Grandfather Martyn Lodyzhkin loved his hurdy-gurdy in the way that one can only love a living, close, perhaps even kindred being. Having become accustomed to her for many years of a difficult wandering life, he finally began to see in her something spiritualized, almost conscious. It sometimes happened that at night, during an overnight stay, somewhere in a dirty inn, the barrel organ, standing on the floor, next to grandfather's headboard, suddenly made a faint sound, sad, lonely and trembling: like an old man's sigh. Then Lodyzhkin quietly stroked her carved side and whispered affectionately:

- What, brother? Are you complaining?.. And you endure...

As much as a hurdy-gurdy, maybe even a little more, he loved his younger companions in eternal wanderings: the poodle Artaud and little Sergei. Five years ago, he took the boy "for rent" from a bastard, a widowed shoemaker, undertaking to pay two rubles a month for this. But the shoemaker soon died, and Sergei remained forever connected with his grandfather and soul, and petty worldly interests.

II

The path ran along a high coastal cliff, meandering in the shade of centuries-old olive trees. The sea sometimes flickered between the trees, and then it seemed that, leaving into the distance, it at the same time rose upwards in a calm, powerful wall, and its color was still bluer, even thicker in the patterned cuts, among the silvery-green foliage. In the grass, in the bushes of dogwood and wild rose hips, in the vineyards and on the trees, cicadas were flooding everywhere; the air trembled with their ringing, monotonous, incessant cry. The day turned out to be hot, windless, and the heated earth burned the soles of the feet.

Sergei, who, as usual, walked ahead of his grandfather, stopped and waited until the old man caught up with him.

- What are you, Seryozha? asked the organ grinder.

- It's hot, grandfather Lodyzhkin ... there is no patience! Would take a dip...

As he walked, the old man adjusted the hurdy-gurdy on his back with a habitual movement of his shoulder and wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve.

- What would be better! he sighed, looking longingly down at the cool blue of the sea. “But after bathing, it will make you even more tired.” A medical assistant I know told me: this very salt acts on a person ... it means, they say, it relaxes ... Sea salt ...

- Lied, maybe? – with doubt noted Sergei.

- Well, you lied! Why would he lie? A respectable man, a non-drinker ... he has a little house in Sevastopol. Yes, then there is nowhere to go down to the sea. Wait, we'll get to Miskhor, and there we'll rinse our sinners' bodies. Before dinner, it’s flattering to take a swim ... and then, then, sleep a little bit ... and a great thing ...

Artaud, who had heard the conversation behind him, turned and ran up to the people. His kind blue eyes squinted from the heat and looked tenderly, and his long protruding tongue quivered from rapid breathing.

- What, brother dog? Warm? Grandpa asked.

The dog yawned intensely, curling its tongue in a tube, shaking all over, and squealing thinly.

- Well, yes, my brother, there's nothing to be done ... It is said: in the sweat of your face, - continued Lodyzhkin instructively. “Let’s say, you don’t have a face, but a muzzle, but still ... Well, go, go ahead, there’s nothing to spin under your feet ... And I, Seryozha, I must admit, I love it when this is the very warm. The organ only interferes, otherwise, if it were not for work, you would lie down somewhere on the grass, in the shade, with your belly, that means, up, and lie down for yourself. For our old bones, this very sun is the first thing.

The path descended, joining a wide, stone-hard, dazzling white road. Here began the old count's park, in the dense greenery of which beautiful dachas, flower beds, greenhouses and fountains were scattered. Lodyzhkin knew these places well; every year he went around them one after another during the grape season, when the whole Crimea is filled with smart, rich and cheerful people. The bright luxury of southern nature did not touch the old man, but on the other hand, Sergei, who was here for the first time, admired a lot. Magnolias, with their hard and shiny, as if lacquered leaves and white flowers, the size of a large plate; pavilions, entirely woven with grapes hanging down heavy clusters; huge centuries-old plane trees with their light bark and mighty crowns; tobacco plantations, streams and waterfalls, and everywhere - in flowerbeds, on hedges, on the walls of cottages - bright, magnificent fragrant roses - all this did not cease to amaze the naive soul of the boy with its lively blooming charm. He expressed his admiration aloud, every minute tugging at the old man's sleeve.

- Grandfather Lodyzhkin, and grandfather, look, there are golden fish in the fountain! .. By God, grandfather, golden ones, I’ll die on the spot! the boy shouted, pressing his face against the railing that encloses the garden with a large pool in the middle. - Grandpa, and peaches! Bonah how much! On one tree!

- Go, go, you little fool, what a gaping mouth! the old man jokingly urged him on. - Wait, we will reach the city of Novorossiysk and, therefore, we will go south again. There are really places - there is something to see. Now, roughly speaking, Sochi, Adler, Tuapse will suit you, and there, my brother, Sukhum, Batum ... You will squint your eyes ... Let's say, approximately - a palm tree. Astonishment! Its trunk is shaggy, in the manner of felt, and each leaf is so large that it is just right for both of us to hide.

- By God? - Sergei was surprised.

- Wait, you'll see. Is there anything there? Apeltsyn, for example, or at least, say, the same lemon ... I suppose you saw it in a shop?

- It just grows in the air. Without anything, right on a tree, like ours, it means an apple or a pear ... And the people there, brother, are completely outlandish: Turks, Persians, different Circassians, all in dressing gowns and with daggers ... A desperate people! And then there are, brother, Ethiopians. I saw them many times in Batum.

- Ethiopians? I know. These are the ones with horns,” Sergey said confidently.

- Let’s say they don’t have horns, these are lies. But black as a boot, and even shine. Their lips are red, thick, and their eyes are white, and their hair is curly, like on a black ram.

- Terrible go ... these Ethiopians?

- How to say to you? Out of habit, it’s for sure ... you are a little afraid, well, and then you see that other people are not afraid, and you yourself will become bolder ... There is a lot there, my brother, all sorts of things. Come on - you'll see. The only bad thing is the fever. Because around the swamps, rot, and, moreover, the heat. Nothing affects the residents there, but the newcomer is having a bad time. However, you and I, Sergey, will wag our tongues. Climb into the gate. Very good gentlemen live at this dacha ... You ask me: I already know everything!

But the day turned out to be bad for them. From some places they were driven away, barely seeing them from afar, in others, at the very first hoarse and nasal sounds of a hurdy-gurdy, they annoyedly and impatiently waved their hands at them from the balconies, in still others the servants declared that "the gentlemen have not yet arrived." True, at two dachas they were paid for the performance, but very little. However, grandfather did not shun any low pay. Coming out of the fence onto the road, he rattled copper coins in his pocket with a satisfied look and said good-naturedly:

- Two and five, total seven kopecks ... Well, brother Seryozhenka, and this is money. Seven times seven, - so he ran into fifty kopecks, which means that all three of us are full, and we have a lodging for the night, and the old man Lodyzhkin, due to his weakness, can skip a glass, for the sake of many ailments ... Oh, they don’t understand this gentleman! It’s a pity to give him two kopecks, but he’s ashamed of a piglet ... well, they tell him to go away. And you'd better give at least three kopecks ... I'm not offended, I'm fine ... why be offended?

In general, Lodyzhkin was of a modest disposition and, even when they persecuted him, did not grumble. But today he was also brought out of his usual complacent calmness by a beautiful, stout, seemingly very kind lady, the owner of a beautiful summer house, surrounded by a garden with flowers. She listened attentively to the music, looked even more attentively at Sergei's acrobatic exercises and at Artaud's funny "tricks", after that she asked the boy for a long time and in detail about how old he was and what his name was, where he learned gymnastics, who the old man was to him, what they did his parents, etc.; Then she ordered to wait and went into the rooms.

She did not appear for about ten minutes, or even a quarter of an hour, and the longer the time went on, the more vague but tempting hopes grew among the artists. Grandfather even whispered to the boy, covering his mouth with his palm out of caution, like a shield:

- Well, Sergey, our happiness, you just listen to me: I, brother, know everything. Maybe something from a dress or from shoes. That's right!..

At last the lady went out onto the balcony, flung a small white coin from above into Sergei's substituted hat, and immediately disappeared. The coin turned out to be old, worn out on both sides and, in addition, a dime with holes. Grandfather looked at her for a long time in bewilderment. He had already gone out onto the road and had moved far from the dacha, but he still held the kopeck piece in his palm, as if weighing it.

- N-yes-ah ... Dexterously! he said, suddenly stopping. - I can say ... But we, three fools, tried. It would be better if she gave at least a button, or something. At the very least, you can sew somewhere. What am I going to do with this crap? The mistress probably thinks: all the same, the old man will release it to someone at night, slowly, that means. No, sir, you are very mistaken, madam. Old man Lodyzhkin will not engage in such filth. Yes, sir! Here is your precious dime! Here!

And with indignation and pride he threw the coin, which, with a faint jingle, buried itself in the white dust of the road.

In this way the old man, with the boy and the dog, walked around the whole dacha settlement and were about to go down to the sea. By left side there was one more, last, dacha. It was not visible because of the high white wall, above which, on the other side, rose a dense array of thin, dusty cypresses, like long black-and-gray spindles. Only through the wide cast-iron gates, resembling lace with their intricate carvings, could one see a corner of fresh, like bright green silk, a lawn, round flower beds, and in the background, in the background, a covered through alley, all entwined with thick grapes. A gardener stood in the middle of the lawn, watering roses from his long sleeve. He covered the opening of the pipe with his finger, and from this, in the fountain of countless splashes, the sun played with all the colors of the rainbow.

Grandfather was about to pass by, but, looking through the gate, he stopped in bewilderment.

- "Dacha Druzhba", outsiders are strictly prohibited from entering, - Sergey read the inscription skillfully carved on one of the pillars that supported the gate.

- Friendship? .. - the illiterate grandfather asked again. - Wow! This is the real word - friendship. We've had a lot of noise all day, and then we'll take it with you. I smell it with my nose, in the manner of a hunting dog. Artaud, isi, son of a dog! Vali boldly, Seryozha. You always ask me: I already know everything!

III

The garden paths were strewn with even, coarse gravel that crunched underfoot, and flanked by large pink shells. In the flowerbeds, above a motley carpet of multi-colored herbs, strange bright flowers towered, from which the air was sweetly fragrant. Clear water gurgled and splashed in the pools; from beautiful vases hanging in the air between the trees, climbing plants descended in garlands, and in front of the house, on marble pillars, stood two brilliant mirror balls in which the wandering troupe was reflected upside down, in a funny, curved and stretched form.

In front of the balcony was a large trodden area. Sergei spread his rug on it, and grandfather, setting the hurdy-gurdy on a stick, was already preparing to turn the handle, when suddenly an unexpected and strange sight attracted their attention.

A boy of eight or ten years old jumped out onto the terrace from the inner rooms like a bomb, uttering piercing cries. He was in a light sailor suit, with bare arms and bare knees. His blond hair, all in large ringlets, was disheveled carelessly over his shoulders. Six more people ran out after the boy: two women in aprons; an old fat footman in a tailcoat, without a mustache and without a beard, but with long gray whiskers; a lean, red-haired, red-nosed girl in a blue checkered dress; a young, sickly-looking, but very beautiful lady in a blue lacy bonnet; and, finally, a fat, bald gentleman in a pair of scabies and gold spectacles. They were all very alarmed, waving their hands, talking loudly and even pushing each other. It was immediately possible to guess that the reason for their concern was the boy in a sailor's suit, who had so suddenly flown out onto the terrace.

Meanwhile, the culprit of this turmoil, without stopping his screeching for a second, fell with a running start on his stomach on the stone floor, quickly rolled onto his back and, with great bitterness, began to jerk his arms and legs in all directions. The adults fussed around him. An old footman in evening dress pressed both hands imploringly to his starched shirt, shook his long sideburns, and said plaintively:

End of introductory segment.

I

Narrow mountain paths, from one dacha village to another, made their way along the southern coast of the Crimea, a small wandering troupe. In front of him, with his long pink tongue dangling to one side, Artaud, a white poodle with a lion-like haircut, usually ran. At crossroads, he stopped and, wagging his tail, looked back inquiringly. According to some signs known to him alone, he always unmistakably recognized the road and, gaily chattering his shaggy ears, rushed forward at a gallop. The dog was followed by a twelve-year-old boy Sergei, who held a carpet for acrobatic exercises under his left elbow, and in his right he carried a cramped and dirty cage with a goldfinch trained to pull out multi-colored pieces of paper with predictions for a future life from a box. Finally, the senior member of the troupe, grandfather Martyn Lodyzhkin, trailed behind, with a hurdy-gurdy on his gnarled back.

The hurdy-gurdy was an old one, suffering from hoarseness, coughing, and having undergone more than a dozen repairs in its lifetime. She played two things: Launer's dull German waltz and the gallop from Journey to China, both of which were in vogue thirty or forty years ago, but are now forgotten by everyone. In addition, there were two treacherous pipes in the hurdy-gurdy. One - treble - lost her voice; she did not play at all, and therefore, when her turn came, all the music began, as it were, to stutter, limp and stumble. Another trumpet, which made a low sound, did not immediately close the valve: once it hummed, it pulled the same bass note, drowning out and knocking down all other sounds, until it suddenly had a desire to be silent. Grandfather himself was aware of these shortcomings of his machine and sometimes remarked jokingly, but with a hint of secret sadness:

- What can you do? .. An ancient organ ... a cold ... You start playing - summer residents are offended: “Fu, they say, what a disgusting thing!” But the pieces were very good, fashionable, but only the current gentlemen of our music do not adore at all. Give them “Geisha” now, “Under the double-headed eagle”, from “The Birdseller” - a waltz. Again, these pipes ... I wore the organ to the master - and I can’t repair it. “It is necessary, he says, to install new pipes, and best of all, he says, sell your sour rubbish to the museum ... sort of like some kind of monument ...” Well, okay! She fed us with you, Sergey, until now, God willing and still feed.

Grandfather Martyn Lodyzhkin loved his hurdy-gurdy in the way that one can only love a living, close, perhaps even kindred being. Having become accustomed to her for many years of hard wandering life, he finally began to see in her something spiritualized, almost conscious. It sometimes happened that at night, during an overnight stay, somewhere in a dirty inn, the hurdy-gurdy, standing on the floor next to grandfather's headboard, suddenly made a faint sound, sad, lonely and trembling: like an old man's sigh. Then Lodyzhkin quietly stroked her carved side and whispered affectionately:

- What, brother? Are you complaining?.. And you endure...

As much as the barrel organ, maybe even a little more, he loved his younger companions in eternal wanderings: Arto the poodle and little Sergei. Five years ago, he took the boy "for hire" from a bastard, a widowed shoemaker, undertaking to pay two rubles a month for this. But the shoemaker soon died, and Sergei remained forever connected with his grandfather and soul, and petty worldly interests.

II

Sergei, who, as usual, walked ahead of his grandfather, stopped and waited until the old man caught up with him.

What are you, Seryozha? asked the organ grinder.

- It's hot, grandfather Lodyzhkin ... there is no patience! Would take a dip...

As he walked, the old man adjusted the hurdy-gurdy on his back with a habitual movement of his shoulder and wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve.

- Lied, maybe? – with doubt noted Sergei.

Artaud, hearing a conversation behind him, turned and ran up to the people. His kind blue eyes squinted from the heat and looked tenderly, and his long protruding tongue quivered from rapid breathing.

- What, brother dog? Warm? Grandpa asked.

The dog yawned intensely, curling its tongue in a tube, shaking all over, and squealing thinly.

- Well, yes, my brother, there's nothing to be done ... It is said: in the sweat of your face, - continued Lodyzhkin instructively. “Let’s say, you don’t have a face, but a muzzle, but still ... Well, go, go ahead, there’s nothing to spin under your feet ... And I, Seryozha, I must admit, I love it when this is the very warm. The organ just gets in the way, otherwise, if it weren’t for work, it would lie down somewhere on the grass, in the shade, with your belly, that means, up, and lie down for yourself. For our old bones, this very sun is the first thing.

The path descended, joining a wide, stone-hard, dazzling white road. Here began the old count's park, in the dense greenery of which beautiful dachas, flower beds, greenhouses and fountains were scattered. Lodyzhkin knew these places well; every year he went around them one after another during the grape season, when the whole Crimea was filled with smart, rich and cheerful people. The bright luxury of southern nature did not touch the old man, but on the other hand, Sergei, who was here for the first time, admired a lot. Magnolias, with their hard and shiny, as if lacquered leaves and white flowers, the size of a large plate; pavilions, entirely woven with grapes hanging down heavy clusters; huge centuries-old plane trees with their light bark and mighty crowns; tobacco plantations, streams and waterfalls, and everywhere - in flowerbeds, on hedges, on the walls of cottages - bright, magnificent fragrant roses - all this did not cease to amaze the naive soul of the boy with its lively blooming charm. He expressed his admiration aloud, every minute tugging at the old man's sleeve.

- Go, go, you little fool, what a gaping mouth! the old man jokingly urged him on. - Wait a minute, we will reach the city of Novorossiysk and, therefore, we will go south again. There are really places - there is something to see. Now, roughly speaking, Sochi, Adler, Tuapse will suit you, and there, my brother, Sukhum, Batum ... You will squint your eyes, looking ... Let's say, approximately - a palm tree. Astonishment! Its trunk is shaggy, in the manner of felt, and each leaf is so large that it is just right for both of us to hide.

- By God? - Sergei was surprised.

- Wait, you'll see. Is there anything there? An orange, for example, or at least, say, the same lemon ... I suppose you saw it in a shop?

- It just grows in the air. Without anything, right on a tree, like ours, it means an apple or a pear ... And the people there, brother, are completely outlandish: Turks, Persians, Circassians of all kinds, all in dressing gowns and with daggers ... A desperate people! And then there are, brother, Ethiopians. I saw them many times in Batum.

- Ethiopians? I know. These are the ones with horns,” Sergey said confidently.

- Let’s say they don’t have horns, these are lies. But black as a boot, and even shine. Their lips are red, thick, and their eyes are white, and their hair is curly, like on a black ram.

- Terrible, I suppose ... these Ethiopians?

- How to say to you? Out of habit, it’s for sure ... you are a little afraid, but then you see that other people are not afraid, and you yourself will become bolder ... There is a lot there, my brother, all sorts of things. Come on - you'll see. The only bad thing is the fever. Because around the swamps, rot, and, moreover, the heat. Nothing affects the residents there, but the newcomer is having a bad time. However, you and I, Sergey, will wag our tongues. Climb into the gate. Very good gentlemen live at this dacha ... You ask me: I already know everything!

- Two and five, total seven kopecks ... Well, brother Seryozhenka, and this is money. Seven times seven, - so he ran into fifty kopecks, which means that all three of us are full, and we have a lodging for the night, and the old man Lodyzhkin, due to his weakness, can skip a glass, for the sake of many ailments ... Oh, they don’t understand this gentleman! It’s a pity to give him two kopecks, but he’s ashamed of a piglet ... well, they tell him to go away. And you'd better give me three kopecks you like ... I'm not offended, I'm fine ... why be offended?

In general, Lodyzhkin was of a very modest disposition and, even when they persecuted him, did not grumble. But today he was also brought out of his usual complacent calmness by a beautiful, stout, seemingly very kind lady, the owner of a beautiful summer house, surrounded by a garden with flowers. She listened attentively to the music, looked even more attentively at Sergei's acrobatic exercises and at Artaud's funny "tricks", after that she asked the boy for a long time and in detail about how old he was and what his name was, where he learned gymnastics, who the old man was to him, what they did his parents, etc.; Then she ordered to wait and went into the rooms.

She did not appear for about ten minutes, or even a quarter of an hour, and the longer the time dragged on, the more vague but tempting hopes grew among the artists. Grandfather even whispered to the boy, covering his mouth with his palm out of caution, like a shield:

- Well, Sergey, our happiness, you just listen to me: I, brother, know everything. Maybe something from a dress or from shoes. That's right!..

At last the lady went out onto the balcony, flung a small white coin from above into Sergei's substituted hat, and immediately disappeared. The coin turned out to be old, worn out on both sides and, in addition, a dime with holes. Grandfather looked at her for a long time in bewilderment. He had already gone out onto the road and moved far from the dacha, but still held the dime in his palm, as if weighing it.

- N-yes-ah ... Dexterously! he said, suddenly stopping. - I can say ... But we, three fools, tried. It would be better if she gave at least a button, or something. At the very least, you can sew somewhere. What am I going to do with this crap? The mistress probably thinks: all the same, the old man will release it to someone at night, slowly, that means. No, sir, you are very mistaken madam... Old man Lodyzhkin will not engage in such vile things. Yes, sir! Here is your precious dime! Here!

A. I. Kuprin
white poodle
I
Narrow mountain paths, from one dacha village to another, made their way along the southern coast of the Crimea, a small wandering troupe. In front of him, with his long pink tongue dangling to one side, Artaud, a white poodle with a lion-like haircut, usually ran. At crossroads, he stopped and, wagging his tail, looked back inquiringly. According to some signs known to him alone, he always unmistakably recognized the road and, gaily chattering his shaggy ears, rushed forward at a gallop. The dog was followed by a twelve-year-old boy Sergei, who held a rolled-up carpet for acrobatic exercises under his left elbow, and in his right he carried a cramped and dirty cage with a goldfinch trained to pull out multi-colored pieces of paper with predictions for a future life. Finally, the senior member of the troupe, grandfather Martyn Lodyzhkin, trailed behind, with a hurdy-gurdy on his gnarled back.
The hurdy-gurdy was an old one, suffering from hoarseness, coughing, and having undergone more than a dozen repairs in its lifetime. She played two things: Launer's dull German waltz and the gallop from Journeys to China, both of which were in fashion thirty or forty years ago, but are now forgotten by everyone. In addition, there were two treacherous pipes in the hurdy-gurdy. One - treble - lost her voice; she did not play at all, and therefore, when her turn came, all the music began, as it were, to stutter, limp and stumble. Another trumpet, which made a low sound, did not immediately close the valve: once it hummed, it pulled the same bass note, drowning out and knocking down all other sounds, until it suddenly had a desire to be silent. Grandfather himself was aware of these shortcomings of his machine and sometimes remarked jokingly, but with a hint of secret sadness:
- What? what can you do?.. An ancient organ? n ... a cold ... If you start playing, the summer residents are offended: “Fu, they say, what a disgusting thing!” But the pieces were very good, fashionable, but only the current gentlemen of our music do not adore at all. Give them “Geisha” now, “Under the double-headed eagle”, from “The Birdseller” - a waltz. Again, these pipes ... I wore the organ to the master - and I can’t repair it. “It is necessary, he says, to install new pipes, and best of all, he says, sell your sour rubbish to a museum ... sort of like some kind of monument ...” Well, that's all right! She fed us with you, Sergey, until now, God willing and still feed.
Grandfather Martyn Lodyzhkin loved his hurdy-gurdy in the way that one can only love a living, close, perhaps even kindred being. Having become accustomed to her for many years of a difficult wandering life, he finally began to see in her something spiritualized, almost conscious. It sometimes happened that at night, during an overnight stay, somewhere in a dirty inn, the barrel organ, standing on the floor, next to grandfather's headboard, suddenly made a faint sound, sad, lonely and trembling: like an old man's sigh. Then Lodyzhkin quietly stroked her carved side and whispered affectionately:
- What?, brother? Are you complaining?.. And you endure...
As much as the barrel organ, maybe even a little more, he loved his younger companions in eternal wanderings: Arto the poodle and little Sergei. Five years ago, he took the boy "for hire" from a bastard, a widowed shoemaker, undertaking to pay two rubles a month for this. But the shoemaker soon died, and Sergei remained forever connected with his grandfather and soul, and petty worldly interests.
II
The path ran along a high coastal cliff, meandering in the shade of centuries-old olive trees. The sea sometimes flickered between the trees, and then it seemed that, leaving into the distance, it at the same time rose upwards in a calm, powerful wall, and its color was still bluer, even thicker in the patterned cuts, among the silvery-green foliage. In the grass, in the bushes of dogwood and wild rose hips, in the vineyards and on the trees, cicadas were flooding everywhere; the air trembled with their ringing, monotonous, incessant cry. The day turned out to be hot, windless, and the heated earth burned the soles of the feet.
Sergei, who, as usual, walked ahead of his grandfather, stopped and waited until the old man caught up with him.
What are you, Seryozha? asked the organ grinder.
- It's hot, grandfather Lodyzhkin ... there is no patience! Would take a dip...
As he walked, the old man adjusted the hurdy-gurdy on his back with a habitual movement of his shoulder and wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve.
- What would be better! he sighed, looking longingly down at the cool blue of the sea. “But after bathing, it will make you even more tired.” A medical assistant I know told me: this very salt acts on a person ... it means, they say, it relaxes ... Sea salt ...
- Lied, maybe? – with doubt noted Sergei.
- Well, you lied! Why would he lie? A respectable man, a non-drinker ... he has a little house in Sevastopol. Yes, then there is nowhere to go down to the sea. Wait, we'll get to Miskhor, and there we'll rinse our sinners' bodies. Before dinner, it’s flattering to take a swim ... and then, then, sleep a little bit ... and a great thing ...
Artaud, who had heard the conversation behind him, turned and ran up to the people. His kind blue eyes squinted from the heat and looked tenderly, and his long protruding tongue quivered from rapid breathing.
- What?, brother dog? Warm? Grandpa asked.
The dog yawned intensely, curling its tongue in a tube, shaking all over, and squealing thinly.
- Well, yes, my brother, there's nothing to be done ... It is said: in the sweat of your face, - continued Lodyzhkin instructively. “Let’s say, you don’t have a face, but a muzzle, but still ... Well, go, go ahead, there’s nothing to spin under your feet ... And I, Seryozha, I must admit, I love it when this is the very warm. The organ only interferes, otherwise, if it were not for work, he would lie down somewhere on the grass, in the shade, with his belly, that means, up, and lie down for yourself. For our old bones, this very sun is the first thing.
The path descended, joining a wide, stone-hard, dazzling white road. Here began the old count's park, in the dense greenery of which beautiful dachas, flower beds, greenhouses and fountains were scattered. Lodyzhkin knew these places well; every year he went around them one after another during the grape season, when the whole Crimea is filled with smart, rich and cheerful people. The bright luxury of southern nature did not touch the old man, but on the other hand, Sergei, who was here for the first time, admired a lot. Magnolias, with their hard and shiny, as if lacquered leaves and white flowers, the size of a large plate; pavilions, entirely woven with grapes hanging down heavy clusters; huge centuries-old plane trees with their light bark and mighty crowns; tobacco plantations, streams and waterfalls, and everywhere - in flowerbeds, on hedges, on the walls of cottages - bright, magnificent fragrant roses - all this did not cease to amaze the naive soul of the boy with its lively blooming charm. He expressed his admiration aloud, every minute tugging at the old man's sleeve.
- Grandfather Lodyzhkin, and grandfather, look, there are golden fish in the fountain! .. By God, grandfather, golden ones, I’ll die on the spot! the boy shouted, pressing his face against the railing that encloses the garden with a large pool in the middle. - Grandpa, and peaches! Bonah how much! On one tree!
- Go, go, you little fool, what a gaping mouth! the old man jokingly urged him on. - Wait, we will reach the city of Novorossiysk and, therefore, we will go south again. There are really places - there is something to see. Now, roughly speaking, Sochi, Adler, Tuapse will suit you, and there, my brother, Sukhum, Batum ... You will squint your eyes ... Let's say, approximately - a palm tree. Astonishment! Its trunk is shaggy, in the manner of felt, and each leaf is so large that it is just right for both of us to hide.
- By God? - Sergei was surprised.
- Wait, you'll see. Is there anything there? Apeltsyn, for example, or at least, say, the same lemon ... I suppose you saw it in a shop?
- Well?
- It just grows in the air. Without anything, right on a tree, like ours, it means an apple or a pear ... And the people there, brother, are completely outlandish: Turks, Persians, different Circassians, all in dressing gowns and with daggers ... A desperate people! And then there are, brother, Ethiopians. I saw them many times in Batum.
- Ethiopians? I know. These are the ones with horns,” Sergey said confidently.
- Let’s say they don’t have horns, these are lies. But black as a boot, and even shine. Their lips are red, thick, and their eyes are white, and their hair is curly, like on a black ram.
- Terrible go ... these Ethiopians?
- How to say to you? Out of habit, it’s for sure ... you are a little afraid, well, and then you see that other people are not afraid, and you yourself will become bolder ... There is a lot there, my brother, all sorts of things. Come on - you'll see. The only bad thing is the fever. Because around the swamps, rot, and, moreover, the heat. Nothing affects the residents there, but the newcomer is having a bad time. However, you and I, Sergey, will wag our tongues. Climb into the gate. Very good gentlemen live at this dacha ... You ask me: I already know everything!
But the day turned out to be bad for them. From some places they were driven away, barely seeing them from afar, in others, at the very first hoarse and nasal sounds of a hurdy-gurdy, they annoyedly and impatiently waved their hands at them from the balconies, in still others the servants declared that "the gentlemen have not yet arrived." True, at two dachas they were paid for the performance, but very little. However, grandfather did not shun any low pay. Coming out of the fence onto the road, he rattled copper coins in his pocket with a satisfied look and said good-naturedly:
- Two and five, total seven kopecks ... Well, brother Seryozhenka, and this is money. Seven times seven, - so he ran into fifty kopecks, which means that all three of us are full, and we have a lodging for the night, and the old man Lodyzhkin, due to his weakness, can skip a glass, for the sake of many ailments ... Oh, they don’t understand this gentleman! It’s a pity to give him two kopecks, but he’s ashamed of a piglet ... well, they tell him to go away. And you'd better give at least three kopecks ... I'm not offended, I'm fine ... why be offended?
In general, Lodyzhkin was of a modest disposition and, even when they persecuted him, did not grumble. But today he was also brought out of his usual complacent calmness by a beautiful, stout, seemingly very kind lady, the owner of a beautiful summer house, surrounded by a garden with flowers. She listened attentively to the music, looked even more attentively at Sergei's acrobatic exercises and at Artaud's funny "tricks", after that she asked the boy for a long time and in detail about how old he was and what his name was, where he learned gymnastics, who the old man was to him, what they did his parents, etc.; Then she ordered to wait and went into the rooms.
She did not appear for about ten minutes, or even a quarter of an hour, and the longer the time went on, the more vague but tempting hopes grew among the artists. Grandfather even whispered to the boy, covering his mouth with his palm out of caution, like a shield:
- Well, Sergey, our happiness, you just listen to me: I, brother, know everything. Maybe something from a dress or from shoes. That's right!..
At last the lady went out onto the balcony, flung a small white coin from above into Sergei's substituted hat, and immediately disappeared. The coin turned out to be old, worn out on both sides and, in addition, a dime with holes. Grandfather looked at her for a long time in bewilderment. He had already gone out onto the road and had moved far from the dacha, but he still held the kopeck piece in his palm, as if weighing it.
- N-yes-ah ... Dexterously! he said, suddenly stopping. - I can say ... But we, three fools, tried. It would be better if she gave at least a button, or something. At the very least, you can sew somewhere. What am I going to do with this crap? The mistress probably thinks: all the same, the old man will release it to someone at night, slowly, that means. No, sir, you are very mistaken, madam. Old man Lodyzhkin will not engage in such filth. Yes, sir! Here is your precious dime! Here!
And with indignation and pride he threw the coin, which, with a faint jingle, buried itself in the white dust of the road.
In this way the old man, with the boy and the dog, walked around the whole dacha settlement and were about to go down to the sea. On the left side there was one more, the last, cottage. It was not visible because of the high white wall, above which, on the other side, rose a dense array of thin, dusty cypresses, like long black-and-gray spindles. Only through the wide cast-iron gates, resembling lace with their intricate carvings, could one see a corner of fresh, like bright green silk, a lawn, round flower beds, and in the background, in the background, a covered through alley, all entwined with thick grapes. A gardener stood in the middle of the lawn, watering roses from his long sleeve. He covered the opening of the pipe with his finger, and from this, in the fountain of countless splashes, the sun played with all the colors of the rainbow.
Grandfather was about to pass by, but, looking through the gate, he stopped in bewilderment.
“Wait a little, Sergei,” he called out to the boy. - No, people are moving there? That's the story. How many years I have been going here - and never a soul. Come on, come on, brother Sergei!
- "Dacha Druzhba", outsiders are strictly prohibited from entering, - Sergey read the inscription skillfully carved on one of the pillars that supported the gate.
- Friendship? .. - the illiterate grandfather asked again. - Wow! This is the real word - friendship. We've had a lot of noise all day, and then we'll take it with you. I smell it with my nose, in the manner of a hunting dog. Artaud, isi, son of a dog! Vali boldly, Seryozha. You always ask me: I already know everything!
III
The garden paths were strewn with even, coarse gravel that crunched underfoot, and flanked by large pink shells. In the flowerbeds, above a motley carpet of multi-colored herbs, strange bright flowers towered, from which the air was sweetly fragrant. Clear water gurgled and splashed in the pools; from beautiful vases hanging in the air between the trees, climbing plants descended in garlands, and in front of the house, on marble pillars, stood two brilliant mirror balls in which the wandering troupe was reflected upside down, in a funny, curved and stretched form.
In front of the balcony was a large trodden area. Sergei spread his rug on it, and grandfather, setting the hurdy-gurdy on a stick, was already preparing to turn the handle, when suddenly an unexpected and strange sight attracted their attention.
A boy of eight or ten years old jumped out onto the terrace from the inner rooms like a bomb, uttering piercing cries. He was in a light sailor suit, with bare arms and bare knees. His blond hair, all in large ringlets, was disheveled carelessly over his shoulders. Six more people ran out after the boy: two women in aprons; an old fat footman in a tailcoat, without a mustache and without a beard, but with long gray whiskers; a lean, red-haired, red-nosed girl in a blue checkered dress; a young, sickly-looking, but very beautiful lady in a blue lacy bonnet; and, finally, a fat, bald gentleman in a pair of scabies and gold spectacles. They were all very alarmed, waving their hands, talking loudly and even pushing each other. It was immediately possible to guess that the reason for their concern was the boy in a sailor's suit, who had so suddenly flown out onto the terrace.
Meanwhile, the culprit of this turmoil, without stopping his screeching for a second, fell with a running start on his stomach on the stone floor, quickly rolled onto his back and, with great bitterness, began to jerk his arms and legs in all directions. The adults fussed around him. An old footman in evening dress pressed both hands imploringly to his starched shirt, shook his long sideburns, and said plaintively:
“Father, gentleman! .. Nikolai Apollonovich! .. Don’t you dare upset your mother, sir - get up ... Be so kind - eat it, sir.” The mixture is very sweet, one syrup, sir. Feel free to rise...
Women in aprons clasped their hands and chirped soon-soon in obsequious and frightened voices. The red-nosed girl was shouting with tragic gestures something very impressive, but completely incomprehensible, obviously on foreign language. A gentleman in golden glasses persuaded the boy in a reasonable bass; at the same time, he tilted his head first to one side, then to the other, and sedately spread his arms. And the beautiful lady moaned languidly, pressing a thin lace handkerchief to her eyes:
“Oh, Trilly, oh, my God! .. My angel, I beg you. Listen, your mother is begging you. Well, take it, take your medicine; you will see, you will immediately feel better: the tummy will pass and the head will pass. Well, do it for me, my joy! Well, do you want, Trilly, mom will kneel in front of you? Well, look, I'm on my knees in front of you. Do you want me to give you gold? Two gold? Five gold pieces, Trilly? Do you want a live donkey? Do you want a live horse?... Tell him something, doctor!...
“Listen, Trilly, be a man,” boomed a fat gentleman with glasses.
- Ai-yay-yay-ya-ah-ah-ah! the boy yelled, squirming across the balcony, swinging his legs frantically.
Despite his extreme excitement, he still strove to hit his heels in the stomachs and legs of the people fussing around him, who, however, rather deftly avoided this.
Sergei, who had been gazing at this scene with curiosity and surprise for a long time, gently pushed the old man in the side.
- Grandfather Lodyzhkin, what? is this the case with him? he asked in a whisper. - No way, will they beat him?
- Well, to fight ... This one will cut anyone. Just a blissful boy. Sick, must be.
- Shamashedchy? Sergey guessed.
- And how much do I know. Quiet!..
- Ai-yay-ah! Crap! Fools! .. - the boy was tearing himself louder and louder.
- Start, Sergey. I know! Lodyzhkin suddenly ordered, and with a resolute look turned the handle of the hurdy-gurdy.
The nasal, hoarse, false sounds of an old gallop rushed through the garden. Everyone on the balcony started up at once, even the boy was silent for a few seconds.
“Oh, my God, they will upset poor Trilly even more!” exclaimed the lady in the blue bonnet deplorably. - Oh, yes, drive them away, drive them away quickly! And this dirty dog is with them. Dogs always have such terrible diseases. Why are you standing, Ivan, like a monument?
With a tired look and disgust, she waved her handkerchief at the artists, the lean, red-nosed girl made terrible eyes, someone hissed threateningly ... .
- What a disgrace! he croaked in a strangled, frightened, and at the same time bossy-angry whisper. - Who allowed it? Who missed? March! Won!..
The hurdy-gurdy, squeaking dejectedly, fell silent.
“Good sir, let me explain to you…” grandfather began delicately.
- None! March! the tail-coat man shouted with a sort of whistle in his throat.
His fat face instantly turned purple, and his eyes opened incredibly wide, as if they had suddenly crawled out and turned like a wheel. It was so scary that grandfather involuntarily stepped back two steps.
"Get ready, Sergei," he said, hastily tossing the hurdy-gurdy on his back. - Let's go!
But before they had even taken ten steps, new piercing cries came from the balcony:
- Oh no no no! To me! I want-y! Ah-ah-ah! Yes-ay! Call! To me!
“But Trilly! Oh, my God, Trilly! Oh, bring them back, - the nervous lady groaned. - Fu, how stupid you all are! .. Ivan, do you hear what? are they telling you? Now call these beggars!
- Listen! You! Hey, how are you? Organ grinders! Come back! several voices shouted from the balcony.
A fat footman with sideburns flying in both directions, bouncing like a big rubber ball, rushed at a run after the departing artists.
- No! .. Musicians! Listen! Back! .. Back! .. - he shouted, panting and waving both hands. “Venerable old man,” he finally grabbed grandfather by the sleeve, “wrap the shafts!” Gentlemen will watch your pantomine. Live!..
- W-well, business! - sighed, shaking his head, grandfather, but approached the balcony, took off the hurdy-gurdy, fixed it in front of him on a stick and began to play a gallop from the very place where he had just been interrupted.
The noise on the balcony was quiet. The lady with the boy and the gentleman in golden spectacles went up to the very railing; the rest remained respectfully in the background. A gardener in an apron came from the depths of the garden and stood not far from grandfather. The janitor, who had crawled out from somewhere, was placed behind the gardener. He was a huge bearded man with a grim, narrow-minded, pockmarked face. He was dressed in a new pink shirt, over which large black peas walked in oblique rows.
To the hoarse, stuttering sounds of a gallop, Sergei spread a rug on the ground, quickly took off his canvas pantaloons (they were sewn from an old bag and were decorated with a quadrangular factory brand at the back, at the widest point), threw off his old jacket and remained in an old filament tights , which, despite numerous patches, deftly embraced his thin, but strong and flexible figure. He has already developed, by imitating adults, the techniques of a real acrobat. Running onto the rug, he put his hands to his lips as he walked, and then waved them to the sides with a wide theatrical movement, as if sending two swift kisses to the audience.
Grandfather with one hand continuously turned the handle of the hurdy-gurdy, extracting from it a rattling, coughing motive, and with the other he threw it to the boy miscellaneous items, which he skillfully picked up on the fly. Sergei's repertoire was small, but he worked well, "purely", as acrobats say, and willingly. He threw up an empty beer bottle, so that it turned several times in the air, and suddenly, catching it with its neck on the edge of the plate, kept it in balance for several seconds; juggled four bone balls, as well as two candles, which he simultaneously caught in candlesticks; then played three at a time various subjects- a fan, a wooden cigar and a rain umbrella. All of them flew through the air without touching the ground, and suddenly the umbrella was over his head, the cigar in his mouth, and the fan coquettishly fanned his face. In conclusion, Sergey himself turned somersaults on the carpet several times, made a “frog”, showed the “American knot” and looked like his hands. Having exhausted the entire supply of his "tricks", he again threw two kisses at the audience and, breathing heavily, went up to his grandfather to replace him at the hurdy-gurdy.
Now it was Artaud's turn. The dog knew this very well, and for a long time he was jumping in excitement with all four paws at grandfather, who was crawling sideways out of the strap, and barked at him with a jerky, nervous bark. Who knows, maybe the clever poodle meant by this that, in his opinion, it was reckless to engage in acrobatic exercises when Réaumur showed twenty-two degrees in the shade? But grandfather Lodyzhkin, with a sly look, pulled out a thin dogwood whip from behind his back. "So I knew!" Artaud barked angrily for the last time and lazily, defiantly got up on his hind legs, not taking his blinking eyes off his master.
- Serve, Arto! So, so, so ... - the old man said, holding a whip over the poodle's head. - Turn over. So. Roll over... More, more... Dance, doggy, dance!.. Sit down! What? -oh? Do not want? Sit down, they tell you. Ah ... something! Look! Now say hello to the most respected audience! Well! Arto! Lodyzhkin raised his voice menacingly.
"Woof!" the poodle lied in disgust. Then he looked, blinking his eyes plaintively, at the owner and added two more times: "Woof, woof!"
“No, my old man does not understand me!” - was heard in this displeased barking.
– This is another matter. First of all, courtesy. Well, now let's jump a little, - the old man continued, holding out a whip not high above the ground. - Alle! Nothing, brother, stick out your tongue. Hello! .. Gop! Wonderful! And come on, noh ein mal ... Hello! .. Gop! Hello! Hop! Great, doggy. Come home, I'll give you carrots. Oh, you don't eat carrots? I completely forgot. Then take my chilindra and ask the gentlemen. Maybe they'll give you something better.
The old man raised the dog on its hind legs and thrust into its mouth his ancient, greasy cap, which he called "chilindra" with such subtle humor. Holding his cap in his teeth and coyly stepping over with squatting feet, Artaud went up to the terrace. A small mother-of-pearl purse appeared in the hands of the sickly lady. Everyone around smiled sympathetically.
- What?? Didn't I tell you? – provocatively whispered grandfather, leaning towards Sergei. - You ask me: I, brother, know everything. Nothing less than a ruble.
At that moment, such a desperate, sharp, almost inhuman cry was heard from the terrace that the bewildered Artaud dropped his cap from his mouth and jumped, with his tail between his legs, looking back timidly, and threw himself at the feet of his master.
- I want-u-u-u! - rolled up, stamping his feet, a curly-haired boy. - To me! Want! Dog-y-y! Trilly wants dog-a-ak-u...
- Oh my god! Oh! Nikolai Apollonitch!.. Father, master!.. Calm down, Trilly, I beg you! The people on the balcony began to fuss again.
- A dog! Give me the dog! Want! Damn it, you fools! - the boy went out of himself.
- But, my angel, do not upset yourself! - a lady in a blue hood babbled over him. - Do you want to pet the dog? Well, well, well, my joy, now. Doctor, do you think Trilly can pet this dog?
- Generally speaking, I would not advise, - he spread his hands, - but if reliable disinfection, for example, with boric acid or a weak solution of carbolic acid, then oh ... in general ...
- Dog-a-aku!
“Now, my darling, now. So, doctor, we'll have her washed with boric acid, and then... But, Trilly, don't worry like that! Old man, bring your dog here, please. Don't be afraid, you will be paid. Listen, is she sick? I want to ask, is she not rabid? Or maybe she has echinococcus?
- I don’t want to stroke, I don’t want to! roared Trilly, blowing bubbles through his mouth and nose. - I absolutely want it! Fools, damn! Completely me! I want to play myself ... Forever!
“Listen, old man, come here,” the mistress tried to shout over him. “Ah, Trilly, you will kill your mother with your scream. And why did they let these musicians in! Yes, come closer, even closer ... more, they tell you! I beg you. Miss, calm down the child at last ... Doctor, I beg you ... How much do you want, old man?
Grandpa took off his cap. His face took on a suave, orphan expression.
“As much as your Grace pleases, mistress, Your Excellency ... We are small people, any gift is good for us ... Tea, do not offend the old man yourself ...
- Oh, how stupid you are! Trilly, your throat will hurt. After all, understand that the dog is yours, not mine. Well, how much? Ten? Fifteen? Twenty?
– Ah-ah-ah! I want-y! Give me the dog, give me the dog,” the boy squealed, pushing the footman in the round belly with his foot.
“That is… excuse me, Your Excellency,” Lodyzhkin hesitated. - I am an old, stupid man ... I don’t understand right away ... besides, I’m a little deaf ... that is, how do you deign to speak? .. For a dog? ..
- Oh, my God! .. You seem to be deliberately pretending to be an idiot? the lady fumed. - Nanny, give Trilli some water as soon as possible! I ask you in Russian, how much do you want to sell your dog for? You know, your dog, dog...
- A dog! Dog-aku! the boy bellowed louder than before.
Lodyzhkin was offended and put a cap on his head.
“I don’t trade in dogs, mistress,” he said coldly and with dignity. “And this forest, madam, you can say, the two of us,” he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at Sergei, “feeds, waters and clothes the two of us. And it’s impossible to do that, for example, to sell.
Trilly, meanwhile, was yelling with the shrillness of a locomotive whistle. He was given a glass of water, but he violently splashed it in the governess's face.
- Yes, listen, crazy old man! .. There is no thing that would not be sold, - the lady insisted, squeezing her temples with her palms. “Miss, wipe your face quickly and give me my migraine.” Maybe your dog is worth a hundred rubles? Well, two hundred? Three hundred? Yes, answer me, idol! Doctor, tell him something, for God's sake!
“Get ready, Sergei,” Lodyzhkin grumbled sullenly. “Istu-ka-n… Artaud, come here!”
“Uh, wait a minute, my dear,” a fat gentleman in golden glasses drawled in an authoritative bass. “You better not break down, my dear, I’ll tell you what. Your dog is ten rubles a red price, and even with you in addition ... Just think, donkey, how much they give you!
“I thank you most humbly, master, but only ...” Lodyzhkin, groaning, threw the hurdy-gurdy over his shoulders. - But this business does not work out in any way, so that, therefore, to sell. You'd better look somewhere else for a male... Happy staying... Sergey, go ahead!
- Do you have a passport? the doctor suddenly roared menacingly. - I know you, rascals!
- Street cleaner! Semyon! Drive them! shouted the lady, her face contorted with anger.
A gloomy janitor in a pink shirt with sinister look approached the artists. A terrible, discordant uproar arose on the terrace: Trilly roared with a good obscenity, his mother moaned, the nanny and the nurse wailed quickly, in a thick bass, like an angry bumblebee, the doctor hummed. But grandfather and Sergei didn’t have time to see how it all ended. Preceded by a rather cowardly poodle, they hurried almost at a run to the gate. And behind them came the janitor, pushing from behind, into the hurdy-gurdy, and saying in a menacing voice:
“Stand around here, Labardans!” Thank God that the neck, the old horseradish, did not work. And next time you come, just know that I won’t be embarrassed with you, I’ll cuff the scruff of the neck and pull it to Mr. Chantrap!
For a long time the old man and the boy walked in silence, but suddenly, as if by agreement, they looked at each other and laughed: at first Sergey laughed, and then, looking at him, but with some embarrassment, Lodyzhkin also smiled.
- What ?, grandfather Lodyzhkin? You know everything? Sergei teased him slyly.
- Yes, brother. We messed up with you, - the old organ grinder shook his head. - A sarcastic, however, little boy ... How was he raised like that, take him a fool? Please tell me: twenty-five people around him are dancing. Well, if it were in my power, I would give him a prescription. Give me the dog, he says. So what? same? He wants the moon from the sky, so give him the moon too? Come here, Artaud, come, my little dog. Well, today is a good day. Marvelous!
- For what? better! Sergey continued to sneer. - One lady gave a dress, the other gave a ruble. All of you, grandfather Lodyzhkin, know in advance.
- And you shut up, cigarette end, - the old man snapped good-naturedly. - How you fled from the janitor, remember? I thought I couldn't catch up with you. A serious man is this janitor.
Leaving the park, the wandering troupe went down a steep, loose path to the sea. Here the mountains, stepping back a little, gave way to a narrow flat strip covered with even, surf-turned stones, against which the sea was now gently splashing with a quiet rustle. Two hundred sazhens from the shore, dolphins tumbled in the water, showing from it for a moment their fat, round backs. Far away on the horizon, where the blue atlas of the sea was bordered by a dark blue velvet ribbon, the slender sails of fishing boats, slightly pink in the sun, stood motionless.
“Here we bathe, grandfather Lodyzhkin,” Sergei said decisively. On the move, he had already managed, jumping on one or the other leg, to pull off his pantaloons. - Let me help you to remove the organ.
He quickly undressed, clapped his hands loudly on his naked, chocolate-colored body and rushed into the water, raising mounds of boiling foam around him.
Grandfather undressed slowly. Covering his eyes with his palm from the sun and squinting, he looked at Sergei with a loving smile.
“Wow, the boy is growing up,” thought Lodyzhkin, “even if he is bony, you can see all the ribs, but still he will be a strong guy.”
- Hey, Serezha! You don't swim too far. The porpoise will drag you away.
- And I'm behind her tail! Sergey shouted from afar.
Grandfather stood for a long time in the sun, feeling under his armpits. He stepped into the water very carefully and, before plunging, diligently drenched his red bald crown and sunken sides. His body was yellow, flabby and powerless, his legs were amazingly thin, and his back, with protruding sharp shoulder blades, was hunched over from long years of dragging a hurdy-gurdy.
- Grandfather Lodyzhkin, look! Sergey shouted.
He rolled over in the water, throwing his legs over his head. Grandfather, who had already climbed into the water up to his waist and was crouching in it with a blissful grunt, shouted anxiously:
“Well, don’t mess around, little pig. Look! I t-you!
Artaud barked furiously and galloped along the shore. It worried him that the boy had swum so far. “Why show your courage? the poodle was worried. - There is land - and walk on the ground. Much calmer."
He himself climbed into the water up to his belly and licked it with his tongue two or three times. But salty water he did not like it, and the light waves rustling on the gravel of the coastal frightened him. He jumped ashore and again began to bark at Sergei. “What are these stupid tricks for? I would sit by the shore, next to the old man. Oh, how much anxiety with this boy!
- Hey, Seryozha, get out, or something, in fact, it will be for you! called the old man.
- Now, grandfather Lodyzhkin, I'm sailing by steamer. Wu-u-u-uh!
He finally swam to the shore, but before dressing, he grabbed Artaud in his arms and, returning with him to the sea, threw him far into the water. The dog immediately swam back, sticking out only one muzzle with ears floating up, snorting loudly and resentfully. Having jumped out onto land, she shook all over, and clouds of spray flew at the old man and at Sergei.
- Wait a minute, Seryozha, no way, is this for us? said Lodyzhkin, looking fixedly up at the mountain.
Quickly descending along the path, screaming incomprehensibly and waving his arms, was that same gloomy janitor in a pink shirt with black peas, who had driven the wandering troupe from the dacha a quarter of an hour ago.
- What does he want? Grandpa asked in bewilderment.
IV
The janitor continued to shout, running down at an awkward trot, his shirt sleeves fluttering in the wind, and his bosom inflating like a sail.
- Oh-hoo! .. Wait for the crumbs! ..
“And so that you get wet and not dry,” Lodyzhkin grumbled angrily. - It's him again about Artoshka.
- Come on, grandfather, let's put it on him! Sergey suggested bravely.
- Well, you, get rid of ... So what? These are the people, God forgive me!..
“That’s what you are…” began the breathless janitor from a distance. - Sell, or what, a dog? Well, no way with panych. Roar like a calf. “Give me the dog...” The lady sent, buy it, she says, no matter what the cost.
“That’s pretty stupid of your mistress!” - Lodyzhkin suddenly got angry, who here, on the shore, felt much more confident than in someone else's dacha. - And again, what kind of lady is she to me? Maybe you, mistress, but I don't give a damn about my cousin. And please… I beg you… get away from us, for Christ’s sake… and that… and don’t pester.
But the janitor did not let up. He sat down on the stones, next to the old man, and spoke, clumsily pointing his fingers in front of him:
“Come on, you stupid man…”
“I hear from a fool,” said grandfather calmly.
“Wait a minute… that’s not what I’m talking about… Here, really, what kind of burdock… Just think: well, what’s a dog to you?” Picked up another puppy, learned to stand on the hind legs, here's the dog again. Well? Lies, or what, I say? BUT?
Grandfather was carefully tying the belt around his pants. To the janitor's persistent questions, he answered with feigned indifference:
- Breach further ... I'll answer you right away later.
- And here, my brother, right away - a figure! the janitor got excited. “Two hundred, maybe three hundred rubles at once!” Well, as a rule, I get something for my labors ... Just think: three hundredths! After all, you can immediately open a grocery store ...
Speaking thus, the janitor pulled out a piece of sausage from his pocket and threw it at the poodle. Artaud caught it in mid-flight, swallowed it in one gulp, and wagged its tail inquisitively.
- Finished? Lodyzhkin asked curtly.
- Yes, there is a long time and there is nothing to finish. Come on, dog - and shake hands.
- So-ak-s, - mockingly drawled grandfather. “Sell the dog, then?”
- Usually to sell. What else do you want? The main thing is that our papych is so said. Whatever you want, the whole house will perebulgachit. Submit - and that's it. This is still without a father, but with a father ... you are our saints! .. everyone walks upside down. Our gentleman is an engineer, perhaps you have heard, Mr. Obolyaninov? Railroads are being built all over Russia. Melionaire! And we have only one boy. And he's pissed off. I want to pony alive - I pony on you. I want a boat - you have a real boat on you. As there is nothing, I will refuse nothing ...
- And the moon?
- So, in what sense?
- I say, he never wanted the moon from the sky?
- Well ... you can also say - the moon! - the janitor was embarrassed. - So, dear man, how are we, or what?
Grandfather, who had already managed to put on a brown jacket that turned green at the seams, proudly straightened up, as far as his perpetually bent back would allow him.
"I'll tell you one thing, lad," he began, not without solemnity. - Approximately, if you had a brother or, say, a friend, who, then, from the very childhood. Wait a minute, friend, don't waste your dog's sausage... you'd better eat it yourself... you won't bribe her with this, brother. I say, if you had the most faithful friend ... who has been since childhood ... Then for how much would you approximately sell him?
- Equalized too! ..
- Here are those and equated. You say so to your master, who railway builds,” grandfather raised his voice. - So tell me: not everything, they say, is sold, what is bought. Yes! You better not stroke the dog, it's useless. Arto, come here, dog son, I y-you! Sergei, get ready.
“You old fool,” the janitor could not bear at last.
“Fool, yes, I was born like that, and you are a boor, Judas, a corrupt soul,” Lodyzhkin swore. - If you see your general, bow to her, say: from ours, they say, with your love, a deep bow. Roll up the carpet, Sergey! Eh, my back, my back! Let's go to.
- So, so-so! .. - the janitor drawled pointedly.
- Take it with that! the old man answered fervently.
The artists trudged along the seashore, up again, along the same road. Looking back accidentally, Sergei saw that the janitor was watching them. His expression was thoughtful and sullen. He was intently scratching his shaggy red head with his whole five fingers under his hat, which had fallen over his eyes.
V
Grandfather Lodyzhkin had long ago noticed a corner between Miskhor and Alupka, down from the lower road, where one could have an excellent breakfast. There he led his companions. Not far from the bridge, spanning a turbulent and muddy mountain stream, ran out of the ground, in the shade of crooked oaks and dense hazel, a talkative, cold trickle of water. She made a round shallow reservoir in the soil, from which she ran into the stream like a thin snake, shining in the grass like living silver. Near this spring, in the mornings and in the evenings, one could always find pious Turks drinking water and performing their sacred ablutions.
“Our sins are grave, and our supplies are meager,” said grandfather, sitting down in the coolness under a hazel tree. - Come on, Serezha, God bless!
He took out bread, a dozen red tomatoes, a piece of Bessarabian brynza cheese, and a bottle of olive oil from a canvas bag. His salt was tied up in a bundle of a rag of doubtful cleanliness. Before eating, the old man crossed himself for a long time and whispered something. Then he broke the loaf of bread into three uneven parts: he handed one, the largest, to Sergei (the little one is growing - he needs to eat), the other, smaller, he left for the poodle, the smallest he took for himself.
In the name of father and son. The eyes of all on thee, Lord, trust, - he whispered, fussily distributing portions and pouring them from a bottle with oil. - Eat, Seryozha!
Without haste, slowly, in silence, as real workers eat, the three set to their modest dinner. All that could be heard was the chewing of three pairs of jaws. Artaud ate his share on the sidelines, stretched out on his stomach and resting both front paws on the bread. Grandfather and Sergey alternately dipped ripe tomatoes in salt, from which juice, red as blood, flowed down their lips and hands, and ate them with cheese and bread. Satisfied, they drank water, substituting a tin mug under the stream of the spring. The water was clear, tasting great, and so cold it even fogged up the outside of the mug. The heat of the day and the long journey exhausted the artists, who got up at dawn today. Grandpa's eyes closed. Sergei yawned and stretched.
- What ?, brother, should we go to sleep for a minute? Grandpa asked. - Let me drink some water for the last time. Uh, good! he grunted, taking his mouth away from the mug and panting heavily, while light drops ran from his mustache and beard. - If I were a king, everyone would drink this water ... from morning to night! Artaud, come here! Well, God fed, no one saw it, and whoever saw it did not offend ... Oh-oh-honyushki!
The old man and the boy lay side by side on the grass, tucking their old jackets under their heads. Above their heads rustled the dark foliage of gnarled, sprawling oaks. A clear blue sky shone through it. The brook, running from stone to stone, murmured so monotonously and so insinuatingly, as if bewitching someone with its soporific babble. Grandfather tossed and turned for some time, groaned and said something, but it seemed to Sergei that his voice sounded from some soft and sleepy distance, and the words were incomprehensible, like in a fairy tale.
“First thing, I’ll buy you a suit.

- What, brother? Are you complaining?.. And you endure...

II

Sergei, who, as usual, walked ahead of his grandfather, stopped and waited until the old man caught up with him.

- What are you, Seryozha? asked the organ grinder.

- It's hot, grandfather Lodyzhkin ... there is no patience! Would take a dip...

As he walked, the old man adjusted the hurdy-gurdy on his back with a habitual movement of his shoulder and wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve.

- Lied, maybe? – with doubt noted Sergei.

- What, brother dog? Warm? Grandpa asked.

The dog yawned intensely, curling its tongue in a tube, shaking all over, and squealing thinly.

A. I. Kuprin

white poodle

- What, brother? Are you complaining?.. And you endure...

Sergei, who, as usual, walked ahead of his grandfather, stopped and waited until the old man caught up with him.

- What are you, Seryozha? asked the organ grinder.

- It's hot, grandfather Lodyzhkin ... there is no patience! Would take a dip...

As he walked, the old man adjusted the hurdy-gurdy on his back with a habitual movement of his shoulder and wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve.

- Lied, maybe? – with doubt noted Sergei.

- What, brother dog? Warm? Grandpa asked.

The dog yawned intensely, curling its tongue in a tube, shaking all over, and squealing thinly.

II

III

I

II

II

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