Biography and episodes from the life of Pavel Bazhov. When Pavel Bazhov was born and died, memorable places and dates of important events in his life. Quotes from the writer, photos and videos.

Years of life of Pavel Bazhov:

born January 15, 1879, died December 3, 1950

Epitaph

“I drank the sun like people drink water,
Walking through the highlands
Towards the red sunrise,
Following the red sunset.

I reveled in the beauty of the earth,
Blessed her lot.
I fell in love more than once, I was killed
And he drank songs as he sang songs.

Let me leave the world one day
I did not quench his thirst,
But people thirst for this thirst,
As long as the Earth turns."
From Rasul Gamzatov’s poem “As long as the Earth turns”

Biography

One of the most famous storytellers of the Russian land, the author of “The Silver Hoof”, “The Stone Flower” and “The Mistress of the Copper Mountain”, Pavel Petrovich Bazhov was born in the Urals, in the family of a simple worker. The young man had no intention of becoming a writer: he studied at theological seminaries, then worked as a teacher of the Russian language. The first thing that dramatically changed his fate was the revolutionary events, which Bazhov sympathized with with all his heart. The second is health problems, due to which Bazhov was removed from active work and sent back to the Urals.

Although it is unknown whether his return to his beloved homeland can be considered the reason for the discovery of Bazhov’s writing talent. After all, by that time Pavel Petrovich had already tried his hand at working in a newspaper, working on essays and collecting folklore. Obviously, the writer's talent just needed a little push.

Pavel Bazhov in 1911

After the publication of “The Malachite Box,” Bazhov gained fame overnight. More was said and written about him than he managed to write himself. The collection of Ural tales was translated into other languages ​​and published in London, Paris and New York. Pavel Petrovich was a modest man and always said that his role in creating fairy tales is secondary, and the main place in them belongs to the people.

Pavel Petrovich lived a long, good and, in his own words, a happy life. 11 years after his death, a large stone monument was erected on the hill of the Ivanovo cemetery, where the writer was buried. And even before that, a monument in honor of the writer was erected in Yekaterinburg near the city pond. But the main memory of Bazhov still lives in the images he created, so close to the heart of the Russian people that they are remembered from childhood and for life.

Life line

January 15, 1879 Date of birth of Pavel Petrovich Bazhov.
1899 Graduated from Perm Theological Seminary.
1918 The beginning of underground work in the Semipalatinsk province and Ust-Kamenogorsk.
1920 Organization of the suppression of the Kozyr uprising in Ust-Kamenogorsk. Teacher training work. Leadership of the first district congress of Soviets.
1921 Transfer to Semipalatinsk, then return to Kamyshlov.
1923-1931 Work in the regional “Peasant Newspaper”.
1924 Publication of Bazhov’s first book of essays, “The Ural Were.”
1936 Publication of Bazhov’s first Ural tale “The Maiden of Azovka”.
1939 Publication of the first collection of Bazhov’s tales “The Malachite Box”.
1940 Appointment as head of the Sverdlovsk Writers' Organization.
1943 Receiving the Stalin Prize, second degree, for the book “The Malachite Box”.
December 3, 1950 Date of death of Pavel Bazhov.
December 10, 1950 Funeral of P. Bazhov in Sverdlovsk.

Memorable places

1. Sysert, where Pavel Petrovich Bazhov was born.
2. Perm, where P. Bazhov studied at the theological seminary.
3. Kamyshlov, where P. Bazhov worked as a Russian language teacher.
4. Ust-Kamenogorsk (Kazakhstan), where P. Bazhov arrived in 1918.
5. Semipalatinsk (now Semey), where Bazhov worked in 1921.
6. Moscow, where Bazhov died.
7. Ivanovo cemetery in Sverdlovsk (now Yekaterinburg), where P. Bazhov is buried.

Episodes of life

Until 1917, P. Bazhov was a member of the Socialist Revolutionary Party and then all his life he actively supported the Bolshevik movement, including working underground. True, he was expelled from the party twice, but both times he was rehabilitated.

Bazhov always refused when he was praised for his literary work, believing that he did not deserve compliments addressed to him. Sometimes his modesty reached such proportions that the writer subsequently had to prove that he had actually composed his “tales” and not simply written them down from other people’s words.

Documentary film “Soviet tale of Pavel Bazhov”

Testaments

“Work is a long-lasting thing. A man will die, but his work will remain.”

“It’s also not in vain that fairy tales were invented. Some are in obedience, others are in learning, and there are also those who have a flashlight in front.”

“I was and remain a supporter of labor in literature. Standing on this position, I affirm that after just a dozen years of work, everyone can produce a canvas that is amazing in its unexpectedness.”

“There is vitality in every task, it runs ahead of the skill and pulls the person along with it.”

Condolences

“Bazhov brought us, in the guise of a tale, the greatness of high simplicity, love for one region, glorification of labor, pride and honor of a working man, fidelity to duty. Chastity. Restlessness of quests and aspirations. Persistence. Spirit of time…"
Evgeny Permyak, Russian and Soviet writer

"P. P. Bazhov was like an omniscient gnome who rose from the bowels of the earth to talk about the treasures of which he had long served as the keeper.”
Lev Kassil, writer

“The writer Bazhov had a late flowering. Obviously, because he took the concept of “real literature” very seriously, he placed the title of writer too highly and did not consider it applicable to himself. He considered A. S. Pushkin to be a model, a standard for writers working in the fairy tale genre.”
Anna Bazhova, daughter of the writer

View the full list of fairy tales

Biography of Bazhov Pavel Petrovich

Bazhov Pavel Petrovich(January 27, 1879 - December 3, 1950) - famous Russian Soviet writer, famous Ural storyteller, prose writer, talented processor of folk tales, legends, Ural fairy tales.

Biography

Pavel Petrovich Bazhov was born on January 27, 1879 in the Urals near Yekaterinburg in the family of the hereditary mining foreman of the Sysertsky plant, Pyotr Vasilyevich and Augusta Stefanovna Bazhov (as this surname was spelled then).

The surname Bazhov comes from the local word “bazhit” - that is, to bewitch, to foretell. Bazhov also had a boyish street nickname - Koldunkov. And later, when Bazhov began to publish his works, he signed himself with one of his pseudonyms - Koldunkov.

Pyotr Vasilyevich Bazhev was a foreman in the puddling and welding shop of the Sysert metallurgical plant near Yekaterinburg. The writer's mother, Augusta Stefanovna, was a skilled lacemaker. This was a great help for the family, especially during the husband’s forced unemployment.

The future writer lived and was formed among the Ural miners. Childhood impressions turned out to be the most important and vivid for Bazhov.

He also loved to listen to other old experienced people, experts on the past. The Sysert old men Alexey Efimovich Klyukva and Ivan Petrovich Korob were good storytellers. But the best of all whom Bazhov had the chance to know was the old Polevsky miner Vasily Alekseevich Khmelinin. He worked as a watchman for the wood warehouses at the plant, and children gathered at his guardhouse on Dumnaya Mountain to listen to interesting stories.

Pavel Petrovich Bazhov spent his childhood and adolescence in the town of Sysert and at the Polevsky plant, which was part of the Sysert mining district.

The family often moved from factory to factory, which allowed the future writer to get to know the life of the vast mountain district well and was reflected in his work.

Thanks to chance and his abilities, he got the opportunity to study.

Bazhov studied at a men's zemstvo three-year school, where there was a talented literature teacher who managed to captivate the children with literature.

Thus, a 9-year-old boy once read by heart the entire school collection of poems by N.A. Nekrasov, learned by him on his own initiative.

We settled on the Yekaterinburg Theological School: it has the lowest tuition fees, you don’t have to buy a uniform, and there are also student apartments rented by the school - these circumstances turned out to be decisive.

Having passed the entrance exams perfectly, Bazhov was enrolled in the Yekaterinburg Theological School. The assistance of a family friend was needed because the theological school was not only, so to speak, professional, but also class-based: it trained mainly church ministers, and mostly the children of the clergy studied there.

After graduating from college at the age of 14, Pavel entered the Perm Theological Seminary, where he studied for 6 years. This was the time of his acquaintance with classical and modern literature.

In 1899, Bazhov graduated from the Perm Seminary - third in terms of total points. The time has come to choose a path in life. The offer to enter the Kyiv Theological Academy and study there full-time was rejected. He dreamed of university. However, the way there was closed. First of all, because the ecclesiastical department did not want to lose its “personnel”: the choice of higher educational institutions for seminary graduates was strictly limited to Dorpat, Warsaw, and Tomsk universities.

Bazhov decided to teach at an elementary school in an area inhabited by Old Believers. He began his career in the remote Ural village of Shaidurikha, near Nevyansk, and then in Yekaterinburg and Kamyshlov. He taught Russian, traveled a lot around the Urals, was interested in folklore, local history, ethnography, and was engaged in journalism.

For fifteen years, every year during school holidays, Bazhov wandered around his native land on foot, everywhere he looked at the life around him, talked with workers, wrote down their apt words, conversations, stories, collected folklore, studied the work of lapidaries, stone cutters, steelworkers, foundries , gunsmiths and many other Ural craftsmen, talked with them about the secrets of their craft and kept extensive notes. A rich supply of life impressions and samples of folk speech greatly helped him in his future work as a journalist, and then in his writing. He replenished his “pantry” all his life.

Just at this time, a vacancy opened up at the Yekaterinburg Theological School. And Bazhov returned there - now as a teacher of the Russian language. Later, Bazhov tried to enter Tomsk University, but was not accepted.

In 1907, P. Bazhov moved to the diocesan (women's) school, where until 1914 he taught classes in the Russian language, and at times – in Church Slavonic and algebra.

Here he met his future wife, and at that time just his student, Valentina Ivanitskaya, with whom they married in 1911. The marriage was based on love and unity of aspirations. The young family lived a more meaningful life than most of Bazhov’s colleagues, who spent their free time playing cards. The couple read a lot and went to theaters. Seven children were born into their family.

When the First World War began, the Bazhovs already had two daughters. Due to financial difficulties, the couple moved to Kamyshlov, closer to Valentina Alexandrovna’s relatives. Pavel Petrovich transferred to the Kamyshlovsky Theological School.

Participated in the civil war of 1918-21. in the Urals, Siberia, Altai.

In 1923-29 he lived in Sverdlovsk and worked in the editorial office of the Peasant Newspaper. At this time, he wrote over forty tales on themes of Ural factory folklore.

Since 1930 - in the Sverdlovsk book publishing house.

In 1937, Bazhov was expelled from the party (a year later he was reinstated). But then, having lost his usual job in a publishing house, he devoted all his time to tales, and they shimmered in the “Malachite Box” like genuine Ural gems.

In 1939, Bazhov’s most famous work was published - the collection of fairy tales “The Malachite Box”, for which the writer received the State Prize. Subsequently, Bazhov expanded this book with new tales.

Bazhov’s writing career began relatively late: the first book of essays, “The Ural People,” was published in 1924. Only in 1939 were his most significant works published - the collection of tales “The Malachite Box,” which received the USSR State Prize in 1943, and an autobiographical story about childhood "Green filly" Subsequently, Bazhov replenished the “Malachite Box” with new tales: “The Key-Stone” (1942), “Tales of the Germans” (1943), “Tales of the Gunsmiths” and others. His later works can be defined as “tales” not only because of their formal genre characteristics (the presence of a fictional narrator with an individual speech characteristic), but also because they go back to the Ural “secret tales” - oral traditions of miners and prospectors, characterized by a combination of real -household and fairy-tale elements.

Bazhov’s works, dating back to the Ural “secret tales” - oral traditions of miners and prospectors, combine real-life and fantastic elements. Tales that have absorbed plot motifs, the colorful language of folk legends and folk wisdom, embodied the philosophical and ethical ideas of our time.

He worked on the collection of tales “The Malachite Box” from 1936 until the last days of his life. It was first published as a separate edition in 1939. Then, from year to year, the “Malachite Box” was replenished with new tales.

The tales of “The Malachite Box” are a kind of historical prose in which events and facts of the history of the Middle Urals of the 18th-19th centuries are recreated through the personality of the Ural workers. Tales live as an aesthetic phenomenon thanks to a complete system of realistic, fantastic and semi-fantastic images and a rich moral and humanistic problematic (themes of labor, creative search, love, fidelity, freedom from the power of gold, etc.).

Bazhov sought to develop his own literary style and looked for original forms of embodiment of his literary talent. He succeeded in this in the mid-1930s, when he began publishing his first tales. In 1939, Bazhov combined them into the book “Malachite Box,” which he subsequently supplemented with new works. Malachite gave the name to the book because, according to Bazhov, “the joy of the earth is collected” in this stone.

Direct artistic and literary activity began late, at the age of 57. According to him, “there was simply no time for literary work of this kind.

Creating fairy tales became the main work of Bazhov’s life. In addition, he edited books and almanacs, including those on Ural local history.

Pavel Petrovich Bazhov died on December 3, 1950 in Moscow, and was buried in his homeland in Yekaterinburg.

Tales

As a boy, he first heard an interesting story about the secrets of the Copper Mountain.

The old people of Sysert were good storytellers - the best of them was Vasily Khmelin, he at that time worked as a watchman of the wood warehouses at the Polevsky plant, and children gathered at his gatehouse to listen to interesting stories about the fairytale snake Poloz and his daughters Zmeevka, about the Mistress of the Copper Mountain, about the grandmother Blue. Pasha Bazhov remembered the stories of this old man for a long time.

Bazhov chose an interesting form of storytelling: “skaz” - this is primarily an oral word, an oral form of speech transferred to a book; in the tale one can always hear the voice of the narrator - grandfather Slyshko - involved in the events; he speaks in a colorful folk language, full of local words and expressions, sayings and sayings.

Calling his works skaz, Bazhov took into account not only the literary tradition of the genre, which implies the presence of a narrator, but also the existence of ancient oral traditions of the Ural miners, which in folklore were called “secret tales.” From these folklore works, Bazhov adopted one of the main features of his tales: a mixture of fairy-tale images.

The main theme of Bazhov's tales is the common man and his work, talent and skill. Communication with nature, with the secret foundations of life, is carried out through powerful representatives of the magical mountain world.

One of the most striking images of this kind is the Mistress of the Copper Mountain, whom Master Stepan meets from the tale “The Malachite Box”. The Mistress of the Copper Mountain helps the hero of the tale Stone Flower Danila to reveal his talent - and becomes disappointed in the master after he gives up trying to make the Stone Flower himself.

The works of the mature Bazhov can be defined as “tales” not only due to their formal genre characteristics and the presence of a fictional narrator with an individual speech characteristic, but also because they go back to the Ural “secret tales” - oral traditions of miners and prospectors, distinguished by a combination of reality and reality. everyday and fairy-tale elements.

Bazhov's tales absorbed plot motifs, fantastic images, color, the language of folk legends and folk wisdom. However, Bazhov is not a folklorist-processor, but an independent artist who used his knowledge of the Ural miners’ life and oral creativity to embody philosophical and ethical ideas.

Talking about the art of the Ural craftsmen, reflecting the colorfulness and originality of the old mining life, Bazhov at the same time poses general questions in his tales - about true morality, about the spiritual beauty and dignity of the working person.

Fantastic characters in fairy tales personify the elemental forces of nature, which trusts its secrets only to the brave, hardworking and pure of soul. Bazhov managed to give the fantastic characters (the Mistress of the Copper Mountain, the Great Snake, the Jumping Ognevushka) extraordinary poetry and endowed them with a subtle, complex psychology.

Bazhov's tales are an example of the masterful use of the folk language. Carefully and at the same time creatively treating the expressive capabilities of the folk language, Bazhov avoided the abuse of local sayings, the pseudo-folk “playing off phonetic illiteracy” (Bazhov’s expression).

P.P. Bazhov's tales are very colorful and picturesque. His color is designed in the spirit of folk painting, folk Ural embroidery - solid, thick, ripe. The color richness of tales is not accidental. It is generated by the beauty of Russian nature, the beauty of the Urals. The writer in his works generously used all the possibilities of the Russian word to convey the variety of colors, its richness and richness, so characteristic of the Ural nature.

The tales of Pavel Petrovich are an example of the masterful use of the folk language. Carefully and at the same time creatively treating the expressive possibilities of the folk word, Bazhov avoided the abuse of local sayings and the pseudo-folk “playing up of phonetic illiteracy” (the expression of the writer himself).

Bazhov's tales absorbed plot motifs, fantastic images, color, the language of folk legends and their folk wisdom. However, the author is not just a folklorist-processor, he is an independent artist who uses his excellent knowledge of the Ural miners’ life and oral creativity to embody philosophical and ethical ideas. Talking about the art of the Ural craftsmen, about the talent of the Russian worker, reflecting the colorfulness and originality of the old mining life and the social contradictions characteristic of it, Bazhov at the same time poses general questions in his tales - about true morality, about the spiritual beauty and dignity of the working person, about aesthetic and psychological laws of creativity. Fantastic characters in fairy tales personify the elemental forces of nature, which trusts its secrets only to the brave, hardworking and pure of soul. Bazhov managed to give his fantastic characters (the Mistress of the Copper Mountain, the Great Snake, Ognevushka-Rocking, etc.) extraordinary poetry and endowed them with a subtle and complex psychology.

The tales recorded and processed by Bazhov are originally folklore. As a boy, he heard many of them (the so-called “secret tales” - ancient oral traditions of Ural miners) from V. A. Khmelinin from the Polevsky plant (Khmelinin-Slyshko, Slyshko’s grandfather, “Glass” from “Ural Byli”). Grandfather Slyshko is the narrator in “The Malachite Box.” Later, Bazhov had to officially declare that this was a technique, and he did not just write down other people’s stories, but was actually their author.

Later, the term “skaz” entered Soviet folklore with the light hand of Bazhov to define workers’ prose (workers’ prose). After some time, it was established that it did not denote any new folklore phenomenon - “tales” turned out to be traditions, legends, fairy tales, memories, that is, genres that have existed for many hundreds of years.

Ural

The Urals are “a rare place both in terms of craftsmanship and beauty.” It is impossible to experience the beauty of the Urals without visiting the amazing Ural ponds and lakes, pine forests, and legendary mountains, enchanting with peace and quiet. Here, in the Urals, talented craftsmen lived and worked for centuries; only here could Danila the master sculpt his stone flower, and somewhere here the Ural craftsmen saw the Mistress of the Copper Mountain.

Since childhood, he liked the people, legends, fairy tales and songs of his native Urals.

The work of P.P. Bazhov is firmly connected with the life of the mining and processing Urals - this cradle of Russian metallurgy. The writer’s grandfather and great-grandfather were workers and spent their entire lives at copper smelters at Ural factories.

Due to the historical and economic characteristics of the Urals, the life of factory settlements was very unique. Here, as everywhere else, the workers could barely make ends meet and had no rights. But, unlike other industrial regions of the country, the Urals were characterized by significantly lower earnings for artisans. Here there was an additional dependence of workers on the enterprise. The factory owners presented the free use of land as compensation for reduced wages.

Old workers, “byvaltsy”, were the keepers of folk mining legends and beliefs. They were not only a kind of “folk poets”, but also a kind of “historians”.

The Ural land itself gave birth to legends and fairy tales. P.P. Bazhov learned to see and understand the wealth and beauty of the mountainous Urals.

Archetypal images

The Mistress of the Copper Mountain is the keeper of precious rocks and stones, sometimes appears before people in the form of a beautiful woman, and sometimes in the form of a lizard in a crown. Its origin most likely stems from the “spirit of the area”. There is also a hypothesis that this is the image of the goddess Venus, refracted by the popular consciousness, with whose sign Polevsky copper was branded for several decades in the 18th century.

The Great Snake is responsible for gold. His figure was created by Bazhov based on the superstitions of the ancient Khanty and Mansi, Ural legends and signs of miners and ore miners. Wed. mythological serpent.

Grandma Sinyushka is a character related to Baba Yaga.

Ognevushka-Jumping - dancing over a gold deposit (connection between fire and gold).

Bazhov Pavel Petrovich was born in 1879, on January 27. This Russian writer, famous storyteller, prose writer, interpreter of legends, traditions, and Ural tales died in 1950, December 3.

Origin

Bazhov Pavel Petrovich, whose biography is presented in our article, was born in the Urals, near Yekaterinburg, in the family of Augusta Stefanovna and Pyotr Vasilyevich Bazhev (this surname was spelled that way back then). His father was a hereditary foreman at the Sysert plant.

The writer's surname comes from the word "bazhit", which means "to foretell", "to bewitch". Even Bazhov’s street boy nickname was Koldunkov. Later, when he began to publish, he also signed with this pseudonym.

Formation of the future writer's talent

Bazhev Petr Vasilyevich worked as a foreman at the Sysert plant, in the puddling and welding shop. The future writer's mother was a good lacemaker. This was a help for the family, especially when the husband was temporarily unemployed.

The future writer lived among the miners of the Urals. His childhood experiences turned out to be the most vivid and important for him.

Bazhov loved to listen to the stories of experienced people. Sysert old men - Korob Ivan Petrovich and Klyukva Alexey Efimovich were good storytellers. But the future writer, Khmelinin Vasily Alekseevich, a Polevsky miner, was superior to everyone whom the future writer knew.

Childhood and adolescence

The future writer spent this period of his life at the Polevsky plant and in the town of Sysert. His family moved often, as Pavel’s father worked first at one factory, then at another. This allowed young Bazhov to get to know well the life of the mountain district, which he subsequently reflected in his work.

The future writer had the opportunity to learn thanks to his abilities and chance. At first he attended a three-year men's zemstvo school, where a talented literature teacher worked who knew how to captivate children with literature. Pavel Petrovich Bazhov also loved to listen to him. The writer’s biography developed largely under the influence of this talented person.

Everyone assured the Bazhev family that it was necessary to continue the education of their gifted son, but poverty did not allow them to dream of a real school or gymnasium. As a result, the choice fell on the Yekaterinburg Theological School, since its tuition fees were the lowest and there was no need to buy a uniform. This institution was intended mainly for the children of nobles, and only the assistance of a family friend made it possible to place Pavel Petrovich in it.

At the age of 14, after graduating from college, Pavel Petrovich Bazhov entered the Perm Theological Seminary, where he studied various fields of knowledge for 6 years. Here he became acquainted with modern and classical literature.

Working as a teacher

In 1899 the training was completed. After that, Pavel Petrovich Bazhov worked as a teacher in an elementary school in an area populated by Old Believers. He began his career in a remote village near Nevyansk, after which he continued his activities in Kamyshlov and Yekaterinburg. The future writer taught Russian. He traveled a lot around the Urals, was interested in local history, folklore, ethnography, and journalism.

For 15 years, during school holidays, every year Pavel Bazhov traveled on foot around his native land, talked with workers, looked closely at the life around him, recorded stories, conversations, collected folklore, learned about the work of stone cutters, lapidaries, foundries, steelworkers, gunsmiths and other craftsmen Ural. This later helped him in his career as a journalist, and then in his writing, which Pavel Bazhov began later (his photo is presented below).

When, after some time, a vacancy opened up at the Yekaterinburg Theological School, Bazhov returned to his native walls of this institution as a teacher.

Family of Pavel Petrovich Bazhov

In 1907, the future writer began working at the diocesan school, where he taught Russian language lessons until 1914. Here he met his future wife, Valentina Ivanitskaya. She was a student at this educational institution at that time. In 1911, Valentina Ivanitskaya and Pavel Bazhov got married. They often went to the theater and read a lot. Seven children were born into the writer’s family.

During the outbreak of the First World War, two daughters were already growing up - the children of Bazhov Pavel Petrovich. Due to financial difficulties, the family was forced to move to Kamyshlov, where Valentina’s relatives lived. Pavel Bazhov began working at the Kamyshlovsky Theological School.

Creating tales

In 1918-1921, Bazhov took part in the Civil War in Siberia, the Urals, and Altai. In 1923-1929 he lived in Sverdlovsk, where he worked at the Peasant Newspaper. At this time, the writer created more than forty tales dedicated to factory Ural folklore. In 1930, work began at the book publishing house in Sverdlovsk. The writer was expelled from the party in 1937 (reinstated a year later). Having lost his job in the publishing house because of this incident, he decided to devote his free time to tales, which, like Ural gems, “flickered” in his “Malachite Box”. In 1939, this most famous work of the author, which is a collection of fairy tales, was published. For "The Malachite Box" the writer was awarded the USSR State Prize. Bazhov subsequently added new tales to this book.

Bazhov's writing path

This author's writing career began relatively late. His first book, “The Ural People,” appeared in 1924. The most significant stories of Pavel Bazhov were published only in 1939. This is the above-mentioned collection of tales, as well as “The Green Filly” - an autobiographical story about his childhood years.

The “Malachite Box” later included new works: “Tales of the Germans” (year of writing - 1943), “Key-Stone”, created in 1942, “Tales of Gunsmiths”, as well as other creations of Bazhov. The author's later works can be called "tales" not only because of the formal features of the genre (the presence in the narrative of a fictional narrator with an individual characteristic of speech), but also because they go back to the secret tales of the Urals - the oral traditions of prospectors and miners, which differ a combination of fairy-tale and real-life elements.

Features of Bazhov's tales

The writer considered the creation of fairy tales to be the main work of his life. In addition, he edited almanacs and books, including those devoted to Ural local history.

Initially, the tales processed by Bazhov are folklore. He heard “Secret Tales” as a boy from Khmelinin. This man became the prototype of Slyshko’s grandfather, the narrator of the work “The Malachite Box.” Bazhov later had to declare officially that this was just a technique, and he did not simply record other people’s stories, but created his own based on them.

The term "skaz" later entered the folklore of the Soviet era to define the prose of workers. However, after some time it was established that this concept does not denote a new phenomenon in folklore: tales in fact turned out to be memories, legends, traditions, fairy tales, that is, genres that had existed for a long time.

Naming his works with this term, Pavel Petrovich Bazhov, whose fairy tales were associated with the folklore tradition, took into account not only the tradition of this genre, which implies the obligatory presence of a storyteller, but also the existence of ancient oral traditions of the Ural miners. From these folklore works he adopted the main feature of his creations - the mixing of fairy-tale images in the narrative.

Fantastic heroes of fairy tales

The main theme of Bazhov's tales is the simple man, his skill, talent and work. Communication with the secret foundations of our life, with nature, is carried out with the help of powerful representatives of the mountain magical world. Perhaps the most striking among characters of this kind is the Mistress of the Copper Mountain, whom Stepan, the hero of “The Malachite Box,” met. She helps Danila - a character in a tale called "The Stone Flower" - to discover his talent. And after he refuses to make the Stone Flower himself, he becomes disappointed in it.

In addition to this character, the Great Snake, who is responsible for the gold, is interesting. His image was created by the writer on the basis of the ancient superstitions of the Khanty and Mansi, as well as Ural legends, signs of ore miners and miners.

Grandma Sinyushka, another heroine of Bazhov’s tales, is a character related to the famous Baba Yaga.

The connection between gold and fire is represented by the Jumping Fire Girl, who dances over a gold deposit.

So, we met such an original writer as Pavel Bazhov. The article presented only the main milestones of his biography and the most famous works. If you are interested in the personality and work of this author, you can continue to get acquainted with him by reading the memoirs of Pavel Petrovich’s daughter, Ariadna Pavlovna.

A short biography of Bazhov for grade 4 is presented in this article.

Pavel Bazhov short biography

Pavel Petrovich Bazhov- writer, folklorist, publicist, journalist. He gained fame as the author of Ural tales.

Born on January 27, 1879 near Yekaterinburg in the Urals in the family of a mining foreman, he was the only child in the family. My childhood years were spent among Ural craftsmen.

He received his primary education at the Ekaterinburg Theological School, and in 1899 he graduated with honors from the Perm Theological Seminary.
He began his work history as a primary school teacher, then worked as a Russian language teacher in Yekaterinburg. For about 15 years he edited a local newspaper, was engaged in journalism, wrote feuilletons, stories, essays, and notes for magazines. He collected folklore and was interested in the history of the Urals.

Bazhov's writing career began at the age of 57 with the creation of a special genre - the Ural tale, which made the author famous. The first tale “Dear Little Name” appeared in 1936. Bazhov combined his works into a collection of tales from the old Urals - “The Malachite Box”.
The “Malachite Box” contains many mythological characters, for example: the Mistress of the Copper Mountain, the Great Snake, Danila the Master, Grandma Sinyushka, the Jumping Ognevushka and others.

In 1943, thanks to this book, he received the Stalin Prize. And in 1944 he was awarded the Order of Lenin for his fruitful work.

The most famous Ural writer is Pavel Petrovich Bazhov (1879-1950), the author of the famous book of fairy tales “The Malachite Box”, the stories “The Green Filly”, “Far and Close”, as well as the author of essays about the life of the people of the Urals.

Biography

Studied Bazhov first in Ekaterinburg Theological School, then sent to Perm Theological School, because it had the lowest tuition fees. But becoming a priest Pavel Bazhov didn't plan. He preferred being a teacher to becoming ordained.

Taught Bazhov Russian language: first in a rural school, then in religious schools Ekaterinburg And Kamyshlova. The students of the theological school were delighted with the teacher: when teachers were given colored bows at literary evenings, this was a tradition at the school at that time, Pavel Bazhov got the most. During the summer holidays Bazhov traveled through the Ural villages.

Oddly enough, Pavel Bazhov was a brilliant revolutionary; before the Great October Revolution he was a Socialist Revolutionary, then he joined the Bolshevik Party in 1918-1920. he carried out active work on the establishment of Soviet power not only in Russia, but also in Kazakhstan, actively participated in the Civil War, by volunteering forRed Army, although in those years I was no longer young, because 38-40 years is not the time for youthful illusions. He organized an underground, escaped from prison, suppressed uprisings... In the fall of 1920, Bazhov headed the food detachment as a specially authorized district food committee for food appropriation. From Kazakhstan, from Semipalatinsk Pavel Bazhov I actually had to flee because of denunciations, although the formal reason was serious illness and poor health. Denunciations were pursued Pavel Bazhova more than 15 years, because of them in the 1930s he was expelled from the party twice (in 1933 and 1937), but both times he was reinstated a year later.

When Bazhov returned to the Urals, to Kamyshlov, he went to work in editorial office of the Ural Regional Peasant Newspaper. Since then, he has been engaged in journalism and writing. Twice he headed the editorial committee for writing books, one was dedicated to the construction of the Krasnokamsk paper mill, the other to the history of the Kamyshlovsky regiment of the 29th division, and both books were not published: the heroes of the books were repressed. Pavel Petrovich lived in terrible times!

First book of essays "There were Ural" published in 1924. And already in 1936 the first of the Ural tales was published "Girl Azovka".

Malachite Box

In the early 1930s, Soviet folklorists were given the task of collecting “collective farm-proletarian” folklore. However, the historian Vladimir Biryukov on Ural I couldn’t find working folklore for such a collection. Then Pavel Bazhov wrote three of his tales for him, claiming that he heard them in childhood from “grandfather Slyshko.” Subsequently, it turned out that the tales were invented by Bazhov. First edition "Malachite box" published in 1939 Sverdlovsk. And in 1943, the writer was awarded the Stalin Prize of the 2nd degree for this ore.

The writer spoke in unique language about the beauty of the Urals, about the countless riches of its depths, about powerful, proud, strong-willed artisans. The themes of the tales cover times from serfdom to the present day.

The tales have been translated into dozens of languages ​​of the world, but translators note their practical untranslatability tales of Bazhov, associated with two reasons - linguistic and cultural. In 2013 Ural tales of Bazhov included in the list of “100 books” recommended by the Ministry of Education and Science of the Russian Federation for schoolchildren for independent reading.

Bazhov House-Museum in Yekaterinburg

All works Pavel Bazhova written in the house on the corner Chapaev streets And Bolshakova(former Bishop's And Bolotnaya). Before this house was built Bazhov lived since 1906 in a small house, which is no longer preserved, on the same Bolotnaya street, near the corner.

House on Chapaeva street 11, the writer began building in 1911, and since 1914 the family Bazhovs lived in it before leaving for Kamyshlov. Here Pavel Bazhov returned in 1923 and lived here for the rest of his life.

The house has four rooms, a kitchen and a hallway leading to the writer’s office, which was also the elders’ bedroom Bazhovs. One side of the house faces the garden, where everything was planted by hand Bazhovs. Birch and linden trees, rowan and bird cherry trees, cherry and apple trees grow here. The writer’s favorite benches under the rowan tree and a table under the linden tree have been preserved. Next to the garden is a vegetable garden and outbuildings (a barn with a hayloft).

Death and grave of the writer

Pavel Petrovich died on December 3, 1950 in the Kremlin hospital from lung cancer. Bazhov I told my loved ones more than once: “There is no better than the Urals! I was born in the Urals, and I will die in the Urals!”. It so happened that he died in Moscow. But he was brought to Sverdlovsk and was buried in his hometown on a high hill, on the central alley. In 1961, a byd was installed there monument to Bazhov(sculptor A.F. Stepanova).

Author of the photo: Stanislav Mishchenko. The most visited place in the Ivanovo cemetery is the monument at the burial site of Pavel Bazhov. There are always a lot of people and forest squirrels here.

Ernst Neizvestny and the monument to Bazhov

Pavel Bazhov defended those who were attacked, did not allow them to be excluded from Writers' Union, including not giving offense to a children's writer Bellu Dijour- mother. Probably not by chance Ernst Neizvestny, who knew the writer since childhood, made a model monument to Bazhov.

Arriving one day in Sverdlovsk on vacation, after death Bazhova, Ernst Neizvestny I learned about a competition for a monument for the writer’s grave. I found out and did my job. Was the figurine made of plaster or plasticine? Bella Abramovna does not remember.

On the left is the work of Ernst Neizvestny, on the right is the existing monument (Photo reproduction by L. Baranov / 1723.ru)

Judge about figurine “P.P. Bazhov" Now you can only use a photograph. On a hill, either on an old stump, or on a stone, sits this thoughtful, wise old forest man with a not at all old face, with a pipe in his hand, with a book on his knees, in some long clothes. But despite all this external conventionality and romance, there is a striking portrait resemblance to the living author "Malachite box". A real magical storyteller!

Ural tales and tales of Bazhov

Total Pavel Petrovich Bazhov 56 tales were written. In lifetime publications Bazhova tales were published under different names: “mountain tales”, “stories”, “tales”. Originally the author of tales Bazhov called Khmelinina, but then removed his name from all draft entries.

Characters from P.P.’s tales Bazhov on postage stamps. Russia, 2004

Mistress of Copper Mountain

Two of our factory workers went to look at the grass.

And their mowing was far away. Somewhere behind Severushka.

It was a holiday day, and it was hot - passion. Parun is clean. And both of them were timid in grief, at Gumeshki, that is. Malachite ore was mined, as well as blue tit. Well, when a kinglet with a coil came in, there was a thread that would fit.

He was a single young guy, unmarried, and his eyes began to turn green. The other one is older. This one is completely ruined. There is green in the eyes, and the cheeks seem to have turned green. And the man kept coughing.

It's good in the forest. The birds sing and rejoice, the earth soars, the spirit is light. Listen, they were exhausted. We reached the Krasnogorsk mine. Iron ore was mined there back then. So our guys lay down on the grass under the rowan tree and immediately fell asleep. Only suddenly the young man, exactly who had pushed him in the side, woke up. He looks, and in front of him, on a pile of ore near a large stone, a woman is sitting. Her back is to the guy, and you can see from her braid that she’s a girl. The braid is gray-black and doesn’t dangle like our girls’, but sticks straight to the back. At the end of the tape are either red or green. They shine through and ring subtly, like sheet copper.

The guy marvels at the scythe, and then he notices further. The girl is small in stature, good looking and such a cool wheel - she won’t sit still. He will lean forward, look exactly under his feet, then lean back again, bend to one side, to the other. He jumps to his feet, waves his arms, then bends down again. In a word, artut girl. You can hear him babbling something, but in what way it’s unknown, and who he’s talking to is not visible. Just a laugh. Apparently she's having fun.

The guy was about to say a word, when suddenly he was hit on the back of the head.

“My mother, but this is the Mistress herself! Her clothes are something. How did I not notice it right away? She averted her eyes with her scythe.”

And the clothes are truly such that you won’t find anything else in the world. Made of silk, hear me, malachite dress. There is such a variety. It’s a stone, but it’s like silk to the eye, even if you stroke it with your hand.

“Here,” the guy thinks, “trouble! As soon as I could get away with it before I noticed.” From the old people, you see, he heard that this Mistress - a malachite girl - loves to play tricks on people.

Just when she thought something like that, she looked back. He looks at the guy cheerfully, bares his teeth and says jokingly:

“What, Stepan Petrovich, are you staring at the girl’s beauty for nothing?” After all, they take money for a look. Come closer. Let's talk a little.

The guy was scared, of course, but he didn’t show it. Attached. Even though she is a secret force, she is still a girl. Well, he’s a guy, which means he’s ashamed to be shy in front of a girl.

“I have no time,” he says, “to talk.” Without that we slept and went to look at the grass. She chuckles and then says:

- I'll play a tune for you. Go, I say, there’s something to do.

Well, the guy sees that there is nothing to do. I went to her, and she loomed with her hand, go around the ore on the other side. He walked around and saw that there were countless lizards here. And everything, listen, is different. Some, for example, are green, others are blue, which fade into blue, or like clay or sand with gold specks. Some, like glass or mica, shine, while others, like faded grass, and some are again decorated with patterns.

The girl laughs.

“Don’t part,” he says, “my army, Stepan Petrovich.” You are so big and heavy, but they are small for me.

And she clapped her palms together, the lizards ran away, and gave way.

So the guy came closer, stopped, and she clapped her hands again and said, all laughing:

- Now you have nowhere to step. If you crush my servant, there will be trouble.

He looked at his feet, and there wasn’t much ground there. All the lizards huddled together in one place, and the floor became patterned under their feet. Stepan looks - fathers, this is copper ore! All sorts and well polished. And there is mica, and blende, and all sorts of sparkles that look like malachite.

- Well, now you recognize me, Stepanushko? - asks the malachite girl, and she bursts into laughter.

Then, a little later, he says:

- Don't be scared. I won't do anything bad to you.

The guy felt miserable that the girl was mocking him and even saying such words. He became very angry and even shouted:

- Who should I be afraid of, if I am timid in grief!

“Okay,” answers the malachite girl. “That’s exactly what I need, someone who’s not afraid of anyone.” Tomorrow, as you descend the mountain, your factory clerk will be here, you tell him, but make sure you don’t forget the words:

“The owner of Copper Mountain ordered you, a stuffy goat, to get out of the Krasnogorsk mine. If you still break this iron cap of mine, I’ll dump all the copper in Gumeshki there for you, so there’s no way to get it.”

She said this and squinted:

- Do you understand, Stepanushko? In grief, you say, you are timid, you are not afraid of anyone? So tell the clerk as I told you, and now go and don’t say anything to the one who is with you. He is a frightened man, why bother him and involve him in this matter. And so she told the blue tit to help him a little.

And again she clapped her hands, and all the lizards ran away.

She also jumped to her feet, grabbed a stone with her hand, jumped up and, like a lizard, also ran along the stone. Instead of arms and legs, its paws were green, its tail stuck out, there was a black stripe halfway down its spine, and its head was human. She ran to the top, looked back and said:

- Don’t forget, Stepanushko, as I said. She told you, you stuffy goat, to get out of Krasnogorka. If you do it my way, I’ll marry you!

The guy even spat in the heat of the moment:

- Ugh, what trash! So that I marry a lizard.

And she sees him spitting and laughs.

“Okay,” he shouts, “we’ll talk later.” Maybe you'll think about it?

And immediately over the hill, only a green tail flashed.

The guy was left alone. The mine is quiet. You can only hear someone else snoring behind a pile of ore. Woke him up. They went to their mowing, looked at the grass, returned home in the evening, and Stepan had on his mind: what should he do? To say such words to the clerk is no small matter, but he was also, and it’s true, stuffy—there was some kind of rot in his gut, they say. Not to say, it’s also scary. She is the Mistress. What kind of ore can he throw into the blende? Then do your homework. And worse than that, it’s a shame to show yourself off as a braggart in front of a girl.

I thought and thought and laughed:

“I wasn’t, I’ll do as she ordered.”

The next morning, as people gathered around the trigger drum, the factory clerk came up. Everyone, of course, took off their hats, remained silent, and Stepan came up and said:

I saw the Mistress of the Copper Mountain last night, and she ordered me to tell you. She tells you, the stuffy goat, to get out of Krasnogorka. If you argue with her about this iron cap, she will dump all the copper on Gumeshki there, so that no one can get it.

The clerk even began to shake his mustache.

- What are you doing? Drunk or crazy? What kind of mistress? Who are you saying these words to? Yes, I will rot you in grief!

“Your will,” says Stepan, “and that’s the only way I was told.”

“Whip him,” shouts the clerk, “and take him down the mountain and chain him in the face!” And so as not to die, give him dog oatmeal and ask for lessons without any concessions. Just a little bit - tear mercilessly.

Well, of course, they flogged the guy and went up the hill. The mine overseer, also not the least dog, took him to the slaughter - it couldn’t be worse. It’s wet here, and there’s no good ore, I should have given up long ago. Here they chained Stepan to a long chain, so that he could work. It is known what time it was - the fortress. They made fun of the person in every possible way. The warden also says:

- Cool off here for a bit. And the lesson will cost you so much pure malachite,” and he assigned it completely incongruously.

Nothing to do. As soon as the warden left, Stepan began waving his stick, but the guy was still agile. He looks - okay. This is how malachite falls, no matter who throws it with their hands. And the water left somewhere from the face. It became dry.

“That’s good,” he thinks. Apparently the Mistress remembered me.”

I was just thinking, and suddenly there was a light. He looks, and the Mistress is here, in front of him.

“Well done,” he says, “Stepan Petrovich.” You can attribute it to honor. Not afraid of the stuffy goat. Well told him. Let's go, apparently, to look at my dowry. I also don’t go back on my word.

And she frowned, it just didn’t feel good for her. She clapped her hands, the lizards came running, the chain was removed from Stepan, and the Mistress gave them the order:

- Break the lesson here in half. And so that the selection of malachite is of the silk variety.

“Then he says to Stepan: “Well, groom, let’s go look at my dowry.”

And so let's go. She is in front, Stepan is behind her. Where she goes, everything is open to her. How large the rooms became underground, but their walls were different. Either all green, or yellow with gold specks. Which again have copper flowers. There are also blue ones and azure ones. In a word, it is decorated, which cannot be said. And the dress on her—on the Mistress—changes. One minute it shines like glass, then suddenly it fades, or else it sparkles like a diamond scree, or turns reddish like copper, then again shimmers like green silk. They're going, they're coming, she stopped.

And Stepan sees a huge room, and in it there are beds, tables, stools - everything is made of king copper. The walls are malachite with diamond, and the ceiling is dark red under blackening, and there are copper flowers on it.

“Let’s sit,” he says, “here, and talk.”

They sat down on stools, and the malachite girl asked:

-Have you seen my dowry?

“I saw it,” says Stepan.

- Well, how about marriage now?

But Stepan doesn’t know how to answer. Listen, he had a fiancée. A good girl, an orphan alone. Well, of course, compared to malachite, how can she compare in beauty! A simple person, an ordinary person. Stepan hesitated and hesitated, and then said:

“Your dowry is fit for a king, but I am a working man, a simple one.”

“You,” he says, “are a dear friend, don’t wobble.” Tell me straight, are you marrying me or not? - And she herself completely frowned.

Well, Stepan answered directly:

- I can’t, because another one was promised.

He said so and thinks: he’s on fire now. And she seemed happy.

“Younger,” says Stepanushko. I praised you for being a clerk, and for this I will praise you twice as much. You didn’t get enough of my wealth, you didn’t exchange your Nastenka for a stone girl. - And the guy’s fiancee’s name was Nastya. “Here,” he says, “is a gift for your bride,” and hands over a large malachite box.

And there, listen, every woman’s device. Earrings, rings and other things that not even every rich bride has.

“How,” asks the guy, “will I get up to the top with this place?”

- Don't be sad about it. Everything will be arranged, and I will free you from the clerk, and you will live comfortably with your young wife, but here’s my story for you - don’t think about me later. This will be my third test for you. Now let's eat a little.

She clapped her hands again, the lizards came running - the table was set full. She fed him good cabbage soup, fish pie, lamb, porridge and other things that are required according to the Russian rite. Then he says:

- Well, goodbye, Stepan Petrovich, don’t think about me. - And there are tears right there. She put her hand up, and the tears drip-drop and freeze on her hand like grains. Just a handful. - Here you go, take it for a living. People give a lot of money for these stones. You will be rich,” and he gives it to him.

The stones are cold, but the hand, listen, is hot, as if it were alive, and shakes a little.

Stepan accepted the stones, bowed low and asked:

-Where should I go? - And he himself also became gloomy. She pointed with her finger, and a passage opened in front of him, like an adit, and it was light in it, like during the day. Stepan walked along this adit - again he saw enough of all the land riches and came just to his slaughter. He arrived, the adit closed, and everything became as before. The lizard came running, put a chain on his leg, and the box with gifts suddenly became small, Stepan hid it in his bosom. Soon the mine overseer approached. He was ready to laugh, but he sees that Stepan has a lot of tricks on top of the lesson, and malachite is a selection, a variety of varieties. “What do you think this thing is? Where does it come from?" He climbed into the face, looked at everything and said:

- In this face, anyone will break as much as they like. - And he took Stepan to another pit, and put his nephew in this one.

The next day, Stepan began to work, and the malachite just flew off, and even the wren began to fall with a coil, and with his nephew, pray tell, there is nothing good, everything is just a shambles and a snag. It was then that the warden took notice of the matter. He ran to the clerk. Anyway.

“No other way,” he says, “Stepan sold his soul to evil spirits.”

The clerk says to this:

“It’s his business to whom he sold his soul, but we need to get our own benefit.” Promise him that we will release him into the wild, just let him find a malachite block worth a hundred pounds.

The clerk nevertheless ordered Stepan to be unchained and gave the following order: to stop work on Krasnogorka.

“Who,” he says, “knows him?” Maybe this fool was talking out of his mind then. And the ore and copper went there, but the cast iron was damaged.

The warden announced to Stepan what was required of him, and he replied:

- Who would refuse freedom? I’ll try, but if I find it, that’s my happiness.

Stepan soon found them such a block. They dragged her upstairs. They’re proud, that’s what we are, but they didn’t give Stepan any freedom.

They wrote to the master about the block, and he came from, hey, Sam-Petersburg. He found out how it happened and calls Stepan over.

“That’s what,” he says, “I give you my noble word to set you free if you find me such malachite stones that, that means, I can cut out pillars from them that are at least five fathoms long.”

Stepan answers:

“I’ve already been spun around.” I am not a scientist. First, write freely, then I will try, and we’ll see what comes out.

The master, of course, screamed, stamped his feet, and Stepan said one thing:

- I almost forgot - register my bride’s freedom too, but what kind of order is this - I myself will be free, and my wife will be in the fortress.

The master sees that the guy is not soft. I wrote him a document.

“Here,” he says, “just try, look.”

And Stepan is all his:

- It’s like looking for happiness.

Of course, Stepan found it. What does he need if he knew the whole inside of the mountain and the Mistress herself helped him. They cut out the pillars they needed from this malachite, dragged them upstairs, and the master sent them to the butt of the most important church in Sam-Petersburg. And the block that Stepan first found is still in our city, they say. How rare it is to take care of it.

From that time on, Stepan was released, and after that all the wealth in Gumeshki disappeared. There are a lot of blue tits coming, but more of them are snags. It became unheard of to hear about the bead with a coil, and the malachite left, and water began to be added. So from that time on, Gumeshki began to decline, and then it was completely flooded. They said that it was the Mistress who was on fire for the pillars that were placed in the church. And she doesn’t need it at all.

Stepan also had no happiness in his life. He got married, started a family, furnished the house, everything was as it should be. He should have lived smoothly and been happy, but he became gloomy and deteriorated in health. So it melted before our eyes.

The sick man came up with the idea of ​​getting a shotgun and got into the habit of hunting. And yet, hey, he goes to the Krasnogorsk mine, but doesn’t bring the spoils home. In the autumn he left and that was the end. Now he’s gone, now he’s gone... Where did he go? They shot it down, of course, people, let's look for it. And hey, hey, he’s lying dead in the mine next to a high stone, he’s smiling evenly, and his little gun is lying to the side, unfired. The people who were the first to come running said that they saw a green lizard near the dead man, and such a big one, the likes of which had never been seen in our area. It’s as if she’s sitting over a dead man, with her head raised, and her tears just falling. As people ran closer, she was on the stone, and that was all they saw. And when they brought the dead man home and began to wash him, they looked: he had one hand tightly clasped, and green grains were barely visible from it. Just a handful. Then one person who knew happened, looked at the grains from the side and said:

- But it’s a copper emerald! A rare stone, dear. There is a whole wealth left for you, Nastasya. Where did he get these stones from?

Nastasya, his wife, explains that the dead man never spoke about any such stones. I gave her the box when I was still a fiance. A large box, malachite. There is a lot of goodness in her, but there are no such stones. I haven't seen it.

They began to take those stones out of Stepan’s dead hand, and they crumbled into dust. They never found out at that time where Stepan got them from. Then we dug around Krasnogorka. Well, ore and ore, brown with a copper sheen. Then someone found out that it was Stepan who had the tears of the Mistress of the Copper Mountain. He didn’t sell them to anyone, hey, he kept them secretly from his own people, and he died with them. A?

This means what a Mistress of the Copper Mountain she is!

For the bad to meet her is grief, and for the good it is little joy.

Malachite Box

Nastasya, Stepanova's widow, still has a malachite box. With every feminine device. There are rings, earrings and other things according to women's rites. The Mistress of the Copper Mountain herself gave Stepan this box when he was still planning to get married.

Nastasya grew up as an orphan, she was not used to this kind of wealth, and she was not much of a fan of fashion. From the first years I lived with Stepan, I wore it, of course, from this box. It just didn't suit her. He’ll put the ring on... It fits exactly right, it doesn’t pinch, it doesn’t roll off, but when he goes to church or on a visit somewhere, he gets dirty. Like a chained finger, in the end it will turn blue. He'll hang his earrings - worse than that. It will tighten your ears so much that your lobes will swell. And to take it on your hand is no heavier than those that Nastasya always carried. Busks in six or seven rows only tried them on once. It’s like ice around your neck, and they don’t warm up at all. She didn’t show those beads to people at all. It was a shame.

- Look, they’ll say what a queen they’ve found in Polevoy!

Stepan also did not force his wife to carry from this box. Once he even said:

Nastasya put the box in the very bottom chest, where canvases and other things are kept in reserve.

When Stepan died and the stones ended up in his dead hand, Nastasya had to show that box to strangers. And the one who knows, who told about Stepanov’s stones, says to Nastasya later, when the people have subsided:

- Just be careful not to waste this box for nothing. It costs more than thousands.

He, this man, was a scientist, also a free man. Previously, he wore smart clothes, but he was suspended; It weakens the people. Well, he didn’t disdain wine. He was also a good tavern plug, so be remembered, the little head is dead. And he is correct in everything. Write a request, wash off a sample, look at the signs - he did everything according to his conscience, not like others, just to rip off half a pint. Anyone and everyone will bring a glass to him as a festive occasion. So he lived at our factory until his death. He ate around the people.

Nastasya heard from her husband that this dandy is correct and smart in business, even though he has a passion for wine. Well, I listened to him.

“Okay,” he says, “I’ll save it for a rainy day.” — And she put the box in its old place.

They buried Stepan, the Sorochins saluted with honor. Nastasya is a woman in the juice, and with wealth, they began to get close to her. And she, a smart woman, tells everyone one thing:

“Even though we’re second in gold, we’re still stepfathers to all the timid kids.”

Well, we are behind in time.

Stepan left good provision for his family. A clean house, a horse, a cow, complete furnishings. Nastasya is a hard-working woman, the kids are timid, they don’t live very well. They live for a year, they live for two, they live for three. Well, they got poor after all. How can one woman with young children manage a household? You also have to get a penny somewhere. At least some salt. Relatives are here and let Nastasya sing in her ears:

- Sell the box! What do you need it for? What good is there to lie in vain! Everything is one and Tanya won’t wear it when she grows up. There are some things over there! Only bars and merchants can buy. With our belt you won’t be able to wear an eco-friendly seat. And people would give money. Distributions for you.

In a word, they are slandering. And the buyer swooped in like a raven on a bone. All from merchants. Some give a hundred rubles, some give two hundred.

- We feel sorry for your children, we make a descent into widowhood.

Well, they're trying to fool a woman, but they hit the wrong one.

Nastasya remembered well what the old dandy told her, he wouldn’t sell it for such a trifle. It's also a pity. After all, it was a groom’s gift, a husband’s memory. And what’s more, her youngest girl burst into tears and asked:

- Mommy, don’t sell it! Mommy, don't sell it! It’s better for me to go among the people and save my dad’s memo.

From Stepan, you see, there are only three little kids left. Two boys. They are timid, but this one, as they say, is neither like mother nor father. Even when Stepanova was a little girl, people marveled at this little girl. Not just the girls and women, but also the men said to Stepan:

- This one must have fallen out of your hands, Stepan. Who has just been born! She herself is black and small, and her eyes are green. It’s like she doesn’t look like our girls at all.

Stepan used to joke:

“It’s no surprise that she’s black.” My father hid in the ground from an early age. And that the eyes are green is also not surprising. You never know, I stuffed master Turchaninov with malachite. This is the reminder I still have.

So I called this girl Memo. - Come on, my reminder! “And when she happened to buy something, she would always bring something blue or green.”

So that little girl grew up in people’s minds. Exactly and in fact, the horsetail fell out of the festive belt - it can be seen far away. And although she was not very fond of strangers, everyone was Tanyushka and Tanyushka. The most envious grandmothers admired it. Well, what a beauty! Everyone's nice. One mother sighed:

- Beauty is beauty, but not ours. Exactly who replaced the girl for me

According to Stepan, this girl was killing herself. She was all clean, her face lost weight, only her eyes remained. Mother came up with the idea to give Tanya that malachite box - let him have some fun. Even if she’s small, she’s still a girl—from a young age, it’s flattering for them to make fun of themselves. Tanya started taking these things apart. And it’s a miracle - the one he tries on, he fits it too. Mother didn’t even know why, but this one knows everything. And he also says:

- Mommy, what a good gift my dad gave! The warmth from it, as if you were sitting on a warm bed, and someone was stroking you softly.

Nastasya sewed the patches herself; she remembers how her fingers would become numb, her ears would hurt, and her neck could not get warm. So he thinks: “This is not without reason. Oh, for good reason!” - Hurry up and put the box back in the chest. Only Tanya from then on, no, no, will ask:

- Mommy, let me play with my dad’s gift!

When Nastasya gets strict, well, like a mother’s heart, she will take pity, take out the box, and only punish:

- Don’t break anything!

Then, when Tanya grew up, she began to take out the box herself. The mother and the older boys will go to mowing or somewhere else, Tanya will stay behind to do housework. First, of course, he will manage that the mother punished him. Well, wash the cups and spoons, shake off the tablecloth, wave a broom in the hut, give food to the chickens, look at the stove. He’ll get everything done as quickly as possible, and for the sake of the box. By that time, only one of the upper chests remained, and even that one had become light. Tanya slides it onto a stool, takes out the box and sorts through the stones, admires it, and tries it on for herself.

Once upon a time a hitnik climbed up to her. Either he buried himself in the fence early in the morning, or then slipped through unnoticed, but none of the neighbors saw him pass along the street. He’s an unknown man, but apparently someone brought him up to speed, explained the whole procedure.

After Nastasya left, Tanyushka ran around doing a lot of housework and climbed into the hut to play with her father’s pebbles. She put on the headband and hung the earrings. At this time, this hitnik puffed into the hut. Tanya looked around - there was an unfamiliar man on the threshold, with an axe. And the ax is theirs. In the senki, in the corner he stood. Just now Tanya was rearranging him, as if in chalk. Tanya was frightened, she sat frozen, and the man jumped, dropped the ax and grabbed his eyes with both hands, as they burned. Moans and screams:

- Oh, fathers, I'm blind! Oh, blind! - and he rubs his eyes.

Tanya sees that something is wrong with the man and begins to ask:

- How did you come to us, uncle, why did you take the ax?

And he, you know, groans and rubs his eyes. Tanya took pity on him - she scooped up a ladle of water and wanted to serve it, but the man just shied away with his back to the door.

- Oh, don't come closer! “So I sat in the senki and blocked the doors so that Tanya wouldn’t inadvertently jump out.” Yes, she found a way - she ran out through the window and to her neighbors. Well, here we come. They began to ask what kind of person, in what case? He blinked a little and explained that the person passing by wanted to ask for a favor, but something happened to his eyes.

- Like the sun hit. I thought I would go completely blind. From the heat, perhaps.

Tanya didn’t tell her neighbors about the ax and the stones. They think:

“It’s a waste of time. Maybe she herself forgot to lock the gate, so a passer-by came in, and then something happened to him. You never know"

Still, they didn’t let the passerby go until Nastasya. When she and her sons arrived, this man told her what he had told his neighbors. Nastasya sees that everything is safe, she didn’t get involved. That man left, and so did the neighbors.

Then Tanya told her mother how it happened. Then Nastasya realized that he had come for the box, but apparently it was not easy to take it.

And she thinks:

“We still need to protect her more tightly.”

She took it quietly from Tanya and the others and buried that box in the golbets.

All the family left again. Tanya missed the box, but there was one. It seemed bitter to Tanya, but then suddenly she felt a warmth. What is this thing? Where? I looked around, and there was light coming from under the floor. Tanya was scared - was it a fire? I looked into the golbets, there was light in one corner. She grabbed a bucket and wanted to splash it, but there was no fire and there was no smell of smoke. She dug around in that place and saw a box. I opened it, and the stones became even more beautiful. So they burn with different lights, and the light from them is like in the sun. Tanya didn’t even drag the box into the hut. Here in the golbtse I played my fill.

This is how it has been since then. The mother thinks: “Well, she hid it well, no one knows,” and the daughter, like housekeeping, snatches an hour to play with her father’s expensive gift. Nastasya didn’t even let her family know about the sale.

— If it fits around the world, then I’ll sell it.

Even though it was tough for her, she strengthened herself. So they struggled for a few more years, then things got better. The older boys began to earn little, and Tanya did not sit idle. Listen, she learned how to sew with silks and beads. And so I learned that the best master craftswomen clapped their hands - where does she get the patterns, where does she get the silk?

And it also happened by chance. A woman comes to them. She was short, dark-haired, about Nastasya’s age, and sharp-eyed, and, apparently, she was sneaking around so hard that you just had to hold on. On the back there is a canvas bag, in the hand there is a bird cherry bag, it looks like a wanderer. Asks Nastasya:

“Can’t you, mistress, have a day or two to rest?” They don’t carry their legs, and they can’t walk close.

At first Nastasya wondered if she had been sent for the box again, but then she finally let her go.

- There is no space for space. If you don’t lie there, go and take it with you. Only our piece is an orphan. In the morning - onion with kvass, in the evening - kvass with onions, that's it. You are not afraid of becoming thin, so you are welcome to live as long as you need to.

And the wanderer has already put her bag down, put her knapsack on the stove and takes off her shoes. Nastasya didn’t like this, but kept silent.

“Look, you ignorant one! I didn’t have time to greet her, but she finally took off her shoes and untied her knapsack.”

The woman, sure enough, unbuttoned her purse and beckoned Tanya to her with her finger:

“Come on, child, look at my handiwork.” If he takes a look, I’ll teach you... Apparently, you’ll have a keen eye for this!

Tanya came up, and the woman handed her a small fly, the ends embroidered with silk. And such and such, hey, a hot pattern on that fly that just became lighter and warmer in the hut.

Tanya's eyes glared, and the woman chuckled.

- Did you look at my handicrafts, daughter? Do you want me to learn it?

“I want to,” he says.

Nastasya got so angry:

- And forget to think! There’s nothing to buy salt with, but you came up with the idea of ​​sewing with silks! Supplies, go figure, cost money.

“Don’t worry about that, mistress,” says the wanderer. “If my daughter has an idea, she will have supplies.” I’ll leave her the bread and salt for yours—it’ll last for a long time. And then you will see for yourself. They pay money for our skill. We don’t give away our work for nothing. We have a piece.

Here Nastasya had to give in.

“If you spare enough supplies, you won’t learn anything.” Let him learn as long as the concept is enough. I'll thank you.

This woman started teaching Tanya. Tanya quickly took over everything, as if she knew it before. Yes, here's another thing. Tanya was not only unkind to strangers, but to her own people, but she just clings to this woman and clings to her. Nastasya looked askance:

“I found myself a new family. She won’t approach her mother, but she’s stuck to a tramp!”

And she still teases her, keeps calling Tanya “child” and “daughter”, but never mentions her baptized name. Tanya sees that her mother is offended, but cannot restrain herself. Before that, hey, I trusted this woman because I told her about the box!

“We have,” he says, “we have my father’s dear memento—a malachite box.” That's where the stones are! I could look at them forever.

- Will you show me, daughter? - asks the woman.

Tanya didn’t even think that something was wrong.

“I’ll show you,” he says, “when none of the family is home.”

After such an hour, Tanyushka turned around and called that woman to the cabbage. Tanya took out the box and showed it, and the woman looked at it a little and said:

“Put it on yourself and you’ll see better.”

Well, Tanya, - not the right word - began to put it on, and you know, she praises:

- Okay, daughter, okay! It just needs to be corrected a little.

She came closer and started poking the stones with her finger. The one that touches will light up differently. Tanya can see other things, but not others. After this the woman says:

- Stand up, daughter, straight up.

Tanya stood up, and the woman began to slowly stroke her hair and her back. She stroked Veya, and she herself instructs:

“I’ll make you turn around, so don’t look back at me.” Look ahead, note what will happen, and don’t say anything. Well, turn around!

Tanya turned around - in front of her was a room the likes of which she had never seen. It's not the church, it's not like that. The ceilings are high on pillars made of pure malachite. The walls are also lined with malachite the height of a man, and a malachite pattern runs along the upper cornice. Standing right in front of Tanya, as if in the mirror, is a beauty the likes of which they only talk about in fairy tales. Her hair is like night and her eyes are green. And she is all decorated with expensive stones, and her dress is made of green velvet with iridescence. And so this dress is made, just like the queens in the paintings. What does it hold on to? Out of shame, our factory workers would burn to death to wear something like that in public, but this green-eyed girl stands calmly, as if that’s the way it should be. There are a lot of people in that room. They are dressed like a lord, and everyone is wearing gold and merit. Some have it hung on the front, some have it sewn on the back, and some have it on all sides. Apparently, the highest authorities. And their women are right there. Also bare-armed, bare-breasted, hung with stones. But where do they care about the green-eyed one! None hold a candle.

In a row with the green-eyed one is some kind of fair-haired guy. Eyes slanted, ears stumpy, like eating a hare. And the clothes he’s wearing are mind-boggling. This one didn’t think the gold was enough, so he, listen, put stones on his weapon. Yes, so strong that maybe in ten years they will find one like him. You can immediately see that this is a breeder. That green-eyed hare is babbling, but she at least raised an eyebrow, as if he were not there at all.

Tanya looks at this lady, marvels at her, and only then notices:

- After all, there are stones on it! - Tanya said, and nothing happened.

And the woman chuckles:

- I didn’t notice, daughter! Don't worry, you'll see in time.

Tanya, of course, asks - where is this room?

“And this,” he says, “is the royal palace.” The same tent that is decorated with local malachite. Your late father mined it.

- Who is this in her dad’s headdress and what kind of hare is she with?

- Well, I won’t say that, you’ll find out for yourself soon.

The same day Nastasya came home, this woman began to get ready for the journey. She bowed low to the hostess, handed Tanya a bundle of silks and beads, then took out a small button. Either it’s made of glass, or it’s made of dope with a simple edge,

He gives it to Tanya and says:

- Accept, daughter, a reminder from me. Whenever you forget something at work or a difficult situation comes up, look at this button. Here you will have the answer.

She said so and left. They only saw her.

From that time on, Tanya became a craftswoman, and as she grew older, she looked like a bride. The factory guys have calloused their eyes about Nastasya’s windows, and they are afraid to approach Tanya. You see, she’s unkind, gloomy, and where would a free woman marry a serf? Who wants to put on a noose?

In the manor's house they also inquired about Tanya because of her skill. They began to send people to her. A younger and nicer footman will be dressed like a gentleman, given a watch with a chain and sent to Tanya, as if on some business. They wonder if the girl will have an eye on this fellow. Then you can turn it back. It still didn't make any sense. Tanya will say that it’s on business, and other conversations of that lackey will be ignored. If he gets bored, he will make some mockery:

- Go, my dear, go! They're waiting. They're afraid that your watch might wear out and your grip might loosen. See, without the habit, how you call them.

Well, these words are like boiling water for a dog to a footman or other servant of the lord. He runs as if scalded, snorting to himself:

- Is this a girl? Stone statue, green-eyed! Will we find one!

He snorts like that, but he himself is overwhelmed. The one who will be sent cannot forget Tanyushka’s beauty. Like someone who is bewitched, he is drawn to that place - even to pass by, to look out the window. On holidays, almost all the factory bachelors have business on that street. The path has been paved right by the windows, but Tanya doesn’t even look.

The neighbors began to reproach Nastasya:

- Why is Tatyana acting so highly on you? She doesn’t have girlfriends and doesn’t want to look at guys. The Tsarevich-Krolevich is waiting for Christ's bride, is everything going well?

Nastasya just sighs at these submissions:

- Oh, ladies, I don’t even know. And so I had a wise girl, and this passing witch completely tormented her. You start talking to her, and she stares at her magic button and remains silent. She should have thrown away that damned button, but in fact it’s good for her. How to change the silk or something, it looks like a button. She told me too, but apparently my eyes have become dull, I can’t see. I would beat the girl, yes, you see, she’s a gold digger among us. Consider, it is only her work that we live. I think, I think, and I’ll roar. Well, then she will say: “Mommy, I know that there is no destiny for me here. I don’t greet anyone and don’t go to games. What's the point of driving people into depression? And while I’m sitting under the window, my work requires it. Why are you coming at me? What bad thing have I done? So answer her!

Well, life started to go well after all. Tanya’s handicraft has become fashionable. It’s not like in the al factory in our city, they learned about it in other places, they send orders and pay a lot of money. A good man can earn so much money. Only then did trouble befall them - a fire broke out. And it happened at night. The drive, the delivery, the horse, the cow, all kinds of gear - everything was burned. They were left with nothing but what they jumped out in. However, Nastasya snatched the box in time. The next day he says:

“Apparently, the end has come—we’ll have to sell the box.”

- Sell it, mommy. Just don't sell it short.

Tanya glanced furtively at the button, and there the green-eyed one loomed - let them sell it. Tanya felt bitter, but what can you do? All the same, this green-eyed girl’s father’s memo will go away. She sighed and said:

- Sell like that. “And I didn’t even look at those stones goodbye.” And that’s to say - they took shelter with the neighbors, where to lay out here.

They came up with this idea - to sell it, but the merchants were right there. Who, perhaps, set up the arson himself in order to take possession of the box. Also, the little people are like nails, they’ll get scratched! They see that the kids have grown up and give more. Five hundred there, seven hundred, one reached a thousand. There's a lot of money in the plant, you can use it to get some. Well, Nastasya still asked for two thousand. So they go to her and dress up. They throw it on little by little, but they hide from each other, they cannot come to an agreement among themselves. Look, a piece of this - no one wants to give up. While they were walking like this, a new clerk arrived at Polevaya.

When they - clerks - sit for a long time, and in those years they had some kind of transfer. The stuffy goat that was with Stepan was dismissed by the old gentleman on Krylatovskoe for the stench. Then there was Fried Butt. The workers put him on a blank. Here Severyan the Killer stepped in. This again the Mistress of the Copper Mountain threw into the empty rock. There were two or three more there, and then this one arrived.

They say he was from foreign lands, he seemed to speak all sorts of languages, but worse in Russian. He simply said one thing - flog. From above, with a stretch - a couple. No matter what shortage they talk to him about, one thing screams: paro! They called him Parotey.

In fact, this Parotya was not very thin. Although he shouted, he didn’t rush people to the fire department. The local scoundrels didn't even care. The people sighed a little at this Parot.

Here, you see, there’s something wrong. By that time the old master had become completely frail, he could barely move his legs. He came up with the idea of ​​marrying his son to some countess or something. Well, this young master had a mistress, and he had great affection for her. How should things be? It's still awkward. What will the new matchmakers say? So the old master began to persuade that woman—his son’s mistress—to marry the musician. This musician served with the master. He taught the little boys, through music, foreign conversation, as it was conducted according to their position.

“How can you,” he says, “live on bad fame, get married?” I’ll give you a dowry and send your husband as a clerk to Polevaya. The matter is directed there, just let the people be stricter. That's enough, I guess it's no use even if you're a musician. And you will live better than the best with him in Polevoy. The first person, one might say, will be. Honor to you, respect from everyone. What's bad?

The butterfly turned out to be a conspiracy. Either she was in a quarrel with the young master, or she was playing tricks.

“For a long time,” he says, “I had a dream about this, but to say that I didn’t dare.”

Well, the musician, of course, was reluctant at first:

“I don’t want to,” she has a very bad reputation, like a slut.

Only the master is a cunning old man. No wonder he built factories. He quickly ruined this musician. He intimidated them with something, or flattered them, or gave them something to drink - that was their business, but soon the wedding was celebrated, and the newlyweds went to Polevaya. So Parotya appeared in our plant. He only lived for a short time, and so - what can I say in vain - he is not a harmful person. Then, when one and a half Khari took over from his factory workers, they felt so sorry for even this Parotya.

Parotya arrived with his wife just at the time when the merchants were courting Nastasya. Baba Parotina was also prominent. White and ruddy - in a word, a lover. Probably the master wouldn't have taken it. I guess I chose it too! This Parotin’s wife heard that the box was being sold. “Let me see,” he thinks, “I’ll see if it’s really worthwhile.” She quickly got dressed and rolled up to Nastasya. Factory horses are always ready for them!

“Well,” he says, “dear, show me what kind of stones you sell?”

Nastasya took out the box and showed it. Baba Parotina’s eyes began to dart. Listen, she was brought up in Sam-Petersburg, she had been to various foreign countries with the young master, she had a lot of sense in these outfits. “What is this,” he thinks, “this? The queen herself doesn’t have such decorations, but here it is, in Polevoy, among the fire victims! As if the purchase didn’t fall through.”

“How much,” he asks, “are you asking?”

Nastasya says:

“I’d like to take two thousand.”

- Well, honey, get ready! Let's go to me with the box. There you will get the money in full.

Nastasya, however, did not give in to this.

“We,” he says, “don’t have such a custom that bread follows the belly.” If you bring the money, the box is yours.

The lady sees what a woman she is, she’s eagerly running after the money, and she punishes:

- Don’t sell the box, honey.

Nastasya answers:

- It's in hope. I won’t go back on my word. I’ll wait until evening, and then it’s my will.

Parotin’s wife left, and the merchants all came running at once. They were watching, you see. They ask:

- Well, how?

“I sold it,” Nastasya answers.

- For how long?

- For two, as prescribed.

“What are you doing,” they shout, “have you made up your mind or what?” You give it into the hands of others, but deny it to your own! - And let's raise the price.

Well, Nastasya didn’t take the bait.

“This,” he says, “is something you’re accustomed to spinning around in words, but I haven’t had the chance.” I reassured the woman and the conversation was over!

Parotina's woman turned around very quickly. She brought the money, passed it from hand to hand, picked up the box and went home. Just on the threshold, and Tanya is coming towards you. She, you see, went somewhere, and all this sale happened without her. He sees some lady with a box. Tanya stared at her - they say, she’s not the one she saw then. And Parotin’s wife stared even more than that.

- What kind of obsession? Whose is this? - asks.

“People call me daughter,” Nastasya answers. “The very same one is the heir to the box you bought.” I wouldn’t sell it if the end didn’t come. From a young age I loved to play with these dresses. He plays and praises them - they make them feel warm and good. What can we say about this! What fell in the cart is gone!

“It’s wrong, dear, you think so,” says Baba Parotina. “I’ll find a place for these stones.” “And he thinks to himself: “It’s good that this green-eyed one doesn’t feel her strength. If someone like this showed up in Sam-Petersburg, she would turn the kings around. It’s necessary - my fool Turchaninov didn’t see her.”

With that we parted ways.

Parotya’s wife, when she arrived home, boasted:

- Now, dear friend, I’m not forced by you or the Turchaninovs. Just a moment - goodbye! I’ll go to Sam-Petersburg or, better yet, abroad, sell the box and buy two dozen men like you, if the need arises.

She boasted, but she still wants to show off her new purchase. Well, what a woman! She ran to the mirror and first of all attached the headband. - Oh, oh, what is it! - I have no patience - he twists and pulls his hair. I barely got out. And he’s itching. I put on the earrings and almost tore the earlobes. She put her finger in the ring - it was chained, she could barely pull it off with soap. The husband chuckles: this is obviously not the way to wear it!

And she thinks: “What is this thing? We need to go to the city and show it to the master. He’ll fit it just right, as long as he doesn’t replace the stones.”

No sooner said than done. The next day she drove off in the morning. It's not far from the factory troika. I found out who the most reliable master is - and went to him. The master is very old, but he is good at his work. He looked at the box and asked who it was bought from. The lady said that she knew. The master looked at the box again, but did not look at the stones.

“I won’t take it,” he says, “let’s do whatever you want.” This is not the work of the masters here. We can't compete with them.

The lady, of course, did not understand what the squiggle was, she snorted and ran to the other masters. Only everyone agreed: they will look at the box, admire it, but they don’t look at the stones and flatly refuse to work. The lady then resorted to tricks and said that she brought this box from Sam-Petersburg. They did everything there. Well, the master for whom she wove this just laughed.

“I know,” he says, “where the box was made, and I’ve heard a lot about the master.” All of us can't compete with him. The master fits one for one, it won’t suit another, whatever you want to do.

The lady didn’t understand everything here either, all she understood was that something was wrong, the masters were afraid of someone. I remembered that the old housewife said that her daughter loved to put these dresses on herself.

“Wasn’t it the green-eyed one they were chasing after? What a problem!”

Then he translates again in his mind:

“What do I care! I’ll sell it to any rich fool. Let him toil, and I’ll have the money!” With this I left for Polevaya.

I arrived, and there was news: we received the news - the old master ordered us to live long. He pulled a trick on Paroteya, but death outwitted him - it took him and hit him. He never managed to get his son married, and now he has become the complete master. After a short time, Parotin’s wife received a letter. So and so, my dear, I’ll come along the spring water to show myself at the factories and take you away, and we’ll caulk your musician somewhere. Parotya somehow found out about this and started a fuss. It's a shame, you see, for him in front of the people. After all, he’s a clerk, and then look, his wife is taken away. I started drinking heavily. With employees, of course. They are happy to try for nothing. That's when we feasted. One of these drinkers and boast:

“A beauty grew up in our factory; you won’t soon find another like it.”

Parotya asks:

-Whose is this? Where does he live?

Well, they told him and mentioned the box - it was from this family that your wife bought the box. Parotya says:

“I’ll have a look,” but the drinkers found something to do.

“At least let’s go now and find out if they built the new hut okay.” The family may be free, but they live on factory land. If something happens, you can press it.

Two or three went with this Parotei. They brought the chain, let’s measure it to see if Nastasya had stabbed herself in someone else’s estate, if the tops were coming out between the pillars. They are looking for, in a word. Then they go into the hut, and Tanya was just alone. Parotya looked at her and was lost for words. Well, I have never seen such beauty in any land. He stands there like a fool, and she sits there, keeping quiet, as if it’s none of her business. Then Parotya walked away a little and began asking;

- What are you doing?

Tanya says:

“I sew to order,” and she showed me her work.

“Can I place an order,” says Parotya?

- Why not, if we agree on the price.

“Can you,” Parotya asks again, “embroider my pattern with silk?”

Tanya slowly looked at the button, and there the green-eyed woman gave her a sign - take the order! - and points a finger at himself. Tanya answers:

“I won’t give my own pattern, but I have a woman in mind, wearing expensive stones and wearing a queen’s dress, I can embroider this one.” But such work will not be cheap.

“Don’t worry about this,” he says, “I’ll pay at least a hundred, even two hundred rubles, as long as there is a resemblance to you.”

“In the face,” he answers, “there will be similarities, but the clothes are different.”

We got dressed for a hundred rubles. Tanya set a deadline - in a month. Only Parotya, no, no, will run in as if to find out about the order, but he himself has the wrong thing in mind. He’s also frowned upon, but Tanya doesn’t notice at all. He will say two or three words, and that’s the whole conversation. Parotin’s drinkers began to laugh at him:

- It won’t break off here. You shouldn't be shaking your boots!

Well, Tanya embroidered that pattern. Parotya looks - wow, my God! But that’s what she is, adorned with clothes and stones. Of course, he gives me three hundred-dollar tickets, but Tanya didn’t take two.

“We’re not used to accepting gifts,” he says. We feed on labor.

Parotya ran home, admired the pattern, and kept it secret from his wife. He began to feast less, and began to delve into the factory business a little bit.

In the spring, a young gentleman came to the factories. I drove to Polevaya. The people were rounded up, a prayer service was served, and then the bell ringers began to ring in the manor’s house. Two barrels of wine were also rolled out to the people - to remember the old one and congratulate the new master. That means the seed has been done. All the Turchanin masters were experts at this. As soon as you fill the master’s glass with a dozen of your own, it will seem like God knows what kind of holiday, but in reality it will turn out that you’ve washed your last penny and it’s completely useless. The next day people went to work, and there was another feast in the master's house. And so it went. They’ll sleep as long as they can and then go on a party again. Well, there, they ride boats, ride horses into the forest, play music, you never know. And Parotya is drunk all the time. The master purposely placed the most dashing roosters with him - pump him up to capacity! Well, they try to serve the new master.

Even though Parotya is drunk, he senses where things are heading. He feels awkward in front of guests. He says at the table, in front of everyone:

“It doesn’t matter to me that master Turchaninov wants to take my wife away from me.” May you be lucky! I don't need one like that. That's who I have! “Yes, and he takes that silk patch out of his pocket.” Everyone gasped, but Baba Parotina couldn’t even close her mouth. The master, too, had his eyes fixed on him. He became curious.

- Who is she? - asks.

Parotya, you know, laughs:

- The table is full of gold - and I won’t say that!

Well, what can you say if the factory workers immediately recognized Tanya? One tries in front of the other - they explain to the master. Parotina woman with arms and legs:

- What do you! What do you! Make such nonsense! Where did a factory girl get such a dress and expensive stones? And this husband brought the pattern from abroad. He showed it to me before the wedding. Now, from drunken eyes, you never know what will happen. Soon he won’t remember himself. Look, he's all swollen!

Parotya sees that his wife is not very nice, so he starts blabbering:

- You are Stramina, Stramina! Why are you weaving braids, throwing sand in the master’s eyes! What pattern did I show you? They sewed it for me here. The same girl they're talking about over there. As for the dress, I won’t lie, I don’t know. You can wear whatever dress you want. And they had stones. Now you have them locked in your closet. I bought them myself for two thousand, but I couldn’t wear them. Apparently, the Cherkassy saddle does not suit the cow. The whole factory knows about the purchase!

As soon as the master heard about the stones, he immediately:

- Come on, show me!

Hey, hey, he was a little small and a bit of a spendthrift. In a word, heir. He had a strong passion for stones. He had nothing to show off - as they say, neither his height nor his voice - just stones. Wherever he hears about a good stone, he can buy it now. And he knew a lot about stones, even though he wasn’t very smart.

Baba Parotina sees that there is nothing to do, she brought the box. The master looked and immediately:

- How many?

It boomed completely unheard of. Master dress up. Halfway through they agreed, and the master signed the loan paper: you see, he didn’t have any money with him. The master put the box on the table in front of him and said:

- Call this girl we're talking about.

They ran for Tanya. She didn’t mind, she went straight away, thinking how big the order was. She comes into the room, and it’s full of people, and in the middle is the same hare that she saw then. In front of this hare is a box - a gift from his father. Tanya immediately recognized the master and asked:

- Why did they call you?

The master cannot say a word. I stared at her and that was all. Then I finally found a conversation:

— Your stones?

“They were ours, now they’re theirs,” and pointed to Parotina’s wife.

“Mine now,” the master boasted.

- This is your business.

- Do you want me to give it back?

- There is nothing to give back.

- Well, can you try them on yourself? I would like to see how these stones look on a person.

“That,” Tanya answers, “is possible.”

She took the box, dismantled the decorations - a usual thing - and quickly attached them to their place. The master looks and just gasps. Oh yes ah, there is no more talk. Tanya stood in her attire and asked:

- Have you looked? Will? It’s not easy for me to stand here - I have work.

The master is here in front of everyone and says:

- Marry me. Agree?

Tanya just grinned:

“It wouldn’t be appropriate for a master to say such a thing.” — She took off her clothes and left.

Only the master does not lag behind. The next day he came to make a match. He asks and prays to Nastasya: give up your daughter for me.

Nastasya says:

“I don’t take away her will, as she wants, but in my opinion it doesn’t fit.”

Tanya listened and listened and said:

“That’s it, that’s not it... I heard that in the royal palace there is a chamber lined with malachite from the booty of the king.” Now, if you show me the queen in this chamber, then I will marry you.

The master, of course, agrees to everything. Now he’s starting to get ready for Sam-Petersburg and is calling Tanya with him - he says, I’ll give you the horses. And Tanya answers:

“According to our ritual, the bride does not ride to the wedding on the groom’s horses, and we are still nothing.” Then we’ll talk about it once you’ve fulfilled your promise.

“When,” he asks, “will you be in Sam-Petersburg?”

“I’ll definitely go to the Intercession,” he says. Don’t worry about it, but for now, leave here.

The master left, of course he didn’t take Parotina’s wife, he doesn’t even look at her. As soon as I came home to Sam-Petersburg, let’s spread the word all over the city about the stones and about my bride. I showed the box to many people. Well, the bride was very curious to see. For the fall, the master prepared an apartment for Tanya, brought all sorts of dresses, shoes, and she sent the news - here she lives with such and such a widow on the very outskirts. The master, of course, is going there right away:

- What do you! Is it a good idea to live here? The apartment is ready, first grade!

And Tanya answers:

The rumor about the stones and Turchaninov’s bride reached the queen. She says:

- Let Turchaninov show me his bride. There are a lot of lies about her.

Master to Tanya, he says, we need to get ready. Sew an outfit so that you can wear stones from a malachite box into the palace. Tanya answers:

“It’s not your sadness about the outfit, but I’ll take the stones to keep.” Yes, look, don’t try to send horses after me. I'll use mine. Just wait for me at the porch, in the palace.

The master thinks, where did she get the horses? where is the palace dress? — but still didn’t dare ask.

So they began to gather for the palace. Everyone rides up on horses, wearing silks and velvets. Turchaninov's master hangs around the porch early in the morning - waiting for his bride. The others were also curious to look at her—they stopped immediately. And Tanya put on her stones, tied herself with a scarf in the factory style, threw on her fur coat and walked quietly. Well, people - where did this come from? - the shaft is falling behind her. Tanyushka approached the palace, but the royal lackeys did not let her in - it was not allowed, they say, because of the factory. Turchaninov's master saw Tanyushka from afar, but he was ashamed in front of his own people that his bride was on foot, and even in such a fur coat, he took it and hid. Tanya then opened her fur coat, the footmen looked - what a dress! The queen doesn't have that! — they let me in right away. And when Tanya took off her scarf and fur coat, everyone around gasped:

-Whose is this? Which lands is the queen?

And master Turchaninov is right there.

“My bride,” he says.

Tanya looked at him sternly:

- We'll see about that! Why did you deceive me - you didn’t wait at the porch?

Master back and forth, it was a mistake. Excuse me please.

They went to the royal chambers, where they were ordered. Tanya looks - it’s not the right place. Turchaninova asked the master even more sternly:

- What kind of deception is this? It was told to you that in that chamber, which is lined with malachite from woodwork! - And she walked through the palace as if at home. And senators, generals and others follow her.

- What, they say, is this? Apparently, it was ordered there.

There were a ton of people, and everyone couldn’t take their eyes off Tanya, but she stood right next to the malachite wall and waited. Turchaninov, of course, is right there. He mutters to her that something is wrong, the queen did not order her to wait in this room. And Tanya stands calmly, even if she raised an eyebrow, as if the master was not there at all.

The queen went out into the room where she was assigned. He looks - there is no one. The Tsarina’s earphones lead to the conclusion that Turchaninov’s bride took everyone to the malachite chamber. The queen grumbled, of course, - what kind of self-will! She stamped her feet. She got a little angry, that is. The queen comes to the malachite chamber. Everyone bows to her, but Tanya stands there and doesn’t move.

The queen shouts:

- Come on, show me this unauthorized bride - Turchaninov’s bride!

Tanya heard this, her eyebrows furrowed, and she said to the master:

- This is something else I came up with! I told the queen to show me, and you arranged to show me to her. Cheating again! I don't want to see you anymore! Get your stones!

With this word she leaned against the malachite wall and melted. All that remains is that the stones sparkle on the wall, as if stuck to the places where the head, neck, and arms were.

Everyone, of course, was scared, and the queen fell unconscious on the floor. They started fussing and started lifting. Then, when the commotion subsided, the friends said to Turchaninov:

- Pick up some stones! They'll steal it quickly. Not just any place—a palace! They know the price here!

Turchaninov and let's grab those stones. The one he grabs will curl up into a droplet. Sometimes the drop is pure, like a tear, sometimes it’s yellow, and sometimes it’s thick, like blood. So I didn’t collect anything. He looks and there is a button lying on the floor. From bottle glass, on a simple edge. Not a big deal at all. Out of grief, he grabbed her. As soon as he took it in his hand, in this button, as in a large mirror, a green-eyed beauty in a malachite dress, all decorated with expensive stones, burst out laughing:

- Oh, you crazy slanting hare! Should you take me? Are you my match?

After that, the master lost his last mind, but did not throw away the button. No, no, and he looks at her, and there everything is the same: the green-eyed one is standing there, laughing and saying offensive words. Out of grief, the master let’s copy, he got into debt, almost under him our factories were not sold under the hammer.

And Parotya, when he was suspended, went to the taverns. I drank to the point of drinking, and the patret is that silken shore. No one knows where this pattern went afterwards.

Parotin’s wife didn’t profit either: go ahead, get the loan paper, if all the iron and copper are pledged!

From that time on, there was not a word from our factory about Tanya. How it wasn't.

Nastasya grieved, of course, but not too much either. Tanya, you see, at least she was a caretaker for the family, but Nastasya is still like a stranger.

And that is to say, Nastasya’s boys had grown up by that time. Both got married. The grandchildren have gone. There were a lot of people in the hut. Know, turn around - look after this one, give it to someone else... It's getting boring here!

The bachelor did not forget longer. He kept trampling under Nastasya’s windows. They waited to see if Tanya would appear at the window, but they never did.

Then, of course, they got married, but no, no, they remember:

- That's what a girl we had in the factory! You won't see another one like this in your life.

Moreover, after this incident, a note came out. They said that the Mistress of the Copper Mountain began to double: people saw two girls in malachite dresses at once.

Stone Flower

The marble workers were not the only ones who were famous for their stone work. In our factories, too, they say, they had this skill. The only difference is that ours were more fond of malachite, as there was enough of it, and the grade is no higher. It was from this that malachite was suitably made. Hey, these are the kind of things that make you wonder how they helped him.

There was a master Prokopich at that time. First on these matters. No one could do it better. I was in my old age.

So the master ordered the clerk to put the boys under this Prokopich for training.

- Let them go over everything down to the finer points.

Only Prokopich—either he was sorry to part with his skill, or something else—taught very poorly. Everything he does is a jerk and a poke. He puts lumps all over the boy's head, almost cuts off his ears, and says to the clerk:

- This guy is no good... His eye is incapable, his hand can’t carry it. It won't do any good.

The clerk, apparently, was ordered to please Prokopich.

- It’s not good, it’s not good... We’ll give you another... - And he’ll dress up another boy.

The kids heard about this science... Early in the morning they roared, as if they wouldn’t get to Prokopich. Fathers and mothers also don’t like giving away their own child to wasted flour - they began to protect their own as best they could. And to say that, this skill is unhealthy, with malachite. The poison is pure. That's why people are protected.

The clerk still remembers the master’s order - he assigns students to Prokopich. He will wash the boy in his own way and hand him back to the clerk.

- This is no good... The clerk began to get angry:

- How long will this last? No good, no good, when will it be good? Teach this...

Prokopich, know yours:

- What do I... Even if I teach for ten years, this kid will be of no use...

- Which one do you want?

- Even though you don’t bet on me at all, I don’t miss it...

So the clerk and Prokopich went through a lot of kids, but the point was the same: there were bumps on the head, and in the head there was a way to escape. They spoiled them on purpose so that Prokopich would drive them away. This is how it came to Danilka the Underfed. This little boy was an orphan. Probably twelve years then, or even more. He is tall on his feet, and thin, thin, which is what keeps his soul going. Well, his face is clean. Curly hair, blue eyes. At first they took him as a Cossack servant at the manor's house: give him a snuff box, give him a handkerchief, run somewhere, and so on. Only this orphan did not have the talent for such a task. Other boys climb like vines in such and such places. A little something - to the hood: what do you order? And this Danilko will hide in a corner, stare at some painting, or even at a piece of jewelry, and just stand there. They shout at him, but he doesn’t even listen. They beat me, of course, at first, then they waved their hand:

- Some kind of blessed one! Slug! Such a good servant will not make.

They still didn’t give me a job at a factory or at a mountain - the place was very runny, there wouldn’t be enough for a week. The clerk put him in the guise. And here Danilko didn’t fare well. The little guy is extremely diligent, but he always makes mistakes. Everyone seems to be thinking about something. He stares at a blade of grass, and the cows are over there! The old gentle shepherd was caught, felt sorry for the orphan, and at the same time he cursed:

- What will come of you, Danilko? You will destroy yourself, and you will also put my old back in harm’s way. Where is this good? What are you even thinking about?

- I myself, grandpa, don’t know... So... about nothing... I stared a little. A bug was crawling along a leaf. She herself is blue, and from under her wings she has a yellowish look peeking out, and the leaf is wide... Along the edges the teeth, like frills, are curved. Here it looks darker, but the middle is very green, they just painted it exactly... And the bug is crawling...

- Well, aren’t you a fool, Danilko? Is it your job to sort out insects? She crawls and crawls, but your job is to look after the cows. Look at me, get this nonsense out of your head, or I’ll tell the clerk!

Danilushka was given one thing. He learned to play the horn - what an old man! Purely based on music. In the evening, when the cows are brought in, the women ask:

- Play a song, Danilushko.

He will start playing. And the songs are all unfamiliar. Either the forest is noisy, or the stream is murmuring, the birds are calling to each other in all sorts of voices, but it turns out well. Women began to greet Danilushka very much for those songs. Whoever will mend a thread, whoever will cut a piece of canvas, who will sew a new shirt. There is no talk about a piece - everyone strives to give more and sweeter. The old shepherd also liked Danilushkov’s songs. Only here, too, something went a little wrong. Danilushko will start playing and forget everything, even if there are no cows. It was during this game that trouble befell him.

Danilushko, apparently, began to play, and the old man dozed off a little. They lost a few cows. As they began to gather for the pasture, they looked - one was gone, the other was gone. They rushed to look, but where are you? They grazed near Yelnichnaya... This is a very wolf-like place, desolate... They only found one little cow. They drove the herd home... So and so - they talked about it. Well, they also ran from the factory - they went looking for him, but they didn’t find him.

The reprisal then, we know what it was like. For any guilt, show your back. Unfortunately, there was another cow from the clerk's yard. Don't expect any descent here. First they stretched the old man, then it came to Danilushka, but he was skinny and scrawny. The Lord's executioner even made a slip of the tongue.

“Someone,” he says, “will fall asleep in one go, or even lose his soul altogether.”

Still, he hit - he didn’t regret it, but Danilushko remained silent. The executioner suddenly in a row is silent, the third is silent. The executioner then became enraged, let’s go bald from all over the shoulder, and he himself shouts:

- What a patient person he was! Now I know where to put him if he remains alive.

Danilushko took a rest. Grandma Vikhorikha stood him up. There was, they say, an old lady like that. Instead of a doctor in our factories, she was very famous. I knew the power in herbs: some from teeth, some from stress, some from aches... Well, everything is as it is. I myself collected those herbs at the very time when which herb had full strength. From such herbs and roots I prepared tinctures, boiled decoctions and mixed them with ointments.

Danilushka had a good life with this grandmother Vikhorikha. Hey, the old lady is affectionate and talkative, and she has dried herbs, roots, and all sorts of flowers hung all over the hut. Danilushko is curious about herbs - what’s the name of this one? where does it grow? what flower? The old lady tells him.

Once Danilushko asks:

- Do you, grandma, know every flower in our area?

“I won’t brag,” he says, “but I seem to know everything about how open they are.”

“Are there really,” he asks, “something that hasn’t been opened yet?”

“There are,” he answers, “and such.” Have you heard Papor? It's like she's blooming

The day of Ivan. That flower is witchcraft. The treasures are opened to them. Harmful for humans. On the gap-grass the flower is a running light. Catch him and all the gates are open for you. Vorovskoy is a flower. And then there is also a stone flower. It seems to be growing in the malachite mountain. On the snake holiday it has full power. The unfortunate person is the one who sees the stone flower.

- What, grandma, are you unhappy?

- And this, child, I don’t know myself. That's what they told me. Danilushko might have lived longer at Vikhorikha’s, but the clerk’s messengers noticed that the boy began to go a little, and now to the clerk. The clerk called Danilushka and said:

- Now go to Prokopich and learn the malachite trade. The job is right for you.

Well, what will you do? Danilushko went, but he himself was still being shaken by the wind. Prokopich looked at him and said:

- This was still missing. The studies here are beyond the ability of healthy boys, but what you get from them is barely enough to keep you alive.

Prokopich went to the clerk:

- There is no need for this. If you accidentally kill, you will have to answer.

Only the clerk - where are you going - didn’t listen;

- It’s given to you - teach, don’t argue! He - this guy - is strong. Don't look how thin it is.

“Well, it’s up to you,” says Prokopyich, “it would have been said.” I will teach, as long as they don’t force me to answer.

- There is no one to pull. This guy is lonely, do whatever you want with him,” the clerk replies.

Prokopich came home, and Danilushko was standing near the machine, looking at the malachite board. A cut has been made on this board - the edge needs to be knocked off. Here Danilushko is staring at this place and shaking his little head. Prokopich became curious about what this new guy was looking at here. He asked sternly how things were done according to his rule:

- What are you? Who asked you to pick up a craft? What are you looking at here? Danilushko answers:

- In my opinion, grandfather, this is not the side where the edge should be cut. See, the pattern is here, and they’ll cut it off. Prokopich shouted, of course:

- What? Who are you? Master? It didn’t happen to your hands, but you judge? What can you understand?

“Then I understand that this thing was ruined,” Danilushko answers.

- Who spoiled it? A? It’s you, brat, to me, the first master!.. Yes, I’ll show you such damage... you won’t live!

He made some noise and shouted, but didn’t hit Danilushka with his finger. Prokopich, you see, was thinking about this board himself - which side to cut off the edge from. Danilushko hit the nail on the head with his conversation. Prokopich shouted and said very kindly:

- Well, you, revealed master, show me how to do it your way?

Danilushko began to show and tell:

- That would be the pattern that would come out. And it would be better to put a narrower board, beat off the edge in an open field, just leave a small braid on top.

Prokopich, know, shouts:

- Well, well... Of course! You understand a lot. You've saved up - don't wake up! “And he thinks to himself: “The boy is right.” This will probably make some sense. Just how to teach him? Knock once and he’ll stretch his legs.”

I thought so and asked:

- What kind of scientist are you?

Danilushko told about himself. Say, an orphan. I don’t remember my mother, and I don’t even know who my father was. They call him Danilka Nedokormish, but I don’t know what his father’s middle name and nickname are. He told how he was in the household and why he was driven away, how he spent the summer walking with a herd of cows, how he got caught in a fight. Prokopich regretted:

- It’s not sweet, I see you, guy, have a hard time with your life, and then you came to me. Our craftsmanship is strict. Then he seemed angry and growled:

- Well, that's enough, that's enough! Look how talkative! Everyone would work with the tongue - not with the hands. A whole evening of balusters and balusters! The student too! I'll see tomorrow how good you are. Sit down to dinner, and it's time to go to bed.

Prokopich lived alone. His wife died a long time ago. Old lady Mitrofanovna, one of his neighbors, took care of his household. In the mornings she went to cook, cook something, tidy up the hut, and in the evening Prokopyich himself managed what he needed.

After eating, Prokopich said:

- Lie down on the bench over there!

Danilushko took off his shoes, put his knapsack under his head, covered himself with a string, shivered a little - you see, it was cold in the hut in the autumn, but he soon fell asleep. Prokopich also lay down, but could not sleep: he couldn’t get the conversation about the malachite pattern out of his head. He tossed and turned, got up, lit a candle and went to the machine - let’s try on this malachite board this way and that. It will close one edge, another... it will add a margin, it will subtract it. He’ll put it this way, turn it the other way, and it turns out that the boy understood the pattern better.

- Here's Nedokormishek for you! - Prokopich is amazed. “Nothing yet, but I pointed it out to the old master.” What a peephole! What a peephole!

He quietly went into the closet and brought out a pillow and a large sheepskin coat. He slipped a pillow under Danilushka’s head and covered it with a sheepskin coat:

- Sleep, big-eyed!

But he didn’t wake up, he just turned on the other side, stretched out under his sheepskin coat - he felt warm - and let’s whistle lightly with his nose. Prokopich did not have his own guys, this Danilushko fell to his heart. The master stands there, admiring it, and Danilushko, you know, whistles and sleeps peacefully. Prokopich's concern is how to get this boy properly on his feet, so that he is not so skinny and unhealthy.

- Is it with his health that we learn our skills? Dust, poison, will quickly wither away. First he should rest, get better, and then I’ll start teaching. There will be some sense, apparently.

The next day he says to Danilushka:

- At first you will help with the housework. This is my order. Understood? For the first time, go buy viburnum. She was overcome with frost - just in time for pies. Yes, look, don’t go too far. As much as you can type, that’s okay. Take some bread, there is some in the forest, and go to Mitrofanovna. I told her to bake you a couple of eggs and pour some milk into the little jar. Understood?

The next day he says again:

When Danilushko caught it and brought it back, Prokopyich says:

- Okay, not at all. Catch others.

And so it went. Every day Prokopyich gives Danilushka work, but everything is fun. As soon as the snow fell, he told him and his neighbor to go pick up firewood and help him out. Well, what a help! He sits forward on the sleigh, drives the horse, and walks back behind the cart. He'll wash himself off, eat at home, and sleep soundly. Prokopich made him a fur coat, a warm hat, mittens, and pymas to order.

Prokopich, you see, had wealth. Even though he was a serf, he was on quitrent and earned little. He stuck tightly to Danilushka. To put it bluntly, he was holding on to his son. Well, I didn’t spare him for him, but didn’t let him get to his business until the time was right.

In a good life, Danilushko began to quickly recover and also clung to Prokopich. Well, how! - I understood Prokopyichev’s concern; for the first time I had to live like this. Winter has passed. Danilushka felt completely at ease. Now he’s on the pond, now in the forest. It was only Danilushko’s skill that he looked closely at. He comes running home, and right away they have a conversation. He will tell Prokopich about this and that and ask - what is this and how is it? Prokopich will explain and show in practice. Danilushko notes. When he himself accepts:

“Well, I...” Prokopich looks, corrects when necessary, indicates how best.

One day the clerk spotted Danilushka on the pond. He asks his messengers:

- Whose boy is this? Every day I see him on the pond... On weekdays he plays around with a fishing rod, and he’s not a little one... Someone is hiding him from work...

The messengers found out and told the clerk, but he didn’t believe it.

“Well,” he says, “drag the boy to me, I’ll find out myself.”

They brought Danilushka. The clerk asks:

- Whose are you? Danilushko answers:

— Apprenticeship, they say, with a master in the malachite trade. The clerk then grabbed him by the ear:

- This is how you learn, bastard! - Yes, by the ear and took me to Prokopich.

He sees that something is wrong, let’s protect Danilushka:

“I sent him myself to catch perch.” I really miss fresh perch. Due to my poor health, I cannot take any other food. So he told the boy to fish.

The clerk didn't believe it. I also realized that Danilushko had become completely different: he had gained weight, he was wearing a good shirt, pants too, and boots on his feet. So let’s check Danilushka:

- Well, show me what the master taught you? Danilushko put on the donut, went up to the machine and let’s tell and show. Whatever the clerk asks, he has an answer ready for everything. How to chip a stone, how to saw it, remove a chamfer, when to glue it, how to apply polish, how to attach it to copper, like to wood. In a word, everything is as it is.

The clerk tortured and tortured, and he said to Prokopich:

- This one seems to suit you well?

“I’m not complaining,” replies Prokopich.

- That’s right, you’re not complaining, but pampering yourself! They gave him to you to learn the skill, and he is by the pond with a fishing rod! Look! I’ll give you such fresh perches - you won’t forget them until you die, and the boy won’t be happy either.

He made such and such a threat, left, and Prokopich marveled:

- When did you, Danilushko, understand all this? Actually, I haven’t taught you at all yet.

“I myself,” says Danilushko, “showed and told, and I noticed.”

Prokopich even started to cry, it was so close to his heart.

“Son,” he says, “darling, Danilushko... What else I know, I’ll tell you everything... I won’t hide it...

Only from that time on, Danilushka did not have a comfortable life. The clerk sent for him the next day and began giving him work for the lesson. First, of course, something simpler: plaques, what women wear, little boxes. Then it all started: there were different candlesticks and decorations. There we reached the carving. Leaves and petals, patterns and flowers. After all, they, the malachite workers, are a slow business. It’s just a trivial thing, but how long has he been sitting on it! So Danilushko grew up doing this work.

And when he carved a sleeve - a snake - from a solid stone, the clerk recognized him as a master. I wrote to Barin about this:

“So and so, we have a new malachite master - Danilko Nedokormish. It works well, but due to its youth it is still quiet. Will you order him to remain in class or, like Prokopyich, to be released on quitrent?”

Danilushko did not work quietly, but surprisingly deftly and quickly. It’s Prokopich who really got the knack here. The clerk will ask Danilushka what lesson for five days, and Prokopich will go and say:

- Not because of this. This kind of work takes half a month. The guy is studying. If you hurry, the stone will only serve no purpose.

Well, the clerk will argue how many, and you see, he will add more days. Danilushko and worked without strain. I even learned to read and write little by little from the clerk. So, just a little, but still I understood how to read and write. Prokopich was also good at this. When he himself gets the hang of doing Danilushka’s clerk’s lessons, only Danilushko did not allow this:

- What you! What are you doing, uncle! Is it your job to sit at the machine for me?

Look, your beard has turned green from malachite, your health has begun to deteriorate, but what am I doing?

Danilushko had indeed recovered by that time. Even though in the old fashioned way they called him Nedokormysh, but what a guy he is! Tall and ruddy, curly and cheerful. In a word, girlish dryness. Prokopich has already started talking to him about brides, and Danilushko, you know, shakes his head:

- He won’t leave us! Once I become a real master, then there will be a conversation.

The master wrote back to the clerk's news:

“Let that Prokopichev student Danilko make another chiseled bowl on a leg

for my home. Then I’ll look at whether to release the quitrent or keep it in class. Just make sure that Prokopyich doesn’t help that Danilka. If you don’t pay attention, you will be punished.”

The clerk received this letter, called Danilushka and said:

- Here, with me, you will work. They will set up the machine for you and bring you the stone you need.

Prokopich found out and was saddened: how could this be? what kind of thing? I went to the clerk, but would he really say... I just shouted:

"None of your business!"

Well, Danilushko went to work in a new place, and Prokopich punished him:

- Look, don’t rush, Danilushko! Don't prove yourself.

Danilushko was wary at first. He tried it on and figured it out more, but it seemed sad to him. Do it, don’t do it, and serve your sentence - sit with the clerk from morning to night. Well, Danilushko was bored and went wild. The cup was with his living hand and went out of business. The clerk looked as if this was the way it should be, and said:

- Do the same again!

Danilushko made another, then a third. When he finished the third, the clerk said:

- Now you can’t dodge! I caught you and Prokopyich. The master, according to my letter, gave you time for one bowl, and you carved three. I know your strength. You won't deceive me anymore, and I'll show that old dog how to indulge! Will order for others!

So I wrote to the master about this and provided all three bowls. Only the master - either he found a clever verse on him, or he was angry with the clerk for some reason - turned everything the other way around.

The rent given to Danilushka was trivial, he did not order the guy to take it from Prokopich - maybe the two of them would sooner come up with something new. When I wrote, I sent the drawing. There is also a bowl drawn with all sorts of things. There is a carved border along the rim, a stone ribbon with a through pattern on the waist, and leaves on the footrest. In a word, invented. And on the drawing the master signed: “Let him sit for at least five years, and so that something like this is done exactly.”

Here the clerk had to go back on his word. He announced that the master had written it, sent Danilushka to Prokopich and gave him the drawing.

Danilushko and Prokopyich became happier, and their work went faster. Danilushko soon began to work on that new cup. There are a lot of tricks in it. If you hit me a little wrong, your work is gone, start again. Well, Danilushka has a true eye, a brave hand, enough strength - things are going well. There is one thing he doesn’t like - there are a lot of difficulties, but there is absolutely no beauty. I told Prokopyich, but he was just surprised:

- What do you care? They came up with it, which means they need it. I’ve turned and cut out all sorts of things, but I don’t really know where they go.

I tried to talk to the clerk, but where are you going? He stamped his feet and waved his arms:

-Are you crazy? They paid a lot of money for the drawing. The artist may have been the first to make it in the capital, but you decided to overthink it!

Then, apparently, he remembered what the master ordered him - maybe the two of them could come up with something new - and said:

- Here’s what... make this bowl according to the master’s drawing, and if you invent another one of your own, it’s your business. I won't interfere. We have enough stone, I guess. Whichever one you need, that’s the one I’ll give you.

It was then that Danilushka’s thought struck. It’s not us who said that you need to criticize someone else’s wisdom a little, but come up with your own - you’ll be turning from side to side for more than one night.

Here Danilushko is sitting over this bowl according to the drawing, but he himself is thinking about something else. He translates in his head which flower, which leaf is best suited to the malachite stone. He became thoughtful and sad. Prokopich noticed and asked:

- Are you healthy, Danilushko? It would be easier with this bowl. What's the hurry?

I should go on a walk somewhere, otherwise you just sit and sit.

“And then,” says Danilushko, “at least go to the forest.” Will I see what I need?

From then on, I began to run into the forest almost every day. It's time for mowing and berries. The grasses are all in bloom. Danilushko will stop somewhere in the meadow or in a clearing in the forest and stand and look. And then again he walks through the mowing and looks at the grass, as if looking for something. There were a lot of people in the forest and in the meadows at that time. They ask Danilushka if he has lost anything? He will smile sadly and say:

- I haven’t lost it, but I can’t find it. Well, who started talking:

- There's something wrong with the guy.

And he will come home and immediately to the machine, and sit until the morning, and with the sun he will go back to the forest and mow. I began to drag all sorts of leaves and flowers home, and gathered more and more from them: cherry and omega, datura and wild rosemary, and all sorts of rezuns.

He fell asleep on his face, his eyes became restless, he lost courage in his hands. Prokopich became completely worried, and Danilushko said:

“The cup doesn’t give me peace.” I want to do it in such a way that the stone has full power.

Prokopich, let's talk him out of it:

- What did you use it for? You're full, what else? Let the bars have fun as they please. If only they wouldn't hurt us. If they come up with a pattern, we’ll do it, but why bother meeting them? Put on an extra collar - that's all.

Well, Danilushko stands his ground.

“Not for the master,” he says, “I’m trying.” I can't get that cup out of my head. I see what kind of stone we have, but what are we doing with it? We sharpen, we cut, we polish, and there’s no point at all. So I had the desire to do this so that I could see the full power of the stone myself and show people.

In time, Danilushko walked away and sat down again at that bowl, according to the master’s drawing. It works, but he chuckles:

- Stone tape with holes, carved border... Then suddenly I abandoned this work. Another started. Standing at the machine without a break. Prokopich said:

“I’ll make my cup using the datura flower.” Prokopich began to dissuade him. At first Danilushko didn’t even want to listen, then, three or four days later, he made some mistake and said to Prokopich:

- OK. First I’ll finish the master’s bowl, then I’ll get to work on my own. Just don’t talk me out of it then... I can’t get her out of my head.

Prokopich answers:

“Okay, I won’t interfere,” but he thinks: “The guy is leaving, he’ll forget. He needs to be married. That's what! The extra nonsense will fly out of your head as soon as you start a family.”

Danilushko busied himself with the bowl. There is a lot of work in it - you can’t fit it into one year. He works hard and doesn’t think about the datura flower. Prokopich began to talk about marriage:

- At least Katya Letemina is not a bride? Good girl... Nothing to complain about.

This was Prokopich speaking out of his mind. You see, he noticed a long time ago that Danilushko was looking at this girl very much. Well, she didn't turn away. So Prokopich, as if by accident, started a conversation. And Danilushko repeats his own:

- Wait a minute! I can handle the cup. I'm tired of her. Just behold, I’ll hit it with a hammer, and it’s about marriage! Katya and I agreed. She will wait for me.

Well, Danilushko made a bowl according to the master’s drawing. Of course, they didn’t tell the clerk, but they decided to have a little party at home. Katya - the bride - came with her parents, who also... among the malachite masters, more. Katya marvels at the cup.

“How,” he says, “only you managed to cut such a pattern and didn’t break off the stone anywhere!” How smooth and clean everything is!

The masters also approve:

- Exactly according to the drawing. There is nothing to complain about. Cleanly done. It’s better not to do it, and soon. If you start working like that, it’s probably hard for us to follow you.

Danilushko listened and listened and said:

- It’s a shame that there’s nothing to complain about. Smooth and even, the pattern is clean, the carving is according to the drawing, but where is the beauty? There is a flower... the most inferior one, but when you look at it your heart rejoices. Well, who will this cup make happy? What is she for? Anyone who looks at Katya over there will marvel at what kind of eye and hand the master has, how he had the patience not to break off a stone anywhere.

“And where I made a mistake,” the craftsmen laugh, “I glued it and covered it with polish, and you won’t find the ends.”

- That's it... Where, I ask, is the beauty of the stone? There is a vein here, and you drill holes in it and cut flowers. What are they here for? Damage is a stone. And what a stone! First stone! You see, the first one! He began to get excited. Apparently he drank a little. The masters tell Danilushka that Prokopich told him more than once:

- A stone is a stone. What will you do with him? Our job is to sharpen and cut.

There was only one old man here. He also taught Prokopyich and those other masters! Everyone called him grandfather. He’s such a decrepit little old man, but he also understood this conversation and says to Danilushka:

- You, dear son, don’t walk on this floorboard! Get it out of your head! Otherwise you will end up with the Mistress as a mining master...

- What kind of masters, grandfather?

- And such... they live in grief, no one sees them... Whatever the Mistress needs, they will do. I happened to see it once. Here's the job! From ours, from here, in difference.

Everyone became curious. They ask what craft he saw.

“Yes, a snake,” he says, “the same one you sharpen on your sleeve.”

- So what? What is she like?

- From the locals, I say, in distinction. Any master will see and immediately recognize that this is not the work here. Our snake, no matter how cleanly it is carved, is made of stone, but here it is alive. Black ridge, little eyes... Just look - it will bite. What do they care about! They saw the stone flower and understood the beauty.

Danilushko, when I heard about the stone flower, let’s ask the old man. He said in all conscience:

I don't know, dear son. I heard that there is such a flower. Our brother is not allowed to see it. Whoever looks, the white light will not be pleasant.

Danilushko says to this:

- I would take a look.

Here Katenka, his fiancée, began to flutter:

- What are you, what are you, Danilushko! Are you really tired of the white light? - yes to tears.

Prokopich and other masters have noticed the matter, let's laugh at the old master:

“Grandfather, I’ve started to lose my mind.” You tell stories. It's a waste of time to lead the guy astray.

The old man got excited and slammed the table:

- There is such a flower! The guy is telling the truth: we don’t understand stone. Beauty is shown in that flower. The masters laugh:

- Grandpa, he took too much! And he says:

- There is a stone flower!

The guests have left, but Danilushka can’t get that conversation out of his head. He started running into the forest again and walking around his dope flower, and didn’t even mention the wedding. Prokopich began to force:

- Why are you disgracing a girl? How many years will she be a bride? Wait for it - they will start laughing at her. Are there not enough girls?

Danilushko has one of his own:

- Wait a little! I’ll just come up with an idea and select a suitable stone

And he got into the habit of going to a copper mine - to Gumeshki. When he goes down into the mine, he walks around the faces, while at the top he sorts through the stones. Once he turned the stone, looked at it and said:

- No, not that one...

As soon as he said this, someone said it;

- Look elsewhere... at Snake Hill.

Danilushko looks - there is no one. Who would it be? They’re joking or something... It’s like there’s nowhere to hide. He looked around again, went home, and after him again:

- Do you hear, Danilo-master? At Snake Hill, I say.

Danilushko looked around - some woman was barely visible, like blue fog. Then nothing happened.

“What,” he thinks, “is this thing? Really herself? What if we go to Zmeinaya?”

Danilushko knew Snake Hill well. She was right there, not far from Gumeshki. Now it’s gone, it’s all been torn down a long time ago, but before they took the stone on top.

So the next day Danilushko went there. The hill, although small, is steep. On the one hand, it looks completely cut off. The look here is first-class. All layers are visible, it couldn’t be better.

Danilushko approached this watcher, and then the malachite was turned out. The large stone cannot be carried by hand, and it looks like it’s been shaped like a bush. Danilushko began to examine this find. Everything is as he needs: the color underneath is thicker, the veins are in the very places where it is required... Well, everything is as it is... Danilushko was delighted, quickly ran after the horse, brought the stone home, and said to Prokopich:

- Look, what a stone! Exactly on purpose for my work. Now I’ll do it quickly. Then get married. That's right, Katenka has been waiting for me. Yes, it’s not easy for me either. This is the only work that keeps me going. I wish I could finish it soon!

Well, Danilushko set to work on that stone. He knows neither day nor night. But Prokopich remains silent. Maybe the guy will calm down, he'll be happy. The work is going well. The bottom of the stone was finished. As it is, listen, a datura bush. The leaves are wide in a bunch, teeth, veins - everything couldn’t have been better, Prokopich even says - it’s a living flower, you can even touch it with your hand. Well, as soon as I got to the top, there was a blockade. The stem has been chiseled out, the side leaves are thin - as soon as they hold on! A cup like that of a Datura flower, or else... It became not alive and lost its beauty. Danilushko lost sleep here. He sits over this bowl of his, figuring out how to fix it, how to do it better. Prokopich and the other craftsmen who came in to have a look are amazed - what else does the guy need? The cup came out - no one had made anything like this, but he felt bad. The guy will wash himself off, he needs to be treated. Katenka hears what people are saying and begins to cry. This brought Danilushka to his senses.

“Okay,” he says, “I won’t do it again.” Apparently, I can’t rise higher, I can’t catch the power of the stone. - And let’s hurry up with the wedding.

Well, why rush, if the bride had everything ready a long time ago. We set a day. Danilushko cheered up. I told the clerk about the cup. He came running and looked - what a thing! I wanted to send this cup to the master now, but Danilushko said:

- Wait a little, there is some finishing touches.

It was autumn time. The wedding happened right around the Snake Festival. By the way, someone mentioned this - soon the snakes will all gather in one place. Danilushko took these words into account. I remembered again the conversations about the malachite flower. So he was drawn: “Shouldn’t we go to Snake Hill one last time? Don’t I recognize anything there?” — and he remembered about the stone: “After all, it was as it should be! And the voice at the mine... spoke about Snake Hill.”

So Danilushko went! The ground had already begun to freeze, and there was a dusting of snow. Danilushko walked up to the twist where he took the stone, and looked, and in that place there was a large pothole, as if the stone had been broken. Danilushko didn’t think about who was breaking the stone and walked into a pothole. “I’ll sit,” he thinks, “I’ll rest behind the wind. It's warmer here." He looks at one wall and sees a serovik stone, like a chair. Danilushko sat down here, lost in thought, looked at the ground, and still that stone flower was missing from his head. “I wish I could take a look!” Only suddenly it became warm, exactly summer returned. Danilushko raised his head, and opposite, against the other wall, the Mistress of the Copper Mountain was sitting. By her beauty and by her malachite dress, Danilushko immediately recognized her. All he thinks is:

“Maybe it seems to me, but in reality there is no one.” He sits and is silent, looking at the place where the Mistress is, and as if he sees nothing. She is also silent, seemingly lost in thought. Then he asks:

- Well, Danilo-master, your dope cup didn’t come out?

“I didn’t come out,” he answers.

- Don’t hang your head! Try something else. The stone will be for you according to your thoughts.

“No,” he answers, “I can’t do it anymore.” I'm exhausted and it doesn't work out. Show me the stone flower.

“It’s easy to show,” he says, “but you’ll regret it later.”

- Won’t you let me out of the mountain?

- Why won’t I let you go! The road is open, but they are only turning towards me.

- Show me, do me a favor! She also persuaded him:

- Maybe you can try to achieve it yourself! — I also mentioned Prokopich: —

He felt sorry for you, now it’s your turn to feel sorry for him. - She reminded me about the bride: - The girl dotes on you, but you look the other way.

“I know,” Danilushko shouts, “but I can’t live without a flower.” Show me!

“When this happens,” he says, “let’s go, Danilo the Master, to my garden.”

She said and stood up. Then something rustled, like an earthen scree. Danilushko looks, but there are no walls. The trees are tall, but not like those in our forests, but made of stone. Some are marble, some are made of coiled stone... Well, all sorts... Only alive, with branches, with leaves. They sway in the wind and kick, like someone tossing pebbles. Below there is grass, also made of stone. Azure, red... different... The sun is not visible, but it is light, like before sunset. Between the trees, golden snakes flutter as if dancing. The light comes from them.

And then that girl led Danilushka to a large clearing. The earth here is like simple clay, and on it the bushes are black as velvet. On these bushes there are large green malachite bells and in each there is an antimony star. The fire bees sparkle above those flowers, and the stars tinkle subtly and sing evenly.

- Well, Danilo-master, have you looked? - asks the Mistress.

“You won’t find,” Danilushko answers, “a stone to do something like that.”

“If you had thought of it yourself, I would have given you such a stone, but now I can’t.” —

She said and waved her hand. There was a noise again, and Danilushko found himself on the same stone, in the same hole. The wind just whistles. Well, you know, autumn.

Danilushko came home, and that day the bride was having a party. At first Danilushko showed himself cheerful - he sang songs, danced, and then he became misty. The bride was even scared:

- What happened to you? You're exactly at the funeral! And he says:

- My head was broken. In the eyes there is black with green and red. I don't see the light.

That's where the party ended. According to the ritual, the bride and her bridesmaids went to see off the groom. How many roads are there if you lived through a house or two? Here Katenka says:

- Let's go around, girls. We will reach the end along our street, and return along Yelanskaya.

He thinks to himself: “If the wind blows Danilushka, won’t he feel better?”

What about girlfriends? Happy, happy.

“And then,” they shout, “it must be carried out.” He lives very close - they didn’t sing a kindly farewell song to him at all.

The night was quiet and snow was falling. It's time for a walk. So they went. The bride and groom are in front, and the bridesmaids and the bachelor who was at the party are a little behind. The girls started this song as a farewell song. And it is sung long and plaintively, purely for the dead.

Katenka sees that there is no need for this at all: “Even without that, Danilushko is not cheerful, and they also came up with lamentations to sing.”

He tries to divert Danilushka to other thoughts. He started talking, but soon became sad again. Meanwhile, Katenkina’s friends finished the farewell and began to have fun. They are laughing and running around, but Danilushko is walking, hanging his head. No matter how hard Katenka tries, she cannot cheer her up. And so we reached home. The girlfriends and the bachelor began to go their separate ways, but Danilushko saw off his bride without any ceremony and went home.

Prokopich had been asleep for a long time. Danilushko slowly lit the fire, dragged his bowls into the middle of the hut and stood looking at them. At this time Prokopich began to cough. That's how it breaks. You see, by those years he had become completely unhealthy. This cough cut Danilushka like a knife through the heart. I remembered my whole previous life. He felt deeply sorry for the old man. And Prokopich cleared his throat and asked:

- What are you doing with the bowls?

- Yes, I’m looking, isn’t it time to take it?

“It’s been a long time,” he says, “it’s time.” They just take up space in vain. You can't do better anyway.

Well, we talked a little more, then Prokopich fell asleep again. And Danilushko lay down, but he couldn’t sleep. He turned and turned, got up again, lit the fire, looked at the bowls, and approached Prokopyich. I stood here over the old man and sighed...

Then he took the ballodka and gasped at the dope flower - it just stung. But he didn’t move that bowl, according to the master’s drawing! He just spat in the middle and ran out. So from that time on, Danilushka could not be found.

Those who said that he had made up his mind died in the forest, and those who said again - the Mistress took him as a mountain foreman.

Silver hoof

There lived an old man in our factory, nicknamed Kokovanya. Kokovani had no family left, so he came up with the idea of ​​taking an orphan as his child. I asked the neighbors if they knew anyone, and the neighbors said:

— Recently, the family of Grigory Potopaev was orphaned on Glinka. The clerk ordered the older girls to be taken to the master's needlework, but no one needs one girl in her sixth year. Here you go, take it.

- It’s not convenient for me with the girl. The boy would be better. I would teach him his business and raise an accomplice. What about the girl? What am I going to teach her?

Then he thought and thought and said:

“I knew Gregory and his wife too. Both were funny and clever. If the girl follows her parents, she won’t be sad in the hut. I'll take it. Will it just work?

Neighbors explain:

- Her life is bad. The clerk gave Grigoriev’s hut to some sad man and ordered him to feed the orphan until he grew up. And he has his own family of more than a dozen. They don't eat enough themselves. So the hostess eats at the orphan, reproaches her with a piece of something. She may be small, but she understands. It's a shame for her. How bad will life be from living like this! Yes, and you’ll persuade me, go ahead.

“And that’s true,” Kokovanya answers, “I’ll persuade you somehow.”

On a holiday, he came to those people with whom the orphan lived. He sees the hut full of people, big and small. A little girl is sitting on a little hole near the stove, and next to her is a brown cat. The girl is small, and the cat is small and so thin and tattered that it’s rare that anyone would let one into the hut. The girl strokes this cat, and she purrs so loudly that you can hear her throughout the hut.

Kokovanya looked at the girl and asked:

- Is this a gift from Grigoriev? The hostess answers:

- She's the one. It’s not enough to have one, but I also picked up a tattered cat somewhere. We can't drive it away. She scratched all my guys, and even feed her!

- Unkind, apparently, your guys. She's purring. Then he asks the orphan:

- Well, how about it, little gift, will you come and live with me? The girl was surprised:

- How did you, grandfather, know that my name is Darenka?

“Yes,” he answers, “it just happened.” I didn’t think, I didn’t guess, I got in by accident.

- Who are you? - asks the girl.

“I,” he says, “are kind of a hunter.” In the summer I wash the sands, mine for gold, and in the winter I run through the forests after a goat, but I can’t see everything.

-Will you shoot him?

“No,” Kokovanya answers. “I shoot simple goats, but I won’t do that.” I want to see where he stamps his right front leg.

- What do you need this for?

“But if you come to live with me, I’ll tell you everything,” answered Kokovanya.

The girl was curious to find out about the goat. And then he sees that the old man is cheerful and affectionate. She says:

- I'll go. Just take this cat Murenka too. Look how good it is.

“About that,” Kokovanya answers, “nothing to say.” If you don’t take such a loud cat, you’ll end up a fool. Instead of a balalaika, we will have one in our hut.

The hostess hears their conversation. I'm glad, I'm glad that Kokovanya is calling the orphan to her. I quickly began collecting Darenka’s belongings. He is afraid that the old man will change his mind.

The cat seems to understand the whole conversation too. It rubs at your feet and purrs:

- I came up with the right idea. That's right. So Kokovan took the orphan to live with him. He is big and bearded, but she is tiny and has a button nose. They walk down the street, and a tattered cat jumps after them.

So grandfather Kokovanya, the orphan Darenka and the cat Murenka began to live together. They lived and lived, they didn’t gain much wealth, but they didn’t cry about living, and everyone had something to do.

Kokovanya went to work in the morning, Darenka cleaned the hut, cooked stew and porridge, and the cat Murenka went hunting and caught mice. In the evening they will gather and have fun. The old man was a master at telling fairy tales, Darenka loved to listen to those fairy tales, and the cat Murenka lies and purrs:

- He says it right. That's right.

Only after every fairy tale will Darenka remind you:

- Dedo, tell me about the goat. What is he like? Kokovanya made excuses at first, then he said:

- That goat is special. He has a silver hoof on his right front leg. Wherever he stamps this hoof, an expensive stone will appear. Once he stomps - one stone, twice he stomps - two stones, and where he starts to hit with his foot - there is a pile of expensive stones.

He said yes and was not happy. From then on, Darenka talked only about that goat.

- Dedo, is he big?

Kokovanya told her that the goat was no taller than a table, had thin legs, and a light head. And Darenka asks again:

- Dedo, does he have horns?

“His horns,” he answers, “are excellent.” Simple goats have two branches, but he has five branches.

- Dedo, who does he eat?

“He doesn’t eat anyone,” he answers. It feeds on grass and leaves. Well, the hay in the stacks also eats up in winter.

- Dedo, what kind of fur does he have?

“In the summer,” he answers, “it’s brown, like our Murenka’s, and in the winter it’s gray.”

- Dedo, is he stuffy? Kokovanya even got angry:

- How stuffy! These are domestic goats, but the forest goat smells like the forest.

In the fall, Kokovanya began to gather for the forest. He should have looked at which side had more goats grazing. Darenka and let's ask:

- Take me, grandfather, with you. Maybe I’ll at least see that goat from afar.

Kokovanya explains to her:

“You can’t see him from a distance.” All goats have horns in the fall. You can’t tell how many branches there are on them. In winter it’s a different matter. Simple goats walk without horns, but this one, Silver Hoof, always has horns, whether in summer or winter. Then you can recognize him from afar.

This was his excuse. Darenka stayed at home, and Kokovanya went into the forest.

Five days later Kokovanya returned home and told Darenka:

- Nowadays there are a lot of goats grazing in the Poldnevskaya side. That's where I'll go in the winter.

“But how,” asks Darenka, “will you spend the night in the forest in winter?”

“There,” he answers, “I have a winter booth set up near the mowing spoons.” A nice booth, with a fireplace and a window. It's good there.

Darenka asks again:

— Is the silver hoof grazing in the same direction?

- Who knows. Maybe he's there too. Darenka is here and let’s ask:

- Take me, grandfather, with you. I will sit in the booth. Maybe the Silver Hoof will come close, I’ll take a look.

The old man waved his hands at first:

- What you! What you! Is it okay for a little girl to walk through the forest in winter? You have to ski, but you don’t know how. You'll unload it in the snow. How will I be with you? You'll still freeze!

Only Darenka is not far behind:

- Take it, grandfather! I don't know much about skiing. Kokovanya dissuaded and dissuaded, then he thought to himself:

“Should we mix it? Once he visits, he won’t ask again.” Here he says:

- Okay, I'll take it. Just don’t cry in the forest and don’t ask to go home too early.

As winter entered into full force, they began to gather in the forest.

Kokovan laid two bags of crackers on his hand sled, hunting supplies and other things he needed. Darenka also imposed a knot on herself. She took scraps to sew a dress for the doll, a ball of thread, a needle and even some rope.

“Is it not possible,” he thinks, “to catch the Silver Hoof with this rope?”

It’s a pity for Darenka to leave her cat, but what can you do. He strokes the cat goodbye and talks to her:

“My grandfather and I, Murenka, will go into the forest, and you sit at home and catch mice.” As soon as we see the Silver Hoof, we will return. I'll tell you everything then.

The cat looks slyly and purrs:

- I came up with the right idea. That's right.

Let's go Kokovanya and Darenka. All the neighbors marvel:

- The old man is out of his mind! He took such a little girl into the forest in winter!

As Kokovanya and Darenka began to leave the factory, they heard that the dogs were very worried about something. There was such barking and squealing as if they had seen an animal in the streets. They looked around, and there was Murenka running in the middle of the street, fighting off the dogs. Murenka had recovered by then. She has become big and healthy. The little dogs don’t even dare approach her.

Darenka wanted to catch the cat and take it home, but where are you! Murenka ran to the forest and onto a pine tree. Go catch it!

Darenka shouted, she couldn’t lure the cat. What to do? Let's move on.

They look and Murenka is running away. That’s how I got to the booth.

So there were three of them in the booth. Darenka boasts:

- It’s more fun that way. Kokovanya assents:

— It’s known, it’s more fun.

And the cat Murenka curled up in a ball by the stove and purred loudly:

There were a lot of goats that winter. This is something simple. Every day Kokovanya dragged one or two to the booth. They had accumulated skins and salted goat meat - they couldn’t take it away on hand sleds. I should go to the factory to get a horse, but why leave Darenka and the cat in the forest! But Darenka got used to being in the forest. She herself says to the old man:

- Dedo, you should go to the factory to get a horse. We need to transport the corned beef home. Kokovanya was even surprised:

- How smart you are, Daria Grigorievna! How the big one judged. You'll just be afraid, I guess you'll be alone.

“What,” he answers, “to be afraid of.” Our booth is strong, the wolves cannot achieve it. And Murenka is with me. I'm not afraid. Still, hurry up and turn around!

Kokovanya left. Darenka remained with Murenka. During the day, it was customary to sit without Kokovani while he tracked down the goats... As it began to get dark, I became afraid. He just looks - Murenka is lying quietly. Darenka became happier. She sat down by the window, looked towards the mowing spoons and saw some kind of lump rolling through the forest. As I rolled closer, I saw that it was a goat running. The legs are thin, the head is light, and there are five branches on the horns.

Darenka ran out to look, but no one was there. She came back and said:

- Apparently, I dozed off. It seemed to me. Murenka purrs:

- You're right. That's right. Darenka lay down next to the cat and fell asleep until the morning. Another day has passed. Kokovanya did not return. Darenka has become bored, but she is not crying. He strokes Murenka and says:

- Don’t be bored, Murenushka! Grandfather will certainly come tomorrow.

Murenka sings her song:

- You're right. That's right.

Darenushka sat again by the window and admired the stars. I was about to go to bed, and suddenly there was a stomping sound along the wall. Darenka got scared, and there was a stamping on the other wall, then on the one where the window was, then on the one where the door was, and then there was a knocking sound from above. Not loudly, as if someone was walking lightly and quickly. Darenka thinks:

“Isn’t that the goat from yesterday that came running?”

And she wanted to see so much that fear didn’t hold her back. She opened the door, looked, and the goat was there, very close. He raised his right front leg - he stomps, and on it a silver hoof shines, and the goat’s horns are about five branches. Darenka doesn’t know what to do, and she beckons him like he’s at home:

- Meh! Meh!

The goat laughed at this. He turned and ran.

Darenushka came to the booth and told Murenka:

— I looked at the Silver Hoof. I saw the horns and the hoof. I just didn’t see how that goat knocked out expensive stones with his foot. Another time, apparently, will show.

Murenka, know, sings her song:

- You're right. That's right.

The third day passed, but still no Kokovani. Darenka became completely misty. The tears were buried. I wanted to talk to Murenka, but she wasn’t there. Then Darenushka got completely scared and ran out of the booth to look for the cat.

The night is month-long, bright, and can be seen far away. Darenka looks - a cat is sitting close on a mowing spoon, and in front of her is a goat. He stands, raised his leg, and on it a silver hoof glistens.

Moray shakes his head, and so does the goat. It's like they're talking. Then they started running around the mowing beds. The goat runs and runs, stops and lets hit with his hoof. Murenka will run up, the goat will jump further and hit with its hoof again. For a long time they ran around the mowing beds. They were no longer visible. Then they returned to the booth itself.

Then the goat jumped onto the roof and started hitting it with his silver hoof. Like sparks, pebbles fell from under the foot. Red, blue, green, turquoise - all kinds.

It was at this time that Kokovanya returned. He can’t recognize his booth. All of him became like a heap of expensive stones. So it burns and shimmers with different lights. The goat stands at the top - and everything beats and beats with a silver hoof, and stones fall and fall. Suddenly Murenka jumped there. She stood next to the goat, meowed loudly, and neither Murenka nor the Silver Hoof were left.

Kokovanya immediately collected half a pile of stones, and Darenka asked:

- Don't touch me, grandfather! We'll take a look at this again tomorrow afternoon.

Kokovanya and obeyed. Only in the morning did a lot of snow fall. All the stones were covered. Then we shoveled the snow, but found nothing. Well, that was enough for them, just how much Kokovanya shoveled into his hat.

Everything would be fine, but I feel sorry for Murenka. She was never seen again, and Silver Hoof didn’t show up either. Amuse me once, and it will be.