Green gold chain. Alexander greengold chain

The pages of Alexander Green's biography in the 1920s report the writer's difficult financial condition. The dreaminess, romanticism of his characters, the separation from the pressing problems of our time, the ornateness of the author's style, all this affected the fact that the writer was not understood and was not published. However, Green continued to be true to his beliefs and style, saying that his fast-paced era did not need him like that, but he did not want to be and could not be anything else. After the publication of his first symbolist novel “The Shining World” in 1924, Green’s self-confidence increases, and one after another new works are born, taking the reader with them into the world of dangerous adventures and heroes who, having followed their dreams, become happy .

Critics consider the novel “The Golden Chain,” written in 1925 in Feodosia, to be one of the most mysterious works of Alexander Greene of this period. The author himself described his creative idea as follows: the story of a boy who was looking for miracles and found them.

Character system of the novel “The Golden Chain”

In the novel “The Golden Chain” the author has thought out everything to the smallest detail, every detail appears in the work to reveal the ideological and semantic load or create the individual character of the hero. The system of characters in the novel is quite multifaceted, among which several groups can be distinguished: sailors, palace inhabitants, intriguers and leading characters.

The main characters of the work are Sandro, Duroc, Estamp, Hanover and Molly. Alexander Green's novel "The Golden Chain" is quite controversial and mysterious, and the question of the main character is no exception. Without a doubt, every reader will identify Sandro as the main character. However, some critics, despite the high semantic and eventual load of this character, consider him a secondary hero, and define Hanover as the main one. However, this is only one version. Indeed, all intrigues and events revolve around Hanover. But the development and formation of personality, the revelation of the inner world and aspirations, the change of reality through one’s actions, that is, all those traits that define the main character, are inherent in Sandro.

The entire storyline of the novel is accompanied by the image of Sandro, on whose behalf the story is told, and we see all the events of the work through his eyes. The young man is the main character of all the turning points of the plot. It is he who learns the secret of how Ganuver got rich, and also reveals the conspiracy of Diguet and Galway.

At the beginning of the work we have a 16-year-old sailor, a little unsure of himself. He is trying to understand who he is: a boy or a man. He gets terribly upset and flares up when he is not taken seriously. To appear older, Sandro demonstrably expresses himself with swear words. However, his pompously “adult” behavior causes only laughter among those around him. Courage to take risky actions, an ardent desire to help others, attempts to correct the situation and empathy for someone else's love turn a clumsy youth into a mature and responsible man. After all, by helping others, he managed to overcome his vulnerability and resentment, to become wiser and stronger in spirit.

The most controversial image in the novel is Everest Hanover, who is the personification of the ideal hero - rich, but not having lost his humanity. At the age of 28, he becomes a living legend who managed to make an extraordinary dream come true, into a castle in the air and a real magnificent palace. In the abyss of greedy conspiracies, having lost a loved one, he begins to drink and lose heart. However, he never loses his main gift - the ability to love.

The affirmation of the romantic ideal of the victory of good over evil is impossible without the support of faithful and devoted friends, who are embodied in the novel by Duroc, Estamp, and the librarian Pop.

The basis of the work’s problematics are the eternal contradictions between dreams and harmony, wealth and simple human happiness. Courage and the romantic pursuit of a dream are beautiful. However, there is a certain fee for everything. The owner of the golden chain, having received everything he could want, was left alone in a huge and crowded house. He became a prisoner of his golden chain. And those to whom he tried to open his suffering heart turned out to be greedy hunters for wealth. Beloved girl Molly tries to save Hanover from her insatiable brothers at the cost of her own happiness. Thus, Alexander Green asserts in the novel the true human virtues - honesty, incorruptibility and love, showing the aspirations for wealth and power as pitiful and insignificant.

The maturation of the character’s spirit is one of the main ideas of the work. A young, self-searching boy who tried to understand the world by reading books, watching and listening, strived to change his life, to become more mature, but did not know how to do this. The novel “The Golden Chain” reveals the truth: changes in the manner of communication or appearance will not give the opportunity to mature in spirit, to become a true man. Only through actions and overcoming one’s own fears and complexes is personality development possible.

Analysis of the work

Academic criticism defines the genre of the work as a detective adventure novel. Many literary scholars agree that “The Golden Chain” is a story with a detective plot. In favor of the story can be attributed the relatively small volume of the work and the short time period of the events described - the action takes place within 36 hours, which actually precludes the possibility of calling the work a novel. However, the more than developed system of characters in the novel and the gradual development of the main character make it possible to define the genre as a novel.

Stylistic affiliation of the work

A controversial issue in literary criticism is the stylistic affiliation of the work “The Golden Chain”. The work, which most researchers consider romantic, also contains features of realism and symbolism.

The first-person narration, the construction of dialogues and the dynamics of the plot unfold completely in the spirit of realism. The ideological richness of the work corresponds to romantic features that emphasize adventure, riddles and secrets, a fairy-tale palace and intrigue, hopes and dreams, love and deceit. The author tries to convey the main ideas of the work, however, not in a realistic manner and not even in the traditions of romanticism. The essence of the work is revealed through symbols, as evidenced by the title of the work “Golden Chain”. Significant images of symbolism are the book “What do we know about ourselves?”, which the young cabin boy reads in the expositional part of the novel, a tattoo with the inscription: “I know everything”, a mysterious palace, secret rooms, labyrinths, coins and, finally, a golden chain.

Alexander Green

gold chain

“The wind was blowing...” - having written this, I knocked over the inkwell with a careless movement, and the color of the shiny puddle reminded me of the darkness of that night when I lay in the cockpit of the Espanyola. This boat could barely lift six tons, and it carried a shipment of dried fish from Mazabu. Some people like the smell of dried fish.

The whole ship smelled of horror, and, lying alone in the cockpit with the window covered with a rag, by the light of a candle stolen from skipper Gros, I was busy examining the binding of a book, the pages of which had been torn out by some practical reader, and I found the binding.

On the inside of the binding was written in red ink:

Below it was:

"Dick Farmeron. Love you, Greta. Your D."

On the right side, a man who went by the name Lazarus Norman signed his name twenty-four times with ponytails and all-encompassing flourishes. Someone else decisively crossed out Norman’s handwriting and left the mysterious words at the very bottom: “What do we know about ourselves?”

I re-read these words with sadness. I was sixteen years old, but I already knew how painfully a bee stings - Sadness. The inscription was especially tormented by the fact that recently the guys from Meluzina, having given me a special cocktail, ruined the skin on my right hand, pricking out a tattoo in the form of three words: “I know everything.” They made fun of me for reading books - I read a lot of books and could answer questions that had never occurred to them.

I rolled up my sleeve. The swollen skin around the fresh tattoo was pink. I wondered if these words “I know everything” were really so stupid; then he became amused and began to laugh - he realized that they were stupid. Lowering my sleeve, I pulled out the rag and looked through the hole.

It seemed as if the lights of the harbor were shuddering right in front of my face. The rain, sharp as clicks, hit my face. The water fussed in the darkness, the wind creaked and howled, rocking the ship. “Melusina” stood nearby; there my tormentors, with the cabin brightly lit, warmed themselves with vodka. I heard what they were saying and began to listen more carefully, as the conversation was about some house with pure silver floors, about fabulous luxury, underground passages and much more. I distinguished the voices of Patrick and Mools, two red, ferocious scarecrows.

Mools said:

- He found a treasure.

“No,” Patrick objected. – He lived in a room where there was a secret drawer; There was a letter in the box, and from the letter he found out where the diamond mine was.

“And I heard,” said the lazy man who stole the folding knife Carrel Gooseneck from me, “that he won a million every day at cards!”

“And I think that he sold his soul to the devil,” said Bolinas, the cook, “otherwise you won’t be able to build palaces right away.”

– Should I ask “Head with a Hole”? - Patrick asked (that was the nickname they gave me), - from Sandy Pruehl, who knows everything?

Vile - oh, so vile! – laughter was Patrick’s answer. I stopped listening. I lay down again, covering myself with a torn jacket, and began to smoke tobacco collected from cigarette butts in the harbor. It produced a strong effect - as if a saw was turning in the throat. I warmed my cold nose by blowing smoke through my nostrils.

I should have been on deck: the second sailor of the Hispaniola had gone to his mistress, and the skipper and his brother were sitting in the tavern, but it was cold and disgusting above. Our cockpit was a simple plank hole with two decks of bare boards and a herring barrel-table. I thought about beautiful rooms where it was warm and free of fleas. Then I thought about the conversation I had just heard. He alarmed me - just as you would be alarmed if they told you that a firebird had landed in a neighboring garden or that an old tree stump had bloomed with roses.

Not knowing who they were talking about, I imagined a man in blue glasses, with a pale, malicious mouth and large ears, descending from a steep peak along chests bound with gold fasteners.

“Why is he so lucky,” I thought, “why?...” Here, holding my hand in my pocket, I felt for a piece of paper and, having examined it, saw that this piece of paper represented an exact account of my relationship with the skipper - from October 17, when I entered Espanyola - until November 17, that is, until yesterday. I myself wrote down all the deductions from my salary on it. Mentioned here were: a broken cup with a blue inscription “To my dear husband from a faithful wife”; a sunken oak bucket, which I myself, at the request of the skipper, stole from the deck of the Western Grain; someone stole a yellow rubber raincoat from me, the skipper’s mouthpiece was crushed by my foot, and the glass of the cabin was broken—all by me. The skipper accurately reported each time that the next adventure was on the way, and it was useless to bargain with him, because he was quick with his hands.

I calculated the amount and saw that it more than covered the salary. I didn't have to get anything. I almost cried with anger, but held back, because for some time I had been persistently deciding the question - “Who am I - a boy or a man?” I shuddered at the thought of being a boy, but, on the other hand, I felt something irrevocable in the word “man” - I imagined boots and a mustache like a brush. If I am a boy, as a lively girl with a basket of melons once called me - she said: “Come on, step aside, boy,” - then why do I think about everything big: books, for example, and about the position of captain, family, children, about how to say in a deep voice: “Hey you, shark meat!” If I am a man, what made me think more than anyone else was a ragged man of about seven who said, standing on his toes: “Let me light a cigarette, uncle!” - then why don’t I have a mustache and women always turn their backs to me, as if I’m not a person, but a pillar?

It was hard, cold, uncomfortable for me. The wind howled. - “Howl!” - I said, and he howled, as if he found strength in my melancholy. The rain was falling. - “Lei!” - I said, rejoicing that everything was bad, everything was damp and gloomy, - not only my score with the skipper. It was cold, and I believed that I would catch a cold and die, my restless body...

I jumped up when I heard footsteps and voices from above; but those were not our voices. The Espaniola's deck was lower than the embankment, so it was possible to descend onto it without a gangplank. The voice said, “There is no one in this pig trough.” I liked this start and was looking forward to the answer. “It doesn’t matter,” answered the second voice, so casual and gentle that I wondered if it was a woman answering a man. - “Well, who’s there?!” - the first one said louder, - there is light in the cockpit; hey, well done!”

Then I got out and saw—or rather, distinguished in the darkness—two people wrapped in waterproof raincoats. They stood looking around, then they noticed me, and the taller one said:

- Boy, where is the skipper?

It seemed strange to me that in such darkness it was possible to determine age. At that moment I wanted to be a skipper. I would say—thickly, thickly, hoarsely—something desperate, for example: “Tear the hell out of you!” - or: “Let all the cables in my brain break if I understand anything!”

I explained that I was the only one on the ship, and also explained where the others had gone.

“In that case,” said the tall man’s companion, “shouldn’t we go down to the cockpit?” Hey, cabin boy, sit us down and we’ll talk, it’s very damp here.

I thought... No, I didn't think anything. But it was a strange appearance, and, looking at the unknown, I flew for a moment to the beloved land of battles, heroes, treasures, where giant sails pass like shadows and a cry - a song - a whisper is heard: “Mystery - charm! Mystery is charm! “Has it really begun?” - I asked myself; my knees were shaking.

There are moments when, thinking, you don’t notice movements, so I woke up only when I saw myself sitting in the cockpit opposite the visitors - they sat on the second bunk where Egva, another sailor, was sleeping - and sat bent over so as not to hit the deck ceiling.

“These are the people!” – I thought, respectfully examining the figures of my guests. I liked both of them - each in its own way. The eldest, broad-faced, with a pale face, stern gray eyes and a barely noticeable smile, should, in my opinion, be suitable for the role of a brave captain who has something for the sailors' lunch, except dried fish. The younger one, whose voice seemed feminine to me - alas! – had a small mustache, dark disdainful eyes and blond hair. He looked weaker than the first, but he had his arms akimbo well and had a great laugh. Both sat in raincoats; The high boots with lacquered cuffs had a thin welt shining, which means these people had money.

"Golden Chain - 01"

“The wind was blowing...”, having written this, I knocked over the inkwell with a careless movement, and the color of the shiny puddle reminded me of the darkness of that night when I lay in the cockpit of the Hispaniola. This boat could barely lift six tons, and it carried a shipment of dried fish from Mazabu. Some people like the smell of dried fish.

On the inside of the binding was written in red ink:

Below it was: "Dick Farmeron. Love you, Greta. Your D."

It seemed as if the lights of the harbor were shuddering right in front of my face. The rain, sharp as clicks, hit my face. The water fussed in the darkness, the wind creaked and howled, rocking the ship. "Melusina" stood nearby; there my tormentors, with the cabin brightly lit, warmed themselves with vodka. I heard what they were saying and began to listen more carefully, as the conversation was about some house with pure silver floors, about fabulous luxury, underground passages and much more. I distinguished the voices of Patrick and Mools, two red, ferocious scarecrows.

Mools said: “He found a treasure.”

No,” Patrick objected. - He lived in a room where there was a secret drawer;

There was a letter in the box, and from the letter he found out where the diamond mine was.

“And I heard,” said the lazy man who stole my folding knife

Carrel-Gooseneck - that he won a million every day at cards!

“And I think that he sold his soul to the devil,” said Bolinas, the cook, “otherwise you won’t be able to build palaces right away.”

Should I ask "Head with a Hole"? - Patrick asked (that was the nickname they gave me), - from Sandy Pruel, who knows everything?

Vile - oh, so vile! - laughter was Patrick's answer. I stopped listening. I lay down again, covering myself with a torn jacket, and began to smoke tobacco collected from cigarette butts in the harbor. It produced a strong effect - as if a saw was turning in the throat. I warmed my cold nose by blowing smoke through my nostrils.

I should have been on deck: the second sailor of the Hispaniola had gone to his mistress, and the skipper and his brother were sitting in the tavern, but it was cold and disgusting above. Our cockpit was a simple plank hole with two decks of bare boards and a herring barrel-table. I thought about beautiful rooms where it was warm and free of fleas. Then I thought about the conversation I had just heard. He alarmed me, just as you would be alarmed if they told you that a firebird had landed in a neighboring garden or that an old tree stump had bloomed with roses.

Not knowing who they were talking about, I imagined a man in blue glasses, with a pale, malicious mouth and large ears, descending from a steep peak along chests bound with gold fasteners.

“Why is he so lucky,” I thought, “why?..”

Here, with my hand in my pocket, I felt for a piece of paper and, examining it, saw that this piece of paper represented an exact account of my relationship with the skipper,

From October 17, when I entered Epagnola, to November 17, that is, until yesterday. I myself wrote down all the deductions from my salary on it. Mention was made here of a broken cup with a blue inscription “To my dear husband from a faithful wife”; a sunken oak bucket, which I myself, at the request of the skipper, stole from the deck of the Western Grain; a yellow rubber raincoat stolen from me by someone, a skipper's mouthpiece crushed by my foot and broken - all by me -

cabin glass. The skipper accurately reported each time that the next adventure was on the way, and it was useless to bargain with him, because he was quick with his hands.

I calculated the amount and saw that it more than covered the salary. I didn't have to get anything. I almost cried with anger, but held back, because for some time I had been persistently deciding the question - “Who am I - a boy or a man?” I shuddered at the thought of being a boy, but, on the other hand, I felt something irrevocable in the word “to men - I imagined boots and a brush mustache. If I am a boy, as the lively girl with a basket of melons once called me, she said: “Well “Come on, step aside, boy,” then why do I think about everything big: books, for example, and about the position of captain, family, kids, about how to say in a deep voice: “Hey you, shark meat!” If I’m a man , - what made me think more than anyone else was a ragged man of about seven who said, standing on his toes: “Let me light a cigarette, uncle!” - why I don’t have a mustache and women always stand with their backs to me, as if I’m not a person, but a pillar ?

It was hard, cold, uncomfortable for me. The wind howled - "Howl!" - I said, and he howled, as if he found strength in my melancholy. The rain was falling. - "Lei!" -

I said, rejoicing that everything was bad, everything was damp and gloomy - not just my score with the skipper. It was cold, and I believed that I would catch a cold and die, my restless body...

The deck of the Hispaniola was lower than the embankment, so it was possible to go down onto it without a gangplank. The voice said, “There is no one in this pig trough.”

I liked this start and was looking forward to the answer. "Doesn't matter", -

Then I got out and saw - rather, distinguished in the darkness - two people wrapped in waterproof raincoats. They stood looking around, then they noticed me, and the taller one said: “Boy, where is the skipper?”

It seemed strange to me that in such darkness it was possible to determine age. At that moment I wanted to be a skipper. I would say - thickly, thickly, hoarsely - something desperate, for example: “Tear you to hell!” - or:

“Let all the cables in my brain break if I understand anything!”

I explained that I was the only one on the ship, and also explained where the others had gone.

“In that case,” said the tall man’s companion, “shouldn’t we go down to the cockpit?” Hey, cabin boy, sit us down and we’ll talk, it’s very damp here.

I thought... No, I didn't think anything. But it was a strange appearance, and, looking at the unknown, I flew for a moment to the beloved land of battles, heroes, treasures, where giant sails pass like shadows and a cry is heard - a song - a whisper: “Mystery is charm! Mystery is charm! ". "Has it really begun?" - I asked myself; my knees were shaking.

There are moments when, thinking, you don’t notice movements, so I woke up only by seeing myself sitting in the cockpit opposite the visitors - they sat on the second bunk where Egva, another sailor, slept, and sat bent over so as not to hit the deck ceiling.

"These are the people!" - I thought, respectfully examining the figures of my guests. I liked both of them - each in its own way. The eldest, broad-faced, with a pale face, stern gray eyes and a barely noticeable smile, should, in my opinion, be suitable for the role of a brave captain who has something for the sailors' lunch, except dried fish. The younger one, whose voice seemed feminine to me - alas! - had a small mustache, dark disdainful eyes and blond hair. He looked weaker than the first, but he had his arms akimbo well and had a great laugh. Both sat in raincoats; The high boots with patent leather cuffs had a thin welt that shone, which means these people had money.

Let's talk, young friend! - said the elder. - As you can see, we are not scammers.

I swear by thunder! - I answered. - Well, let's talk, damn it!..

Then both swayed, as if a log had been brought between them, and began to laugh.

I know that laugh. It means that either you are considered a fool, or you have said immeasurable nonsense. For some time I looked offended, not understanding what was the matter, then I demanded an explanation in a form sufficient to stop the fun and make my offense felt.

Well,” said the first, “we don’t want to offend you.” We laughed because we had drunk a little. - And he told what business brought them to the ship, and I, listening, widened my eyes.

I didn’t really understand where these two people who had involved me in the theft of the Hispaniola were coming from - I was so excited and happy that Uncle Gro’s salted dry fish had disappeared in the colorful fog of a true, unexpected adventure. In a word, they were on their way, but missed the train. Having missed the train, we were therefore late for the steamship Steam, the only ship that goes around the shores of both peninsulas once a day, their points facing each other; "Steam" leaves at four, winds through the lagoons and returns in the morning.

Meanwhile, an urgent matter requires them to go to Cape Gardena or, as we called it, “Troyachka” - in the image of three rocks standing in the water near the shore.

The land road, said the eldest, whose name was Duroc, takes two days, the wind for the boat is strong, and we need to be there by morning. I'll tell you straight, the sooner the better... and you'll take us to Cape Gardena if you want to make money - how much do you want to make, Sandy?

“So you need to talk to the skipper,” I said and volunteered to go to the tavern, but Duroc, raising his eyebrow, took out his wallet, put it on his knee and jingled two columns of gold coins. When he unfolded them, a brilliant stream flowed into his palm, and he began to play with it, toss it, speaking in time with this magical ringing.

“Here is your earnings for tonight,” he said, “here are thirty-five gold pieces.” My friend Estamp and I know the rudder and the sails and the entire shore inside the bay, you don’t risk anything. On the contrary, Uncle Gro will declare you a hero and a genius when, with the help of the people we will give you, you return tomorrow morning and offer him this bank note. Then instead of one galosh he will have two. As for this Gro, we're frankly glad he's gone. He will scratch his beard tightly, then say that he needs to go and consult with his friends. Then he'll send you out for a drink to "sprinkle"

sailing and will get drunk, and it will be necessary to persuade him to tear himself away from his chair and stand at the helm. In general, it will be as clever with him as putting a bag on your feet and dancing.

Do you know him? - I asked in amazement, because at that moment Uncle Gro seemed to be with us.

Oh no! - said Estamp. - But we... um... heard about him. So,

Sandy, let's go.

Let's sail.. O earthly paradise! “I didn’t feel anything bad in my heart in the words of these people, but I saw that care and ardor were gnawing at them. My spirit was like a rammer as it worked. The proposal took my spirit and blinded me. I suddenly felt warm. If I could, I would offer these people a glass of grog and a cigar. I decided without reservations, sincerely and agreeing with everything, since everything was true and Gro himself would have begged for this ticket if he had been here.

In that case." You know, of course... You won't let me down," I muttered.

Everything changed: the rain became playful, the wind became playful, the darkness itself, gurgling with water, said “yes.” I took the passengers to the skipper's cabin and, in a hurry so as not to catch and detain Gro, I untied the sails - two slanting sails with a hoisting yard, removed the mooring lines, set the jib, and when Duroc turned the rudder, the Hispaniola moved away from the embankment, and no one noticed.

We left the harbor in a strong wind, with a good pitching motion, and as we turned around the cape, Estamp took the helm, and Duroc and I found ourselves in the cabin, and I looked at this man, only now clearly imagining how Uncle Gro felt, if he returned with his brother from the tavern. What he would think of me, I didn’t even dare to imagine, since his brain was probably full of fists and knives, but I clearly saw him say to his brother: “Is this the right place or not? I don’t understand.”

That’s right,” the brother must say, “this is the very place—here’s the cabinet, and here’s the rolled up stove; “Meluzina” is standing next to it... and in general...

Then I saw myself with Gro's hand clutching my hair.

Despite the distance separating me from the disaster, the impression appeared so menacing that, hastily blinking, I began to examine Duroc so as not to be dejected.

He sat sideways on a chair, his right arm hanging over the back, and his left holding his fallen cloak. In the same left hand, a special flat cigarette with gold on the end that is put in the mouth was smoking, and its smoke, touching my face, smelled like good lipstick. His velvet jacket was unbuttoned at the very throat, revealing the white triangle of his shirt, one leg was set far away, the other was under the chair, and his face was thinking, looking past me; in this position he filled the entire small cabin. Wanting to be in my place, I opened Uncle Gro's cabinet with a bent nail, as I always did if I was missing something in the kitchen (then locked it), and put a plate of apples, as well as a blue decanter half filled with vodka, and wiped the glasses with his finger.

“I swear by the brahmsel,” I said, “glorious vodka!” Would you and your friend like to have a drink with me?

Well, that's the deal! - said Duroc, coming out of his thoughts. The back window of the cabin was open. - Estamp, should I bring you a glass of vodka?

“Great, give it to me,” came the answer. - I wonder if we'll be late?

“I want and hope that everything turns out to be a false alarm,” Duroc shouted, half turning around. -Have we passed the Flirensky lighthouse?

The lighthouse is visible on the right, we pass close-hauled. Duroc went out with a glass and, returning, said: “Now we’ll drink with you, Sandy.” You, I see, are not a coward.

There were no cowards in my family,” I said with humble pride. In fact, I didn't have any family. - The sea and the wind - that’s what I love!

My answer seemed to surprise him; he looked at me sympathetically, as if I had found and brought back something he had lost.

“You, Sandy, are either a big rogue or a strange character,” he said, handing me a cigarette, “do you know that I also love the sea and the wind?”

“You must love,” I answered.

You look like that.

Never judge by appearance,” said Duroc, smiling. - But let's leave it at that. Do you know, ardent head, where we are sailing?

I shook my head and my foot as maturely as I could.

Near Cape Gardena is the house of my friend Hanover. Along the outer façade it has one hundred and sixty windows, if not more. The house has three floors. He's great, friend

Sandy, very big. And there are many secret passages, hidden rooms of rare beauty, many intricate surprises. The ancient wizards would have blushed with shame that they came up with so little in their time.

I expressed my hope that I would see such wonderful things.

Well, that’s how to say it,” Duroc answered absently. - I'm afraid that we won't have time for you. “He turned to the window and shouted: “I’m coming to relieve you!”

He got up. Standing, he drank another glass, then, straightening and buttoning his cloak, he stepped into the darkness. Estampe came immediately, sat down on the chair abandoned by Duroc and, rubbing his numb hands, said: “The third shift will be yours.” Well, what will you do with your money?

At that moment I sat, blissfully crazy from the mysterious palace, and the question

The print took something away from me. Not otherwise than I already connected my future with the purpose of arrival. Whirlwind of dreams!

What will I do? - I asked again. - Perhaps I’ll buy a fishing boat.

Many fishermen live by their craft.

How's that?! - said Estamp. - And I thought that you would give something to your darling.

I muttered something, not wanting to admit that my darling -

A woman's head cut out of a magazine, which terribly captivated me, lies at the bottom of my chest.

Estamp drank and began looking around absentmindedly and impatiently. From time to time he asked where the Espanyola went, how much cargo it took, how often Uncle Gro beat me, and similar trifles. It was clear that he was bored and that the dirty, cramped cabin, like a chicken coop, was disgusting to him. He was not at all like his friend, the thoughtful, indulgent Duroc, in whose presence this same stinking cabin seemed like the shiny cabin of an ocean steamer. I began to like this nervous young man even less when he called me, perhaps absent-mindedly, “Tommy,” and I corrected him in a deep voice, saying: “Sandi, Sandi is my name, I swear by Lucretia!”

I read, I don’t remember where, this word, infallibly believing that it meant an unknown island. Laughing, Estamp grabbed me by the ear and cried out:

“What! Her name is Lucretia, you red tape! Duroc, do you hear?” he shouted out the window. “Sandy’s friend’s name is Lucretia!”

Only later did I learn how brave and kind this mocking, superficial man was - but at that moment I hated his insolent mustache.

“Don’t tease the boy, Estamp,” replied Duroc.

New humiliation! - from a man whom I have already made my idol. I

shuddered, resentment tightened my face, and, noticing that I lost heart, Estamp jumped up, sat down next to me and grabbed my hand, but at that moment the deck gave way up, and he stretched out on the floor. I helped him get up, internally triumphant, but he pulled his hand out of mine and quickly jumped up himself, blushing deeply, which made me understand that he was proud, like a cat. He looked at me silently and sulkily for some time, then became amused and continued his chatter.

At this time Duroc shouted: “Turn!” We jumped out and moved the sails to the port side. Since we were now near the shore, the wind was blowing weaker, but still we went with a strong side list, sometimes with splashes of waves on board. Here it was my time to hold the helm, and Duroc threw his cloak over my shoulders, although I did not feel the cold at all. “Keep it up,” he said.

Duroc, indicating the direction, and I bravely replied: “Keep it up!”

Now they were both in the cabin, and through the wind I heard something of their quiet conversation. I remember it like a dream. It was about danger, loss, fears. someone's pain, illness; that “we need to find out for sure.” I

I had to hold the tiller firmly and stand firmly on my feet, since the waves were tossing the Hispaniola like a swing, so during my watch I thought more about maintaining the course than anything else. But I was still in a hurry to swim to finally find out who I was dealing with and why. If I could, I would drag the Espanyola running, holding the rope in my teeth.

Having been in the cabin for a short time, Duroc came out, the fire of his cigarette headed towards me, and soon I made out a face bending over the compass.

Well,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder, “here we are approaching.”

To the left, in the darkness, stood a golden network of distant lights.

So this is the house? - I asked.

Yes. Have you ever been here?

Well, you have something to see.

We spent about half an hour walking around the Troyachka stones. There was scarcely enough wind behind the shore ledge to proceed towards the small bay, and when this was at last done, I saw that we were on the slope of gardens or groves, opening around a black, enormous mass, irregularly marked with lights in various parts. There was a small pier, on one side of it, as I saw, yachts were swaying.

Duroc fired, and a little later a man appeared, deftly catching the pier I had thrown. Suddenly the light scattered - a bright lantern flashed at the end of the pier, and I saw wide steps descending to the water, and I saw the groves more clearly.

Meanwhile the Hispaniola had moored and I lowered the sails. I was very tired, but I didn’t feel sleepy; on the contrary, I felt sharply, painfully cheerful and immensely in this unknown corner.

What, Hanover? - Duroc asked the man who met us, jumping onto the pier. -Did you recognize us? Hope. Let's go, Estamp. Come with us too,

Sandy, nothing will happen to your boat. Take the money, and you, Tom, take the young man to warm up and arrange him thoroughly, then you have a journey. - And he explained where to take the ship. - Bye,

Sandy! Are you ready, Estamp? Well, let's get going, and God grant that everything goes well.

Having said this, he connected with Estamp, and they, having descended to the ground, disappeared to the left, and I raised my eyes to Tom and saw a shaggy face with a huge animal mouth, looking at me from twice the height of my height, bowing a huge head. He put his hands on his hips. His shoulders blocked the horizon. It seemed like it would collapse and crush me.

From his mouth, turning a straw like a millstone, a tube flaming with sparks, came a soft, pleasant voice, like a trickle of water.

Are you the captain, or what? - Tom said, turning me towards the fire to look at me. - Wow, so blue!

Damn it! - I said. - And I’m cold, and my head is spinning. If your name is Tom, can you explain the whole story?

What kind of story is this?

Tom spoke slowly, like a quiet, thoughtful baby, and therefore it was extremely disgusting to wait for him to finish speaking.

What kind of story is this? Let's go have dinner. This, I think, will be the best story for you.

With that, his mouth slammed shut - as if a ladder had fallen. He turned and walked ashore, motioning with his hand for me to follow him.

From the shore, along steps located in a semicircle, we climbed into a huge straight alley and walked between the rows of giant trees. Sometimes light shone from left and right, revealing columns in the depths of tangled plants or the corner of a façade with a massive pattern of cornices. Ahead loomed a black hill, and as we drew closer it turned out to be a group of human marble figures intertwined over a colossal bowl in a group as white as snow. It was a fountain. The alley rose up in steps; more steps - we walked further - indicated a turn to the left, I rose and passed the arch of the courtyard. In this large space, brightly illuminated on all sides and overhead by large windows, as well as hanging lanterns, I saw on the first floor a second arch, smaller, but sufficient to let a cart through. Behind her it was as bright as day; three doors on different sides, wide open, revealed a series of corridors and lamps burning near the ceiling. Having led me into a corner, where it seemed there was nowhere to go further, Tom opened the door, and I saw a lot of people around the hearths and stoves; steam and heat, laughter and turmoil, roar and screams, the clink of dishes and the splash of water; there were men, teenagers, women, and it was as if I was in a noisy square.

Wait a minute,” said Tom, “I’ll talk to one person here,” and walked away, lost. Immediately I felt that I was in the way - they pushed me on the shoulder, hit me on the legs, an unceremonious hand forced me to step aside, and then the woman hit my elbow with her basin, and several people already shouted grumpily hastily for me to get out of the way. I moved to the side and collided with the cook, rushing with a knife in his hand, his eyes flashing like crazy. He barely had time to scold me when the thick-legged girl, in a hurry, stretched out on a slippery slab with a basket, and a surf of almonds flew up to my feet; at the same time, three people, dragging a huge fish, pushed me to one side, the cooks to the other, and plowed through the almonds with the fish's tail. It was fun, in a word. I, the fabulous rich man, stood holding a handful of gold coins in my pocket and helplessly looking around, until finally, in the random gap of these hurrying, running, screaming people, I seized the moment to run back to the distant wall, where I sat down on a stool and where Tom found me.

Let’s go,” he said, visibly wiping his mouth cheerfully. This time it wasn't far to go; We crossed the corner of the kitchen and through two doors went up into a white corridor, where in a wide room without doors there were several beds and simple tables.

“I think they won’t interfere with us,” said Tom and, pulling out a dark bottle from his bosom, he sedately tossed it into his mouth so that it gurgled three times. -

Well, have a drink, and they’ll bring you what you need,” and Tom handed me the bottle.

Really, I needed it. So many events happened in two hours, and most importantly, it was all so incomprehensible that my nerves sank. I wasn't myself; or rather, I was in the harbor of Lissa and here at the same time, so I had to separate the past from the present with an instructive sip of wine, the like of which I had never tasted. At this time, an angular man with a compressed face and an upturned nose, wearing an apron, arrived. He put a pack of things on the bed and asked Tom: “For him, or what?”

Tom did not deign to answer him, but took the dress and handed it to me, telling me to get dressed.

“You’re in rags,” he said, “so we’ll dress you up.” “You did a good job,” Tom added, seeing that I had put the gold on the mattress, which I now had nowhere to put on myself. - Put on a decent appearance, have dinner and go to bed, and in the morning you can go wherever you want.

The conclusion of this speech restored my rights, otherwise I was already beginning to think that they would mold me, like clay, into whatever they wanted. Both of my mentors sat down and watched me get naked. Confused, I forgot about the vile tattoo and, having taken off my shirt, only managed to notice that Tom, with his head bent to the side, was working on something very carefully.

Looking at my bare hand, he ran his finger over it.

You know everything? - he muttered, puzzled, and began to laugh, shamelessly looking into my face. - Sandy! - he shouted, shaking my ill-fated hand. - Do you know that you are the guy with the nail?! That's clever! John, look here, it’s written here in the most shameless way: “I know everything”!

I stood, clutching my shirt to my chest, half naked, and was so furious that the screams and laughter of my mentors attracted a crowd of people and for a long time there had been mutual, heated explanations - “what’s the matter” - and I just turned around, smiting the mockers with a glance: man ten crammed into the room. There was an uproar: “This one!

Knows everything! Show me your diploma, young man." - "How is tortue sauce made?" - "Hey, hey, what's in my hand?" - "Listen, sailor, does Tilda like

John?" - "Your education, explain the flow of stars and other planets!" -

Finally, some dirty girl with a nose as black as a sparrow put me on both shoulder blades, squealing: “Daddy, do you know how much three times three?”

I am subject to anger, and if anger exploded in my head, it doesn’t take much for me to forget everything and rush into the boiling darkness of a frantic impulse to crush and beat anything. My rage was terrible. Noticing this, the mockers parted, someone said: “How pale, poor thing, now it’s clear that he’s thinking about something.” The world turned blue for me, and not knowing what to throw at the crowd, I grabbed the first thing I came across - a handful of gold, throwing it with such force that half the people ran out, laughing until they dropped. Already I was climbing onto the one who grabbed my hands

Tom, when it suddenly became quiet: a man of about twenty-two entered, thin and straight, very melancholy and beautifully dressed.

Who threw the money? - he asked dryly. Everyone fell silent, the ones in the back were jumping, and Tom, embarrassed, but immediately cheerful, told what the story was.

Indeed, he has these words on his hand, - said Tom, -

show your hand, Sandy, what’s there, they were just joking with you.

The person who entered was the librarian of the owner of the house, Pop, as I learned about later.

Collect money for him,” said Pop, then he came up to me and examined my hand with interest. - Did you write this yourself?

“I would be a fool,” I said. - They bullied me, I was drunk, they made me drunk.

So... but still, maybe it’s good to know everything. - The priest, smiling, watched how I angrily dressed, how I was in a hurry to put on my shoes. Only now, having calmed down a little, did I notice that these things - jacket, trousers, boots and underwear -

Although they were modestly cut, they were of excellent quality, and while dressing, I felt like my hand in warm soapy foam.

“When you’ve had dinner,” said Pop, “let Tom send Parker, and

Let Parker take you upstairs. Ganuver, the owner, wants to see you. “You are a sailor and must be a brave man,” he added, handing me the money I had collected.

I won’t lose face if the opportunity arises,” I said, hiding my wealth.

The priest looked at me, I looked at him. Something flashed in his eyes -

a spark of unknown considerations. “That’s good, yes...” he said and, looking strangely, left. The spectators had already left; then they led me by the sleeve to the table,

Tom pointed to the dinner being served. The food was on the plates, but whether it was tasty, I didn’t understand, although I ate everything. I was in no hurry to eat. Tom left, and, left alone, I tried to absorb what was happening along with food. Sometimes the excitement rose with such force that the spoon did not fall into the mouth. What kind of story have I found myself in - and what awaits me next? Or was the tramp Bob Percountry right when he said that “if chance throws you for a fork, know that you will fly over to another.”

As I thought about this, a feeling of resistance and a question flashed through me: “What if, after dinner, I put on my hat, decorously thank everyone and proudly, mysteriously refuse the next ones, apparently ready to pick up

“forks”, I’ll get out and return to the “Hispaniola”, where for the rest of my life this incident will remain an “incident” that you can remember for a whole life, making any assumptions about “what could have been” and “unexplained existence”.

The way I imagined it, it was as if a book that made my heart pound was snatched from my hands in the most interesting place. I felt very sad and, indeed, if it happened that I was told to go home, I would probably lie down on the floor and begin to kick my legs in complete despair.

However, nothing of the kind had yet to happen to me; on the contrary, chance, or whatever you want to call it, continued to twist its flashing cord, folding it into an intricate loop under my feet. Behind the wall - and, as I said, the room had no door - it was replaced by a wide vaulted passage -

several people, stopping or meeting by chance, were having a conversation, incomprehensible, but interesting - or rather, it was understandable, but I did not know who they were talking about. The words were like this: - Well, they say he fell again?!

There was something to do, we had a drink. They'll give him a drink, no matter what, or he'll get drunk himself.

Yes, I got drunk.

He can't drink; and everyone drinks, such a company.

What is that rogue Dige looking at?

What about her?!

Well, whatever! They say they are great friends or just cupids, or maybe he will marry her.

I heard her say: “Your heart is healthy; you, she says, are a very healthy person, not like me.”

So, drink, that means you can drink, but everyone knows that the doctor said: “I absolutely forbid you wine. Whatever you want, even coffee, you can die from wine if you have a heart with a defect.”

A heart with a defect, and tomorrow two hundred people will gather, if not more.

We have an order for two hundred. How can you not drink here?

If I had such a dominatrix, I would drink to celebrate.

And what? Did you see anything?

Will you see it? In my opinion, chatter, one continuous rumor. Nobody saw anything. There are, however, some rooms that are closed, but you will go through all the floors,

There's nothing anywhere.

Yes, that's why it's a secret.

Why the secret?

Fool! Everything will be open tomorrow, you know? There will be a celebration, it must be done solemnly, and not like a fig in your pocket. So that there is a consistent impression. I heard something, but I won’t tell you.

Will I ask you again?!

They had a fight and separated. It had just died down when Tom's voice was heard;

the serious voice of an old man answered him. Tom said: “Everyone here is very curious, and I am perhaps the most curious of all.” What's the problem? They say you thought no one could see you. And he saw - and he swears - Kval; Kval swears that she was walking with you from around the corner where the glass stairs were, such a young earwig, and covered her face with a scarf.

Leave it alone, Tom, please. Should I, an old man, start mischief? Kval likes to make things up.

Then they came out and approached me - the companion came closer than Tom. He stopped at the entrance and said: “Yes, you won’t recognize the guy.” And his face became different as he ate. You should have seen how he darkened when you read his quickly printed poster.

Parker was a footman - I've seen clothes like his in pictures.

A gray-haired, cropped, slightly bald, stocky man in white stockings, a blue tailcoat and an open vest, wore round glasses, slightly squinting his eyes when he looked over the glasses. The smart, wrinkled features of the cheerful old woman, the neat chin and the inner calm flashing through the usual work of her face made me think if the old man was the general manager of the house, which is what I asked him about. He replied: “I think your name is Sanders.” Come on, Sandy, and try not to promote me to a higher position while you are not the master here, but the guest.

I asked if I had offended him in any way.

No,” he said, “but I’m not in a good mood and I’ll find fault with everything you tell me.” Therefore, it is better for you to remain silent and keep up with me.

Indeed, he walked so quickly, albeit at a small pace, that I followed him with tension.

We walked halfway through the corridor and turned into a passage where behind the wall, marked by a line of round light holes, there was a spiral staircase.

Climbing up it, Parker breathed hoarsely, but also quickly, but did not slow down his speed. He opened a door in a deep stone niche, and we found ourselves among spaces that seemed to come from lands of splendor into one - among the intersection of lines of light and depth, rising from the unexpected. I experienced, although I did not understand it at the time, how the sense of form can be touched, causing the work of strong impressions of space and environment, where invisible hands raise the impression itself ever higher and more illuminated. This impression of a sudden beautiful form was sharp and new. All my thoughts jumped out, becoming what I saw around me. I did not suspect that lines, in combination with color and light, can smile, stop, hold a sigh, change the mood, that they can produce a clouding of attention and a strange uncertainty of the members.

Sometimes I noticed the huge wreath of a marble fireplace, the airy distance of a painting, or precious furniture in the shadow of Chinese monsters. Seeing everything, I caught almost nothing. I didn’t remember how we turned or where we went. Looking at my feet, I saw marble carvings of ribbons and flowers. Finally, Parker stopped, straightened his shoulders and, pushing his chest forward, led me outside the huge door. He said: “Sandy, whom you wanted to see, is here he is.”

Then he disappeared. I turned around - he was gone.

“Come here, Sandy,” someone said tiredly. I looked around, noticing in the foggy blue space illuminated from above, full of mirrors, glitter and furniture, several people sitting on sofas and armchairs with their faces turned towards me. They were scattered, forming an irregular circle.

Peering to guess who said “come”, I was delighted to see

Duroc with Print; they stood smoking near the fireplace and motioned for me to approach. On the right, in a large rocking chair, was reclining a man of about twenty-eight, with a pale, pleasant face, wrapped in a blanket, with a bandage on his head.

A woman was sitting on the left. Pop stood next to her. I only glanced at the woman, because I immediately saw that she was very beautiful, and therefore I was embarrassed. I

I had never remembered how the woman was dressed, no matter who she was, and now I could only notice white sparks in her dark hair and the fact that she was covered in a beautiful blue pattern of a fragile outline. When I turned away, I again saw her face to myself - a little long, with a bright small mouth and large eyes, looking as if in the shadows.

Well, tell me, what did you do with my friends? - said the muffled man, wincing and rubbing his temple. - Just as they arrived on your ship, they never cease to admire your person. My name is Ganuver; sit down, Sandy, closer to me.

He pointed to the chair in which I sat down - not right away, as it kept giving way and giving way under me, but finally he strengthened himself.

So,” said Ganuver, who smelled slightly of wine, “you love “the sea and the wind”! I was silent.

Isn’t it true, Dige, what power is in these simple words?! - said

Hanover to a young lady. - They meet like two waves.

Then I noticed the others. These were two middle-aged people. One is a nervous man with black sideburns, wearing pince-nez with a wide cord. He looked bulgingly, like a doll, without blinking and somehow strangely twitching his left cheek. His white face in black sideburns, shaved lips that had a slightly pouty appearance, and an aquiline nose seemed to be laughing. He sat with his leg bent in a triangle on the other knee, holding his upper knee with his beautiful matte hands and looking at me with a slight sniffle. The second one was older, thick-set, shaved and wearing glasses.

Waves and squadrons! - the first of them said loudly, without changing his facial expression and looking at me in a rumbling bass voice. - Storms and squalls, brasses and double basses, clouds and cyclones; Ceylon, boarding, breeze, monsoon, Smith and Wesson!

The lady laughed. Everyone else smiled, only Duroc remained, with a somewhat gloomy face, indifferent to this joke and, seeing that I had flushed, came over to me, sitting between me and Hanover.

Well,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, “Sandy serves his calling as best he can.” We'll still sail, eh?

“We’ll sail far,” I said, glad that I had a protector.

Everyone began to laugh again, then a conversation took place between them, in which I did not understand anything, but I felt that they were talking about me - whether they were lightly laughing or seriously - I could not make out. Just some words like

“pleasant exception”, “colorful figure”, “style”, were remembered in such a strange distortion of meaning that I attributed them to the details of my journey with

Duroc and Estamp.

Estamp turned to me, saying: “Do you remember how you got me drunk?”

Are you drunk?

Well, of course, I fell and hit my head hard on the bench.

Confess, “fire water,” “I swear by Lucretia!” he cried,

honestly, he swore by Lucretia! Besides, he “knows everything” - honestly!

This treacherous hint brought me out of the stupid stupor in which I was; I noticed Pop’s tricky smile, realizing that it was he who told about my hand, and I shuddered.

It should be mentioned that by this moment I was overly excited by the sharp change in the situation and circumstances, the unknown of what kind of people were around and what would happen to me next, as well as the naive but firm confidence that I had to do something special within the walls of this house, otherwise I would not be sitting in such brilliant company. If they don’t tell me what is required of me, so much the worse for them: by being late, they may be taking a risk. I had a high opinion of my abilities. I already considered myself as part of a certain story, the ends of which were hidden. Therefore, without taking a breath, in a choked voice so expressive that every hint reached its goal, I stood up and reported: “If I “know” anything, it’s this. Take note. I

I know that I will never mock a person if he is my guest and I have previously shared one bite and one sip with him. And most importantly,” here I tore Pop into small pieces with my eyes, like a piece of paper, “I know that I will never blurt out if I see something by chance until I figure out whether it will be pleasant for someone.

Having said this, I sat down. The young lady looked at me intently and shrugged. Everyone was looking at me.

“I like him,” said Ganuver, “but there is no need to quarrel,

Look at me,” said Duroc sternly; I looked, saw complete disapproval and was glad to fall through the ground. - They were joking with you and nothing more. Understand that!

I turned away, looked at Estamp, then at Pop. Estamp, not at all offended, looked at me with curiosity, then, snapping his fingers, said:

“Bah! and - and spoke to the unknown person in glasses. The priest, after waiting until the funny argument died down, came up to me.

“You’re so hot, Sandy,” he said. - Well, there’s nothing special here, don’t worry, just think about your words in the future. I wish you well.

During all this time, like a bird on a branch, I was barely noticeable in relation to all those gathered here, a certain tone, very slowly slipping between them, a tone of secret dependence, expressed only by looks and movements, like a web slipping from the hands. Whether this was due to a premature surge of nervous strength, which over the years turned into the ability to correctly guess the attitude towards oneself of people meeting for the first time - but only I felt very well that

Hanouver thinks in the same way as the young lady that Duroc, Pop and Estamp are separated from everyone except Hanouver by a special mood unknown to me and that, on the other hand, the lady, the man in pince-nez and the man in glasses are closer to each other, and the first the group walks in a distant circle towards an unknown goal, pretending to remain in place. I am familiar with the refraction of memories - I attribute a significant part of this nervous picture to the development of further events in which I was involved, but I am convinced that the current sensation stores those invisible rays of the states of individual people and groups correctly.

I fell into gloom at Pop's words; he has already left.

Hanouver speaks to you, said Duroc; I got up and went to the rocking chair.

Now I got a better look at this man, with shiny, black eyes, a reddish-curly head and a sad face, on which a thin and slightly sick smile of rare beauty appeared. He peered as if he wanted to rummage through my brain, but apparently, while talking to me, he was thinking about his own, perhaps very persistent and difficult, because he soon stopped looking at me, speaking intermittently: “So, we We've thought about this matter and decided it if you want. Go to Pop, to the library, there you will sort it out... - He didn’t finish saying what to sort it out. - Do you like him, Pop? I

I know what I like. If he's a little brawler, that's not so bad. I was like that myself. So go. Don’t take wine as your confidante, dear di Santigliano. A pleasant air kiss has been sent to your skipper; Everything is fine.

I set off, Ganuver smiled, then pressed his lips tightly and sighed. Duroc approached me again, wanting to say something, when Diguet’s voice was heard:

This young man is too obstinate. I didn't know what she meant by this. Leaving with Pop, I made a general bow and, remembering that I had not said anything to Hanover, returned. I said, trying not to be solemn, but still my words sounded like a command in a game of toy soldiers.

Let me express my sincere gratitude to you. I am very happy about the job, I really like this job. Be healthy.

Then I walked away, bearing in my eyes Hanover's good-natured nod and thinking of the young lady with her eyes in the shadows. I could now, without any embarrassment, look into her whimsically beautiful face, which had an expression like that of a person who is quickly and secretly whispered in his ear.

We crossed the electric beam that fell through the high door onto the carpet of the unlit hall, and, passing further along the corridor, we found ourselves in the library. It was with difficulty that I resisted the desire to walk on my toes - I seemed so loud and out of place within the walls of the mysterious palace. Needless to say, I have never been not only in such buildings, although I read a lot about them, but I have never even been in an ordinary, beautifully furnished apartment. I walked with my mouth open. The priest politely directed me, but did not say anything other than “here” and “here”. Finding ourselves in the library - a round hall, bright from the light of the lights, in glass as fragile as flowers - we stood facing each other and stared, each at a new creature for him. The priest was somewhat confused, but the habit of self-control soon loosened his tongue.

“You have distinguished yourself,” he said, “you stole a ship; nice stuff, honestly!

“I hardly risked it,” I answered, “my skipper, Uncle Gro, must also be in trouble.” Tell me, why were they in such a hurry?

There are reasons! - The priest led me to a table with books and magazines. -

“We won’t talk about the library today,” he continued when I sat down. -

It is true that I have launched everything these days - the material is delayed, but there is no time. Did you know that Duroc and others are delighted? They find you."

you... in a word, you are lucky. Have you dealt with books?

“Of course,” I said, rejoicing that I could finally surprise this graceful young man. - I read a lot of books.

Take, for example, "Rob-Roy" or "The Terror of the Mystic Mountains"; Then

"Headless horseman"...

Sorry,” he interrupted, “I started talking, but I have to go back.”

So, Sandy, tomorrow we will get down to business, or, better yet, the day after tomorrow.

In the meantime, I'll show you your room.

But where am I and what kind of house is this?

Don't be afraid, you're in good hands,” Pop said. - Owner's name

Everest Hanover, I am his chief attorney in some special cases. You have no idea what this house is like.

“Could it be,” I cried, “that the chatter on the Melusine is true?

I told Pop about the sailors' evening conversation.

I can assure you,” said Pop, “that regarding Hanover, all this is fiction, but it is true that there is no other house like this on earth. However, maybe you will see for yourself tomorrow. Come on, dear Sandy, you are, of course, used to going to bed early and tired. Get comfortable with the change of fortune.

“The incredible is happening,” I thought, following him into the corridor adjacent to the library, where there were two doors.

“I can fit here,” said Pop, pointing to one door, and, opening another, added: “And here is your room.” Don’t be timid, Sandy, we are all serious people and never joke in business,” he said, seeing. that I, embarrassed, fell behind. - You expect, perhaps, that I will lead you into gilded palaces

(and that’s exactly what I thought)? Far from it. Although you will have a good life here.

Indeed, it was such a calm and large room that I grinned. It did not inspire the confidence that your real property, for example, a pocket knife, inspires, but it so pleasantly embraced the person entering. So far I felt like a guest in this excellent room with a mirror, a mirrored wardrobe, a carpet and a desk, not to mention other furniture. I followed Pop with my heart racing. He pushed the door to the right, where a narrower space contained a bed and other luxuries of life. All this, with exquisite purity and strict friendliness, called on me to take a last look at Uncle Gro, who was being left behind.

I think you’ll be settled,” said Pop, looking around the room. -

Somewhat cramped, but there is a library nearby, where you can be as long as you want.

You will send for your suitcase tomorrow.

Oh yeah,” I said, giggling nervously. - Perhaps so. And the suitcase and everything else.

Do you have a lot of things? - he asked benevolently.

Why! - I answered. - There are about five suitcases with collars and tuxedos.

Five?.. - He blushed, moving towards the wall near the table, where a cord with a handle like a bell hung. - Look, Sandy, how comfortable it will be for you to eat and drink:

If you pull the cord once, breakfast will rise up the elevator built in the wall. Twice - lunch, three times - dinner; You can get tea, wine, coffee, cigarettes anytime using this phone. - He explained to me how to call the phone, then said into the shiny receiver: - Hello! What?

Wow, yes, there's a new tenant here. - The priest turned to me. - What do you want?

Nothing yet,” I said with shortness of breath. - How do they eat in the wall?

My God! - He perked up when he saw that the bronze desk clock indicated 12. - I have to go. They don’t eat in the wall, of course, but... but the hatch opens and you take it. This is very convenient, both for you and for the servants... I’m leaving decisively, Sandy. So, you are in place, and I am calm. Till tomorrow.

Pop quickly left; I heard his steps even faster in the corridor.

So, I was left alone.

There was something to sit down from. I sat down on a soft, warningly springy chair;

took a breath. The ticking of the clock carried on a meaningful conversation with the silence.

I said, "Okay, great. It's called getting into trouble. Interesting story."

I didn’t have the strength to think about anything coherently. As soon as a coherent thought appeared, another thought honorably asked it to come out. Everything together resembled twisting a woolen thread with your fingers. Damn it! - I said finally, trying at all costs to control myself, and stood up, eager to evoke solid firmness in my soul. The result was crumpling and looseness. I walked around the room, mechanically noting: - Armchair, sofa, table, wardrobe, carpet, picture, wardrobe, mirror - I looked into the mirror. There was a resemblance of a dapper red poppy with blissfully distorted facial features darting about. They accurately reflected my condition. I walked around the entire room, looked into the bedroom again, went to the door several times and listened to see if anyone was coming, with new confusion in my soul. But it was quiet. I have never experienced such silence -

stale, indifferent and tiresome. In order to somehow build a bridge between myself and new sensations, I took out my wealth, counted the coins, -

thirty-five gold coins, - but I already felt completely wild.

My fantasy became so intense that I clearly saw scenes of the most opposite meaning. At one time I was the lost heir of a noble family, to whom for some reason it was not yet convenient to inform about his greatness.

In contrast to this brilliant hypothesis was the suggestion of some dark undertaking, and I no less thoroughly convinced myself that as soon as I fell asleep, the bed would plunge into a secret ladder, where, by the light of torches, masked men would put poisoned knives to my throat. At the same time, my innate foresight, keeping in mind all the circumstances I heard and noticed, pulled me towards discoveries according to the proverb “strike while the iron is hot.” I suddenly lost all my life experience, filled with new feelings with extremely interesting tendencies, but still caused unconscious need to act in the spirit of one's position.

Slightly distraught, I went out into the library, where no one was there, and walked around the rows of cabinets standing perpendicular to the walls. From time to time I pressed something: wood, a copper nail, the carving of jewelry, chilled by the thought that a secret ladder would be in the place where I stood. Suddenly I heard footsteps, a woman’s voice saying: “There is no one,” and a man’s voice confirming this with a sullen moo. I was frightened - I rushed, pressing myself against the wall between two cabinets, where I was not yet visible, but if those who entered had taken five steps in this direction, the new assistant librarian, Sandy Pruel, would have appeared to their eyes, as if in an ambush. I was ready to hide in a nutshell, and the idea of a very large wardrobe with a blank door without glass was completely reasonable in this situation. The closet door was not closed very tightly, so I pulled it away with my nails, thinking about standing behind its cover if the closet was full. The cupboard should have been full, I was frantically aware of this, and yet it turned out to be empty, savingly empty. It was deep enough for three people to stand next to each other. The keys were hanging inside. Without touching them, so as not to clang, I pulled the door by the inner bar, causing the closet to instantly light up, like a telephone booth. But there was no phone here, there was nothing.

One lacquered geometric void. I did not close the door tightly, again fearing noise, and began to listen, trembling. All this happened much faster than said, and, looking around wildly in my shelter, I heard the conversation of the people who had entered.

The woman was Diguet - with another voice I would not have mixed her slow voice of a special shade, which is useless to convey, due to its inherent cold-blooded musicality. It wasn’t difficult to guess who the man was: we don’t forget the voice that taunted us. So, let's go in

Galway and Diguet.

“I want to take a book,” she said loudly. They moved from place to place.

But there really is no one here,” Galway said.

Yes. So,” she seemed to continue the interrupted conversation, “this will certainly happen.

Yes. In pale colors. In the form of web-like spiritual touches.

Unwarming autumn sun.

If it's not conceit.

Am I wrong?! Remember, my dear, Richard Bruce. It's so natural for him.

Certainly. I think through us. But don't tell Thomson. - She laughed. Her laughter somehow offended me. - It is more profitable for the future to keep him in the background. We will highlight it when the opportunity arises. Finally, we will simply abandon it, since the situation has passed to us. Give me some book... just in case... A lovely publication,” Dige continued in the same deliberately loud voice, but, having praised the book, she again switched to a restrained tone: “It seemed to me that it must be.” Are you sure they're not eavesdropping? So, I'm worried about... these... these.

Seems like old friends; someone saved someone's life or something like that,

Galway said. - What can they do, anyway?!

Notice. However, let's go, because your news requires reflection.

The game is worth the candle. Do you like Hanover?

I asked a non-business question, that's all.

If you want to know. I’ll even say more: if I hadn’t been so well trained and weathered, somewhere in the folds of my heart this very microbe could have appeared - a passion. But the poor fellow is too... the latter outweighs.

Falling in love is completely unprofitable.

In this case,” Galway noted, “I am calm about the outcome of the enterprise.” These original thoughts give your attitude the necessary persuasiveness and perfect the lie. What are we going to tell Thomson?

Same as before. All hope is in you, uncle "Vas-is-das."

Only he won't do anything. This cinematic house was built in a way that no Medici could ever dream of.

He'll burst in.

It won't burst. This is what I vouch for. His mind is worth mine, in its own way.

Let's go. What did you take?

I’ll look for it, won’t you... It’s wonderful to gain control of yourself by reading such books.

My angel, crazy Friedrich would never have written his books if he had only read you.

Dige crossed part of the space, heading towards me. Her quick steps, having died down, suddenly sounded, as it seemed to me, almost right next to the closet.

No matter how new I was to the world of people like the inhabitants of this house, my sensitive hearing, heightened by the unrest of that day, photographically accurately noted the words spoken and removed all suspicious places from the incomprehensible. It's easy to imagine what could happen if I were discovered here. As carefully and quickly as I could, I completely covered the cracks of the door and pressed myself into the corner. But the steps stopped in another place. Not wanting to experience such fear again, I rushed to fumble around, looking for a way out - where! - at least against the wall. And then I noticed to my right, on the side where the wall was, a narrow metal latch of unknown purpose. I pressed it down, up, to the right, in desperation, with the bold hope that the space would expand -

to no avail. Finally, I turned it to the left. And it happened - well, wasn’t I right in my most extravagant thoughts? - what was supposed to happen here happened. The wall of the closet silently retreated back, scaring me less, however, than the conversation I had just heard, and I slid into the glare of a narrow corridor, long as a block, illuminated by electricity, where there was at least somewhere to run. With frantic delight, I moved the heavy cutout of the wall with both hands to its original place, but it moved as if on rollers, and since it was exactly the size of the cutout of the corridor, there was no gap left. I deliberately covered it so that it would not be revealed even to me. The move disappeared. There was a blank wall between me and the library.

Such a burning of ships immediately resonated in my heart and mind - my heart turned upside down, and I saw that I had acted recklessly. There was no reason to try to open the library wall again - before my eyes there was a dead end, lined with a square stone that did not understand what “Sesame” was and did not have points that would make me want to press them. I slammed myself. But this chagrin was mixed with a sublime half-fear (let’s call the second half glee) - to be alone in mysterious forbidden places. If I was afraid of anything, it was only that it would be a lot of work to get out of the secret to the obvious;

I would immediately soften the discovery of me here by the owners of this house with a story about an overheard conversation and the resulting desire to hide.

Even a not very smart person, having heard such a conversation, should have been suspicious. These people, for the sake of goals - how do I know -

which ones? - they talked secretly, laughing. I must say that in general I considered conspiracies to be the most normal phenomenon and would be very unpleasantly offended by their absence in such a place where one has to guess about everything; I felt great pleasure, more, deep intimate pleasure, but thanks to the extremely tense combination of circumstances that pulled me here, it made itself felt, in addition to the rapid rotation of thoughts, also by the trembling of my hands and knees;

even when I opened and then closed my mouth, my teeth clanged like copper money. After standing for a while, I examined this dead end again, trying to establish where and how part of the wall was separated, but I did not notice any gap. I put my ear to it, hearing nothing except friction against the stone of the ear itself, and, of course, I did not knock. I didn't know what was going on in the library. Perhaps I did not wait long, perhaps only five or ten minutes passed, but, as happens in such cases, my feelings were ahead of time, accumulating such a period from which it is natural for an impatient soul to move on to action. Always, in all circumstances, no matter how much I acted in agreement with someone, I kept something for myself, and now I also thought that I should take advantage of freedom in my own interest, to thoroughly enjoy research. As soon as temptation began to wag its tail, I could no longer restrain myself from striving with all my being for the stunning temptation. It has long been my passion to wander in unknown places, and I think that the fate of many thieves owes their prison bars to this very feeling, which does not care whether it is an attic or a vacant lot, wild islands or an unknown stranger’s apartment. Be that as it may, passion awoke, began to play, and I resolutely hurried away.

The corridor was half a meter wide and perhaps four inches more; it reached four meters in height; thus, it seemed like a long hole, like a sidewalk, into the far end of which it was as strange and narrow to look into as into a deep well. In different places of this corridor, to the left and to the right, dark vertical features could be seen - doors or side passages, frozen in silent light. The distant end was calling, and I rushed towards the hidden miraculous mysteries.

The walls of the corridor were tiled from bottom to half with brown tiles, the floor

Gray and black in a checkerboard pattern, and the white vault, like the rest of the walls down to the tiles, at the correct distance from each other, glittered with curved round glasses covering electric lamps. I walked to the first vertical line on the left, mistaking it for a door, but close up I saw that it was a narrow arch, from which a narrow twisted staircase with through cast-iron steps and copper railings descended into the dark, unknown depths below. Leaving the exploration of this place until I had covered as much space as possible in order to have some kind of general view for discussing further adventures, I hurried to reach the distant end of the corridor, glancing briefly at the niches opening on the sides, where I found stairs similar to the first, with this difference that some of them were leading upward. I will not be mistaken if I mark the entire distance from end to end of the passage as 250 feet, and when I had rushed along the entire distance, I turned around and saw that nothing had changed at the end that I had left, therefore they were not going to catch me.

I was now at the intersection of the end of a passage with another exactly like the first, at right angles. Both to the left and to the right a new monotonous perspective opened up, still incorrectly marked by the vertical lines of the side niches. Here, so to speak, a balance of intention took possession of me, because in none of the upcoming sides or wings of the transverse passage there was anything that distinguished them from one another, nothing that could determine the choice - they were completely equal in everything. In this case, a button or other similar trifle dropped on the floor is enough for the decision “where to go” to jump out of the viscous balance of impressions. Such a trifle would be a boost. But by looking in one direction and turning to the opposite, one could equally easily imagine the right side as the left, the left as the right, or vice versa. Strange to say, I stood motionless, looking around and not suspecting that once a donkey between two haystacks was upset like me. It's like I'm rooted. I tried to move first in one direction, then in the other, and invariably stopped, starting again to solve something that had not yet been decided. Is it possible to depict this physical melancholy, this strange and dull irritation of which I was aware even then;

Hesitating helplessly, I felt the fear that I would remain standing forever begin to creep up, already darkening my thoughts. My salvation was that I kept my left hand in my jacket pocket, twirling a handful of coins between my fingers. I

took one of them and threw it to the left, with the aim of causing a decisive effort; she rolled; and I went after her only because I had to raise her.

Having caught up with the coin, I began to overcome the second corridor with doubts whether its end would appear crossed in the same way as where I had barely left, so upset that I could still hear my heartbeat.

However, having arrived at this end, I saw that I was in a more intricate position than before - the passage closed into a dead end, that is, it was evenly cut off by a completely blank wall. I turned back, looking at the wall openings, behind which, as before, I could see steps descending into the shadows.

One of the niches had not iron, but stone steps, five in number; they led to a blank, tightly closed door, but when I pushed it, it gave way, letting me into the darkness. Having lit a match, I saw that I was standing on a narrow space of four walls, surrounded by narrow staircases, with smaller platforms at the top adjacent to the passage arches. High above there were other staircases connected by cross bridges.

I, of course, could not know the goals and courses of these interweavings, but having just now an abundant choice of all sorts of directions, I thought that it would be good to return. This thought became especially tempting when the match went out. I

I spent the second one, but did not forget to look for the switch, which was near the door, and turned it. Having thus provided the light, I began to look up again, but here, dropping the box, I bent down. What is this?! Have the monsters come to me from the mystery that gave birth to them, or am I going dizzyingly crazy?

Or has delirium taken over me?

I shook so much, instantly going cold in agony and anguish of horror, that, powerless to straighten up, I put my hands on the floor and fell to my knees, internally screaming, since I had no doubt that I would fall down. However, this did not happen.

At my feet I saw scattered, meaningless eyes of creatures with faces resembling terrible masks. The floor was transparent. Sticking under it up to the glass itself, many eyes with an ominous coloring were sticking out, fixed on me; a circle of strange contoured inversions, needles, fins, gills, spines;

others, even more outlandish, floated up from below, like bubbles or diamonds studded with nails. Their slow movement, immobility, sleepy movement, among which suddenly a certain flexible, fidgety body cut through the green semi-darkness, bouncing and throwing like a ball - all their movements were terrible and wild. I felt numb and felt like I was going to collapse and die from the loss of breath. Fortunately for me, the thought thus exploded hastened to connect the indications of material relations, and I immediately realized that I was standing on the glass ceiling of a gigantic aquarium, thick enough to withstand the fall of my body.

When the confusion subsided, I, sticking out my tongue at the fish in revenge for their bug-eyed obsession, stretched out and began to look greedily. The light did not penetrate the entire mass of water; a significant part of it - the lower one - was shaded below, separating the ledges of artificial grottoes and coral branches at the top.

Over this landscape, jellyfish moved and who knows what, like hanging plants suspended from the ceiling. Fantastic forms floated and sank below me, their eyes shining and their shells glistening, pointed on all sides. I was no longer afraid; Having seen enough, I got up and made my way to the stairs; Stepping through the step, he climbed to its upper platform and entered a new passage.

Just as it was dark where I walked before, it was light here too, but the appearance of the passage was significantly different from the crossings of the lower corridor. This passage, having a marble floor of gray slabs with blue patterns, was much wider, but noticeably shorter; its completely smooth walls were full of cords stretching along porcelain ties, like strings, from end to end. The ceiling had lancet rosettes; the lamps, shining in the center of the wedge-shaped recesses of the vault, were framed in red copper. Without delaying anything, I reached a folding door blocking the passage of an unusual type; it was almost square in size, and its halves moved apart, going into the walls. Behind it was a kind of interior of a large scale, where three could become. This cage, lined with dark walnut, with a small green sofa, as it seemed to me, should constitute some kind of key to my further behavior, albeit a mysterious one, but still a key, since I never met sofas where, apparently, there were no their needs; but since he stood, he stood, of course, for the sake of his direct purpose, that is, so that they would sit on him. It was not difficult to realize that sitting here, in a dead end, should only be waiting for - who? or what? - I had to find out. No less impressive was the row of white bone buttons above the sofa. Again, based on the completely reasonable consideration that these buttons could not be designed for harmful or even dangerous actions, so that by pressing them I could make a mistake, but in no way risk my head, I raised my hand, intending to carry out the experiment... It is quite natural that in moments of action with the unknown, the imagination rushes to predict the result, and I, having already aimed my finger, stopped its poking movement, suddenly thinking: would an alarm ring throughout the house, would a deafening ringing sound?

The slamming of doors, the stomping of running feet, shouts: “Where? Who? Hey! over here!” -

presented themselves to me so clearly in the complete silence surrounding me that I sat down on the sofa and lit a cigarette. “Yes, sir!” I said. “We have gone far, uncle.”

Gro, but just at this time you would have raised me from my miserable bed and, having warmed me with a cuff, you would have ordered me to go knock on the dark window of the inn. “Turn to us” so they can give us a bottle”... I was fascinated by the fact that I understood nothing about the affairs of this house, especially the complete unknown of how and what would happen in an hour, a day, a minute - like in a game. Pendulum my thoughts took on monstrous sweeps, and all sorts of pictures came to mind, even the appearance of dwarfs. I would not mind seeing a procession of dwarfs - gray-bearded, in caps and robes, creeping along the wall with a cunning fire in their eyes. Then I felt terrified; having made up my mind, I stood up and courageously pressed the button, waiting to see if the wall on the side would open. Immediately I was rocked, the cage with the sofa moved to the right so quickly that the corridor instantly disappeared and partitions began to flash, either locking me in, or opening other passages, past which I began to spin non-stop, clutching the sofa with his hands and staring blankly in front of him at the change of obstacles and prospects.

All this happened at that categorical pace of the machine, against which nothing can argue within you, since there is no point in protesting.

I was spinning, describing a closed line inside a vast pipe, full of walls and holes, regularly replacing one another, and so quickly that I did not dare to jump out into any of the mercilessly disappearing corridors, which, having appeared for a moment level with the cage, disappeared as they disappeared , in turn, blank walls separating them. The rotation was started, apparently, for a long time, since it did not decrease and, once it began, it went for a walk, like a millstone on a windy day. If I knew a way to stop this rolling around myself, I would immediately stop enjoying the surprise, but of the nine buttons that I had not yet tried, each represented a charade. I don’t know why the idea of stopping connected with the bottom of them, but having decided after my head began to spin that it was impossible to spin all my life, I angrily pressed this button, thinking, “come what may.” Immediately, without stopping its rotation, the cage crawled up, and I was lifted high along the helical line, where my prison stopped, continuing to spin in a wall with exactly the same number of walls and corridors. Then I pressed the third one from the top, -

and swung down, but, as he noticed, higher than it was at the beginning, and just as inexorably spun at this height until he began to feel sick. I was alarmed.

One by one, almost without realizing what I was doing, I began to press the buttons at random, rushing up and down with the agility of a steam hammer, until I poked -

of course, by accident - the button that needed to be touched first of all.

The cage stopped dead in its tracks opposite the corridor at an unknown height, and I walked out, staggering.

Now, if I had known how to direct the rotating elevator back, I would immediately return to knock and break into the wall of the library, but I was unable to survive the second rotating captivity and headed aimlessly, hoping to meet at least some open space. By that time I very tired. My mind was darkened: where I walked, how I went down and up, encountering side passages and crossing passages, my memory is not now able to restore in the clarity that it was then; I remember only the cramped space, the light, the turns and the stairs as one sparkling, intricate feature. Finally, having filled my feet so that my heels were burning, I sat down in the thick shadow of a short side recess that had no exit, and stared at the opposite wall of the corridor, where a bright silence awaited this crazy night, bright and empty.

My anguished hearing was annoyingly strained to the point of headache, imagining steps, rustling, all kinds of sounds, but I heard only my own breathing.

Suddenly, distant voices made me jump up - several people were walking, from which direction I still could not make out; Finally, the noise, becoming more audible, began to be heard from the right. I established that two people were walking, a woman and a man. They spoke in few words, with long pauses; the words flew vaguely under the arch, so that it was impossible to understand the conversation. I pressed myself against the wall, with my back to the approaching side, and soon saw Hanouver next to Dige. Both of them were excited. I don’t know if it seemed to me or if it really was so, but the owner’s face glowed with a nervous, reddened pallor, and the woman held herself sharp and light, like a knife raised to strike.

Naturally, fearing being discovered, I waited for them to pass by, although the temptation to go out and make myself known was strong - I hoped to remain alone again, at my own risk and fear, and went into the shadows as deeply as I could.

But, having passed the dead end where I was hiding, Dige and Ganuver stopped -

they stopped so close that, sticking my head out around the corner, I could see them almost opposite me.

Here a scene took place that I will never forget.

Hanover spoke.

He stood, resting the fingers of his left hand on the wall and looking straight ahead, occasionally glancing at the woman with completely sick eyes. He held his right hand raised, moving it in time with the words. Dige, shorter than him, listened, slightly turning her bowed head with a sad expression on her face, and was very pretty now - better than I saw her the first time; there was something human and simple in her features, but as if obligatory, out of politeness or calculation.

In what is intangible,” said Ganuver, continuing about the unknown.

It is as if I am among many invisible presences. - He had a tired, chesty voice that evoked attention and sympathy. “But it’s as if I’m blindfolded, and I’m shaking—I’m constantly shaking many hands—I’m shaking until I’m tired, having already stopped distinguishing whether the hand I’m touching is hard or soft, hot or cold; Meanwhile, I have to stop at one and I’m afraid that I won’t guess it right.

He fell silent. Dige said: “It’s hard for me to hear this.”

In the words of Hanover (he was still drunk, but held firm) there was an inexplicable grief. Then a strange thing happened to me, beyond my will, something that did not repeat itself for a long time, about ten years, until it became natural,

This is the state that I will now describe. I began to imagine the feelings of those talking, not realizing that I was keeping it inside myself, meanwhile I was absorbing them as if from the outside. At that moment, Dige put her hand on Hanover’s sleeve, measuring the length of the pause, catching, so to speak, what was needed, without missing the proper beat of time, after which, no matter how imperceptibly small this spiritual measure is, it will be too late to speak, but it shouldn’t be even a hair sooner be said. Ganuver silently continued to see the many hands that he had just spoken about, and was thinking about hands in general, when his gaze settled on Dige’s white hand with the idea of a handshake. No matter how brief this glance was, it immediately responded in Dige’s imagination with the physical touch of her palm on a mysterious invisible string; catching the beat at once, she took it off her sleeve

Hanuvera her hand and, holding it out with her palm up, said in a clear, convincing voice: “This is this hand!”

As soon as she said this, my triple feeling for myself and others ended. Now I saw and understood only what I saw and heard. Ganuver, taking the woman’s hand, slowly peered into her face, as for the sake of experience we read a printed page from a distance - guessing, reading in places or omitting words, so that, having connected what was guessed, we will thereby put in the line of meaning what we did not understand . Then he bent down and kissed his hand - without much enthusiasm, but very seriously, saying: “Thank you.” I understood you correctly, dear Dige, and I am not leaving this moment. Let's give in to the flow.

Great,” she said, cheering and blushing, “I’m very, very sorry for you.” Without love... it's strange and good.

Without love,” he repeated, “perhaps it will come... But it won’t come, if anything...

It will be replaced by intimacy. Closeness grows later. I know that.

There was silence.

Now,” said Ganuver, “not a word about it.” Everything is in itself. So, I promised to show you the grain from which I came. Great. I am Aladin, and this wall - well, what do you think - what kind of wall is this? “He seemed to be amused and began to smile. - Do you see a door here?

No, I don’t see a door here,” Dige answered, amused by the anticipation.

But I know that it is there.

“Yes,” said Hanover. - So... - He raised his hand, pressed something, and an invisible force lifted a vertical wall layer, opening the entrance. I stretched my neck as far as I could and found that it was much longer than I had hitherto thought. With my eyes bulging and my head stuck out, I looked inside the new hiding place, where Ganuver and Dige entered. It was lit there. As I soon became convinced, they entered not into a passage, but into a round room; the right side of it was hidden from me,

Along that oblique line of direction as I looked, but the left side and the center where these two people stopped appeared not far from me, so that I could hear the entire conversation.

The walls and floor of this room - a cell without windows - were covered in purple velvet, with a pattern along the wall of fine gold mesh with hexagonal shaped cells. I couldn't see the ceiling. On the left, near the wall, on a patterned golden pillar, stood a black statue: a blindfolded woman, one leg of which airily touched the fingers of a wheel decorated with wings on the sides of the axis, the other, raised, was carried back. Below, in loose loops, lay a shining yellow chain of medium thickness, each link probably weighing twenty-five pounds. I counted about twelve turns, each from five to seven steps long, after which I had to close my eyes in pain - so this magnificent cable sparkled, clear as morning light, with hot colorless dots where the rays played. The velvet seemed to be smoking, unable to bear the dazzling flame. At that same moment, a thin ringing began in my ears, as annoying as the singing of a mosquito, and I guessed that it was gold, pure gold, thrown to a pillar by a blindfolded woman.

“Here it is,” said Ganuver, putting his hands in his pockets and pushing the heavily retracted double ring with his toe. - One hundred and forty years under water. No rust, no shells, just as it should be. Piron was an intricate buccaneer.

They say that he took with him the poet Castoruccio so that he would describe in poetry all the battles and drinking bouts; well, and beauties, of course, when they came across them. He forged this chain in 1777, five years before he was hanged. On one of the rings, as you can see, the inscription remains: “April 6, 1777, by the will of

Hieronymus Piron."

Dige said something. I heard her words, but did not understand. It was a line or fragment of a poem.

Yes,” Hanover explained, “I was, of course, poor. I have long heard the story of how Piron cut off this golden chain along with the anchor in order to escape from the English ships that overtook him suddenly. Here are the traces - you see, they were cutting here - he squatted down and lifted the end of the chain, showing the cut link - Chance or fate, as you wish, forced me to swim very close to here, early in the morning. I walked knee-deep in the water, further and further from the shore, into the depths, and tripped, hitting something hard with my big toe. I

bent down and pulled out of the sand, lifting the dregs, this shining heavy chain halfway up his chest, but, exhausted, fell along with it. Only one loon, swaying in the swell, looked at me with a black eye, thinking perhaps that I had caught a fish. I was blissfully drunk. I again buried the chain in the sand and marked the place, laying out a row of stones on the shore, tangent to my discovery of the line, and then carried the find to myself, working for five nights.

One?! What strength is needed!

No, just the two of us,” said Ganuver after a pause. “We sawed it into pieces as we pulled it out, using an ordinary handsaw. Yes, my hands hurt for a long time. Then they were carried in buckets, sprinkled with shells on top. This lasted five nights, and I did not sleep for these five nights until I found a man so rich and reliable that I could take the entire gold cargo as collateral without spilling the beans. I wanted to keep it. My... My drag companion danced at night, on the shore, under the moonlight."

He fell silent. A nice, thoughtful smile carved a light into his upset face, and he wiped it away by running his palm down from his forehead.

Dige looked at Hanouver silently, biting her lip. She was very pale and, looking down at the chain, seemed to be absent, her face looked so unsuitable for conversation, like the face of a blind woman, although her eyes cast away thousands of thoughts.

Your... companion,” she said very slowly, “left the whole chain to you?”

Hanover raised the end of the chain so high and with such strength that it was difficult to imagine it, then lowered it.

The cable crashed with a heavy stream.

I didn't forget about him. “He died,” Hanover said, “it happened unexpectedly.” However, he had a strange character. Then it was like this. I

I entrusted a faithful person to manage my money as he wanted, so that he himself could be free. A year later he wired me that it had increased to fifteen million. I was traveling at this time. Traveling for three years, I received several such notices. This man tended my flock and multiplied it with such luck that it exceeded fifty. He dumped my gold wherever he wanted - in oil, coal, stock exchange sweat, shipbuilding and

". I already forgot where. I was just receiving telegrams. How do you like it?

Happy chain,” Dige said. bending down and trying to lift the end of the cable, but she barely moved it. - I can not.

She straightened up. Ganuver said: “Don’t tell anyone what you saw here.” Since I bought it and soldered it, you are the first one I show it to. Now let's go. Yes, let's go out and I'll close this golden snake.

He turned around, thinking that she was coming, but, having looked and already moving away, he called again: “Dige!”

She stood looking at him intently, but so absent-mindedly that Hanover lowered the hand extended to her in bewilderment. Suddenly she closed her eyes, -

made an effort, but did not move. From under her black eyelashes, which rose terribly quietly, trembling and sparkling, a gloomy gaze crept out - a strange and dull shine; only for a moment did he shine. Dige lowered her head, touched her eyes with her hand and, sighing, straightened up, walked, but staggered, and Ganuver supported her, peering with alarm.

What's wrong with you? - he asked.

Not bad. I... I imagined the corpses; people tied to a chain;

prisoners who were lowered to the bottom.

Morgan did it,” said Hanover. “Pearson was not so cruel, and the legend paints him as more of an eccentric drunkard than a dragon.”

They left, the wall lowered and fell into place, as if it had never been disturbed. Those talking left in the same direction from where they came.

I immediately intended to look after them, but... I wanted to step and could not.

My legs were numb and did not obey. I kind of sat through them in an awkward position.

Spinning on one leg, I somehow lifted the other and rearranged it; it was heavy and sank as if on a pillow, without feeling. Pulling my other leg towards it, I found that I could walk at ten feet a minute. IN

There was a golden shine in his eyes, hitting the pupils in waves. This state of bewitchment lasted about three minutes and disappeared as suddenly as it appeared.

Then I understood why Diguet closed her eyes, and I remembered someone’s story about a petty French official in the basements of the National Bank, who, walking among piles of gold pieces, could not leave until he was given a glass of wine.

“So that’s it,” I repeated senselessly, finally emerging from the ambush and wandering along the corridor. Now I saw that I was right in setting out to make discoveries.

The woman will take Hanover and he will marry her. The golden chain wriggled in front of me, crawling along the walls, getting tangled in my legs. We need to find out where he was swimming when he found the cable; who knows - is there any left for my share? I took out my gold coins. Very, very little! My head was spinning. I wandered, hardly noticing where I was turning, sometimes it seemed as if I was falling through, I had little idea what I was thinking about, and I walked, a stranger to myself, already tired of hoping that there would be an end to these wanderings in cramped space, light and silence. However, my internal anxiety must have been strong, because through the delirium of fatigue and the excitement scorched by it, I stopped, abruptly, as if over an abyss, I imagined that I was locked and lost, and the night continued. Not fear, but complete despair, full of endless indifference to the fact that they would cover me here, possessed me when, almost falling from exhaustion, which had crept up omnipotently, I stopped at a dead end, similar to all the others, lay down in front of it and began kicking the wall so that the echo, howling with a roar, began to rumble throughout all spaces, above and below.

I was not surprised when the wall moved out of its place and in the bright depths of the vast, luxurious room I saw Pop, and behind him Duroc in a colorful robe. Duroc raised, but immediately lowered the revolver, and both rushed towards me, dragging me by the arms and legs, since I could not get up. I sank into a chair, laughing and slapping my knee as hard as I could.

“I’ll tell you,” I said, “they’re getting married!” I have seen! That young woman is your master. He was tipsy. By God! He kissed his hand. Honor by honor! The golden chain lies there, behind the wall, forty turns through forty passages. I have seen. I got into the closet and now judge what you want, but you,

Duroc, I will be faithful and that’s it!

I saw a glass of wine right next to my face. Glass clanged against his teeth. I

drank wine, in the darkness of the dream that had fallen on me, not yet having time to make out how

Duroc said: “It’s nothing.” Pop! Sandy got his share; he quenched the thirst for the extraordinary. It's no use talking to him now.

It seemed to me, when I woke up, that the moment of loss of consciousness was brief, and the skipper would immediately pull off my jacket so that the cold would make me jump up faster. However, nothing disappeared during sleep. Daylight peeked through the cracks of the curtains. I was lying on the sofa. There was no priest. Duroc walked along the carpet with his head bowed and smoked.

Opening my eyes and realizing what had flown away, I closed them again, figuring out how to hold on, since I didn’t know whether they would scold me or everything would go well.

I finally realized that the best thing is to be yourself. I sat down and said to Duroc in the back: “It’s my fault.”

Sandy,” he said, perking up and sitting down next to him, “it’s your fault.” As you fell asleep, you mumbled about the conversation in the library. This is very important to me, and that's why I'm not angry. But listen: if this goes on, you'll really know everything. Tell me what happened to you.

I wanted to get up, but Duroc pushed me on the forehead with his palm, and I sat down again.

A wild dream was still swirling inside me. He tightened his joints with pincers and broke out his cheekbones with his yawns; and sweetness, unquenched sweetness, sank in all members. Hastily collecting my thoughts, and also lighting a cigarette, which was my morning habit, I told, recalling, as accurately as I could, Galway’s conversation with Diguet. Duroc never questioned or questioned me about anything more than about this conversation.

You should thank the lucky chance that brought you here,

He finally noticed, apparently very concerned, “however, I see that you are lucky.” Did you sleep well?

Duroc did not hear my answer: lost in thought, he anxiously rubbed his forehead;

then he got up and started walking again. The mantel clock indicated seven and a half.

The sun cut through the smoky air from behind the curtains with a thin beam. I sat, looking around. The splendor of this room, with mirrors in ivory frames, marble window coverings, carved, intricate furniture, colored silks, smiles of beauty in paintings shining in gold and blue in the distance, Duroc's feet walking on furs and carpets - all this was too much for me, it was tiring. It would be best for me to breathe now squinting under the sun at the sharp shine of the sea.

Everything I looked at fascinated me, but it was unusual.

We’ll go, Sandy,” Duroc said, stopping walking, “later... but what’s the preface: do you want to go on an expedition?..

Thinking that he was suggesting Africa or some other place where adventures are inexhaustible, like mosquito bites in the swamps, I said with all haste:

Yes! A thousand times - yes! I swear by the skin of a leopard, I will be wherever you are.

As I said this, I jumped up. Maybe he guessed what I was thinking, because he laughed wearily.

Not as far as you might want, but to the “land of the human heart.” To a land where it is dark.

“Oh, I don’t understand you,” I said, not looking away from his mouth, compressed like a vice, arrogant and condescending, from his sharp gray eyes under a stern forehead. - But I really don’t care if you need it.

It’s very necessary, because it seems to me that you can come in handy, and I already had my eye on you yesterday. Tell me how long it takes to swim to

Signal Wasteland?

He asked about the suburb of Lissa, which had been called that way since ancient times, when there was almost no city, and on the stone pillars of the cape, christened with the name

“Signal Wasteland”, tar barrels burned at night, lit with the permission of colonial detachments, as a sign that ships could enter Signal Bay.

Now the Signal Wasteland was a fairly populated place with its own customs, post office and other similar institutions.

I think, I said, that half an hour will be enough if the wind is good. Do you want to go there?

He did not answer, went into the next room and, after fiddling around there for quite some time, returned dressed like a coastal resident, so that all that was left of his social splendor was his face. He wore a leather jacket with double cuffs, a red waistcoat with green glass buttons, a narrow lacquered hat that resembled a cauldron overturned in a frying pan; around the neck there is a checkered scarf, and on the legs - over brown camel cloth trousers - soft boots with thick soles. People in such outfits, as I have seen many times, hold the vest button of some captain painted with wine, standing in the sun on the embankment among stretched ropes and rows of barrels, and tell him what lucrative offers there are from the company

“Buy on credit” or “Insure without need.” While I marveled at him, not daring, of course, to smile or make a remark, Duroc walked up to the wall between the windows and pulled the hanging cord. Part of the wall immediately fell out in a semicircle, forming a shelf with a recess behind it, where a light flashed; there was a buzzing behind the wall, and I didn’t have time to really understand what had happened, when a table of sorts rose from the wall, level with the fallen shelf, on which there were cups, a coffee pot with an alcohol lamp burning under it, rolls, butter, crackers and snacks from fish and meat , must have been prepared by the hands of a magical kitchen spirit,

I felt so much toastiness, oil, sizzle and aroma among the white dishes decorated with a pattern of greenish flowers. The sugar bowl resembled a silver cake. Spoons, sugar tongs, napkins in enamel rings and a carmine decanter with cognac covered with gold wickerwork made of tiny grape leaves - everything appeared like the sun from the clouds. Duroc began to transfer what the magical creatures had sent to the large table, saying: -

Here you can do without servants. As you can see, our host arranged himself in a rather intricate way, and in this case, simply witty. But let's hurry.

Seeing how quickly and deftly he eats, pouring himself and me from a decanter fluttering on the tablecloth like pink bunnies, I lost my pace and began to drop my knife and my fork every minute; At one time, embarrassment almost tormented me, but my appetite prevailed, and I finished the meal very quickly, using the trick that I seemed to be in a hurry more than Duroc. As soon as I stopped paying attention to my movements, things went as well as possible, I grabbed, chewed, swallowed, threw away, drank and was very pleased with myself. Chewing, I never stopped thinking about one thing that I didn’t dare say, but I really wanted to say and, perhaps, would not have said it, but Duroc noticed my persistent gaze.

What's the matter? - he said absently, far from me, somewhere in his mountain peaks.

Who are you? - I asked and gasped to myself. “It’s gone wrong!”

I thought bitterly. - Now hold on, Sandy!

I?! - said Duroc with the greatest amazement, fixing a gaze as gray as steel on me. He burst out laughing and, seeing that I was numb, added: -

Nothing, nothing! However, I want to see you ask the same question

Printmaking. I will answer your simplicity. I am a chess player.

I had a vague idea of chess, but involuntarily I was satisfied with this answer, mixing in my mind a checkers board with dice and cards.

"In one word - player!" - I thought, not at all disappointed by the answer, but, on the contrary, strengthening my admiration. A player means a young fellow, a smart guy, a risky person. But, having been encouraged, I intended to ask something else, when the curtain fell back and Pop entered.

The heroes are sleeping,” he said hoarsely; was tired with a pale, sleepless face and immediately stared at me anxiously. - The second persons are all on their feet.

Estamp will come now. I bet he'll go with you. Well, Sandy, you broke off the thing, and you’re lucky that you weren’t noticed in those places. Ganuver could have simply killed you. God forbid you to talk about all this! Be on our side, but keep quiet since you are in this story. So what happened to you yesterday?

I again talked about the conversation in the library, about the elevator, the aquarium and the gold chain.

Well, you see! - Pop said to Duroc. - A man out of desperation is capable of anything. Just the day before yesterday, he said to this same Dige in front of me: “If everything goes as it is now, I will ask you to play the most spectacular role.” It's clear what we're talking about. All eyes will be turned to her, and she will connect the current with her automatic, narrow hand.

So. Let him connect! - said Duroc. - Although... yes, I understand you.

Certainly! - Pop picked up hotly. - I have never seen a person who believed so much, who was so convinced. Look at him when he's alone. It will be creepy. Sandy, go to your place. However, you will get confused again.

Leave him,” said Duroc, “he will be needed.”

Is not it too much? - The priest began to move his eyes from me to Duroc and back.

However, as you know.

What kind of advice is there without me? - said, appearing, sparkling with cleanliness

Printmaking. - I want too. Where are you going, Duroc?

Need to try. I'll try, although I don't know what will come of it.

A! Foray into the trembling trenches! Well, when we show up - two fellows like you and me - I'll bet a hundred against eleven that even a telegraph pole won't stand! What?! Have you already eaten? And did you drink? Am I not there yet? As I see it -

The captain is with you and is being crazy. Hello, Captain Sandy! I heard you laid mines in these walls all night?!

I snorted because I couldn't be offended. Estamp sat down at the table, bossing and putting whatever he could into his mouth, also lightening the decanter.

Listen, Duroc, I'm with you!

“I thought you would stay with Hanover for now,” said Duroc. -

In addition, in such a delicate matter...

Yes, get the word in on time!

No. We may confuse...

And cheer! To the health of this stubborn caterpillar!

“I’m serious,” insisted Duroc, “I prefer the idea of carrying out the matter less noisily.”

How I eat! - Estamp picked up the fallen knife.

“From everything I know,” Pop put in, “the print will be very useful to you.”

Certainly! - cried the young man, winking at me. - So Sandy will tell you that I’m right. Why should I intrude on your delicate conversation? Sandy and I will sit somewhere in the bushes and catch flies... right?

If you are serious,” I answered, “I will say this: since the matter is dangerous, every person can only be useful.”

Why do you think about danger? - Pop asked seriously.

Now I would answer that the danger was necessary for my peace of mind. “A burning brain and a cold hand” - as the song about

Pelegrine. I would also say that all these words and omissions, preparations, disguises and gold chains reek of danger, just as milk smells of boredom, a book smells of silence, a bird smells of flight, but then everything unclear was clear to me without evidence .

Because that’s the kind of conversation,” I said, “and I swear by my handgun, there’s no point in asking someone who knows least of all.” I won't ask. I

I'll do my job, I'll do whatever you want.

“In that case, you will change your clothes,” Duroc said to Estamp. - Come to my bedroom, there is something there. - And he took him away, and he returned and began to talk to Pop in a language that I did not know.

I don’t know what they will do in the Signal Wasteland; meanwhile, I visited there in my mind, as I did many times in childhood. Yes, I fought with teenagers there and hated their way of poking their eyes with splayed fingers. I

despised these cruel and inhuman tricks, preferring a sure, strong blow to the chin to all the subtleties of a hooligan fabrication. About Signalny

There was a saying in the wasteland: “In the wasteland, it’s night during the day.” There lived thin, wiry, pale people with colorless eyes and distorted mouths. They had their own morals, worldviews, their own strange patriotism. The most clever and dangerous thieves were found in the Signal Wasteland, where drunkenness, smuggling and gangs flourished - entire partnerships of adult boys, each with their own leader. I knew one sailor from Signal Wasteland - he was a puffy man with eyes in the form of two sharp triangles; he never smiled and never parted with his knife. An opinion was established, which no one tried to refute, that it was better not to mess with these people. The sailor I'm talking about treated with contempt and hatred everything that was not in the Wasteland, and if anyone argued with him, he turned unpleasantly pale, smiling so creepily that he lost the desire to argue. He always walked alone, slowly, barely swaying, with his hands in his pockets, intently looking and following with his gaze everyone who kept their gaze on his swollen face, as if he wanted to stop him so that, word by word, they could start a quarrel. His eternal refrain was: “We have it there.”, “We are not like that,” “What do we care about that,” - and all that, which made it seem that he was born thousands of miles from Liss, in a stubborn country of fools, where, Puffing out their chests, braggarts walk with knives in their bosoms.

A little later Estamp appeared, dressed in a blue tunic and blue fireman's trousers, in a shabby cap; he went straight to the mirror, looking himself over from head to toe.

These disguises interested me very much, but I didn’t have the courage to ask what the three of us would do in the Wasteland. It seemed like desperate things were ahead. I behaved as sternly as I could, frowning and looking around with a significant air. Finally Pop announced that it was already nine o'clock, and Duroc -

that we had to go, and we went out into the bright silence of deserted, magnificent walls, walked through the oncoming radiance of perspectives in which the gaze was lost; then we went out to the spiral staircase. Sometimes in the large mirror I saw myself, that is, a short young man with dark hair combed smoothly back.

Apparently my outfit did not require any change; it was simple: a jacket, simple new shoes and a gray cap.

I noticed when I was quite old that our memory is best suited to a direct direction, for example, a street; however, the idea of a modest apartment (if it is not yours), when you have been in it only once, and then try to remember the arrangement of objects and rooms, is half your own exercise in architecture and furnishings, so that, having visited that place again, you see him differently. What can we say about the giant building?

Hanover, where I, torn by unfamiliarity and amazement, darted like a dragonfly among the lights of lamps - in complex and luxurious spaces? Naturally, I vaguely remembered those parts of the building where there was a need to delve into them on my own; in the same place where I followed others, I only remembered that there was a confusion of stairs and walls.

As we descended the last steps, Duroc took the long key from Pop and inserted it into the lock of the patterned iron door; it opened onto a semi-dark channel with a stone arch. At the platform, among other boats, there was a sailboat, and we climbed into it. Duroc was in a hurry; I, correctly concluding that there was an urgent matter ahead, immediately took the oars and untied the sail. The priest handed me the revolver; Having hidden it, I swelled with pride, like a mushroom after the rain.

Then my bosses waved to each other. The priest left, and we rowed out in the cramped damp walls into clear water, finally passing a stone arch overgrown with bushes. I raised the sail. When the boat left the shore, I guessed why we sailed out of this rat harbor, and not from the pier opposite the palace:

no one could see us here.

On this hot morning the air was transparent, so the line of Signal Wasteland buildings was clearly visible opposite us. The bot took a decent run with a little wind. The print was directed to the point indicated to him by Duroc; then we all lit a cigarette, and Duroc told me to remain firmly silent not only about everything that could happen in the Wasteland, but also to remain silent even about the trip itself.

Get out of here as best you can if anyone pesters you with questions, but it’s best to say that you were apart, walking, but you don’t know anything about us.

I’ll lie, be calm,” I answered, “and generally rely on me completely.” I will not let you down.

To my surprise, Estamp did not tease me anymore. With the calmest look, he took the matches that I returned to him, without even winking, as he did at every opportunity; in general he was as serious as possible for his character. However, he soon got tired of being silent, and he began to read poetry quickly, but, noticing that no one was laughing, he sighed and thought about something. At that time, Duroc asked me about the Signal Wasteland.

As I soon realized, he was interested in knowing what the residents were doing.

Wasteland and is it true that people speak disapprovingly of this place?

Notorious thugs,” I said passionately, “swindlers, God forbid!” A dangerous population, to be sure. - If I reduced this characterization to the side of intimidation, then it was still three-quarters true, since in the prisons of Liss, eighty percent of the prisoners were born in the Wasteland. Most of the walking girls came to taverns and coffee shops from there. In general, as I already said, the Signal Wasteland was a territory of cruel traditions and strange jealousy, due to which every non-resident

The wasteland was an implied and natural enemy. How this happened and where it started is difficult to say, but hatred of the city and the townspeople in the hearts of the inhabitants of the Wasteland took such deep roots that rarely anyone, having moved from the city to the Signal Wasteland, could get along there. I fought there three times with local youth for no reason, just because I was from the city and the guys were “bullying” me.

I explained all this with little skill and without much grace to Duroc, wondering what significance information about a completely different world from the one in which he lived could have for him.

Finally he stopped me, starting to talk to Estamp. It was useless to listen, since I understood the words, but could not illuminate them with any reliable meaning. “It’s a confusing situation,” Estamp said. “Which we will unravel,” Duroc objected. - “What do you hope for?” - “The same thing he hoped for.” - “But there may be more serious reasons than you think.”

- “We’ll find out everything!” - “However, Dige...” - I didn’t hear the end of the phrase. - “Oh, you’re young!” “No, it’s true,” Estamp insisted on something, “the truth is what you can’t think.” “I did not judge by it,” said Duroc, “I might have been mistaken myself, but the psychic flavor of Thomson and Galway is quite clear.”

In this kind of thinking out loud about something well known to them, this conversation continued to the shore of the Signal Wasteland. However, I did not find any explanations for what was happening in the conversation. There was no time to think about this now, since we arrived and left, leaving Estampes to guard the boat. I

I didn’t notice that he had a great desire for inaction. They agreed as follows: Duroc should send me as soon as the further state of the unknown matter becomes clear, with a note, after reading which Estamp will know whether he should stay in the boat or join us.

However, why are you taking not me, but this boy? - asked dryly

Printmaking. - I'm talking seriously. There may be a shift towards melee, and you have to admit that on the scale of action I count for something.

For many reasons,” replied Duroc. - Due to these considerations, for now I must have an obedient living assistant, but not an equal, like you.

Maybe,” Estamp said. - Sandy, be obedient. Be alive.

Look at me!

I realized that he was annoyed, but I ignored it, since I myself would have felt dull in his place.

Well, let’s go,” Duroc told me, and we went, but had to stop for a minute.

The shore in this place was a rocky slope, with houses and greenery at the top. Overturned boats stood by the water and nets were drying. Several people wandered around here, barefoot and wearing straw hats. One had only to look at their pale, overgrown faces to immediately withdraw into oneself. Leaving their work, they stood at some distance from us, observing what we were and what we were doing, and speaking quietly among themselves. Their empty, narrowed eyes expressed obvious hostility.

Estamp, having sailed a little, stood at anchor and looked at us, dangling his hands between his knees. A lanky man with a narrow face separated from a group of people on the shore; He waved his hand and shouted: “Where from, buddy?”

Duroc smiled peacefully, continuing to walk silently, I walked next to him.

Suddenly another guy, with a stupid, insolent face, quickly ran towards us, but, not having reached five steps, he froze in his tracks, calmly spat and galloped back on one leg, holding the other by the heel. Then we stopped. Duroc turned to the group of ragamuffins and, putting his hands in his pockets, began to watch silently. His gaze seemed to disperse the gathering. Having laughed among themselves, these people returned to their nets and boats, pretending that they no longer noticed us. We got up and entered the empty narrow street. It stretched between gardens and one-story houses made of yellow and white stone, heated by the sun.

Roosters and chickens wandered from the courtyards, voices were heard from behind the low sandstone fences - laughter, cursing, an annoying, drawn-out call. Dogs were barking, roosters were crowing. Finally, passers-by began to appear: a hooked old woman, teenagers, a drunken man walking with his head down, women with baskets, men on carts. Those we met looked at us with slightly widened eyes, passing by, like any other passers-by, but, having passed some distance, they stopped; turning around, I saw their motionless figures, looking after us with concentration and gloom. Having turned into several alleys, where we sometimes crossed bridges over ravines, we stopped at a heavy gate. The house was inside a courtyard; in front, on a stone fence through which I could look inside, hung rags and mats drying in the sun.

Here,” said Duroc, looking at the tiled roof, “this is that house.” I recognized him from the large tree in the yard, as they told me.

“Very good,” I said, seeing no reason to say anything else.

Well, let’s go,” said Duroc, “and I followed him into the yard.

As an army, I kept some distance from Duroc, while he walked to the middle of the courtyard and stopped, looking around. A man sat on a stone at one threshold, mending a barrel; the woman was hanging out her laundry. A boy of about six was pushing, groaning, by the garbage pit; when he saw us, he stood up and grimly pulled on his pants.

But as soon as we arrived, curiosity was immediately revealed. Funny heads appeared in the windows; the women, with their mouths open, jumped out onto the threshold and began to look as persistently as they look at the postman.

Duroc, having looked around, headed towards the one-story outbuilding at the back of the courtyard.

We walked under the shade of the canopy, to three windows with white curtains. A huge hand lifted the curtain, and I saw a thick eye, like a bull’s, widening its sleepy eyelids at the sight of two strangers.

This way, buddy? - said the eye. - To me, or what?

Are you Warren? - asked Duroc.

I am Warren; what do you want?

“Nothing special,” said Duroc in the calmest voice. “If there's a girl named Molly Warren living here, and if she's at home, I want to see her.”

This is true! So I knew that it was about a woman - even if she is a girl, everything is the same! Well, tell me, why did I have this absolutely unshakable premonition that as soon as we left, a woman would appear? No wonder Estamp’s words “stubborn caterpillar” made me suspect something of this kind. Only now did I realize that I had guessed what I was waiting for.

The eye sparkled, was amazed and pressed to give room to the second eye; both eyes did not foretell, judging by their expression, a joyful meeting. The hand released the curtain, nodding its finger.

Come in,” this man said in a choked, unnatural voice, all the more unpleasant because he was hellishly calm. - Come in, buddy!

We walked into a small corridor and knocked on the door to the left.

“Come in,” the same calm voice repeated tenderly, and we found ourselves in the room. Between the window and the table stood a man in an undershirt and striped trousers - a so-so man, of average height, not weak, apparently with dark smooth hair, a thick neck and a broken nose, the end of which stuck out like a twig. He was about thirty years old. He wound up his pocket watch and now put it to his ear.

Molly? - he said. Duroc repeated that he wanted to see Molly. Warren left the table and began to stare at Duroc.

Give up your thought,” he said. - Leave your idea. It will not be in vain for you.

I don’t have any plans, but I only have an order for your sister.

Duroc spoke very politely and was completely calm. I was considering

Warren. His sister seemed like him to me, and I became sullen.

What kind of order is this? - Warren said, taking the watch again and aimlessly putting it to his ear. - I have to see what's wrong.

Isn’t it easier,” Duroc objected, “to invite a girl?”

In this case, wouldn’t it be easier for you to walk out and slam the door behind you! - Warren said, starting to breathe heavily. At the same time, he stepped closer to Duroc, his eyes running over his figure. - What kind of masquerade is this? Do you think I can’t tell the difference between a fireman or a sailor and an arrogant idiot like you? Why did you come? What do you want from Molly?

Seeing how terribly pale Duroc had turned, I thought that this was the end of the whole story and the time would come to fire the revolver, and therefore I got ready. But

Duroc just sighed. For one moment his face sank from the effort he made on himself, and I heard the same even, deep voice: “I could answer all or almost all of your questions, but now I won’t say anything.” All I ask is: Is Molly Warren at home?

He said the last words so loudly that they would have been heard through the half-open door to the next room - if anyone had been there. A pattern of veins appeared on Warren's forehead.

You don't have to talk! - he shouted. - You were sent, and I know by whom -

this upstart millionaire from the pit! However, get lost! Molly is gone. She is gone. Just try to carry out a search, and, I swear by the skull of the devil, we will break all your bones.

Shaking his hand, he pulled it out with a fierce movement. Duroc quickly took Warren's hand above the wrist, bent it down, and... and I suddenly saw that the owner of the apartment, with rage and anguish in his face, dropped to one knee, grabbing Duroc's hand with his other hand. Duroc took Warren's other hand and shook him down and then back. Warren fell onto his elbow, wincing, closing his eyes and covering his face.

Duroc rubbed his palm against his palm, then looked at the still lying

“It was necessary,” he said, “next time you will be more careful.” Sandy, let's go!

I ran out after him with adoration, with the delight of a spectator who had received great pleasure. I had heard a lot about strong men, but this was the first time I saw a strong person who seemed not strong - not so strong. I was all on fire, rejoicing, I couldn’t hear my feet under me from excitement. If this is the beginning of our campaign, then what lies ahead?

I’m afraid I may have broken his arm,” Duroc said when we went outside.

It will grow together! - I cried, not wanting to spoil the impression with any considerations. - Are we looking for Molly?

The moment was such that it brought us closer together with a common excitement, and I felt that I now had the right to know something. Duroc must have recognized the same thing, because he simply said to me as an equal: “A complicated thing is happening:

Molly and Hanover have known each other for a long time, he loves her very much, but something happened to her. At least she was supposed to be at tomorrow's holiday, but there hasn't been a word from her for two months now, and before that she wrote that she refused to be Hanover's wife and was leaving. She didn't explain anything.

He expressed himself so completely that I understood his reluctance to give details. But his words suddenly warmed me inside and filled me with gratitude.

“I’m very grateful to you,” I said as quietly as possible.

He turned and laughed: - For what? Oh, what a fool you are, Sandy!

How old are you?

Sixteen, I said, but soon it will be seventeen.

It’s immediately obvious that you are a real man,” he remarked, and, no matter how rude the flattery was, I grunted, overjoyed. Now Duroc could, without fear of disobedience, order me to walk around the bay on all fours.

"We had barely reached the corner when Duroc looked back and stopped. I

I started watching too. Soon Warren came out of the gate. We hid behind a corner, so he didn’t see us, but he himself was visible to us through the fence, through the branches. Warren looked in both directions and quickly headed across the bridge across the ravine to the rising alley on the other side.

As soon as he disappeared, a barefoot girl with a scarf tied to her cheek ran out of the same gate and hurriedly headed in our direction. Her sly face reflected disappointment, but when she reached the corner and saw us, she froze in place, her mouth open, then cast a sidelong glance, walked lazily forward and immediately returned.

Are you looking for Molly? - she said mysteriously.

“You guessed it right,” Duroc replied, and I immediately realized that we had a chance.

“I didn’t guess, I heard,” said this high-cheeked young lady (I was already ready to roar with anguish that she would say: “It’s me, at your service”), moving her hands in front of her, as if she was catching a web, “so, What will I tell you: she really is not here, but she is now at Boardinghouse, with her sister. Go,” the girl waved her hand, “there along the shore.” You just have to walk one mile. You will see a blue roof and a flag on the mast. Warren just ran away and is probably planning a dirty trick, so hurry up.

“Thank you, kind soul,” said Duroc. - It also means that not everyone is against us.

“I’m not against it,” the person objected, “but quite the opposite.” They turn the girl around the way they want; I’m very sorry for the girl, because if you don’t stand up, she’ll be eaten up.

Will they gobble it up? - asked Duroc.

Don't you know Lemarin? - the question sounded like a thunderous reproach.

No, we don't know.

Well, then it’s a long story. She'll tell you herself. I'll leave if they see me with you...

The girl jumped up and disappeared around the corner, and we, immediately following her instructions, and as quickly as breathing allowed, rushed to the nearest descent to the shore, where, as we saw, we had to go around a small cape - on the right side of the Signal Wasteland.

We could, of course, having asked about the road, take the nearest route, on hard ground, and not on slippery gravel, but, as Duroc rightly pointed out, in this situation it was unprofitable for us to be seen on the roads.

On the right along the cliff there was a forest, on the left the beautiful morning sea shone, and the wind blew luckily at the back of the head. I was glad that I was walking along the shore. Stripes of green water ran noisily on the gravel, then flowed back into foam whispering about silence. Having rounded the cape, we saw in the distance, on the bend of the lilac hills of the coast, a blue roof with a narrow haze of a flag, and only then did I remember that Estamp was waiting for news. Duroc must have thought the same thing, because he said: “Print will endure: what is ahead of us is more important than him.” - However, as you will see later, it turned out differently with Estamp.

Beyond the cape, the wind died down, and I heard the faint sound of a piano playing, -

fugitive motive. It was clear and unpretentious, like the wind of the field. Duroc suddenly stopped, then walked more quietly, with his eyes closed and his head bowed. I

he thought that he had dark circles in his eyes from the blind shine of the white pebbles; he smiled slowly, without opening his eyes, then stopped a second time with his hand slightly raised. I didn't know what he was thinking. His eyes suddenly opened, he saw me, but continued to look very absent-mindedly, as if from afar; Finally, noticing that I was surprised, Duroc turned and, without saying anything, moved on.

Dripping with sweat, we reached the shadow of the building. On the sea side, the facade was surrounded by a two-story terrace with canvas awnings; a narrow thick wall with a dormer window was facing us, and the entrances were, presumably, from the side of the forest. Now we had to find out what kind of boarding house it was and who lived there.

The musician finished playing his meek tune and began to move the sounds from a pointed trill to a dull bass muttering, then back again, all very quickly. Finally, he struck the lovely silence of the sea morning with a monophonic chord several times in a row and seemed to disappear.

Wonderful job! - a hoarse, worried voice was heard from the upper terrace. - I left the vodka in the bottle above the label by a finger, and now it is below the label. Did you drink that, Bill?

“I’ll start drinking someone else’s vodka,” Bill answered gloomily and nobly. - I

I just wondered if it was vinegar, since I suffer from migraines, and moistened the handkerchief a little.

It would be better if you didn’t suffer from migraines, but learned.”

Then, as we had already climbed the path to the back of the house, the argument was heard in a vague combat of voices, and an entrance with a staircase opened before us. Closer to the corner there was a second door.

Among the rare, very tall and shady trees that grew here around the house, moving further into the dense forest, we were not immediately noticed by the only person we saw here. Was it a girl or a girl? - I couldn’t say right away, but I was inclined to think it was a girl. She walked barefoot on the grass, with her head bowed and her hands clasped back, back and forth, with the appearance of walking from corner to corner in a room. Under the tree there was a round table on a dug-in post, covered with a tablecloth, on it were lined paper, a pencil, an iron, a hammer and a pile of nuts. The girl was wearing nothing but a brown skirt and a light white scarf with a blue border, draped over her shoulders. Long hairpins stuck out in her very thick, haphazardly wrapped hair.

After walking around, she reluctantly sat down at the table, wrote something down on lined paper, then put the iron between her knees and began to crack nuts on it with a hammer.

“Hello,” said Duroc, approaching her. - They pointed out to me that Molly Warren lives here!

She turned so quickly that the entire nut production fell into the grass; straightened up, stood up and, turning somewhat pale, raised her hand in shock. Several fluent, strange movements passed across her very expressive, thin, slightly gloomy face. She immediately approached us, not quickly, but as if she had flown up with a breath of wind.

Molly Warren! - the girl said, as if she was thinking about something, and suddenly blushed murderously. - Please follow me, I’ll tell her.

She rushed off, snapping her fingers, and we, following her, went into a small room, which was crowded with chests and bad, but clean furniture. The girl disappeared, without paying any more attention to us, through another door and slammed it with a bang. We stood with our hands folded, with natural tension.

Behind the door that hid this person there was heard the fall of a chair or something similar to a chair, a clanging sound like that heard when breaking dishes, a furious “damn these hooks,” and, after some sharp rumbling, a very slender girl suddenly entered, with an alarmed smiling face, a profuse hairstyle and shining with care, impatient, clear black eyes, dressed in a thin silk dress of a beautiful lilac shade, shoes and pale green stockings. It was still the same barefoot girl with an iron, but I now had to admit that she was a girl.

“Molly, it’s me,” she said incredulously, but smiling uncontrollably,

Tell me everything at once, because I am very worried, although they will never notice it from my face.

I was embarrassed, because I really liked her this way.

“So you guessed it,” said Duroc, sitting down as we all sat down. - I -

Sandy, who I trust.

She was silent, looking straight into Duroc's eyes and moving restlessly. Her face was twitching. After waiting, Duroc continued: “Your romance, Molly, must have a good ending.” But difficult and incomprehensible things happen. I know about the golden chain...

It would be better if she didn’t exist,” Molly cried. - That’s exactly the heaviness;

I'm sure it's all from her!

Sandy, said Duroc, go and see if the boat is sailing.

I stood up, hitting the chair with my foot, with a heavy heart, since Duroc's words hinted very clearly that I was in the way. On my way out, I encountered a young, worried-looking woman who, barely looking at me, stared at Duroc.

As I was leaving, I heard Molly say, “My sister Arcole.”

So, I left in the middle of an unsung song, which was beginning to act charmingly, like everything connected with longing and love, and even in the person of such a lovely arrow as that girl, Molly. I felt sorry for myself, deprived of participation in this story, where I was at everyone’s fingertips, like a penknife -

it was folded and hidden. And I, having the excuse that I was not pursuing any bad goals, sedately walked around the house, saw an open window from the sea, recognized the pattern of the curtain and sat under it with my back to the wall, hearing almost everything that was said in the room.

Of course, I missed a lot along the way, but I was rewarded with what I heard next. She said, very nervously and hotly, Molly: - Yes, how did he arrive? But what kind of dates?! We saw each other seven times in total, wow! You should have brought me to your place immediately. What kind of delays?! Because of this, I was tracked and everything finally became known. You know, these thoughts, that is, criticism, come when you think about everything. Now he still has a beauty living with him - well, let her live and don’t dare call me!

Duroc laughed, but not cheerfully.

“He drinks heavily, Molly,” said Duroc, “and he drinks because he received your final letter.” It must have left him with no hope. The beauty you are talking about is a guest. She is, we think, just a bored young woman. She came from India with her brother and her brother's friend; one is a journalist, the other, it seems, is an archaeologist. You know what Hanover Palace represents. Rumors about him spread far and wide, and these people came to look at the miracle of architecture. But he left them to live, because he could not be alone - completely alone. Molly, today... at twelve o'clock... you gave your word three months ago.

Yes, and I took it back.

Listen,” said Arcole, “I myself often don’t know what to believe.”

Our brothers are working for this scoundrel Lemaren. In general, our family fell apart. I lived for a long time in Riol, where I had a different company, yes, better than the company of Lemarin. Well, she served and all that, she was also a gardener’s assistant. I left, my soul left the Wasteland forever. You can't get this back. And Molly

Molly, God knows, Molly, how you grew up on the road and didn’t get trampled on! Well, I took care of the girl as best I could... The brothers are working - two brothers;

which is worse is hard to say. Probably more than one letter was stolen. AND

They got it into the girl’s head that Ganuver was not very good with her. That he has mistresses, that he was seen here and there in dissolute places. One must know the gloom into which she falls when she hears such things!

Lemaren? - said Duroc. - Molly, who is Lemarin?

Scoundrel! I hate him!

Believe me, although I’m ashamed to admit it,” Arcole continued, “

that Lemarin has common affairs with our brothers. Lemaren - bully, thunderstorm

Wasteland. He took a fancy to my sister, and he is going crazy, more from pride and greed. Rest assured, Lemarin will appear here today, since you were with your brother. Everything turned out badly, as bad as possible. This is our family. the father is in prison for good deeds, one brother is also in prison, and the other is waiting to be imprisoned.

Hanover left the money four years ago - I only knew, besides her, who had it; this is her share, which she agreed to take, but in order to somehow use them, she had to constantly invent excuses -

trips to Riol, then to my aunt, then to my friends, and so on. It was impossible for us to detect anything before our eyes: they would stake us to death and take it away. Now. Ganuver arrived and was seen with Molly, they began to follow her, and intercepted the letter. She is hot-tempered. To one word that was said to her then, she answered as best she could. “I love you, yes, and go to hell!” This is where profit flashed before them. The brother foolishly revealed his intentions to me, hoping to attract me to give the girl to Lemaren so that he would intimidate her, subjugate her, and then Hanover, and extract money, a lot of money, as if from a slave. The wife had to rob her husband for the sake of her lover. I told Molly everything. It was not easy to bend, but the prey was tempting. Lemarin directly announced that he would kill Hanouver in the event of marriage. Then the dirt began - gossip, and threats, and bullying, and reproaches, and I had to fight to take Molly in when I got a place in this boarding house, the place of a caretaker. Rest assured, Lemarin will appear here today, since you were with your brother. In a word - the idol is stupid. His friends imitate him in manners and clothing. Common affairs with brothers. These things are bad! We don’t even know exactly what the matter is... only if Lemarin goes to prison, then our family will be reduced by the remaining brother. Molly, don't cry! I’m so ashamed, it’s so hard to tell you all this! Give me a handkerchief. Nonsense, don't pay attention.

This will pass now.

But it’s very sad, everything you say,” said Duroc. -

However, I will not return without you, Molly, because this is what I came for.

Slowly, very slowly, but surely Hanover is dying. He surrounded his end with a drunken fog and nightlife. Note that with unsure, already trembling steps, he reached today, as he had appointed - the day of celebration. And he did everything for you, as it was in your dreams, on the shore. I know all this and I’m very upset about everything because I love this man.

And I - I don’t love him?! - the girl said passionately. - Tell

"Ganover" and put your hand on my heart! There is love! One Love!

Attach it! Well, do you hear? There he says - “yes”, always “yes”! But I say

The thought of Duroc laying his hand on her breast made my heart pound. The whole story, the individual features of which I gradually recognized, seemed to take shape before my eyes from the morning shine and the worries of the night, without end or beginning, in one vague scene. Subsequently, I got to know women and realized that a girl of seventeen is as well versed in circumstances and people’s actions as a horse is in arithmetic. Now I thought that if she was so opposed and upset, then she was probably right.

Duroc said something that I couldn't understand. But Molly’s words were still clearly audible, as if she were throwing them out the window and they fell next to me.

That's how unfortunate things turned out. I didn’t love him for two years when he left, but I only remembered him very warmly. Then I started loving again when I received a letter, then many letters. What good letters they were!

Then - a gift that must, you know, be kept so that they will not be seen -

such pearls...

I stood up, hoping to look inside and see what she was showing there, and I was amazed by Estamp’s unexpected march towards me. He wandered from the banks of the ledge, hot, wiping away sweat with a handkerchief, and, seeing me, shook his head from afar, sagging internally; I approached him, not very happy, because I had lost - oh, how many exciting words and gifts I have lost! -

my invisible participation in Molly's story ceased.

You scoundrels! - said Estamp. - You left me to fish. Where

How did you find us? - I asked.

None of your business. Where is Duroc?

He is there! - I swallowed the insult, so I was disarmed by his angry face. - There are three of them: he, Molly and her sister.

“Listen,” I objected reluctantly, “you can challenge me to a duel if my words offend you, but, you know, it’s in full swing right now.”

Molly cries and Duroc persuades her.

“Yes,” he said, looking at me with a smile appearing little by little.

Already overheard! Do you think I don’t see that the holes in your boots go straight from the window? Eh, Sandy, Captain Sandy, you should be nicknamed not “I

I know everything,” and “I hear everything!”

Realizing that he was right, I could only blush.

I don’t understand how this happened,” continued Estamp, “that in one day we found ourselves so firmly in your clutches?!” Well, well, I was joking. Lead the way, captain! Why is this Molly pretty?

She... - I said. - You'll see for yourself.

That's it! Hanover is not a fool.

I went to the treasured door, and Estamp knocked. The door was opened by Arcole.

Molly jumped up, hastily wiping her eyes. Duroc stood up.

How? - he said. - Are you here?

This is disgusting on your part,” Estamp began, bowing to the ladies and only glancing briefly at Molly, but immediately smiled, with dimples on his cheeks, and began to speak very seriously and kindly, like a real person. He identified himself, expressed regret that he had interrupted the conversation, and explained how he found us.

The same savages,” he said, “who frightened you on the shore, very willingly sold me the necessary information for a couple of gold coins.” Naturally, I was angry, bored and entered into a conversation with them: here, apparently, everyone knows each other or knows something, and therefore your address, Molly, was communicated to me in the most sensible way. “I ask you not to worry,” he added.

The print, seeing that the girl flushed, I did it like a subtle diplomat.

Has our cause progressed, Duroc?

Duroc was very excited. Molly was trembling all over with excitement, her sister smiled forcibly, trying with an artificially calm expression on her face to bring a shadow of peace into the ardent flight of words that apparently affected everything that was most important in Molly’s life.

Duroc said: “I tell her, Estamp, that if love is great, everything must be silent, all other considerations.” Let others judge our actions as they wish, if there is this eternal justification. Neither the difference in position nor the condition should stand in the way and interfere. “You have to believe the one you love,” he said, “there is no higher proof of love.” A person often does not notice how by his actions he makes an unfavorable impression for himself, while at the same time not wanting to do anything bad. As for you, Molly, you are under harmful and strong suggestions from people who would not be believed in anything else. They managed to turn it around in such a way that the simple matter of connecting you with Hanover became a complex, murky matter, full of unpleasant consequences. Didn't Lemarin say he would kill him? You said it yourself. Being surrounded by dark impressions, you mistook the nightmare for reality. It also helped a lot that everything came from a gold chain.

You saw in this the beginning of doom and are afraid of the end, which appears to you in your depressed state as a terrible unknown. A dirty hand has fallen on your love, and you are afraid that this dirt will stain everything. You are very young, Molly, and for a young person like you, sometimes a ghost created by himself is enough to decide a matter in any direction, and then it is easier to die than to admit a mistake.

The girl began to listen to him with a pale face, then she blushed and sat there, all red, until the end.

I don’t know why he loves me,” she said. - Oh, talk, talk more! You speak so well! I need to be crushed, softened, then everything will pass. I'm no longer afraid. I believe you! But please speak!

Then Duroc began to transfer the power of his soul to this intimidated, impetuous, proud and oppressed girl.

I listened - and remembered every word of his forever, but I won’t cite everything, otherwise in my declining years I will again vividly remember this hour and, probably, a migraine will break out.

Even if you bring him misfortune, as you are sure of, do not be afraid of anything, not even misfortune, because it will be your common grief, and this grief is love.

“He’s right, Molly,” said Estamp, “a thousand times right.” Duroc -

Golden heart!

Molly, don’t be stubborn anymore,” said Arcole, “happiness awaits you!”

Molly seemed to wake up. A light began to play in her eyes, she stood up, rubbed her forehead, began to cry, covering her face with her fingers, and soon waved her hand and began to laugh.

So it’s easier for me,” she said, blowing her nose, “Oh, what is this?!”

F-fu-u-u, as if the sun had risen! What kind of obsession was this? What darkness! I

and I don’t understand now. Let's go quickly! Arcol, you understand me! I didn’t understand anything, and suddenly I had clear vision.

“Okay, okay, don’t worry,” the sister answered, “Are you going to get ready?”

I'll get ready immediately! - She looked around, rushed to the chest and began to take out pieces of various materials, lace, stockings and tied bags;

Not even a minute had passed before a pile of things lay around her. - I haven’t sewn anything yet! - she said sadly. - What will I wear?

The print began to assure that her dress suited her and that it was so good. Not very happy, she gloomily walked past us, looking for something, but when they brought her a mirror, she became cheerful and reconciled. At this time, Arcol was calmly rolling up and putting away everything that was scattered. Molly, looking at her thoughtfully, picked up her things and silently hugged her sister.

“If only it weren’t them,” she said, suddenly turning pale and rushing to the door,

Arcol. Molly bit her lips and looked at her and us. The look of Estamp Duroc prompted the latter’s response: “It’s nothing, there are three of us.” As soon as he said, they hit the door with a fist - I, who was closest to it than the others, opened it and saw a young man of short stature, in a smart summer suit. He was stocky, with a pale, flat, even skinny face, but the expression of absurd superiority in his thin lips under a black mustache and in his sharp black eyes was unusually loud. Behind him were Warren and a third man - fat, in a dirty blouse, with a scarf around his neck. He breathed noisily, looked with bulging eyes, and when he entered, he put his hands in his trouser pockets, standing like a pillar.

We all continued to sit, except Arcole, who approached Molly. Standing next to her, she gave Duroc a desperate, pleading look.

The new arrivals were noticeably tipsy. Not with a single glance, nor with a movement of their face did they discover that, besides women, there were us; They didn’t even look at us, as if we weren’t here at all. Of course, this was done deliberately.

Do you need anything, Lemarin? - said Arcole, trying to smile. - We are very busy today. We need to count the laundry, hand it in, and then go get provisions for the sailors. - Then she turned to her brother, and it was one word: - John!

“I’ll talk to you,” Warren said. - Well, we have nowhere to sit?!

Lemarin waved his straw hat with his akimbo. His eyes were turned to the girl with a sharp smile.

Hello Molly! - he said. - Beautiful Molly, do me the favor of noticing that I have come to visit you in your solitude.

Look, it's me!

I saw that Duroc was sitting with his head down, as if indifferent, but his knee was shaking, and he was almost imperceptibly holding it with the palm of his hand. Estamp raised his eyebrows, walked away and looked down at Lemarin’s pale face.

Get out! - Molly said. - You've been stalking me for a long time! I'm not one of those people you can stretch your paw to. I tell you directly and frankly - I can’t stand it anymore! Leave!

From her black eyes the force of desperate resistance spread across the room.

Everyone felt it. Lemaren felt this too, because he opened his eyes wide, blinked and, smiling awkwardly, turned to Warren.

What's it like? - he said. “Your sister said something insolent to me, Warren.” I

I’m not used to this kind of treatment, I swear by the crutches of all the cripples in this house. You invited me to visit, and I came. I came politely, not with a bad purpose.

What's the matter, I ask?

“The matter is clear,” said the fat man with a muffled grunt, moving his fists in his trouser pockets. - We are being expelled.

Who are you? - Arcole got angry. From the aggressive expression of her meek face, even in anger, I saw that this woman had reached her limit.

I don't know you and didn't invite you. This is my room, I am the mistress here.

Make the effort to leave!

Duroc raised his head and looked Estampe in the eyes. The meaning of the look was clear.

I hastened to take a tighter grip on the revolver that was in my pocket.

“Good people,” he said, chuckling. Print, - you would be better off leaving, since talking in this tone does not give anyone any pleasure.

I hear a bird! - exclaimed Lemarin, glancing briefly at Estamp and immediately turning to Molly. - Are you the one who gets the little siskins, Molly? Do you have any canary seed, huh? Answer please!

Should I ask my morning guest,” said Warren, stepping forward and standing opposite Duroc, who reluctantly stood up to meet him. - Maybe this gentleman will deign to explain why he is here, with my damn sister?!

No, I'm not your sister! - she said as if she had thrown a heavy stone,

Molly. - And you are not my brother! You are the second Lemaren, that is, a scoundrel!

And having said this, beside herself, in tears, with an open, terrible face, she took a book from the table and threw it at Warren.

The book, fluttering its pages, hit him on the lower lip, as he did not have time to cover himself with his elbow. Everyone gasped. I was on fire, feeling that it had been done well, and was ready to shoot at everyone.

This gentleman will answer,” said Warren, pointing a finger at Duroc and rubbing his chin with the other hand, after the sudden silence became unbearable.

He will break all your bones! - I cried. - And I’ll hit your target as soon as...

“As soon as I leave,” a low, gloomy voice suddenly said from behind, so loud, despite the rumbling timbre, that everyone immediately looked around.

Opposite the door, holding it firmly and wide open, stood a man with gray sideburns and a gray shock of hair scattered like hay on a fork. He was missing an arm - one sleeve of his sailor's jacket was hanging; the other, rolled up to the elbow, exposed a brown spring of muscles ending in a powerful hand with thick fingers. In this well-used muscle machine, a man held an empty cigarette box. His eyes, deeply hidden among the eyebrows, folds and wrinkles, held that senile, brilliant gaze in which one can discern both an excellent memory and a keen ear.

“If there’s a scene,” he said as he entered, “then you need to close the door.” I heard something. Mother Arcole, please give me some crushed pepper for the stew.

The stew should have pepper. If I had two hands,” he continued at the same calm, business-like pace, “I wouldn’t look at you, Lemarin, and I would stuff this pepper into your mouth.” Is this how you treat a girl?

As soon as he said this, the fat man made a movement in which I could not be mistaken: he extended his hand, palm down, and began to move it back, intending to hit Estamp. Faster than him, I extended the revolver to the scoundrel’s eyes and pulled the trigger, but the shot, pushing my hand, took the bullet past the target.

The fat man was thrown back, he hit the bookcase and almost knocked it over.

Everyone shuddered, ran away and became numb; my heart was pounding like thunder.

Duroc, with no less speed, pointed the muzzle towards Lemarin, and Estamp took aim at Warren.

I will not forget the insane fear in the face of the fat hooligan when I fired. Then I realized that the game was temporarily ours.

There’s nothing to do,” Lemarin said, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. - We are not ready yet. Well, watch out! Yours took it! Just remember that you raised your hand against Lemarin. Let's go, Boss! Let's go, Warren! We'll see them again sometime, we'll see you great. Hello beautiful Molly! Oh, Molly, beautiful Molly!

He said this slowly, coldly, turning his hat in his hands and looking first at her, then at all of us in turn. Warren and Boss looked at him silently.

He blinked it; they crawled out of the room one after another, stopping on the threshold; looking around, they looked expressively at Duroc and Estamp before disappearing. Warren was the last to leave. Stopping, he looked and said: “Well, look, Arcol!” And you, Molly! He closed the door. There was whispering in the corridor, then, quickly sounding, the footsteps died down behind the house.

“Here,” Molly said, breathing heavily. - That's all, and nothing more. Now we have to leave. I'm leaving, Arcol. It's good that you have bullets.

Right, right and right! - said the disabled person. - I approve of this behavior. When there was a riot on the Alceste, I opened such fire that everyone lay belly down. Now what? Yes, I wanted pepper for...

“Don’t even think about going out,” Arcol spoke quickly. - They are on guard.

I don't know what to do now.

“Don’t forget that I have a boat,” said Estamp, “it’s very close.” She can’t be seen from here, and that’s why I’m calm about her. If we were without

She? - said the disabled Arcol, pointing his index finger at the girl’s chest.

Yes, yes, we need to leave.

Her? - repeated the sailor.

Oh, how stupid you are, and also...

There? - The disabled man waved his hand outside the window.

Yes, I have to leave, - said Molly, - just think of it - well, quickly, oh my God!

The same story happened on the Grenada with the cabin boy; yes, I remembered. His name was

Sandy. And he...

“I’m Sandy,” I said, not knowing why.

Oh, and you too Sandy? Well, my dear, how good you are, my little howler.

Serve, serve the girl! Go with her. Go ahead, Molly. He's your height. You will give him a skirt and - well, let's say, a dress to cover up the place where a beard will grow in ten years. Give me a noticeable skirt, the kind that people have seen and remembered you in. Understood? Go, hide and dress up the man who himself said his name was Sandy. He will have a door, you will have a window. All!

Alexander Green - Golden chain - 01, read the text

The main idea of the story

Good deeds always return to the person who did them. Everyone gets what they deserve.

Sandy works as a sailor. He tries to seem like a smart and wise sailor. One day, two strangers ask him to lend them a boat. Sandy, as an experienced sailor, wanted to go with them. Along the way, all three of them became very close. The two strangers began to trust the young sailor. The stranger needs to go to a certain Ganuver. They invite Sandy to come with them. He doesn't refuse.

At Hanover, Sendy sees such luxury that he has never encountered in his life. He is given one of the luxurious rooms. Curious Sandy cannot sit in the room. He finds a secret door and goes out into the corridor. There are two people talking. The sailor accidentally overhears them. It turns out that a girl named Dige has insidious plans for Hanover. She wants to marry him and then kill her husband. This way she will become a very rich widow. Sandy tells his companions about the unpleasant news. They answer that they must find Molly, who is Hanover’s true lover.

The poor guys barely find Molly until midnight. Hanover is saved. He forgives his enemies. Hanover soon has a heart attack. He is dying. His wife Molly and one of Sendy's unfamiliar companions, Dorok, are getting married. They have a daughter. Her name, like her mother's, is Molly. She becomes Sandy's wife. After saving Hanover's life, Sendy became captain of the ship.

Green gold chain. Alexander greengold chain

Character system of the novel “The Golden Chain”

Analysis of the work

"Golden Chain - 01"

See also Green Alexander - Prose (stories, poems, novels...):

The main idea of the story

Picture or drawing of a gold chain

Other retellings for the reader's diary

Green gold chain. Alexander greengold chain

Character system of the novel “The Golden Chain”

Analysis of the work

"Golden Chain - 01"

See also Green Alexander - Prose (stories, poems, novels...):

The main idea of ​​the story

Picture or drawing of a gold chain

Other retellings for the reader's diary

The main idea of the story