Ivan Moshkin, ataman Katorzhnoy. Under the auspices of the Roman Pope

Master lock cases

After lunch, having rested, as it should, Ivan took a screwdriver and an oiler, set about his squeak. He turned away and greased the lock, put the parts in place, making sure that the trigger with the wick went gently and smoothly, then rubbed the trunk, forend and butt lovingly with a rags. It was possible to put in place.

— Ivan? Finished? Let’s go and dig up the garden, “said the father.

The young man nodded. He changed clothes, dressed simpler clothes, took a hoe and a spade. You can’t pick the ground with a shovel — it’s wooden, and you need a hoe first. As usual, the two of them first broke solid clods with hoes, and then turned over the rebellious soil with shovels. The hand almost did not hurt, and worked sporingly, but not in a hurry. An hour later, the job was done, and the ridge under the cabbage was ready. Both, father and son, washed the instrument in a barrel of water, and then, Simen Petrovich himself carefully laid everything in the barn. Here stood his pride — a strong and durable workbench made of thick boards, and a perfectly worked vice made of good iron. In addition to service, my father earned good money in the locksmith part — he repaired locks, or even made complex constipation himself, got along with the keys instead of the lost ones.

Fixed and firearms

Ivan was handy, in his father. and the two of them got down to business, and the two boys looked closely, they were trusted while things were easier, so that they themselves would not hurt themselves, and would not break anything due to his oversight.

— Here Vanya, well done, support the spring, I’ll rivet now, and everything will be ready…

— Now, — and the young man intercepted small pliers, and the father pulled the spring into a thin plate.

Then, heating the part to red, riveted, and the lock was ready. It was a big, tricky lock at the door, with a few springs, just the pride of a skilled craftsman. First you had to click on two places in the cunning pattern, and only then the key could open the latch of the constipation. The merchant Fyodor Konyukhin promised as much as ten rubles for the work, but the work was worth it. They spent almost a month working on this beautiful thing. Outside it was an iron patterned door, very beautiful, made for a stone basement with expensive goods.

“They worked well, father,” Ivan said proudly, admiring the delicate work.

— Not bad. Now let’s take our brainchild to the merchant Fyodor Romanovich. I’ll go and cook the cart.

Ustyan and Vasily, the youngest sons, kept their horse, Ogonyok, under the bridle, and Semyon Petrovich and Ivan busily and carefully laid the iron door on the straw in the cart. Corrected everything better, got bogged down. A hammer with two crowbars was also put in the wagon to hang an expensive contraption on the hinges. Vaska ran to open the gates, and managed to hold the dog, grabbing its ear.

— Hey, Druzhok, where are you going? — he reprimanded the hefty dog, — now everyone will return, — and dragged a four-legged friend who no longer rested to his booth.

The dog was good, in vain Druzhok did not bark, but he guarded well, however, he did not like to be alone, he howled terribly when the family went to listen to the service at church.

The youngest son led the horse under the bridle, the wagon slowly rolled along the road, sometimes the cart was shaken on bumps, so Semyon held on to the edge, afraid that the fruit of hard work would fall on the road. At the merchant’s gate stood a worker playing a horn. Naigrysh was not new, but pleasant, so Ivan even listened. But my father interrupted the efforts of the new David, in this pastoral, and shouted:

— Open it! We brought the lock and door to Fyodor Romanovich Kanyushkin. Report to the house.

— He waited, looked at all his eyes, — and began to open the gate, creaking in poorly lubricated loops.

The gates were coordinated conscientiously, Vanya looked at the beautiful and palm thread — lions and unicorns on oak boards. And everything was done smoothly and beautifully, strictly on the same line. The pillars were decorated with a grass pattern, and painted with red and blue paint. Ustyan started the wagon, the merchant went down the stairs, and immediately almost ran up to the luxurious thing. Semyon and Ivan set the door to the basement.

— Zelo is wonderfully executed, craftsman, — and handed over a suede wallet, — now I will open the doors to the underground. Anfim, shine!

The yard hastily brought an oil lantern, and when, angry, the merchant Kanyushkin flooded his feet, he brought two more. Semyon Petrovich nodded his head. So there is enough light.

— Ivan, come on belts. Look who are good and strong.

The son stretched out thick rawhide belts, and hooting for order, the masters of Moshkina began to descend a steep stone staircase. The owner of the house shone ahead, the hardworking Anfim with two lamps closed the procession. Father and son put the door against the wall, next to the opening, Vanya ran for the tool. The iron cloth was placed on a stone, and deftly dressed in loops. The door fit tightly to the forged jamb, Semyon was pleased.

— Let everyone leave, Fedor Romanovich, I have to show how the castle opens. Ivan, leave us.

“Anfim, go away,” the merchant ordered.

Both went upstairs, the servant looked back, but Ivan helped him up, pulling his hand.

— Let’s go, not a trace to look, — said the young craftsman sternly.

— What is there, what kind of witchcraft?

— Cunning skill, — Ivan sentenced, — not knowing, the door cannot be opened.

“Do you know?” — the yard archer urged, — I suppose your father didn’t tell you either?

Moshkin Jr. did not say a word, only famously moved his hat to his right ear. What is there to say? Dad will now show the merchants what and how, and they will close the door with beams so that no one can remove it from the hinges. And so it happened, the work was done, and the merchant brought the icon to the persuaded, Semyon kissed her, crossed himself, and said:

— I won’t tell anyone, Fyodor Romanovich, here you have a holy cross!

— The Lord is with you, Semyon Petrovich, — and the merchant bowed back, — Eat, on the path?

It was impossible to refuse, and three workers sat down at a rich merchant’s table. Raznosol brought a daughter, Elena Fedorovna. Ivan saw her in the church more than once with his father. The merchant family stood not far from the altar in an honorable place, because the temple was erected by the father of the merchant Kanyushkin, Roman Prokhorovich, without sparing the treasury on a stone building. And the good master put, Kuzma Skinny, a student of Peter the Small, Fryazin.

Beautiful was a girl, a merchant’s daughter, yes stately. Her father did not spare silver for outfits — from Persian silk sundress, ashtray also from silk, everything is dark blue bright, a shirt of a Dutch canvas, a brocade headband, goat skin shoes.

But Ivan was surprised that her prigey, densely whitened face with blush on her cheeks, blackened eyebrows, so often turned to him. And the beauty even quietly told him:

— I baked pies myself…

There has long been a rich merchant for widows. Beloved wife Ulyana Yurievna died of consumption, leaving her daughter in the care of her husband. Fedor Romanovich spoke quietly with Semyon, having time to eat, then they hit his hands, apparently, having agreed.

Ivan himself looked at the prigozhny girl, but did not stare, did not break his eyes. He also looked around the mountain, richly furnished, with an Italian locker, carved chests, and a cunning table with many boxes, apparently, of Venetian work.

The pies were indeed rich, made of wheat sown flour. Such they rarely ate at home, although rye bread was enough. But now, they ate, and the guests bowed decorously, thanks to the owners for the treat.

— Come on, it’s time and honor to know.

— Thank you for your work, Semyon Petrovich, and see, your son will also be a good craftsman.

Elena Fedorovna whispered something to the old cradle, she hastily nodded her head, and the old wrinkled face lit up with a smile. Ivan did not pay attention, or pretended not to.

The moshkins rode home on a cart, and Ivan kept a small basket, which Elena managed to put into his hands at the gate,

— A prigozhaya girl, — Semyon Petrovich uttered thoughtfully, — one heiress, one joy at Fyodor Romanovich. The rest of the children and his wife were taken from him by a reckless woman. So the merchant Kanyukhin was unlucky. Neither conspiracies helped, nor the prayers of Priest Arkady, nor grass. The Lord left only one Elena to comfort the merchant, to see, for zeal in the faith of his father, with the construction of the church. And so, you see, we are returning with a lot of money, we earned ten rubles, — the master rejoiced, — here you, Ustyan and Vasily are ten kopecks, — and counted two dozen silver scales — money.

— Thank you, father, — only the boy could answer.

— So you will understand why mastery to master. And the most good, and silver in Moshna rings.

— Yes, we are in the service of the sovereign? Ivan said.

— Right. Only we are not in great ranks, and our salary is also not great, — said Semyon Petrovich, — and now for five rubles we will put you a new hut, you see, and cover the roof with shingles. Near our estate. And it will be no worse than others that you could marry, and lived no worse than others, with your home! — lead away Semyon Petrovich.

Ivan and not Tsarevich, and Elena Fedorovna Beautiful

Towards evening, when all the household had time to eat, Ustyan heard a quiet knock on the gate, as if they were knocking on it with a small stick. Quietly so, and then two more times. The boy ran up, listened again, but asked how his mother and father taught:

— Who granted? he said deliberately.

— So grandma Lukerya it. Will you open it to me, or what? I’m not Baba Yaga, I won’t eat you, good fellow. And if you open it, here’s a lollipop for you.

Ustyan, of course, was impressed by the cockerel on a stick, and the boy rightly reasoned that an evil person would not scatter lollipops. And he quickly convinced himself that nothing bad would happen, especially since the dog was guarding the house in the booth. And he opened the wooden shutter.

— Here, take it, — and a dry hand stretched out the hotel, — and call Ivan, here, and money to you, — and for sure, the small coin seemed to lie in the palm of your hand.

Ustyan nodded, and the arrow rushed after his brother, and soon dragged his hand to the wicket.

“There he is,” the boy whispered to his grandmother.

Ivan just did not understand why Lukerya came to them? But to say that to an old woman is to offend. He slowly went closer, and bent down:

“What’s wrong, grandma?” How to help? Or our work turned out to be bad, Fedor Romanovich is grinning?

— It is satisfied, the key on a belt hung, walks, rejoices. Everything goes down to the basement, looks at the iron door. That’s not why I’m here… Here, a letter to you. Read it with me.

Ivan unfolded the message, written in lead pencil. Only a few lines:

Hello, Ivan!

Whether it’s bad or not, what I wrote to you is my business. Should have. Even in the church I noticed you a year ago, and now I have decided. Cute or not, unsubscribe without hiding. Elena

Lukerya rested with both hands on the staff, and sighed and waited.

“Did you read it?” Write an answer. And then I can’t run back and forth endlessly, the old one hurts, and I held out a pencil.

— At least you need to think…

— Do not answer with your mind, but with your heart. Write, there is no time, — the grandmother was robbed.

Hello Light Elena for many years!

And you are sweet to me and to my heart. Yes, I am much poorer, I would not want to become objectionable to your father. Ivan

The young man rolled up the message and gave it to his grandmother. He wrote, and did not know where to put his hands. And so bad, and so it turned out even worse.

“My heart will be at church service tomorrow Sunday. You must come, loach. And you will offend my berry, like God holy, I leave you with my stick, I pull out my arms and legs.

Ivan hastily nodded, straightening the caftan, and then his hands seemed to open the shirt gates themselves. Who can get hunting with a stick and remain without arms and legs?

— Goodbye, grandmother, — and the young man was not too lazy to bow to a low dear guest.

— Nothing, everything is sweet, — and Lukerya at parting finely crossed the young archer, — if anything, which of the brothers you will send.

Ivan closed the gate, and quietly, in small steps, went home. At the door, on the bench, the Ustyan brothers were sitting with Vasily, enthusiastically engaged in a sweet hotel. The golden cockerel was just melting before our eyes.

“We don’t have a word, Van,” Ustyan promised as an adult. Vasya diligently frowned at his bright eyebrows, and nodded, imitating his father.

The young man nodded, corrected the whirlwinds and slowly, decorously, climbed up the seedling, opened the door and sighed again. In the room, the mother put things in order, knocked on wooden plates and spoons.

— What is not so cheerful? “she said, approaching her son,” or tired?”

“It’s all right, Mother. I’ll go.

“And that’s right. Write it off. And then on Monday again to the service.

Ivan entered his part of the house, and only shook his head. The mother herself is accustomed to military affairs, she knows when it is her son’s turn to appear in the Order. He sat down, began to undress, kept thinking about today, about Elena. And how did it work out? Why did you suddenly like the streletsky son of a merchant daughter? Okay, tomorrow it will be seen whether she laughed at him, or really wants to see him.

***

Sunday day, everyone got up early, especially Eupraxia Kuzminichna, cooked porridge and jelly for a considerable family. Soon everyone gathered. On the table are bread, porridge, jelly on dried raspberries, and boiled chicken eggs. Semyon Petrovich proudly looked at the meal — they live well, better than many. He read the prayer, and everyone sat down at the table, cheerfully pounded with spoons.

Sunday service is like a holiday and everyone dressed for the best. tried to surprise the neighbors. Eupraxia took out renovations from chests and barks, her husband, children and herself. Laying out her clothes, she whispered under her breath:

— why? We live better than others, there is nothing to anger God. And only one little child died, — and she crossed herself, — otherwise the won, the merchant Kanyushkin, would burst from silver, and God read, took the whole family, only left her daughter in consolation, — and sighed sadly.

Finally, I laid out outfits for everyone. Everyone found caftans made of good cloth, Semyon Petrovich even cornflower blue, Van burgundy, Vasya da Ustyan are also good, but gray. All good is still from Polish booty, as Semyon walked at the hand of Kuzma Minin, and he was tarovat to military people. And she herself also has something to wear — and good shoes, and a sundress and a slap in the face of good cloth, raspberry color. Neighbors, Marya da Katya, looked at these updates. Where else do you go besides the temple? And after the service, you can talk with other hostesses, at least you will find out what is being done in the world.

We left the house decorously, leaving our Friend to guard the master’s yard. Semyon Petrovich and Eupraxia Kuzminichnaya marched ahead, and their three sons followed them, Ivan looked after the younger ones so that all the dust would not be found on the road. And you had to go under your feet to look, the cows were kept in every house, and the pastures were outside the city. Nearby, other families walked in front and behind, each dressed in the best dress, so as not to hit the face in front of others.

So they approached the church fence. For the sake of this day, the church headman, Timofey Feoktistovich, dressed simply and deliberately strictly. His assistant in the church held honorable places for the merchant Kanyushkin and his daughter, the streltsy’s head. clerks with families.

Ordinary people became close to their household and acquaintances. The Moshkins also got up, but the place was not bad, everything was visible. Men, of course, were without hats, women in strict headscarves. But here, the Streletsky head Tulupov walked, with his wife and two daughters, clerks with his household, and Fyodor Romanovich with his daughter Elena Fedorovna and certainly bent Lukerya stood behind them.

Ivan looked only at Elena. She was dressed richly, but in clothes of dark colors, on her head was a beautiful scarf, perhaps made of velvet. Now, without blush and whitening, she seemed even more beautiful than the day before. A very cute face, even with small freckles on the nose and cheeks, a big difference with an almost white statue. The young man noticed that the merchant’s daughter recognized him, and barely nodded noticeably. Lukerya, when she was able to see the Moshkins, bowed for everyone.

Father himself in solemn vestments, began the service. His voice was strong and deep, so the parishioners listened without stopping, were baptized at the due time. Ivan looked at the iconostasis, at the faces of the saints. I didn’t feel very comfortable, because I came not only for prayer, but also to see my gag. Yes, honestly and say — where can you see? Only here. You won’t climb through the fence, only Elena Fedorovna will create trouble, but here it is quite decent. It seems that there was no condemnation even in the strict, but gracious face of the Virgin.

The service ended, and Semyon Petrovich went for the candles, distributing one to each of his family. Eupraxia Kuzminichna put a candle in front of the image of St. George, and Ivan stood in front of one of the icons of the Virgin. He lit a candle from the lamp and prayed. I did not notice how Elena was nearby, I also lit a candle, and quickly baptized.

— I read your letter, Vanya, — the girl said in a whisper, without turning her head, — thank you for answering, but it’s a sin to say that I am richer and you are poorer. Before God, everyone is equal.

“I’ll send matchmakers, so your father will let them down from the porch,” the young man answered in a whisper.

— As God willing… I will persuade you too much… If only I didn’t give up on me myself. Not scared.

— I will not give up, I swear to the icon! Ivan answered quietly and crossed himself.

Elena quickly turned her head in his direction, but immediately turned away, lowered her head down, and went to her father. Fedor Romanovich noticed Semyon, and without hiding his location, he approached the craftsman himself.

— Be healthy, Semyon Petrovich, — named and by the patronymic of a friend, — and met in church, — my daughter, Elena Fedorovna, you saw.

— Exactly. And you health for many years! This is my wife. Eupraxia Kuzminichna, sons — Ivan, Ustyan and Vasily. Now you know everyone.

— Your eldest is good, you won’t say anything! And fit, and strong and very smart! And he did a good dress! Soon, I suppose, are you going to marry?

— Yes, it would be necessary, how without that… — Semyon spoke evasively.

— And I’m going to do everything, but Elena will fight everything. He is not good, but the other is not a fit. And it’s time to give up the marriage — in the spring there will be sixteen years.

Eupraxia Kuzminichna did not open her mouth, but she nodded her head in agreement, agreeing with all the words of the merchant. The girl’s face became a color almost like her velvet burgundy scarf, she lowered her head, and just grabbed her father’s hand. Ivan tried to hold on, after all, the Sagittarius is now in the royal service.

“Let’s wait a while. It’s too early, I’ll go to the centurions! — said Ivan.